THREE
Luna
I CHASED THAT echo of a cry long after it faded. Even when the air around me softened to mere drips of water, I didn’t stop. I prowled down tunnels and passageways for so long that I worried it was only a matter of time before I came face-to-face with a dweller. I lost all sense of time in a world where every moment counted.
The space around me was empty. I moved, straining for any sound. My nostrils flared, the odor of dwellers rich around me: loam and copper. Metal in my mouth.
Even with the scent of them so strong everywhere, they weren’t nearby. This was their territory. The stink of them embedded in the bones of this underground tomb.
The silence was finally broken again by another shout. Human.
I followed the sound, my lips moving in a silent mantra. Let it be Fowler. Let it be Fowler.
I couldn’t be certain how long I was down here, but I sensed time was fading fast until midlight—that brief duration when the ink dark faded and a haze of feeble light surfaced and chased the dwellers back underground. In an odd twist, midlight was something I didn’t want to occur. The idea of dwellers returning and prowling the same space I occupied made my steps quicken despite any reassurances.
Suddenly the ceiling above me started to shake and froth, mud dropping down and raining on my head. Was it a cave-in? I ran, trying to escape the earth falling on me, keeping my hand on the wall to my left. I ducked down the tunnel, chest heaving.
Pressed into the wall, I turned my face up and held out my hand. Nothing was falling anymore. The ceiling of earth was stable. Holding myself as still as possible, I listened.
A dweller’s wet, sloughing breath filled my ears. Its dragging steps felt like a scrape of a blade across my flesh. The heavy weight of its body thudded and settled into the damp ground with each move. My heart beat so hard my chest ached. I heard the whisper of the sensors at the center of its face slither on the air, and smelled the drip of toxin.
The monster wasn’t alone. A human struggled against the dweller’s razor talons, sobbing and choking out garbled pleas. Hopeless words. There was no reasoning with these creatures. Not pity to rouse. No help. No rescue.
They drew near the smaller tunnel where I hid, and I debated my next move. Hold still or run? Lungs locked, I held my breath, waiting for them to pass. Hoping they passed. If they turned down this tunnel it was all over. I was lost.
The dweller passed me, dragging the hapless human behind, and I swallowed against the dryness of my mouth. Fortunately, the dweller was so focused on its victim it didn’t detect my scent. Or perhaps being coated head to foot in mud aided in disguising my smell.
I waited several long minutes before continuing. Part of me wanted to take cover and hide, but the longer I hid the closer we drew to midlight. And once midlight hit . . . I shivered. Dwellers would be coming home. I had to move. Fowler and I needed to be out of here before that happened.
I took several more bracing breaths, in and out, to calm my heart as I moved down the narrow corridor. I didn’t hear that dweller or its poor victim anymore. Faint, very human moans trickled over the vaporous air. It was colder down here than above. My teeth clacked slightly as I continued, growing closer to the sounds of humans, my hand skimming the uneven wall beside me. The tunnel opened up into a great space where the air flowed swifter, the current similar to when I stood in an open field with the wind blowing, lifting the hair off my shoulders.
I hovered, standing at the threshold, shivering at the cusp of something . . . a great maw of space that contained several humans. They were trapped. Their moans met my ears, soft anguished cries lined with defeat. Their hands slapped and clawed at the ground, trying to pull themselves free. Some were injured. I smelled the cloying sweetness of their blood. I lifted my face, smelling, listening, assessing.
It was a nest, a vast stretch of earth with holes that imprisoned humans.
“Fowler?” I whisper-shouted over the pitiable sobs and pleas for help. Swallowing, I took on more volume. “Fowler! Are you in here?”
His response was almost immediate, alongside the cries of others, answering me, begging for their release. “Luna! What are you doing here?”
Elation burst inside me, sweeping over me and making me almost limp. “Fowler!” I started to step forward, but his sharp warning stopped me.
“Careful, Luna. You’ll fall in. Drop to your knees and crawl.”
Lowering to my knees, I started forward, patting the ground ahead of me. It didn’t take me long to figure out why I should crawl. The ground broke off into a pattern of holes. I crawled between them. Sticky residue was everywhere. I practically had to peel my palms off the narrow stretches of ground between holes.
Other people pleaded with me, calling for my help, but I kept an even line to where Fowler was lodged. His voice was a steady wind of encouragement that I followed until I reached him. My hand landed on his shoulder.
“Fowler . . . are you hurt?” I skimmed the curve of his shoulder, quickly understanding that he was wedged deep in the hole, his arms trapped. This must be why none of them were moving.
“Luna, you have to go.” Panic sharpened his voice. “You don’t have long. Get out of here before they come back—”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m here. Now help me get you out.” My hands roamed, trying to find some leverage to pull him out.
“I’m stuck tight and this sticky mess everywhere isn’t helping. It’s like one giant spider’s web.”
“Then I’ll cut you out,” I declared.
“What do you—” His words died abruptly as I used my knife and started hacking at the edge of the hole trapping him. I worked hard, panting as I cut and clawed the crumbling ground away from him with my fingers.
“Luna, there’s no time.”
I shook my head, pelting mud-soaked strands against my cheeks. I’d come this far. I wasn’t leaving without him.
He released a grunt of frustration and then started struggling, apparently grasping the fact that I wasn’t giving up and he might as well try to break loose.
My arms burned as I hacked at the ground. He jerked inside the hole, wiggling his upper body as I widened the opening a fraction at a time.
“It’s not . . .” Whatever he was about to say was lost as one of his arms suddenly broke free. He flung his body to the side and squeezed the other one out. I grabbed his shirt and helped haul him out, although now that both his arms were free he managed most of it on his own.
The others came alert and called out, their voices ringing around us, begging for help.
Fowler grabbed my hand and tugged me to crawl after him, ignoring them.
“Fowler,” I began, listening to the sound of a woman near him, crying and begging for us to save her. “We need to help—”
“There’s no time, Luna.” His fingers tightened on my hand as if he feared I would slip free.
I turned my head, facing the direction of her sobbing pleas.
“Please, please help me, too. Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here to die!”
I pulled against Fowler’s hand.
“Luna!” he growled, turning his body to snatch me by the shoulders. “We have to go! They’re lost. Most of them are covered in toxin, and it’s nearly midlight!”
For once in my life, midlight signaled the end of safety. Not the dawn of it. The irony wasn’t lost on me.