The Lost Level (7 page)

I was awestruck, still admiring her beauty when the snake men
stopped simultaneously. They hadn’t spoken, or made a sound, but it was clear
that they were obeying some unheard signal. One by one, they turned their heads
upward, staring at me. Forked tongues flickered from their mouths, and their
lips pulled back in snarls, revealing jagged fangs. I couldn’t figure out how
they’d known I was there, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. The two armed
with rifles hurriedly unslung their weapons, while two others fell back a few
steps and readied their crossbows. I had only seconds to act.

Shouting in a desperate attempt to disorient them, I dropped from
the branch and landed atop the shoulders of my closest opponent, crushing the
beast to the ground. My sword slapped against my back as he buckled beneath me,
and I heard the snake man’s bones snap sharply beneath his leather armor. His
blood soaked into my jeans and the air filled with its musky tang. The rifle
slipped from his scaly grasp. His chest rose once, but his breathing was
labored and blood poured from his nostrils and slit–like ears. His eyes
narrowed and grew cloudy. Then his breathing ceased. His forked tongue lolled
from his mouth. I pulled my pistol, flicked the safety off, and crouched atop
the bloody ruin of my opponent, facing off against the remaining five monsters.
The hate in their eyes was an almost palpable thing.

But so was their fear.

Looking back on it now, what unnerved me most about that battle
was the disconcerting silence in which it took place. The snake men hissed and
grunted, but not once did they speak or cry out. I had no doubt they were
communicating, but I wasn’t sure how they were doing it. They used no spoken
words, and made no gestures or other visible signals, yet they moved and fought
as a team, seemingly well aware of what their kin were doing during the battle.

Had it not been for the element of surprise and the chaos that my
entrance had created, I’m certain they would have surely killed me. As it was,
I pressed the attack, taking advantage of their confusion. I acted purely on
some savage instinct, driven on by adrenaline and a primal revulsion of my
reptilian foes. I snapped the pistol up and fired a shot at a snake man dressed
in old, rusted Roman centurion armor. He was in the process of leveling a rifle
at me when I shot him. I didn’t recognize his weapon. My bullet ripped into his
throat, exposed above the breastplate. Blood and scales splattered against the
tree trunk behind him, and he toppled backward. A soundless blast erupted from
the barrel of the rifle, and the air grew wavy and distorted, like a shimmering
heat mirage. I felt a rush of warmth race past me, and the hair on my right arm
singed and burned. Then the creature collapsed, dropping the rifle beside him.

I wheeled around, narrowly avoiding the thrust of a sword, and
leapt to my feet. Three Reptilians closed ranks around me, trying to hem me in.
One was armed with a sword. The second was equipped with a crossbow. The third
carried a crude but effective–looking spear whose tip was crusty with dried,
brown blood. Their eyes were wide and unblinking. Still gripping my pistol, I
drew my sword with my free hand and stood my ground.

“Come on,” I challenged. My voice quaked with fear and panic, and
I cringed at the sound.

If the creatures understood me, they gave no sign. Instead, they
approached slowly, making their way with deliberate caution, trying to force me
backward. I knew we were too tightly clustered for the opponent with the
crossbow to use his weapon effectively, so the sword and spear were a more
immediate concern. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and wondered
where the fourth snake man had gotten to. A second later, there were the sounds
of a struggle behind me, and my three opponents charged. I fired two shots at
the center mass of the one who was armed with a sword. He wore police riot
armor, which stopped the rounds from penetrating, but the force of the impacts
knocked him backward. He kept his grip on his sword, but the mirrored–visor
helmet flew off his head and rolled across the jungle floor. I side–stepped a
thrust from the spear and quickly parried a strike from the third foe, who had
dropped his crossbow and now wielded a sword, as well. Our weapons clanged as
they crashed together, and the vibrations ran through my arm and up to my
shoulder, rattling my teeth.

Behind me, a gunshot rang out and the female captive screamed. I
tried to turn around and see what was happening, but the two snake men pressed
me, attacking at the same time. The one to my left thrust at my ribs with his
spear, while the one to my right swung the sword downward, trying to cleave my
arm from my shoulder. I dropped my weapons in the mud and seized the spear with
both hands. Then I yanked hard on the shaft and spun the Reptilian around. The
sword blow crashed down upon his head, cleaving his skull in two and showering
me with gore. I blinked blood and brains from my vision. While the swordsman
struggled to free the wedged blade, I ripped the spear from the dead foe’s
scaly hands and shoved the jagged point into the swordsman’s left eye. I didn’t
stop until it protruded from the back of his head. Instead of falling, he stood
there jittering. The snake man’s foul–smelling blood slicked the spear’s shaft,
and then my hands, but I barely noticed.

Turning to face my final opponent, I found that the captives had
already taken care of him. A quick glance at the situation told me the story.
This snake man, armed with a handgun, had attempted to shoot me in the back,
but the older male captive had stopped him. In the struggle, the Reptilian had
shot my savior. Then, the third captive—the furry one with the long tail—had
intervened. That same prehensile tail was now wrapped around the murderer’s
throat, choking the life from him. The forked tongue protruded from the
creature’s lips as it went still. Then, slowly, the furry captive unwound his
tail and stared at me with something akin to respect. Slowly, he nodded in
recognition.

I returned the gesture and said, “Thanks. I owe you one.”

The furry captive grunted in response.

“He does not speak our language,” the woman said, and her voice
was as beautiful as the rest of her. “But he is a friend.”

“No doubt,” I replied, nudging the Reptilian with my toe and
making sure it was dead. The creature didn’t move. I looked up at my furry
benefactor, who made a fist and then pounded his chest once.

“Bloop,” he declared.

“Nice to meet you, Bloop. I’m Aaron. Aaron Pace.” Returning the
gesture, I made a fist and pounded on my chest, repeating my name. Then I
turned my attention back to the woman. “And what is your name?”

“I am Kasheena. My guardian,” she motioned at the dead man on the
ground, “was called Kasham. He was my uncle.”

I wondered about this. Kasham’s skin color did not have the same
bronze hue of Kasheena’s. Perhaps he’d been her adoptive uncle, or maybe uncle
meant something different among her people.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

“Do not be.”

“Oh…you weren’t close?”

“We were very close, and I loved him much. But I do not weep for
him.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Why would I? He died as all members of our tribe wish to
die—defending those we love. There is no greater honor, Aaron Aaron Pace.”

“Just Aaron,” I corrected her, feeling stupid. My eyes kept
focusing on her breasts. I hated the compulsion and struggled against it, but I
just couldn’t help it. They were impossible not to admire. My face felt
flushed, and I stared instead at the ground. It occurred to me that I was
covered in snake blood and bits of gore. My hands felt unpleasantly sticky, and
the smell was revolting. If Kasheena noticed, she said nothing. The silence
seemed to hang there between us, and I struggled for something to say. Finally,
I asked her, “So, how did you and Bloop meet?”

“The Anunnaki captured Kasham and I. Bloop was already their
captive when we encountered them. I do not know if he has other people here in
the land. I have never seen his kind before, nor had my uncle.”

“What did they want with you?”

She shrugged, and the things that simple gesture did to her body
were absolutely intoxicating. “I am not sure. They have captured others from my
tribe before, but none have ever returned. We have sent out warriors to find
their lair, but it remains hidden. Some of my people suspect the Anunnaki live
deep below the ground. Some say they capture us for breeding. Others say it is
for slave labor or food.”

“Breeding.” I scowled. “That’s sick….”

“I do not know what our fate would have been had you not rescued
us from the Anunnaki, but I know that I would have chosen death before I would
lay with one of their kind. To even imagine such a thing….”

She trailed off, shuddering, and crossed her arms protectively
over her breasts.

“Anunnaki,” I repeated. “That’s what these snake men are called?”

“That is what my people call them. I do not know what they call
themselves, for they have never told us. I doubt they speak our language.”

“They didn’t seem to speak at all.”

“Oh, they have a language, but it is not verbal. They communicate
with one another via their thoughts.”

I was intrigued. “Telepathy? I had suspected that was a
possibility before.”

“I do not know that word.” Kasheena frowned. “Your accent and
mode of dress are strange, but we speak the same language. You were not born
here in the land. You are from elsewhere.”

“Yes, I’m from Minnesota. Have you heard of it?”

She shook her head.

I was quiet for a moment, thinking back on my paranormal studies.
While I stood there in thought, she examined her uncle’s body, while Bloop
swatted at flies with his tail.

“Where I come from,” I told her, “the Anunnaki were ancient
Sumerian gods. Some people believed they might have been reptilian aliens from
the Alpha Draconis star system that visited our planet. Do your people believe
the same thing?”

“If it has ever been discussed at length among my people, then I
have not heard. But the Anunnaki must indeed have come from elsewhere, just as
others here do. And just as you have. It has been said that no creature is
original to this land.”

“What is this place?” I asked. “Does this land have a name?”

“Shameal says it is called the Lost Level.”

I must have been visibly startled, because her eyes widened, and
she stepped toward me.

“I see by your reaction that you have heard of Shameal. Have his
powers become so legendary that they are known on the other worlds?”

“No. I mean, I’ve never heard of this Shameal. Who is he?”

“He is our tribe’s wise man. A great healer and a mystic. Perhaps
the greatest. He knows the ways of this land better than anyone.”

“And he calls this land the Lost Level?”

“Yes.”

“Is he…can he help me?”

Kasheena cocked her head. “Help you how?”

Bloop grunted and scratched his stomach. Then he swatted with
annoyance at a fly.

“Could he help me get back to my world? What you called
elsewhere?”

“I do not know,” Kasheena said. “I have never known anyone to
return to elsewhere. Indeed, I have not known many people from elsewhere. Most
of my life, I have lived among my tribe.”

“But you said that your tribe believes everyone in this land came
from elsewhere.”

“Yes, that is what we believe. Originally, our people—and all the
other tribes and creatures who live here—came from somewhere else. My ancestors
did. My uncle did, as well, when he was just an infant. But I was born here.”

“And no one has ever left this place, as far as you know?”

“Of course people leave. There are some who have left the tribe.
They have ventured out into the land to make their own way. And then there are
those who died. They have also left, of course. When we die, we leave here.”

“But has anyone ever returned to…elsewhere?”

“I do not know. This is a question for Shameal. If you will help
me return safely to my people, I will take you to him. He will answer your
questions. I am sure of it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because my father is the leader of our tribe. He will be happy
to see me return, and he will wish to thank you for safeguarding me. If Shameal
will not assist you, then my father will order him to do so. As great as
Shameal is, my father is greater. Shameal respects him, as do all.”

“And how far away is your village?” I asked.

“If we rest normally, then it is five sleep’s journey.”

“Five sleeps….” It occurred to me that with a perpetual sun, the
inhabitants of this land had no way to mark the passage of time via days and
nights—at least no way that I would recognize.

“Five sleeps,” she repeated. “If we were to travel through the
swamp, the journey would be much shorter, but I fear none of us could stand
against the Mushroom Men. Their touch is death, and even breathing the dust
from their bodies would kill us. We must travel through the forest, instead.
But it is still a dangerous trek. There are many dangers, and we will have to
be mindful of the Temple of the Slug.”

She arched her back and put her hands on her hips. My eyes were
once again drawn to her breasts, so I glanced quickly at Bloop, who was
crouched over the body of one of the Anunnaki, looting the corpse. As I
watched, he tried putting on the police riot armor, but his furry, barrel–shaped
chest was far too broad to accommodate it. He picked up a fallen handgun,
sniffed it, and then tossed the weapon aside. Finally, he settled on a sword.
When he looked up and caught us staring at him, he bared his fangs and grinned.

“Bloop!” He thumped his chest again and hefted the sword over his
head like a character in some old pirate movie.

“Well,” I said, turning back to Kasheena, “I guess he’s with us.”