First Gear Read online

  “What do you think you’ll find? There is no magic cure to what you have.”

  “What do you mean what I have?”

  “You’ve been coughing.”

  “There’s no blood.”

  “It’s coming.” Stated with assurance, indicating Niimmo had a passing familiarity with the ailment plaguing everyone’s lungs.

  “My wife…” Jool paused to savor saying it aloud, suddenly missing her with a poignancy that hurt. “She’s sick. Coughing blood sick.”

  “And you left her?” The sneer made Jool’s next words emerge defensively.

  “There’s nothing to help her back there.”

  “There’s nothing to help her here either. Or do you think you’re the first to come poking in the mountains looking for a miracle?”

  The talisman warmed against his skin, and inside his head, there was a whisper. Ask him what he’s seen.

  “How far have you been into the mountains?”

  “Far enough.”

  “Ever come across anything strange?” How to ask without being specific?

  “You mean like a city slicker trying to wrestle a dangerous rodent?” Said with a hint of dry humor.

  “I was talking more like ruins. Perhaps you’ve seen some objects that aren’t naturally created.”

  “Nope.”

  He almost asked if the man had ever heard voices. Whisperings on the wind, making promises if he’d only follow. “Are there other people out here? Living off the land like you?”

  “Some. Not many. We tend to keep to ourselves.”

  “You came to my rescue.”

  “Told you, I wanted the rat. And the only reason I’m sharing is because you distracted it for the kill.” And begrudgingly by the sounds of it.

  “Where are you traveling?”

  “Elsewhere. Soon as it’s dawn. We’ll split the meat.”

  Meaning they’d go their separate ways.

  “I don’t suppose I could tag along for a bit.” Maybe learn from someone with experience.

  “You should turn around and go back to where you came from. Focus on your wife.”

  A rebuke.

  Don’t listen. The cure, it’s here.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to explore a little farther.”

  “Your funeral.” Niimmo grunted. “Keep in mind the mountains have a way of erasing those who try to overstay their welcome.”

  The next morning, Niimmo had vanished, taking half the meat with him.

  7

  Jool had been gone for ten days now. Ten days of not knowing if he lived.

  Three days ago, the cough returned.

  The tickle built in her lungs, but she did her best to ignore it, choosing instead to stare at the barrier of the mountains, a shawl clutched tight around her shoulders.

  Ten days.

  Had he even made it one night in that dangerous place?

  She shouldn’t have lied about the perils that existed. She’d made him think everything was dead in the hopes he’d stay.

  But he left her anyway.

  And she missed him so badly. Had nightmares about the things that lived in those mountains. Giant rats, ferocious felines, and then there were the unnatural things. Rumors claimed there existed monsters with glowing eyes.

  So many things to kill a man who sometimes tripped over his own feet when distracted. How she loved him. She recalled their first meeting, his cravat askew, his gaze completely focused on a book. Until he saw her.

  Onaria only ever thought of herself as an ordinary woman. Her features simple, pleasant, her hair usually constrained in a few tightly woven plaits. She’d worn a plain blouse and slacks that day. Nothing ornate or revealing.

  Yet his eyes had widened. He’d smiled, such a charming thing, which turned into a blush and a ducked head that made her fall in love.

  Love at first sight for her. And apparently for him, too. He’d held her close after making love and told her how he’d loved her for so long but feared her rejection. For some reason, he thought her wildly attractive, irresistible, deserving of only the best.

  “Which is why I married you.” Her reply to the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her.

  Yet the man who loved her so much had departed, and with every morning she rose without him, what little hope she had left diminished further.

  The pressure in her lungs built, and she knew to brace herself as the choking heaved forth, expelling air painfully. Her entire body tensed and cramped with the cough.

  When she was done, blood spattered the ground. She wiped her hand across her lips, and it came away red.

  The only bright thing left in this world, and it represented the worst omen.

  The reprieve she’d enjoyed had ended. How long did she have now? Weeks? Days?

  It reminded her of the vial he’d left behind. An innocuous little jar with metal shavings in it. He claimed he’d used it to ease her symptoms. Doubtful. There was no medicine to help the cough, and yet in all her time nursing, she’d never heard of the bloody cough stopping once it started. It usually got worse.

  Like now. It throbbed, a constant painful reminder every time she breathed.

  Mix it in water.

  The idea seemed ludicrous. She didn’t believe for a moment it would help. Yet she found herself pouring a glass of boiled water, taking the vial, and shaking it over the liquid, watching as it floated on the surface, a glinting metallic sheen.

  The tickle in her lungs started anew, and her eyes watered as she sought to hold on. Not again. If she started down that road, it ended in her dying. She didn’t want to die before seeing her husband again.

  Lifting the glass, Onaria took a deep breath and downed the mixture.

  Felt the grit as it hit her tongue and then irritated her throat. An irritation that heated. Slamming down the glass, she grabbed at her throat, unable to gasp for air, the warmth within increasing.

  She hit the floor on her knees, and rocked, panic filling her, and yet she couldn’t scream. Couldn’t remember if this happened the last time he fed some to her. Had she thought it just a symptom of the cough?

  Suddenly air filled her lungs, the heat in her throat eased, and the pain went with it, as did the tickle. By the time she’d drunk another glass of water, sluicing the grit free, and walked back outside, even her rib cage felt better.

  Perhaps she enjoyed a placebo effect from taking the powder. Or maybe Jool truly was on to something miraculous.

  She stared at the mountains and whispered, “Please, find what you’re looking for, and come back to me.” Because she only had, at best, two more doses left.

  8

  The last of the meat was tough and took a lot of water to wash down. Jool hadn’t had any luck in trapping a rat of his own. At least he was more aware of them. He’d even spotted other animals, not all of them as violently inclined as the rat. But just as quick.

  If only he could have followed Niimmo. A few lessons in survival would have been welcome. Learning by trial and error, mostly error, proved exhausting and almost cost his life a few times.

  The longer he spent in the wilds, the more he truly grasped the impossibility of bringing a large group of people out here to live. The valleys he’d found thus far, while getting successively better the deeper he went, couldn’t sustain too many. The growth was sparse and stunted, more from the proximity of the mountains and lack of sunlight than the pollution he’d wager.

  With no plants to feed on, his lack of hunting skill chafed.

  He resorted to drinking pretty much only water as he found his way up and over the next mountain of rock. The next valley, the third since he’d begun, proved less decimated, with actual trees that stood tall. Bushes with berries on them. Tart and staining the hands, but not poisonous. Or so he’d hoped when he’d seen a bird feeding off it before it startled, flapping its wings and flying away.

  Another chance to eat and he’d not even brought out a rock for a throw. He had a pocket full now, an
d he’d been practising his aim. Now if he could only remember to arm himself quick enough to hunt.

  He’d yet to see another person since his encounter with Niimmo. Then again, someone could have been shadowing him and he’d never know.

  His footsteps never seemed to land lightly, and he stumbled over the hint of a rough patch on the ground. Yet, at the same time, he grew stronger. By the time he’d passed the fourth mountain range, he caught his first creature. By accident. He startled it in a bush and fell on it when it tried to run.

  He cringed when he wrung its neck. Then said thanks when he ate it roasted over a fire. Half burnt, half raw, still delicious because he’d done it.

  He could survive. There was a certain amount of pride in that realization, then guilt as he remembered Onaria.

  She waited for him. Waited for a miracle. He couldn’t turn back until he had one.

  The next mountain range proved most challenging of all, mostly because he didn’t find a pass going through it, and it rose in a sheer cliff that even a spider might hesitate to climb. Had he found the end of his path?

  He walked along the ledge he’d climbed to until he reached a bumpy area. Clinging and fitting his toes in tiny crevices, he inched across and a bit higher to another ledge, calling himself all kinds of crazy. He’d be better off heading back down to the valley and following it to another spot. But no, something urged him to keep going.

  Just a little farther.

  The stone beneath him shifted just as his fingers found purchase. His foot slipped free, and his body wrenched. The tips of his digits dug into the rock, the only thing holding him. The only thing keeping him from death, so he’d better not let go.

  He gasped for breath as his legs hung uselessly.

  Don’t let go. Don’t. Let. Go.

  He huffed the chant as his toes scratched for an edge. Even a tiny one. He placed both his feet and heaved himself up. Then up some more to a lip of rock. A lip that led nowhere. He flattened himself against the wall.

  In the gray twilight, he looked over the vast valley. The tops of the trees kissed in a mist that concealed it from above. Across from him, the mountain he’d climbed a few days prior. To his right, the section he couldn’t believe he’d crossed. While to his left…flat rock. A dead-end climb.

  He sighed.

  And he could have sworn the mountain sighed with him, an exhalation that actually brushed the skin of his cheek.

  Just a little spooky. He turned to glance at his back and noticed the hard ice that had melted from above and formed a sheet over the rock partially concealing an opening. Only the barest sliver remained uncovered, and it chuffed. A hand in front of it showed air moving out of it. Warmer air. A cave?

  He tugged at the edge of the ice, pulling with all his strength, only it didn’t crack. He unsheathed his knife and began chipping the thick ice, flecking off a bit at a time. This would take forever.

  The knife found itself swapped for his pistol. He’d used it only once before and had been shocked at the explosive sound. Not to mention his poor aim. However, this time he stood right in front of his target. He placed the barrel close to the ice covering the widest part of the hole. Turned his head and pulled the trigger.

  Boom!

  The recoil almost sent him tumbling down to his death. He threw himself forward instead, slamming into the ice that shifted under his palms. He grabbed it and pulled, hearing a lovely cracking sound as it broke away. The hole he’d blasted had created a lovely web of fissures.

  He kept yanking and tossing ice, his ears ringing still from the gun, which was probably why he didn’t recognize the rumbling. Mistook the shaking in his body for excitement.

  As he cleared a hole big enough for him to explore, the first chunk of ice went bouncing off the rock face beside him. From above.

  He tilted his head and gaped. “Oh shit.” The only thing he could think to say as he saw a sheet of ice hurtling down.

  Sure death.

  With only one possible way to survive.

  Jool dove into the cave he’d uncovered just as the ice went tumbling by. He ducked and covered his head, the mountain vibrating as ice and snow spewed from above. It took forever for the rumbling to subside.

  A bit longer after everything stopped shaking for him to dare to remove his arms.

  I’m alive.

  He stood and looked behind him at the ice thickly covering the entrance, even spilling a bit inside. It roused panic in him, and he punched at it, shoving the chunks, creating an opening that only filled with more ice. So he kept pushing.

  And once he had a hole big enough, he glanced through, only to gasp in horror. For the handholds he’d used to climb to this remote spot were gone. The avalanche had wiped the rock face smooth.

  Leaving him stuck in a cave.

  He pulled his upper body back in and took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t be trapped. When he had more light in the morning, he’d look again. Surely he could find a way back down.

  Only as he paced did he realize the cave was bigger than he’d first thought. Once he moved in a way it got wider and a touch taller than him.

  How big was it?

  Groping in his pockets, he pulled free a lighter, which he clicked several times. It sparked but failed to light. He tried again, and it sputtered and flickered weakly. All it managed to show him was that the darkness kept going.

  Going where? It wasn’t as if he had many choices, so he might as well explore. Could be he’d find an easier way out. First, though, he needed a torch. Feeling around the ground, he didn’t luck out and find some sticks. But he didn’t let that deter him. He scrounged in his pack and ended up using a scrap of cloth wrapped around the blade of his knife. He rubbed the fabric in the animal grease he’d preserved from his last meal—he’d spotted it cooling on a flat stone underneath the meat he’d cooked. He’d planned to use it as a balm when he climbed into the colder reaches that chapped the skin. It also made a fine fuel source.

  The flames crackled, and smelled yummy, but it wouldn’t last long, so he moved quickly to check out the cave that turned out to be more like a tunnel.

  It kept going and going. Unlike his torch. He kept having to feed it, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his light ran out.

  When it did, he kept going, following one simple rule: go straight. He took no side passageways, even if they appeared quite large.

  This deep in the mountain, there was nothing to hear. Nothing to see.

  The blanketing darkness smothered him, and at times, he wondered if he fooled himself. Perhaps he’d fallen into a trap and wasn’t moving forward at all but in circles.

  He walked for hours. Days. He couldn’t tell in this timeless space. He drank all the water in his canteen. Ate even the smallest crumbs in his bag.

  His stomach clenched hard in hunger, and the only relief he got was from sucking his talisman. Which a less starving man might have mocked. But the metallic taste in his mouth provided comfort.

  Pity it couldn’t stop the hallucinations, because he was pretty sure he could see glowing from up ahead. Surely a trick of his eyes, a mirage of the dark even if he’d never heard of such a thing.

  Intent on the oddity, he missed the danger. His foot slipped off an edge, and for a moment, he teetered, his eyes widening as he realized the light came from below. As in down a wide shaft.

  He sat down on the edge, legs dangling, and stared for a good moment.

  Glowing mushrooms. That was what created the light.

  Edible mushrooms?

  Hopefully he’d find out. He plucked them as he slid down on his butt, the slope pebbled and gritty with actual dirt. The moisture appeared to drip from above. He felt it hitting his skin. He wished he had a way to collect some with his canteen.

  With a handful of glowing fungi, he got innovative, placing the largest on the blade of his dagger, a few more squished in his pockets, flaps left open. A walking lantern—which, in retrospect, probably made him a target.
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br />   It started with a rustling sound, as of paper fluttering in the wind. Then a chittering, which proved more ominous because it indicated something alive. The whoosh he didn’t understand until the first giant bat swooped by his face. He blinked in astonishment, getting only a glimpse of a furred head with pointed ears and wings. White and leathery. Just like the pictures showed in the books of animals long extinct.

  The other thing he recalled about them?

  Meat eaters.

  Pack meat eaters.

  As the recollection filtered, rousing his panic, one of the bats attacked from behind, claws digging into his shoulders, sharp teeth attacking the back of his head. The pain of being bitten brought a scream and broke the paralysis.

  Jool ran, not thinking or picking a direction, his hands clawing at the thing on his back.

  Use the wall.

  He didn’t understand but aimed for one, seeing the rough surface in the bouncing glow of the mushrooms. He turned at the last moment and slammed into it. The bat squeaked and let go.

  He shoved off the wall and began running again, pulling out his gun and stupidly firing. Boom. Boom. His ears rang, and even more chaos erupted. Rocks fell.

  A stalactite slammed into chunks a mere pace from him. The brush of something had him flinching and aiming his gun to his left, only to realize the bat flew past him. Everything flew away.

  Away from this cave.

  His wits finally recovered, and tucking his gun away, he followed the bats, stumbling over the uneven ground, cursing as his mushrooms began to lose their glow. But there were others to take their place.

  He lost the bats before he reached the tunnel, but he followed it, noticing the faces lining the ground, making it slick. The hole was wide enough to walk upright, and when he emerged on the other side, on a ledge wide enough to stand easily, he gasped.

  He’d found paradise.

  9

  The lushness of the valley awed him. Even in his youth, Jool never recalled the foliage of his world being this green. The flowers so bright, the sense of life so overwhelming.