Subterranean

He winked down at her, seemingly reading her mind. "I won't drop you."

Embarrassed by her doubts, she willed her hands to let go. The carabiner brakes held her in place as she hung from the rope, swinging away from the wall and out over the hundred-yard drop. Suddenly she jerked upward as Ben's arms pulleyed rope through the quick draw.

In two pulls, she was hauled next to him, still swinging a couple feet from the wall. He held his hand out to her. She reached for him. His fingers slid across her palm before gripping her hand. His eyes never left hers as he pulled her toward him. He held her waist steady, his palm hot through her damp T-shirt, as she planted her feet and gripped the wall.

"Thanks, Ben."

"Anytime, love," he whispered in her ear, then brushed her cheek with his lips.

She blushed and glanced away. "We'd… uh… better get going. Michaelson's waiting."

He turned back to the wall and continued. She watched him climb with the ease of a mountain goat, his legs spread wide. She had to force her eyes away before she could continue, her cheeks still flushed.

Within ten minutes, all three were sitting on the ledge, sipping warm water and chewing on jerky and dry cheese.

Ben sat close to Ashley's side, his leg brushing hers. They ate in silence, all of them exhausted. Michaelson seemed lost in his own thoughts.

Finally, Ashley dusted crumbs off her lap and pushed to her feet, her leg muscles wobbling. Planting her fists on her hips, she glanced up the pocked slope. Thankfully, it was a short, easy grade. If she had to climb another vertical wall, she'd need at least a day's rest.

Ben stood up beside her. "Ready?"

She nodded.

"Okay," Ben said, "then let's cinch up and head on out." He grabbed the bundle of climbing rope and hooked her to him. He stood close as he knotted her up, then leaned toward her. "Sometime we're going to have to try this when we're not rock climbing," he said with a jaunty grin.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Let's get going."

Whistling that damned tune again, Ben tackled the slope. Ashley followed. For a good part of the ascent, she found she could simply walk, only needing to crawl over short sections of the climb. Near the very top, though, the climbing became tricky again. Footholds and handholds had to be searched for carefully, each yard gained only with planning and muscle.

Sighing, Ashley glanced up, wondering if they would ever escape this damn crack. She watched Ben suddenly heave himself up and roll out of sight. He had reached the lip of the cliff! With renewed energy, she followed, scrambling from handhold to handhold.

Suddenly Ben's face popped over the lip, only feet from her. He wore a huge smile. "C'mon. What's keeping you?"

"Just get out of my way," she said with a matching smile.

He reached down and hooked a hand into her harness.

"I can manage on my own. Just-"

He yanked her up to him, kissing her squarely on the lips, then rolled backward, hauling her over the edge and on top of him.

She laughed convulsively as she lay sprawled across his chest. Relief at finally surmounting the cliff washed over her. Ben's nose was only inches from hers. But he wasn't laughing-only staring into her eyes. His seriousness sobered her.

There was a hunger in his stare, a desire she had never seen so openly offered. And in his eyes, a question. As she stared, her laughter died in her throat. Restraining for only a heartbeat, she answered his question, leaning down and returning his kiss, at first gently, then with a passion that had been too long suppressed.

In response, he wrapped his arms around her, swallowing her up, enveloping her deeper to him, bodies crushing together as fervently as their lips.

Words intruded: "If you lovebirds are done, I could use a hand."

Blushing furiously, Ashley rolled off Ben and sat up.

Michaelson, with the biggest backpack, struggled to pull himself up over the edge. Ben scooted over and by pulling on his pack was able to wrestle the major up.

Michaelson shoved to his feet. "Well, we're up here now. But where the hell is here?"

Clearing her throat, Ashley shot Ben a guilty glance. They should have been checking out the site. She unclasped her hand lantern and clicked it on. The men followed her example. "Let's find out," she said.

Ben freed the geopositional compass from his pack and fiddled with it. "Still not working." He snapped it closed and rummaged through his pack. "Forget all that newfangled computer crap. Sometimes you have to resort to old-fashioned methods." He pulled out a scratched silver box the size of his palm and kissed it. "Ah! Here's my darling. Simple magnetic compass with built-in barometer for measuring pressure. Great for approximating depth." He studied the tiny tool's measurements. "I'd estimate we've just climbed two hundred meters. Bringing us just that much closer to home." He pointed the compass forward. "We should head this way."

Ashley took the lead, Michaelson limping behind her.

Ahead of them, the surrounding rock opened into a spacious cavern, a short rise blocking the view into the main chamber. Leading, Ashley reached the crest first. She froze as she waved her light across the cavern floor ahead.

Ben tromped up beside her. "Shit!" he said as he looked down.

"Goddamn," Michaelson whispered.

Ashley widened her lantern beam. Before them, strewn across the cavern floor, lay thousands of white eggs the size of ripe watermelons. Most were clustered into distinct groups. Nests. Several patches of cracked empty shells dotted the field. Halfway across the cavern, three immature marsupial creatures, about the size of small ponies, huddled together, necks entwining. As Ashley's beam settled upon them, they began a strident mewling.

Linda was right, Ashley thought. Egg-laying, like the platypus. "This is not good," Ashley said. "Not good at all."

Only one other passage exited the chamber. A tunnel large enough for a train to pass through. The babies' cries continued, grating like a fingernail scraped across a blackboard. The trio quieted, cowering in their nest, when a bellow erupted from the tunnel ahead.

Something large and angry barreled this way.

EIGHTEEN

LEANING OVER THE GREEN PONTOON, JASON WATCHED the triangular wake his fingers made in the water. He wished his mother were here. Not that he was scared. Actually, the initial terror of their escape yesterday had dulled to a mere worry. He just missed her.

Behind him, Blakely snored, slumped in his seat. For nearly a day they had anchored here, a hundred yards offshore. Nothing to do, nothing to see. A smoky pall obscured the shoreline. Yesterday, brief explosions of fire had brightened the water's edge. Today, though, nothing but oily smoke and darkness. It was hard to tell in which direction the base even lay. Just walls of emptiness, like they were adrift in space.