The new thought jolted me so much that I slipped and almost ended up in the lake. I recovered, shaking off a steadying hand from Simon, and continued on, but it surprised me that I hadn’t thought of the idea before. Its power, resilience, and cunning would make more sense if it was a machine or robot than if it was an animal. What if it had a brain full of circuits rather than blood cells? It hadn’t eaten any of the people it’d mauled, so maybe it didn’t need to take in sustenance-it was killing because it’d been programmed to do so. Heck, maybe some battery powered it, or maybe it had a tank and stopped to fuel itself at the gas station when nobody was looking.
My snort was almost a laugh.
“Glad you’re finding our situation amusing,” Simon whispered.
“I had a funny thought. What if our monster is a robot instead of a living, breathing predator?”
“Yeah, I had that thought too,” Simon said.
“You did?” And here I’d felt original.
“Right after we learned about the plastic.”
A third cacophonous smashing of rock came from the shadows ahead. We’d made some progress following the ledge, and those crashes no longer sounded quite so far away.
“I’m not sure I should admit to another thought I’ve had,” I whispered. I don’t know why I was whispering-that creature probably knew where we were-but it seemed appropriate to the dark setting.
“That it’s trying to push down supports to cave in the ceiling?” Simon asked.
“Yeah.”
Temi grunted, and I glanced back in time to see her catch herself on the wall.
“You guys can go ahead if you want,” she said. “I’ll catch up.”
“Animal or robot, I’m not in a big hurry to come face to face with that thing,” I said. “I’m also not sure how we would stop it from pushing over supports.”
“If it’s a robot,” Temi said, “maybe that swim it took will cause it to rust.”
“I think this model is a hair more sophisticated than that,” Simon said.
“Darn.”
Another crash put an end to our conversation. We were definitely getting closer. I swept my flashlight across the space ahead again and spotted another stone beach with a wall behind it. That wall held a dark opening. Another chamber? That seemed to be the direction the crashes were coming from.
I licked my lips and continued along the ledge. Nobody spoke as we padded across the beach. I slowed, nearly walking on tiptoes, as we climbed up to the new opening. I approached it from the side instead of straight on, having some notion that I shouldn’t reveal myself. The soft scrapes of claws rasping on stone reached my ears. I stopped and leaned my shoulder against the rock instead of looking. We needed to wait for it to get farther ahead. It’d be a long, hard sprint to get back to the small tunnel. I wished I’d ordered Temi to stay behind instead of simply asking if she wanted to.
The scrapes continued, and I thought I caught a soft grunt too. Of effort?
Temi pointed to my lamp and mouthed, “Off?” I had the light pointed to the ground and could barely see her face. I shook my head though. I knew what she was thinking-that the light was telling the creature where we were, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of plunging all of us into blackness. Besides, our predator could doubtlessly navigate in the dark far more effectively than we could.
A new crash sounded, this one the loudest yet, though maybe it was only our proximity to the noise that had changed. A hint of dust wafted into the air. I crinkled my nose. Was that the smell of blood as well?
More scrapes came from behind the opening, this time in a regular rhythm, as if the predator were running. Because it sounded like it was running away instead of toward us, I risked poking my head around the corner. I swept the flashlight beam through the chamber, catching the broad black back of the creature as it disappeared into one of several tunnels at the end of a long, rectangular chamber that sloped downward, its floor surprisingly smooth after the humps and dips of the outer cavern. Jumbles of broken stone lay at irregular spots in little alcoves that ran along the left wall.
A flash of something pale like straw caught my eye, and I focused my light on the first rubble pile. Stones weren’t the only things in it.
“Is that… a person?” Temi whispered.
What I’d thought might be straw was hair. Blond hair.
I swallowed. One of the riders? If they were dead, who was going to help us escape?
I glanced at the end of the chamber again, making sure the creature hadn’t returned, then crept closer to the first alcove. A wet puddle was spreading from beneath the jumble of rocks. My stomach gave a sick lurch. It wasn’t water.
Simon’s light joined mine in its focus on the rubble pile-and the male body half buried in it. His light wasn’t entirely steady. Maybe mine wasn’t either. It didn’t matter; it was enough to see that this wasn’t Eleriss or Jakatra-in addition to the blond hair, this guy had a big shaggy beard. I was relieved… but confused. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find down here, but it hadn’t been more mutilated bodies.
I walked forward, numbness and confusion making my steps slow. How could there be people down here, and why wouldn’t someone have yelled or tried to run or anything when the predator attacked?
The body hadn’t been decapitated, but bloody gashes across its neck and chest left little doubt that the man was dead. Maybe the creature had been in a hurry, I thought bleakly.
“That’s a strange… costume.” Temi pointed to a bear fur cloak that was clasped about the man’s pale shoulders. His muscular chest was bare, with dark blue tattoos running up and down his arms, and he wore some very old-fashioned wool trousers.
“Looks like he was planning to go as a Viking this Halloween,” I said.
There were weapons too. A spear had broken when a rock fell onto it, though a sword leaning against the back of the alcove had survived unscathed, along with a battered and gashed wooden shield. I picked up a leather helmet that had rolled away from the pile and turned it over in my hands.
I must have made some noise, or perhaps stared at it for an inordinately long time, because Simon prodded me.
“Delia?”
“This is bizarre,” I said.
“Tell us something we don’t know. Are you referring to the situation as a whole or that helmet in particular?”
“This. All of it.” I waved toward the weapons and the body. “I don’t think this is a costume.”
“What else would it be?”
A real Viking, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud, because it sounded idiotic. This was the American southwest in the twenty-first century, not medieval Europe. “I don’t know. I guess it has to be a reproduction. Nothing is aged the way it would be if it were a museum piece. Whoever crafted it did a good job making it look real though.” I avoided eyeing the dead fellow. It made me uneasy knowing he’d been alive a half hour ago. At least it seemed that way. I was still mystified at the idea that someone had been down here.
“Shouldn’t there be horns sticking out of the helmet?” Simon asked.
“No, that’s only in the comics and cartoons. This is a much more authentic kit. Look at the shield. There are even teeth marks in it-the berserkers supposedly bit their own shields as part of their warrior fury.”
“Maybe he’s a part of someone’s LARP team,” Simon said.
“And what were they role-playing down here? Viking spelunkers?”
“What are you saying?” Simon asked. “That this guy was a Viking?”
“No, of course not. He just died. How could that be possible?”
“Enh, all sorts of weird stuff is happening in town this week.”