The Lost Level (23 page)

“Think about it,” I continued. “Different groups of Anunnaki have
come upon us at different times throughout our journey. Now, I could accept
that in one or two instances they stumbled across us due to blind luck. But for
it to happen so often? That suggests to me that they were hunting us
specifically. And given how determined their attacks have been, I have to
assume revenge is now a part of it. We don’t know what their original intent
was when they captured you and Bloop and your uncle, but it’s beyond that now.
They want blood. Vengeance. Somehow, word of each group we’ve slain has made it
back to the larger community. If they can do that, then it stands to reason
they can track us through similar means.”

“You sound worried, Aaron. Do not be. You have said yourself, we
have bested them with each attack.”

“Yes, we have. But if they are following us, what happens when we
reach your village? We could end up leading them there.”

“The Anunnaki have been a thorn in my tribe’s side since before I
was born. We do not fear them. It would not be the first time they have
encountered our village. My people would slaughter any who dared set foot
there. We always have before.”

Before I could respond, the water began to boil over, and I
turned my attention back to the grisly task at hand.

“He’s unconscious,” I told Kasheena, “but I need you to hold him
down anyway, in case he wakes up while I’m doing this.”

Nodding, she sat her weapons aside and knelt over Bloop. She
straddled him, putting her knees on top of his shoulders, and then leaned
forward, grasping his wrists. Bloop didn’t move. Satisfied that she had his
upper body restrained, I sat across his legs, readjusting the tourniquet to
make sure it was tight. Then, I slowly worked the shaft out of the wound. Bloop
moaned and twitched, but his eyes remained shut. His tail slowly coiled. I
blinked the sweat from my eyes and continued, cursing in frustration. The arrow’s
barbed tip was caught in his flesh. Pulling my dagger from the fire, I used the
heated blade to dig the arrowhead free.

The moment I touched the hot metal to his flesh, Bloop howled
with pain. His eyes shot open, and his tail lashed out, swatting me in the
face.

“Hold him,” I shouted. “You’ve got to keep him still.”

Grunting, Kasheena doubled her efforts, putting all her weight on
his struggling form. His tail lashed out again, curling around my wrist. I
wrenched it free with a gasp.

“Bloop,” I cried, “it’s us! Calm down, buddy. It’s going to be
okay.”

Bloop roared, resisting with all his might.

“Damn it, Bloop. It’s me. It’s Aaron and Kasheena. Let us help
you!”

He growled in response, thrashing and clawing at the dirt. Then,
with a great shudder, he passed out again. I returned the blade to the wound,
wincing at the smell of burning fur and flesh. The arrowhead was free within
seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. I inspected the shaft, making sure
there were no broken pieces still hidden inside his flesh. Then, I tossed the
arrow aside and examined the wound. It was a ragged hole, about the size of a
quarter. Blood leaked from it despite the tourniquet, and there were already
signs of infection. I cleaned it as best I could, using all of the water we’d
boiled. Then, I bound and bandaged it and sat back on my haunches, wiping the
sweat from my brow. Kasheena climbed off Bloop and collapsed beside me. She,
too, was dripping with sweat, and her long hair was plastered to her face,
shoulders, and breasts.

“That’s it,” I panted. “I don’t know what else to do for him.
Fuck…I just….”

“We have done all we can. When we reach my village, Shameal can
do more.”

“What if he doesn’t make it until then? What if he dies before we
reach your village? He’s our friend, Kasheena. He’s saved our lives more than
once. I want to be able to return the favor.”

“I am troubled, too, Aaron. But the best thing we can do for him
is to remain focused. He is not strong right now, so we must be strong for him.”

Rising to my feet, I put out the fire. The smoke quickly
dissipated, and the embers merely smoldered. Satisfied that it would no longer
telegraph our presence, I turned back to Bloop and checked his pulse. It was
weak, but steady. His breathing seemed normal. Even better, the wound had
clotted beneath the dressings.

“We’ll let him rest here for a bit,” I said.

“I think you and I should do the same,” Kasheena replied. “We
have not stopped since our encounter with the robot. Are you hungry?”

“No, but I could use a drink.”

“I am thirsty, too. You watch over Bloop. I will get us more
water.”

“Be careful.”

“And you, as well.”

She picked up her sword, retrieved the gourd, and headed for the
spring. I sat by Bloop’s side and put my hand on his chest, hoping the gesture
would comfort him, even in his unconscious state. Eventually, my attention
returned to the wrecked craft.

The idea of Nazi flying saucers wasn’t new to me. I’d seen enough
of them in comic books as a kid. And you also have to remember that during my
initial experiments with traveling through the Labyrinth, I’d briefly visited a
modern–day world where the Nazis were in control after winning World War II.
Granted, I hadn’t seen any flying saucers while I was there, but the idea wasn’t
so far–fetched.

I also knew the history of the Nazi Bell, a top–secret weapon the
Germans had supposedly developed during World War II while the Allies were
working on the atomic bomb. There was no one consensus among occult scholars
and conspiracy theorists on what the Bell had actually been or what its purpose
was. Some said it was an anti–gravity propulsion device. Others believed it to
be an experiment in free energy. One group of devotees were convinced it had
been a vehicular craft of some kind, while yet another insisted that it was a
weapon. Time–travel had also been suggested, with some believing that the Bell
had been the German’s own version of the Philadelphia Experiment, and still
others proposing that the device had allowed Nazi scientists to see events from
Earth’s past via the use of a mirror affixed to the interior of the device.
There were as many theories about the Bell’s whereabouts as there were about
its purpose, with some believing it to have been secreted off to a South
American country after the war, and others insisting it had been seized by the
Russians, Americans, or another nation’s intelligence agency, or perhaps an
international group like Black Lodge. A few even insisted that the Bell’s
creators had used the device to escape capture and that they had travelled
through the Labyrinth with it, transporting themselves to another level where
they’d be free from persecution.

Of course, the craft in front of me wasn’t the Nazi Bell. That
had been described as being nine feet wide and fifteen feet tall and distinctly
bell–shaped (thus the name). The thing in the gulch looked like a traditional
flying saucer, albeit smaller than I would have expected. Its only similarities
to the Bell’s descriptions were, as far as I could tell, the strange, heavy
metal it was constructed from and the Nazi swastikas proudly emblazoned across
its silver surface.

Insuring that Bloop was okay for the moment, I walked over to the
saucer and began to examine it. Exposed to the eternal sunlight as it was, the
hull should have been hot to the touch, but when I brushed my fingertips
against it, the surface was cool. That perplexed me. Even stranger, the metal
seemed to be almost frictionless. I placed my palm against it and felt a slight
vibration from somewhere inside the craft. No sound accompanied it, but I
definitely felt the disturbance. I saw no recognizable power source, but I
wondered if the vehicle could still be functional, and if so, what lay inside?

I strolled around the saucer, running my hand along the surface
and marveling over the strange sensations the weird metal caused. The vibrating
sensation continued in steady, rhythmic pulses. I was so entranced that I didn’t
hear Kasheena return until she called my name.

“Aaron? I have more water.”

“See if you can get Bloop to drink some. I’ll be over in a
minute.”

“You should come away from there. I do not like that thing.”

I turned to face her. “Why not?”

“I do not know. It just feels…wrong. Perhaps it is cursed.”

“Well, the people who manufactured it were certainly a curse.”

“Is that their symbol?”

“The swastika?” I gestured at one with my finger, accidentally touching
it, and then, before I could continue, there was a soft hiss of pressurized air
escaping, and a hatch opened on the side of the craft. I caught a faint whiff
of something foul. Wincing, I backed away from the door.

Brandishing her sword, Kasheena moved to stand beside me.

“You see?” she whispered. “It responded to what you said of its
creators. I told you it was cursed.”

“I don’t think so. More likely there was some kind of hidden
mechanism beneath the swastika.”

“We should leave here at once. Leave this place and never return.
I will warn my people about it when we arrive.”

I glanced back at Bloop, then returned my attention to the
saucer.

“We could shelter inside,” I said. “Get Bloop out of the sun, and
give us both a chance to rest. I mean, let’s be honest here, Kasheena. We need
to rest, after all we’ve been through. One sleep, and then we won’t stop again
until we reach your village.”

“And if the creators of that transport attack?”

“If there was something inside that was going to attack us, I think
it would have done so already when I opened the door.”

“Perhaps they are out seeking food and water, or maybe they are
waiting inside to surprise us.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“You are going inside?” Kasheena asked.

I nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

“I do not worry, Aaron. I am coming with you.”

“What about Bloop? One of us should stay here and guard him.”

“Then I will stand in the entrance. That way, I can protect you
both.”

“Fair enough.”

We approached the open hatch with trepidation. I stepped inside,
and the stench I’d smelled before grew stronger. It was definitely decay, but
muted somehow, as if nothing more than an echo. The craft’s interior was dark,
but as soon as I moved, a row of red lights flickered to life across the floor
and ceiling. I waited a moment for my eyes to adjust to the illumination, and
then crept forward, while Kasheena took position in the doorway. She looked
imposing, standing there, but I saw the uncertainty and fear in her eyes.

The ship’s interior was composed of one large cabin. The inner
walls were lined with banks of controls and equipment, none of which appeared
to be functioning. In the center of the room were four seats, similar to those
found in the cockpit of an aircraft. They were faced back to back. Strapped
into those chairs were four mummified Nazi pilots. The desiccated corpses still
wore their uniforms. Their skin was like leather, drawn tight over their
skeletons and cracked in places, showing yellowish–white bones that gleamed
dully in the dim light. The odor I’d noticed before was obviously coming from
them, but I noticed another smell now—something dry and metallic, almost
alkaline.

I was just about to approach the corpses, when I noticed
something scattered all over the floor and console on the far side of the
saucer—a fine, red powder that I had at first mistaken for dust, given that it
was the same color as the utility lighting. I scanned the floor, noticing some
shards of broken glass. Then I caught sight of a shattered, tube–like scientific
flask of some kind, sticking up out of the floor, surrounded by what appeared
to be melted lead. The symbol on the tube was just as instantly recognizable as
the swastikas on the exterior of the craft, and my eyes widened in fear. It was
the international symbol for radioactive material.

Holding my breath, I turned tail and ran, nearly knocking
Kasheena over as I plunged outside. My heart pounded, and my vision blurred as
I stumbled toward the Nazi insignia on the exterior hull. I slammed my palm against
it, and the hatch whispered shut behind us, sealing the craft once again. Only
then did I exhale.

“Aaron, what is wrong? What did you see?”

“Water,” I gasped. “I need water, quickly. Where’s the spring you
found?”

“It is just over that hill, through the grass. But why—”

“There’s no time to explain. Just show me, please!”

She reached for my hand, but I jerked it away.

“No, don’t touch me, Kasheena! Stay away. Don’t get it on you.”

“Aaron…?”

“Kasheena, there was something inside the flying saucer. Something
that is very poisonous. I don’t know if I got any on me or not, but just in
case I was exposed, I need to wash immediately. You can’t touch me until I do.
If I was exposed, you could be in terrible danger. Remember the nuclear
material I was worried about when the robot in the canyon was destroyed?”

“Yes.”

“We may have a similar situation. Now, please, show me where the
spring was.”

Nodding, she led me up the hillside, pushing through the grass
with her sword. I barely noticed. I’d forgotten all about the Anunnaki and the
crashed Nazi disc, and even the octophant. My panicked thoughts were consumed
instead with red mercury.

Red mercury was supposedly nothing more than a scientific hoax—a
fiction created on the international black market among arms and weapons
dealers to con unsuspecting would–be terrorists and despots. It was supposedly
a poisonous, odorless, tasteless scarlet powder containing red mercuric iodide.
Despite its dubious origins, some investigators believed that the German
scientists had actually used such a compound during their development of the
Bell. They had called it Xerum 525 and stored the red mercury in a tall, glass thermos flask encased in lead. Accidental
exposure to Xerum 525 had supposedly led to the deaths of several important
scientists due to its highly radioactive properties.