The Anomaly(65)

“Halfway where?”

“The pool,” Ken said glumly. “Fuck. She went and took a drink from the pool. Christ, Gemma—didn’t you see the way the water was?”

“I didn’t really look. I just scooped some in my hands and drank it quickly.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know. Half a pint? Maybe more.”

“What’d it taste like?”

“Not good. Muddy. Metallic. But I was so thirsty. And Nolan drank some when we found it, and he seemed okay.”

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“Because I felt okay then.” She stopped talking suddenly, as if about to throw up once more, but stifled a belch instead. “I do not feel okay now.”

“So,” I said. “I guess that means it’s not the flu. It’s a stomach bug from contaminated water. You are going to feel like utter crap for a few hours, Gemma. But then it’ll be done. Moll—how much water do we have left?”

“Just over half a bottle. Between all of us.”

“Feed her a third of it. A mouthful at a time, five minutes apart. If she vomits again, stop immediately.”

“What are you going to do?”

I grabbed the bigger light. Then, as an afterthought, my phone as a backup. I really didn’t want to get stuck without light in that tunnel again. “I’m going to try the cave we found—see if there’s an exit at the other end.”

“Be careful.”

“Of course. Oh, and Gemma—you were right.”

She looked up at me blearily. “About what?”

“There’s something in here with us.”

“Awesome.”

I turned to Ken. “You ready?”

“Nah,” he said. “Take Pierre. He’ll be twice as fast. And that fissure is no picnic for the fuller-figured gentleman.”

“Okay. Keep a light on in here. If you see anything…shout.”

“Bollocks to that, mate. If I see anything, I’m just going to eat it.”

A couple of us laughed, but it sounded hollow in the darkness.





Chapter

39



We could tell before we got to the room that the smell had become worse in the meantime. Much worse. We started to get a taste of it while we were still twenty yards away. Once inside, it was so acrid that it made your eyes sting.

“What the heck?” Pierre had pulled his T-shirt up to cover his nose, and his voice was muffled.

I did the same. It didn’t help a whole lot. “Something’s changing here, too. Earlier we found a cave at the far end, with some paintings on the walls. In the time we were there, it seemed like the floor in here loosened up a little. I wasn’t sure about it then. But yeah, it’s clearly happening.”

“But how? And how can a layer that thin smell so bad?”

I walked into the room, feeling as if I was having to physically fight against the stench. Within seconds my feet were sticking to the floor, and the farther I went, the tackier it became. After a few yards it was half an inch up my shoes and like trying to walk in old molasses.

“Christ,” I said, giving up, stepping back. “That’s why. Because the floor isn’t level. It slopes like in a swimming pool, getting deeper toward the other end. The surface only seemed flat because the liquid in it was solid. And now it’s not.”

“Are we really going to wade into that crap?” Pierre and I were close together now, huddling, as if that would somehow help. He was squinting, his eyes streaming. “I mean, I’ll do it if we have to,” he said. “Of course. But—”

“No. We have no idea how deep it gets. That’s going to have to be a last resort.”

Pierre was blinking rapidly against the stinging. “Aren’t we kind of at the last-resort stage already?”

“Not quite. And I’m not embarking on it without warning the others what we’re doing.” I nodded back toward the door. “Come on. Screw this.”



“So what do we think that stuff is?” Ken asked quietly.

He’d come and taken a look. We then returned to the main room, and were sitting in darkness, twenty feet from the others.

“I’ve been assuming it’s some kind of fossil fuel, crude oil or something. Which could have explained why it caught fire at some point. But I say that in total ignorance of what that kind of material looks and smells like, and where it’s found. I don’t actually care what it is. What I don’t get is why it’s liquefying.”

“A chemical reaction.”

“Okay, obviously, but what’s causing it?”

“We walked across it a few hours ago,” Ken said. “So I’m thinking it’s probably us. Again. As with everything else.”

“We’re going to have to grit our teeth and tackle it anyway. You know that. There’s nothing else to try.”

“But if it’s ten feet deep at the other end, then we’re fucked, mate. We can’t swim in that kind of gunk—not even Pierre. And if you walk into it until it’s up to your neck, then you’re never going to be able to get out of it again. It’s too viscous.”

“We need to float something on top.”