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Page 25.

He took it all in, in a flash: three galleries... one dark and empty... The second with a shape in a tank... in the third, three figures: two mutants, one normal...

With a yell, he stepped into the room.

They barely looked up, the two puff-girls gnawing at the viscera of Maryan who lay naked and sprawled against the wall. She was immersed six inches in the healing green water that could do nothing for her now.

Using his bow as a whip, he beat the two unfortunates until he saw red welts on their backs. One tore out a piece of meat and ran cowering toward the front of the cave. The other he had to kick and beat before she would take her arms out of the torso.

He kicked the second mutant out of the way and knelt by Maryan, but there was nothing he could do. He touched her—she was still warm—so this was the one who had begged for mercy.

Numbed with horror and disappointment, he staggered out of there and went into the second gallery.

The figure he’d seen was a mummy. Her shriveled face and hands peered out of a dry, empty tank. He saw what must have happened—her killers had devoured the nutrient rich abdomen with their umbilical cords, and must have been so rough that they tore the stem of the umbilicus out of the bottom of the tank, so that it drained. The mummy’s bottom half was missing. As he went by, the wind of his passage made her topped over forward like a chunk of papier-mâché.

“No!” he yelled. “No!”

He had risked his life for nothing, chancing the rippers to come here.

He went from tank to tank—nothing.

Then he heard a rumbling sound. He felt a rush of adrenalin, and clung to the nearest tank. A slat of light stabbed into the cave.

He listened for roaring noises, but none came.

His curiosity compelled him to rush toward the cave entrance, though his mind screamed for him to stop.

He saw the two misshapen creatures run out side. Rippers pounced on them.

He just rounded the corner into the front cave as a ripper loped out, carrying in its jaws the body of the women who had just died.

He heard a squeak that sounded like fabric tearing: the tendons on the wall were moving, contracting the giant brownish muscle tissue that operated the door—and the door slammed shut, sealing him in darkness.

He wanted to cry, but he was beyond emotion, in shock. He staggered dimly about... realizing that he could stay here, that he could kill any mutants that developed, that he would rescue the next Maryan.

He broke a piece of mushroom off the wall. He knelt on the floor and drank the healing water. Between bites and gulps, he made a meal of the liquid and the mushroom bread.

Then he climbed up the mound and pushed the slab back into place, shutting himself in.

He would stay here as long as it took.

He would die here if he did not succeed. He wasn’t worth going into the world again alone.

He sat down with his back to the wall and began the wait.

Slowly he sagged downward until he was lying down. His thoughts began to drift, and he must have fallen asleep…

Alex was with Maryan, holding hands and running along the shore of a lake. She was so beautiful, with her healthy red cheeks and fine face. Her blonde hair hung in pigtails—ah yes, that trip to Lake George in 2010! They’d made love there for the first time, after two years of intense petting. They’d already vowed to marry, and this was their first vacation together. They were both 20.

It had been dim in the bedroom at the motel, with the Venetian blinds drawn, and the summer sunlight filtered to a honey-brown glow. Alex had held her thighs against his ribs, feeling the softness of her knees under his armpits as he thrust, so wonderfully, and thrust again, and each time she moaned. She clutched the rumpled bed sheets and turned her head from side to side...

...Not moaning, but sobbing.

Cold wet hands shook him, and a bloody tangle waved before his eyes.

He threw himself against the wall in recoil at the horror before him.

The monstrosity fell over Alex; he felt its cool flesh against his; and it landed with a splat of flesh in a shallow puddle of green parsley.

He could smell blood about it. Had it been feasting somewhere in the darkness?

He stood over it, his bow raised to come down on its neck and kill it.

It turned, raising one hand in supplication.

“Please,” it said.

He sagged in wonder. It was she.

“Maryan?”

“Alex?”

“I can’t believe this!” He was on his knees, hugging her. She felt slippery and wet, and cried out in pain.

He looked down and saw the torn umbilical dangling from her.

“Where are we? What’s going on?”

At that moment he heard the door again, crazed with the ardor of giving birth again and again.

A stab of light.

A cautious, questioning growl rumbled powerfully through the caves.

He looked down the corridor, through the open cave mouth, and saw a ripper prowling on the distant river bank. Another of the powerful animals just then slipped into the caves with searching eyes and open, hungrily dripping snout.

Alex held a hand over Maryan’s mouth. “You have to be absolutely silent,” he whispered.

Wide-eyed, she nodded.

He took her by the hand and they retreated deeper into the cave. He chambered an arrow and looked watchfully behind. The majority of the rippers were busy on the river bank or in the entrance and had not yet scented Alex and Maryan. The rippers were busy chewing on white puffy objects, and their muzzles were red.

Alex noticed that Maryan was doubled over in pain, and he kept his arm comfortingly around her. She was perfectly formed, and he knew that the tree-knot of umbilical matter should fall off soon as her abdomen healed. He examined the ends briefly, saw teeth marks—the mutants had gnawed them off, causing her to birth prematurely as he had. “We have to stay in the caves until you are healed,” he told her. “You need the green water to heal you.”

He didn’t mention his fear that a massive infection would kill her as surely as the attentions of the rippers.