checked a note in her book and pursed her lips.
Ashley said her good nights and retired to her mattress. She snuggled into her blankets, still warm from her recent slumber. Sighing, she closed her eyes, but the biologist's questions nagged at her. What
Ben struggled in his sleep, knowing he was dreaming but unable to stop it. He was in that damned cavern once again. He walked among the fruit-laden trees, red pulpy gourds drooping obscenely.
'Hello,' he hollered into the grove of trees.
No answer.
He had seen an image of his grandfather the last time he was down here. In a cave. Now, just where was that? He headed in a direction that seemed familiar. He brushed past a low mass of foliage with petite blue flowers. Didn't he pass a similar bush before? It was like returning to your hometown after being gone for decades. His feet seemed to remember their previous steps.
As he approached the far wall, he knew he was going the right way. He could even see the black hole in the glowing wall. Glowing? It was the same fungus growing in the geode room. Strange.
He continued toward the wall, expecting the trees to block his way forward, like his previous visit. But this time no trees stopped him. Taking a handful of steps, he found himself standing before the wall, a soft muskiness enveloping him. The fungus was sporing little pods the size of pinheads. He brushed a hand against the wall. With the sweep of his hand, the odor became overpowering. His mind reeled. Explosions of colors flashed before his eyes. He swooned to his knees, fighting to stay conscious, but his vision swirled in fantastic eddies of colors and textures. He slipped to the floor, the back of his head exploding as it hit the ground.
A voice arose from beside him. 'Benny-boy, enough of that bloody crap.'
He knew that voice from childhood. It was his grandfather.
'Jesus, snap out of it, mate.'
His vision cleared as his grandfather waved a twisted leaf under his nose. It smelled of mint with a hint of cherry. With each wave, the swirls of colors were wiped away, as if erased by the passing of the leaf. 'There you go, Benny-boy. 'Bout time you got your bloody arse down here.'
Of course, he was dreaming-but it seemed so real. He could see the spiderweb of broken blood vessels at the tip of his grandfather's nose. The tufts of white hair at the edges of his ears. The ever-present laughter in his eyes. 'Granddad?'
'Who'd ya think?'
'Well, considering you're buried six feet under Aussie soil, I didn't much expect to run into you anytime soon.' He pushed himself upward, the musky odor still strong, threatening to overwhelm him again. 'Why are you here?'
'I've been sent to warn you.'
'We know about those black beasties. You're a little late.'
'Those wankers? Don't let them pests get to ya.'
'Pests? Those 'pests' just about consumed our entire crew.'
His grandfather sat down beside him, crossing his legs.
'Benny-boy, you have to continue down. Don't go up.'
'But-'
'Down, Bennie-boy. Down.'
The muskiness intruded again, smearing the image of his grandfather with wide swatches of purple and orange. 'I don't understand…' He felt himself falling away again.
Only his granddad's words followed him as he faded away: '… down… down…'
'Wake up, Ben.' Ashley patted his shoulder, surprised at how deeply he slept. The others were already up and about. He was the last still in his bedroll. Even Villanueva was sitting up, doing much better, his arm in a crude sling.
She shook Ben's shoulder. 'C'mon, breakfast is about ready.' She glanced over to where Michaelson was bent over the campstove. How he managed to turn dehydrated eggs into a damned close approximation of a Denver omelet was a mystery that would baffle Betty Crocker. Her stomach rumbled in response to the tantalizing scent of grilled onions and tinned ham.
Ben groaned, rolling onto his back, eyes cracked open a slit. 'Bloody hell, what is that stench?'
'It's breakfast, and if you don't hurry, you'll be eating cold cereal.'
He propped himself up on his elbows, his hair sticking out in all directions. He scratched at himself under the blanket. 'Blimey, my head's aching like she's about to blow. It's not fair that I get a hangover without a fine evening at the pub.'
Concerned, Ashley placed her hand on his forehead. Thankfully, Ben had no fever. 'It's just a headache. I'll get you a couple aspirin.'
'How about a fistful?' he said with a tired grin.
She crossed over to the bag that held the first-aid kit, shaking out three aspirin from a small plastic bottle.
Villanueva sat next to the kit. 'He doesn't look too well.'
Ashley couldn't help but smile at his observation. This from a man whose shirt was still soaked in his own dried blood and whose arm had just about been torn off. 'I'm sure Ben will be fine. You, on the other hand, need to rest. You shouldn't even be sitting up.'
He looked at her stonily, as if she were speaking a foreign language.
Michaelson stepped up behind her and handed the SEAL a steaming bowl. 'Chicken broth,' he said when Villanueva raised his eyebrows. 'You lost a lot of blood. You need plenty of replacement fluid. Drink up.'
Ashley crossed over to Ben, a slight smile on her face. Major Michaelson was turning into a regular Florence Nightingale.
'Thanks,' Ben said, when she offered him the aspirin, 'but I'm already feeling better. Once I'm up and moving, I'll be more chipper than a 'roo with a full pouch.'
'Take the aspirin anyway.' She pushed the tablets into his hand and passed him a cup of water. 'We've still got a big day ahead of us.'
He pouted but took the pills. 'Now, weren't you saying something about breakfast earlier? I always wanted to be served breakfast in bed.'
'If you're feeling hungry, then you're fit enough to get your own meal. Besides, we need everyone together at breakfast to discuss our options, and I want your input.'
'Oh, all right. But that's a good way to give everyone a bad case of indigestion.'
She helped him stand. 'Quit griping.'
With a mock scowl, he accompanied her to the camp stove, where Michaelson was already scooping out platefuls of omelet and fried potatoes.
'Quite a spread of tucker, mate,' Ben acknowledged, hefting a tin plate from the major's hand.
'Since we haven't had hot food since breakfast yesterday, I thought everyone could use a big meal.' Michaelson filled Ben's plate with a tap of his ladle.
Ashley took a smaller helping and sat down on a flat boulder. Khalid and Linda were already seated around the campstove, forkfuls eagerly being consumed. Villanueva sipped at his chicken broth, lustfully eyeing their greasy meal.
Once Michaelson was settled in with them, Ashley spoke up. 'We need to decide a course of action from here. We have only supplies for another eight days.'
Nods and chewing were her only answer; the others waited for her to elaborate.
'Our options are to go back and try to make it through monster alley back there; stay here and hope that after a period of time the lack of radio contact may generate a search party; or push forward and try to find an alternate route up, knowing that there may be other nasties awaiting us.'
Linda put down her fork. 'I think we should stay here. Eventually someone will come looking for us.'
'Perhaps,' said Michaelson, 'but consider the previous team. We were sent three months after the first. It could be a long wait.'
'That's true,' said Ben, 'and those beasts will be waiting for them too. It's not fair to ask someone to walk into the same lion's den without warning. And going back through there ourselves is not an option. I say we push
