"The only thing that really makes sense is for Randy and I to go out alone and bring back help."
"No,” Connell said in a cold voice. “Not even an option. We go together."
Angus glared at Connell, then turned his attention back to the computer.
His fingers tapped the keys, and one yellow band glowed brighter than the rest. It pointed down into the large block of green they'd come to recognize as the Dense Mass, then pointed upwards, off the screen.
"If we take this route, we'll be to the Dense Mass in about twenty-five minutes,” Angus said, “From there we go straight up the Linus Highway and out of this hell hole."
"It looks steep,” O'Doyle said.
"It is, but it has about a six-foot ceiling,” Angus said. “We can walk standing up most of the way. There's only about a twenty-yard crawl at the end that takes us to the outside of the mountain. The whole thing is about a thirty-five degree incline for over three miles."
The words three miles made Connell suddenly conscious of the throbbing pain in his knee. He looked from the map to Angus. “How long will that take us?"
"It depends on how fast you all can move,” Angus said.
"And we don't even know what's at the Dense Mass,” O'Doyle said. “As far as we know it could be Rocktopi Central Station."
Angus's eyes narrowed to petulant little slits. “Well you all can just sit here and die if you like. The scrambler batteries aren't going to last forever and when they're gone the silverbugs will lead the rocktopi right to you. But hey, I'm not in charge here, so why don't you all figure it out."
Connell casually reached down and grabbed Angus's trapezius muscle, where the shoulder meets the neck, and squeezed hard. He felt Angus tense up instantly. “Why don't you calm down, Angus?” Connell said. “We're weighing our options. So relax.” He let go.
Angus glared at him defiantly. “You can weigh your options all you want, but this is the best way out, the fastest, and probably our best bet to avoid attack."
Connell didn't have a better idea. Even though Angus was a little bastard, he was still the expert in this situation, and no one else had any idea of what to do. “All right everyone,” Connell said, trying to ignore the pain in his knee as he stood. “Let's get packed up. We're getting out of here."
Kayla finished worming her way through the narrow opening, stood, brushed off her KoolSuit, and donned her starlight goggles. It seemed likely that Angus and the others were already dead. The creatures’ attack on the camp had been vicious and definitive. If they'd done that on the surface, she wondered how deadly they were in the deep, hot caves. It was one thing to move around on the desert floor, able to see danger coming hundreds of yards away. It was quite another to move into the caves… where the things lived.
And yet if they were that dangerous, why wasn't Angus killed much earlier? He was obviously alive long enough to send the SOS, which in turn meant there was no reason for her to assume that he wasn't still alive.
Fucking little prick.
And if he'd lived, then she had to assume Connell and the others had also escaped the creatures’ deadly attentions.
The handheld computer map's three dimensions made it difficult to navigate, but the faggots’ trail was ridiculously easy to follow. Angus and Randy knew nothing of covering their tracks.
According to the map, the tunnel she currently stood in went about three miles and wound up at the Dense Mass. As she walked, several tunnels branched off in every direction, each one a nameless passage of stone, rock, and blackness. She decided to follow the footprints as long as she could and see what the Marco/Polo unit turned up. So far it read nothing. Angus and the others — if there were any others — were apparently out of range.
Figures he'd make it hard on me, the little fucking prick. Gonna scrape him off my shoe.
Kayla read the map cautiously, marking off each tunnel as she passed, careful to keep her location exact and precise. She followed the tracks and headed straight for the Dense Mass.
As the party prepared to move out, Connell took one last look at the tiny monitor. He didn't want to miss a thing. If there was anything that could add to their chances of survival, he wanted to imbed it in his brain. With his finger, he traced a series of bubble-shaped curves running along the outside edge of the enormous Dense Mass cavern.
"Angus,” Connell said, pointing to the curves. “What are all those?"
"I'm not sure,” Angus said. “I think they are some kind of alcove, a side-cave, maybe. They don't appear to go anywhere, though — no exit tunnels."
Connell saw something familiar — familiar and still unexplained. “Blow it up a bit more,” Connell said. Angus complied, muttering words under his breath that Connell couldn't make out.
"There,” Connell said. He jabbed his finger at a bright yellow line that started at the Dense Mass and pointed straight down, deep into the Earth's bowels.
"That line appears to go down, what, four miles and even farther?"
"Well, four miles is the ultimate maximum range of the map. So there's no telling how far down it goes."
"What do you think it's for?"
"I really don't know,” Angus said. “It appears to be perfectly straight, so it's obviously artificial."
"But you said all the tunnels we're in now are artificial and they're not straight or even smooth,” Connell countered. “Why would this one be different?"
"Maybe it's a freaking tunnel to China,” Angus said, his face twisted into a sneer. “I'll tell you what — when I grow some tentacles and my ass starts flashing orange and red, I'll let you know what I think it is.” He stormed off, leaving Connell to fume and stare at the monitor, stare at the yellow line heading straight down toward the Earth's center.
Chapter Thirty-three
Sonny lay perfectly still, as rigid as a piece of bone-dry cottonwood half-buried in the sand. He watched the bitch move higher up the peak until she disappeared among the rocks.
Kayla. He'd heard her name during her little bargaining session with someone named “André."
At least he had a name. And a piece of her history — she used to be in the NSA, and wanted back into the ranks in a bad way.
Now he had what he needed, and it was time to go. He didn't like the way she had carried her weapon up and at the ready, as if she'd expected a target to pop up at any second. She had walked up the slope and disappeared over a ridge. She seemed to be heading straight for Angus's entrance. That worked for Sonny, maybe she'd go in and never come back out again.
He waited, patiently. No point in rushing things, not after all this waiting. He'd give her another twenty minutes, and wouldn't move a muscle until those twenty minutes passed with no sign of Miss Kayla.
"How do you feel?” Lybrand asked, wiping a bead of sweat off O'Doyle's brow. The climb to the surface was going to be pure hell for him. But he was going to make it. She'd destroy anything that got in his way.
"How do you think I feel?” O'Doyle said, obviously angry and in pain, yet his voice held tenderness when he spoke to her. He gestured to the huge pack strapped to Lybrand's back. O'Doyle could barely walk, and without a word Lybrand had taken the job of carrying all his gear. “I'm embarrassed and humiliated, that's how I feel."