Symbiosis
Rating: T - M (Rating my increase in later chapters).
Disclaimer: I don't own this, but I so wish I did. The Yautja are probably the coolest alien species I've run into.
Summary:She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was trying to gain honor and prestige. But life had other plans. Now, bound together, they must survive as a single unit. Easier said that done, considering that she's human and he's an alien. Oh, and there's the small matter of government experimentation. . .
Warnings: Language, and the tiniest hint of gore!
Author's Notes: Alright, I'm obviously addicted to this story or something. You guys are in luck, I was able to whip out my homework and get it done so I could write this. I'm not sure if the next chapter will be ready in time, but next weekend. . . Who knows. I'll try to aim for updating on the weekends, but my school and life get in the way. Hopefully things slow down a little so I'll be able to write a little bit more.
I'm practicing lower word counts, because I can get very, very wordy. So things are a little smaller, but watch, I might just break that unofficial vow. Anyway. I hope you enjoy! We're finally getting into the meat of things, but the next chapter will probably be the best one, I think. You get to find out what happened to Riley, Suraj, Riley's dad. . . and everybody else on the dig crew.
But I'm thinking a lot of people will probably already know.
"I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
The taste of sugar was heavy on her tongue.
Riley swallowed, closing her eyes and doing her best to stop her heart from fluttering in her chest. She was terrified - she didn't know what the hell they were going to do to her today, but she wasn't looking forward to it. Not in the slightest. The muscles in her arms and legs were already feeling heavy, and thinking quickly, Riley sat herself down on the floor before her legs gave out.
She sat there, breathing slowly and steadily, her skin already aching and pulsing, her nerves crackling.
Whenever they drugged her, it meant testing. And whenever testing was going to happen, it meant scalpels and needles and electrical shocks and pain. Odd, that she should still be afraid of it, when she'd been living with pain for so, so long. . .
Her head started to spin, but it in act of defiance, Riley remained stubbornly sitting upright. She had to prove she was still strong somehow. Her soul may have been dying, but she still had the strength to sit tall, and that was something. She knew that if she stopped resisting in tiny, defiant ways, she was going to forfeit completely to the madness. And when that day came, she would finally die inside.
Lead replaced her blood, and Riley fought against gravity, but it won. She slumped over, catching herself in a clumsy mess before she collapsed entirely, and exhaustion pulled at her as she laid on the cold floor of the cell. My kingdom for a blanket, she thought bitterly. She hadn't slept with one for years, it seemed, and she was permanently cold. It had been so long, she was positive that she would never be warm again in her life. Nausea swirled through her as the sickly sweet flavor of drugs flooded her mouth.
If I ever live through this, she thought, drowsy, I'm never going to eat candy again.
Her eyes closed, but she was still awake. If she really tried, she could crack them open just a fraction to take in a very foggy and distorted world. Muted voices floated to her from the other side of the door, and after just a moments, it slid open, permitting men inside. She could see the shiny black boots of a few soldiers, but a vast majority of them were scientists - the White Coats.
Their words were garbled and slurred to her, and she couldn't understand a vast majority of what they were saying, but she could hear snippets and phrases. "Blood tests" and "surgery" were among the most prominent.
Hands grabbed her, hefting her up and off the floor. Riley couldn't have fought back, even if she'd tried. The drugs were flooding through her system, turning her feeble and helpless as a tiny kitten. The hands and arms deposited her onto a gurney, but didn't bother to strap her down, adding insult to injury. The White Coats adjusted the gurney, and they were off, wheeling her through whatever godforsaken complex they were in. The hallways were white and gray, bleeding into each other, and it didn't take Riley very long to shut her eyes to stop herself from throwing up.
There was no use trying to keep track of where she was. She had tried to escape more than once, and she failed every time. Why bother?
In the back of her mind, she felt the voice stirring, growling and snapping and fighting through her veil of drugs to get her attention. Riley hummed mentally, not particularly caring whether or not they communicated today.
In fact, she was quite pissed at it, and she didn't really have a desire to have a conversation.
A frustrated growl was her answer, and it tore through the thick curtain of drugs with that much more fervor, determined to reach her.
A loud beep sounded to her right, and she flicked her eyes sluggishly, trying to find where it was coming from. God, machines could be so loud nowadays. . .
". . . they're talking. . . not out?" One of the White Coats asked.
Another answered, but he responded too quickly for Riley to catch what he was saying.
The gurney bumped to a stop, and Riley blinked, hissing as bright lights assaulted her eyes, searing into her retinas like the sun. She wanted to wince, but she didn't have the strength. The ceiling above was a matte gray metal, but it gave her little reprieve. As she stared into the light, she felt a lance of fear when she realized it was the domed casing of a surgery light. Her heart gave a muted thump, and she felt her fingers itch. . . she wanted to get out, to run. She knew what this meant.
She was proven right when gloved hands grabbed her head, twisted it to the side, and began to strap her down. Somebody fitted a plastic mask over her face, and she heard the shallow, fearful pants of her breathing. The sharp smell of alcohol stung her nose, and a second later, she felt a wet dabbing at her head as they began to prepare the bald side of her skull. She breathed, feeling dizzy and faint, and she knew she only had seconds.
Mesh'in'ga. Ki de nracha.**
Bastard, she seethed, I hate you.
I hate you so much for what you've done.
He only laughed.
A week, as it turned out, was not the fated day.
Either was two.
Or even three.
They did, however, gain a lot of new people around the digsite as the days passed. And a vast majority of them weren't savory characters. Riley yawned and stretched, shaking her head as she tried to stay awake. She'd been up for a solid eighteen hours now - but who could blame her? For as long as she'd been on her father's dig, she had been absolutely enthralled with the door.
She couldn't get enough of it. She stared at pictures, consulted texts, and accessed the net in an attempt to translate. . . well, no, she wasn't really translating. And therein lied the absolute amazement of it all: there was no way to translate what she was looking at. She'd tried everything - Aztec, Mayan, Incan. . . Latin, Arabic, French - and languages she didn't even know. Nothing came close. And that was just the language.
She would have been quick to dismiss the door as a hoax, but her father had showed her samples of the rock, geological survey results that have proved the rock had not been moved, it was as old as the cavern that it had been carved into. The door was situated inside of a small cave, the opening of which was hardly more than thirty feet tall. It had been hewed as smoothly as human hands could allow (falling into line with most other architecture and building methods of the ancient Neaplese) but the door itself was a smooth as polished marble.
And then that wasn't even accounting for how the runes were lasered into the fucking rock. Which was just. . . scientifically impossible. Never mind the fact that lasers weren't going to be invented for another few thousands of years. . . it was a lot to take in. And it left a lot of questions unanswered for the dig crew.
Absently, the teen heard a commotion outside of her tent, and she perked up, looking at the entrance of her small abode. By Nepalese standards, it was somewhat lavish, but to Riley's standards, it was just right. She was parked right next to her father's tent, and whereas his was firmly cared for and organized, Riley's was a well-loved mess. A heat lantern sat in the middle of the floor, and an array of her clothes hung from the tent's poles, dangling from the ceiling. A multitude of papers, books, maps, charts, and other assorted knickknacks were scattered everywhere. Riley operated best in organized chaos.
The only thing that had been meticulously organized and cared for was her dig gear. Her coat and backpack full to gear were situated right next to the tent's entrance. Whenever she got back 'home', she made sure everything was cleaned, stocked, and re-packed. Her dad had ensured that she was well-prepared.
The flap opened, and she spotted Suraj, standing just outside. Riley started, glancing down at her watch. . . oh. Deflating in relief, she nodded. He was fifteen minutes early. She and Suraj were supposed to go to the door and investigate it - it was something of a daily ritual, actually. She would go, her friend would accompany her, and they'd both try to pick apart the language as best as they were able. . . which, literally speaking, meant she and Suraj stared at the door and wondered, "what the fuck did this?"
Suraj raised his voice - but somebody else cut over him. Riley sat up, letting her pencil danger between her fingers. Moments later, the entrance to her tent flapped open, and an old Nepalese woman barged in, snapping at Suraj, who wined back a reply - but one level look from the old woman had Suraj standing silently, his lips pressed into a thin line. Turning to her, the old woman smiled warmly.
"Namaste.**" Riley said, rising to her feet. "Namaste, Old Mother. Timi lai kasto cha?**"
The Nepalese woman, wrinkled with age and time, reached forward and grabbed her hands, squeezing affectionately. "Good, I am good, my child. Come, come, sit."
Old Mother ushered her forward, into one of the small chairs Riley had in her tent, and obediently, she sat. Immediately, the woman began to take her hair and plait it.
"Mama," Suraj said, voice bordering on a whine, "No time. We going!"
"There is always time." Old Mother said, her voice soft and accented.
Old Mother, Riley had been pleased (and surprised) to discover, had once been very young, and somewhat wealthy. She had studied for years in local English schools, and when she'd had the money, had studied English in America. But time and life had changed many things, and she'd soon found herself in Nepal again, raising a great number of children. She might not have gotten anywhere with her English education, but as she had told Riley before, she was happy with what she had learned. "Life is a journey," She'd told Riley once, "And I savor every step of it, bitter or sweet."
"Thank you, Old Mother." Riley said, smiling at the sulking Suraj. "I'm afraid I can't braid my hair the way you do without mirrors."
"As always, I enjoy it. It has been a long while since I have had a daughter to care for."
Riley beamed at Suraj, and the other teen crossed his arms, looking moody.
Another fact about Old Mother's brood: there had only been one daughter out of her seven sons, and that daughter had moved to another region of Nepal many years ago. Riley, ignoring Suraj's pouting, leaned back and relaxed, loving the feeling of another person caring for her hair. Suraj looked like the spitting image of Old Mother: they shared the same hair, the same facial structure, and even the same kind, expressive rich brown eyes.
"Have you had much success with the door?" Old Mother asked. Riley kept her eyes closed, feeling boneless and relaxed.
"No, but today we're going to try and open it."
"Ah, so today is finally the day."
Riley chuckled. "I hope so. My father can hardly contain himself."
"Your father is a good man," Old Mother replied, "He treats the Nepalese well. . . unlike the soldiers."
Riley opened her eyes and frowned, mirroring Suraj's disgust. Nobody had expected the soldiers to come, but they had, and in numbers nobody had expected.
The digsite had been transformed in the past three weeks, turning from archaeological expedition to para-military camp. Soldiers demanded that people coming to and from the dig remain carefully counted and tracked. It was incredibly common for soldiers to construct pat-downs to ensure nobody was "taking cultural artifacts" from the cavern. . . Which was a fucking joke, considering the door wasn't even open. Not only that, but they guarded the perimeter of the dig fiercely, had installed curfews, and weren't afraid to punish those that dared to disobey it.
As Riley Landon, Henry Landon's daughter, Riley had special privileges, but she hated them. Archaeology wasn't about soldiers with guns, floodlights, or security checks. It was about digging in the dirty and trying to figure out ancient cultures!
"We're trying to talk with the benefactor of the dig, find out what the hell happened. They're just giving us the runaround. I hate them as much as you, Old Mother."
The woman chuckled, and pat her shoulders, indicating she was done. Riley stood, ignoring Suraj's impatient jostling, and took Old Mother's hands in her own, squeezing them. The woman smiled back at her in turn.
"Do not worry. The Nepalese are hardy people, and we have weathered worse storms than this. Now go, my daughter. I believe you have a door to investigate."
Suraj let loose a stream of words in her language, and Riley wasn't fluent, but she picked up on a few that translated pretty closely to, 'finally!'
Riley leaned in, pecking the woman on the cheek and giving her a bright smile before bidding her goodbye. Glad to have her hair out of her face and braided (making for an easy time cramming herself into tight nooks and crannies to explore), Riley grabbed her thick winter coat and slipped into it, and made quick work of shouldering her backpack as she and Suraj made their way outside. The digsite was a bustle of activity, like it was normally, only now soldiers milled about, geared with protective vests and toting around menacing black guns.
Riley moved by them, uncaring, and forced Suraj to walk to her left so they wouldn't grab him for a "random security check."
Racist assholes, if you asked Riley. They interrogated every Nepalese person that crossed their path, but didn't ask any of the white people where the hell they were going or what the fuck they were doing. It was almost as if they suspected the mountain folk of hiding something.
So long as she made it explicitly apparent that she and Suraj were walking together, the soldiers didn't bother them. . . Well, that, and the soldiers had learned early on that Henry Landon did not appreciate his daughter being at the mercy of the guard dogs. Something he'd made explicitly clear to the benefactor of the dig after the first incident.
Riley had been talking to Suraj, eagerly bouncing her ideas and theories off of him. He didn't understand 90% of what she was saying, but it helped her organize her thoughts. The pair had been heading to the mess tent to grab some food when they'd been intercepted by soldiers. She hadn't understood what bullshit excuse they'd tried to use: something about frisking him to ensure he was following security protocols. They'd grabbed the teen, and when he'd made a fearful squeak, Riley had reacted, trying to free him.
One second she was trying to pry muscled arms off of her friend, and the next, another pair was grabbing her roughly and trying to "subdue" her. And Riley had shown him exactly why that was a bad idea. In a flurry of movement, she'd broken his leg and dislocated his arm for his troubles. It had been sheer luck that her father had been just a few feet away - things probably would have gotten a lot uglier.
Riley had walked away with a bloody nose and a nice bruise on her cheek, but she'd grinned at them all the same. Apparently, their soldier guard dogs weren't very well informed.
Henry had had to leave his baby girl for months at a time with his sister. . . and he constantly fretted and feared for his daughter's safety. The only responsible, parental choice to make was to enroll her in practically every self-defense and martial arts course that existed around Riley. She was a loyal member of a skilled and hard-working MMA gym, and a long-time member of an equally reputable taekwondo school. Riley had been training in martial arts since she could talk.
Though, she was fairly sure if she tried the same stunt now, she wouldn't be able to walk out of it with just a bloody nose and a bad bruise. But at the very least, she could fight back. The Nepalese, however. . .
Tucking Suraj firmly against her side, Riley made a beeline for the main tent. It was the nerve center of the dig - all of the maps, intel, graphs, and sign-in boards were there. A few soldiers passed them, giving them hard stares, but Riley mirrored them, scowling. Fucking assholes. Still, they made it to the tent without issue, where Riley ducked past a few Sherpas as she found the sign-in boards. Easiest way to keep track of who was where and their plans for the day.
Main cavern: Henry Landon.
Of course. Her father's neat handwriting had his name clearly signed right next to it. The time reflected he'd been gone for about two hours.
Riley felt a tug at her elbow and peeked over at Suraj.
"Look, Rileh," Suraj said, pointing, "Many peoples moving."
Riley looked out the tent, watching as a few soldiers started booking it up the trail. Gesturing for Suraj to follow, Riley dashed outside and followed both soldiers and dig workers alike as they made it up the main trail and to the cavern. Up at the top of the slope people were gathered in a thick cluster, voices loud, confused - some angry. Others scared.
"C'mon." She said, breaking into a jog. Suraj followed her, sticking close to her side as she ascended the slope. The soldiers were trying to keep people from entering the tunnel, but being as that there were only two guard dogs (at the moment) and about a hundred dig workers trying to gain entrance. . . it was no easy task to keep them out. Riley, waiting for an opportunity, ducked down into the crowd and yanked Suraj along behind her, dashing into the cave.
A wall of freezing air smacked into them. Despite it being summer, the cave was absolutely frigid. It had a lovely temperature of 32 degrees consistently, which was incredibly odd, given that the digsite averaged a temperature of 60 - 72 degrees. So how it was so cold. . . well, it was anybody's guess. The geologists were saying something about an underground glacier or something. This dig had proved more problematic for more than scientific field. Riley had a theory it had to do with the depth of the cave beyond the door, and their proximity to Mt. Everest.
Suraj cast a worried glance behind him.
"Rileh, we not have done that."
"Should not have done that, my friend. But we totally just did, so. . . C'mon. Dad was signed in, so we're going in. I'd like to see them stop me."
More frenzied dig workers sprinted to and fro in the tunnel, but Riley kept a steady jog as she and Suraj descended to the door. From the tunnel's entrance, the door was only a half mile down, and the way leading to it was studded with bright white LED lanterns that illuminated every nook and cranny. Riley tried to keep herself from getting nervous, but it wasn't working. She didn't know what the hell had everyone worked up, but it had to be big.
And where was her father?
It only felt like moments before the door loomed ahead of them - but Riley skidded to a halt, damn near tripping over the uneven cavern floor.
A tight semicircle of soldiers surrounded it, snapping and growling and pushing at any worker who dared get too close. People were yelling, tensions were raised, but Riley hardly noticed any of it. For a moment, she was utterly taken aback. The door was open. They'd managed to crack open the door - that would explain why people were in a frenzied excitement. . . but it didn't give a reason for the fear.
Scanning the crowds, she looked around, but she couldn't see the one person she was looking for. Frowning, and her anxiety growing, Riley dashed forward, snagging the first dig crew member she found. It was a Sherpa - he looked frightened, his face pale.
"Hey! Hey, where is my father?"
The man babbled in Nepalese, too quick for her to translate - not that she could, given that she'd only been there a month or two - but she turned to Suraj expectantly. The fifteen-year-old stepped up, grabbed the man around his arms and asked him a question. The worker took a while, but he finally responded, stuttering the whole time. Riley bounced back and forth on her feet, biting the inside of her cheek, and waited impatiently.
Finally, Suraj released the man, who shook his head, babbling again, and took off at a sprint for the mouth of the tunnel.
"Suraj, what did he say?" Riley demanded. The teen looked at her, hesitating, and her stomach dropped. "Suraj!"
"He say. . . He say they open door."
"Yes, yes, and. . .?"
"And crew go. Your father go. The radio. . . Many scream. And nobody come up."
Gunshots cracked through the tunnel, making her ears ring, and Riley jerked, whirling to the soldiers.
And for the very first time in her life, Riley finally understood what the expression, "earth falling out from under your feet" meant.
"Rileh, we not do this. Dangerous. Bad!"
"We can not, but we so, so are." She hissed back.
Suraj shifted next to her, one of his hands curled around her arm and squeezing in nervousness. Night had fallen, and the pair of them were crouched behind a rock, hiding from one of the glaring spotlights. It was by sheer luck that the pair hadn't been caught yet and rounded up with all the others. But Suraj was a lot stealthier than Riley had given him credit for - the teen had somehow kept them tucked away into the hillside.
Old Mother had played a critical role in their escape. And here she was, about to disregard everything the woman had done.
Riley closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against a sharp rock as she breathed in deeply, listening to the semi-distant voices of soldiers barking orders and forcing people to get into hastily-erected quarantine tents. . .
Riley breathed heavily as she stared at the body that fell. The dig worker clutched at her arm, blood leaking out from under her fingers and staining her yellow jacket.
"Move! Move move move!" The soldier snapped. More shots were fired, the ringing in her ears growing worse, her heart hammering in her chest. What the hell was going on?
Dig workers moved away from the soldiers - and Riley blinked in surprise when hands grabbed her.
"Riley! Christ, kid, get the fuck out of here. Move!"
She saw his face - and somehow, she remembered him. His name was Greg. Greg Hally. Riley tried to protest, but Greg ushered both her and Suraj the other way, back to the opening of the cavern.
"My dad-"
"Is fine. Jesus, what the fuck is going on. They fired at us, hit Jess-"
Greg's words stopped short as they came to the entrance of the tunnel. Soldiers were suddenly swarming around them, forcing them into a human funnel, voices barking at them, guns pointed in their directions, fingers on the trigger. . . Riley's voice shriveled up in her throat as she clung to Suraj, and Greg ushered them forward, trying to keep them away from the soldiers. They'd made it about halfway down the trail when Riley noticed the soldiers erected white tents, carting in equipment and supplies she hadn't even known they'd possessed.
And in another twist of fate, the voices suddenly swelled and raised, screams erupting - and Riley got a front row seat to two Sherpas running, breaking rank. . . and a mist of red cloud erupting from their chests as the soldiers shot them.
Horror flooded through her.
Panic and fear spread through the rest of the dig workers like a rabid dog, and soon Greg was jostled away from them. Soldiers barked and screamed, trying to get people back into rank, and Riley prayed they would be able to. She held onto Suraj, who wrapped her arms around her, and she hoped for the best-
A hand grabbed her neck, and Riley squeaked, just barely managing to suppress the urge to lash out. That would have involved letting Suraj go. And in this crowd. . .
"Come!" A voice ordered, old and feminine, "Come quickly!"
Suraj startled in her arms. "Moth-"
"Now!" She snapped, leaving no room to argue.
Old Mother didn't wait for Riley or Suraj to answer. She just started pulling, one hand wrapped firmly in Riley's coat, and Riley stubbornly refusing to let Suraj go. Deftly, the old Nepalese woman skirted around the crowd and dashed behind a tent, where she shoved at the two.
"Go! Run. Don't look back, children!"
"Mama-"
Voice shouted, and Old Mother spun around, heading back to the chaos. Riley felt her heart fracturing. She had no idea what the fuck was happening, but Old Mother had bought them enough time to leave the camp. And she'd be fucked if she didn't do it.
Suraj cried out, calling to his mother, resisting, but Riley was stronger than he was. She pulled him along, and after a minute, he fell into step, sobs leaving his tiny body as he led the way, the sun setting over the Himalayas. . .
Riley opened her eyes and expelled a breath. Those bodies still felt burned into her mind, engraved in her eyes.
The worst part was not knowing why.
She could clearly see a quarantine symbol on the tents they'd erected and soldiers wearing hazmat suits. . . But what contaminants were there? They were in the mountains, and Henry Landon ordered all workers (be they native or foreign) to get inoculations before they came to his digs. Nobody was sick. Riley could understand the deaths if they were carrying ebola or some magical never-discovered super-bug that was going to wreak as much devastation as the Black Plague. . .
But she knew that wasn't the answer.
Riley shifted behind the rock, carefully examining the soldier's patrol routes. There was a heavy security presence outside, but most of the guards were tending to the dig site workers inside of the tents. Which meant, if her math was correct, that there was a thin task force inside of the cave. . . easy pickings. She hoped. If her plan worked, anyway. She and Suraj had to time this perfectly. Once they were inside, she didn't give a rat's ass about what the hell happened, or what alarms they set off.
"Rileh, the wind moves." Suraj whispered.
She thought that the teen would protest more vehemently, demand that she listen to Old Mother and the two would run far away. . . But the closest village was well over twenty miles away. And they had limited supplies. Riley knew they wouldn't be able to make it.
"Wind moves?" She echoed, looking at him and frowning.
Suraj pointed to the lip of a distant hill, his face pale. "Spirits. They watch us."
Riley stared at where he was pointing, but she didn't see anything. She shook her head and examined the dig site a second time. "I don't have time for ghosts, Suraj. C'mon, let's move. We need to snag two grenades there, see them?" She pointed to a small arms cache that the soldiers repeatedly checked into, and laying at the very top of a crate were grenades of some kind. She had no idea what they were, but they'd work just fine for her plans.
"We're going to get them, get to the door next, and I'm gonna kill whoever gets in my way. I need to find my dad." She swore. She gestured for him to move, but Suraj grabbed her arm.
"Old Mother. . . She there. She say no?"
Ah, there it was.
"Suraj, if anybody can stop this mess, it's my dad. He's in that cave. And we have to go find him. Tell him the soldiers went ballistic. We're going."
She didn't wait for him to reply. She didn't have time for that - what if soldiers had. . . in the cave? Maybe those were the screams. . . Ha. No. No way would her father die like that. He wasn't even dead, anyway. She knew he was alive. Suraj would understand when they found her dad - Henry Landon would be able to get this all under control. She just had to get to him. Riley started slinking away, but in a heartbeat, Suraj was ahead of her.
He was much more adept at crawling down the rocky cliffsides, and was three times more quiet than she was - but Riley let him take point. Quickly and carefully, the duo made their way down to the camp, and darted their way in and out of tents, using them as cover.
It was actually pathetically easy. The soldiers were busy in the quarantine tent, taking people away and shuffling them back in, and with the ruckus the dig crew was making, Riley was able to snag two grenades from the pile. Rushing back to a tent, Riley rejoined Suraj, and flicked on a tiny pen light. One of the grenades she'd grabbed was a flashbang, and the other was a. . . smoke? A flashbang and a smoke grenade. Whatever. She could make that work.
"You have?" Suraj whispered. Riley nodded, flicking off the pen light and clipping a grenade to her belt. She'd use them both. The instructions were easy - and even printed on the can. Pull the pin, flick the switch, and throw. There was a three second cook time, and it promised a minimum of five minutes of cover. It was all she needed. Not without a heart, Riley passed Suraj the smoke grenade, and gave him a nod.
It was time to go.
It was odd, how easy it was. But together, the pair ducked and weaved through rocks and shadows and tents, watching to make sure the coast was clear. The darkness that had fallen helped add another layer of cover, aiding their efforts. Little by little, they made it closer and closer to the tunnel. And eventually, despite the odds, they made it. Even Riley was surprised. Battle-hardened soldiers, letting two kids skate through their guard? It sounded like the stuff of bad novels.
Behind her, Suraj whispered about the moving wind, and Riley shot him a glare. "Not now, dude."
Wisely, her friend shut up. She felt a little bad about the stung expression on his face, but she shook her head. No time to worry about that - she'd make it up to him later. Riley crept up to the entrance of the tunnel, palming her grenade.
"Okay. We're going to run down the entrance, and I'm going to throw this, and then we're going to run in. It's not a great plan, but it's the only one I've got."
Suraj looked at her blankly. "Scuse?"
Riley shook her head. "Just follow me."
And with that, she took off at a sprint. there was no telling what they'd find when they got into the tunnel, but she wasn't stupid enough to assume they'd left the door unguarded. Suraj ran along behind her, and Riley found it felt like only seconds had passed before she was in front of the door, the soldiers yelling out in surprise and shock, scrambling to get to their feet from where they'd been sitting.
"Now, Suraj!" Riley yelled, popping her pin, thumbing the switch, and chucking the grenade. It felt like she was watching everything in slow motion as she watched the grenade rise and fall, joined by a second one just moments later. When it hit the ground, Riley shoved herself against Suraj and pinned him against the wall, clamping her hands over her ears and wrenching her eyes shut.
She felt Suraj mimic her, just barely managing to cover his ears before the grenades detonated. She felt the pressure of the blast, her ears popped and began to ring, and she saw the bright flash momentarily turn her vision of red.
That was Riley's first experience with a grenade. And maybe it was the desperation to find her dad, maybe it was the adrenaline - hell, maybe it was because she'd clutched her hands over her ears so tightly she was sure they'd started bleeding. But she took off at a sprint. It looked as though a metric ton of dry ice had hit the surface of a lake - smoke and fog had exploded everywhere, covering everything in a thick cloud. Riley ran straight into it, not even stopping. She came across a soldier who'd been unable to pull down his mask in time, and she viciously jammed her hand into his windpipe.
It felt good. More than good - it felt great. After that they'd done to the dig workers, after everything. . .
Suraj, smart and fast, held onto her belt as she dashed through the cloud, jumping over her victim. And in moments, they were through the door, plunging into the darkness. Riley didn't stop, even though she knew it was stupid. It was idiotic to go running into a cave not knowing what lied around the corner. She ran her hand along the wall as she jogged on, knowing distance was what was going to save them.
A bright light speared through the darkness, and voices barked at them - so did the crack of a gun. Something hit the ground dangerously close to her foot, and Suraj gasped, panicking, but Riley whirled around, latching onto his shirt and started dragging him, determined to go into the cave.
That, she supposed, was her downfall.
Literally.
One moment, the floor was there, and the next it was just. . . gone. Riley was unashamed to admit that she screamed, terrified, as she plummeted down into the darkness - but it was cut short as she collided with a hard surface, again and again. Her head cracked against it, and reality quickly slipped from her grasp. Numbly, however, she felt herself hit the floor and remain still.
She laid there, feeling a hot prickling spreading on her scalp.
Moments later, however, hands grabbed her, and a bright light pierced her eyes - Riley scrambled to get away from the soldier, her movements jerky and disoriented.
"Rileh! Rileh! Is me!" A voice finally pierced the fog of her brain.
"Suraj?" She asked groggily. She blinked, and held a hand in front of her face, shielding her eyes. Suraj pointed his light away, and Riley blinked, scrubbing at her face.
How the hell. . . What the fuck had happened? Eventually, the world came into focus, and she looked at Suraj, concern flooding through her.
"Oh my god, sit still. Don't move."
The teen's face was bloody, streams of red dripping down his nose and lips. He must have hit his head, just as she had. Riley was quick to dab away the blood around his nose, and it was obvious that it was broken, but there was nothing she could do for him. She didn't know how to set noses. Though it hurt, he would have to live with it for right now.
Same went for her, too.
"Rileh. . . hurted?" Suraj touched her head, and Riley jerked herself back with a hiss of pain. He looked at her, equally concerned, and Riley glanced down at his hands, finding blood.
She shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Suraj. . . How did we. . ."
"Felled." Suraj said, pointing his flashlight behind them, at a rock wall. "There. See?"
Yes. About thirty feet above them, a ledge was present. . . Though Riley had no idea how they'd survived the fall. She could see several rocky protrusions on the way down - and. . . !
"Ropes! Oh my god, look, Suraj, those are ropes! The dig team was here. C'mon, we gotta get up and find my dad!"
"Before soljur come." Suraj agreed, tenderly making his way up to his feet.
The pair got up, and Riley fished her own flashlight out her bag, clipping it to her backpack strap. Their breath curled in the air, and Riley shivered. It felt like it was hovering closer to zero degrees rather than 32. They moved forward, continuing into a tunnel, a little aching and bruised, but otherwise doing alright. Silence followed them, and Riley paused, turning to look behind her, at the ledge, but she didn't see any beams of light or hear any surprised yells.
Where are the soldiers? She thought. But then she shook her head - whatever, it didn't matter. What did matter was finding her father and the dig crew.
The tunnel was smooth, and fringed with Riley guessed was Nepalese, Mayan, Incan, and Aztec architecture. Which was just as confusing as the door itself, considering that their cultures had never mixed. Ever. Riley shook her head a second time - she didn't have time to start fretting about that. She had more important things to worry about. The tunnel sloped gently downward, and in just seconds, it morphed into something else entirely.
One moment, it was a tunnel, and then it simply evolved into a temple. Riley stood there, momentarily shellshocked as she stared at the grand, rich construction. It, like so many other things, was just so. . . alien. The temple was odd in shape - they were standing on an upper tier, circular in design, and roughly eight feet below them, there laid another terrace. The design repeated, shrinking in circumference, until it stopped at a pit in the center. Each terrace was ringed with doors - Riley couldn't count them all.
Suraj appeared just as starstruck, and he approached a wall - where murals were cut into the rock. He whispered something in Nepalese, running his bare hand across the lasered art. Riley was quickly becoming familiar with the medium - human tools in ancient times could never engrave something so solidly into stone.
"Spirits," Suraj said, "Wind spirits."
"Old myths of gods, probably." Riley agreed, looking at the etchings. "Look, it's fighting a serpent. But serpents aren't really native to Nepalese culture. . . That's Aztec and Maya and Incan territory."
Suraj shook his head, a sign he didn't understand much of what she said, and Riley followed suit. Suraj needed her to break things down into small chunks for him to absorb. Old Mother had bemoaned the fact that her son was very staunchly against learning English. . . until Henry Landon and the dig had set up shop.
Old Mother. . . Just thinking about her sent a knife of pain in Riley's heart.
She took a breath and exhaled. She wasn't going to call it quits on anybody until she found her dad. They still had to find the dig crew and solve the soldier problem. Digging around in her pack, Riley pulled out a glowstick, popped it, and after a brief shake, dropped it on the ground.
"C'mon, Suraj, we've got places to go. Those glowsticks in your pack? Break them and drop them. That's how we'll find our way back." Riley pointed to the ground, knowing most of what she said was lost, but he nodded his head.
They were going to play a very modern version of Hansel and Gretel. As they continued along, Riley did her best to ignore the structure around her and focused on finding her father. But it was difficult. . . primarily because it was so foreign. There was no way that human hands had built what she was seeing, as evidenced by the laser etchings and rocks that were most definitely not from Nepal.
She and Suraj popped glowsticks as they continued, climbing down from one shelf to the next, peeking into a few doors, but seeing no disturbance in dust or evidence that her father and the dig crew had passed through. A small well of frustration and dread began growing inside of her: what if they never found her dad? The temple looked much, much bigger than she thought it would have been. . .
Steeling herself, she moved on. She had to, if she had any hope of finding her dad. If she didn't. . . there was no way she was going back to the soldiers. Hell, if her father and the dig team made it this far, she was fairly certain that they'd found another exit. It was ridiculous and stupid to build a tunnel, enclosure. . . and. . . and. . .
She paused again, looking at the temple.
They were standing in a giant, domed atrium that was simply massive. Hundreds, if not thousands, of doors surrounded them, each leading into their own tunnel. Riley stood there stupidly, gawking in wonder. Briefly, she wondered if her father had done the same thing.
Suraj tapped her arm, and she gave herself a shake. Her companion pointed to something - a glowstick. One that was blue, not green.
Hope flared through her in a heartbeat. The glowstick was still bright - indicative it wasn't very old.
"Dad uses blue glowsticks! Suraj, you're amazing. Let's get over to it."
It was down another terrace, and about twenty doors over.
Riley dangled herself over the edge and eased herself onto the lower level while Suraj popped a glowstick and threw it in front of the doorway they'd been standing by. Riley was sore as they made their way over, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, they were standing in front of the blue glowstick. Riley picked it up, examining it.
They used industrial-grade glowsticks, lasting upwards of fifteen hours or more. And so far the light hadn't faded any, meaning it was only a few hours old. From the last time she'd seen her father, she had to guess he'd been gone maybe five hours. . . perhaps longer.
"Riley. . . rope." Suraj whispered.
Riley dropped the glowstick, discarding it, and her heart froze as she looked at the ledge, where a rope had been secured into the rock. It was moving, wriggling, creaking as weight pulled on it.
"Something's coming up." She rasped, her stomach dropping.
Namaste == is the Nepalese way of saying hello and goodbye.
Timi lai kasto cha? == means "How are you?" in Nepalese.
Mesh'in'ga. Ki de nracha. == The battle dream time. I am relentless.