The Descent

The  witches  entered  a  rhythm  around  him.  It  was  like  a  dance,  though  they  were kneeling  or  hunkered  down  on  their  heels.  He  set  himself  adrift  on  the  pulse  of  their motions,  the   chant,   their   hands   and   mouths.   Evan   grew   hopeful   when   several whispered  approvingly.  All  at  once  he  found  himself  approaching  that  same  loss  of control as before. He tried not to grunt, but it was too much.

Abruptly  the  blood  heat  of  liquid  spattered  across  his  chest.  Evan  winced  at  the salty  spray.  Tasted  it. And frowned.

This time it was the heat of real blood.

In  the  same  instant,  a  rifle  shot  ruptured  the  quiet.  Something,  a  body,  flopped heavily  across Evan's thighs.

'Evan, boy,' a voice commanded across the corn rows. His father! 'Lie down.'

The  sky  cracked open.  A  ragged  volley  of  deer  rifles,  shotguns,  varmint  pistols,  and old  revolvers  shattered  the  constellations.  Bullets  slapped  apart  the  corn  leaves.  The gunfire rattled  like popcorn.

Evan lay still on his back. It  was like drifting  on  a  raft.  Staring  up  at  the  Milky  Way. What  he  would  remember  most  was  not  the  shooting,  or  the  men  yelling,  or  the witches  scattering.  Not  the  headlights  careening  through  the  walls  of  green  corn,  or the pitchfork lifting that young hadal girl into the wildly lit, raddled  sky,  where  he  saw the slight stub of a tail on her rump  and  her  grub-like  pallor  and  her  face,  the  chimp's eyes,  the yellow teeth.  Not the rack-rack  of shotgun shells  getting  chambered.  Not  his father standing high overhead  and lifting his head up to the stars  to bellow like a bull. No. What he would remember  was the old woman by  his  head,  how  just  before  they shot  the  bones  from  her  face,  she  bent  down  and  kissed  him  by  the  ear.  It  was  the kind of thing a grandma did.

The Aztecs said that... as long as one of them was left he would die fighting, and that we would get nothing of theirs because they would burn everything or throw it into the water.

– HERNÁN CORTÉS, Third Dispatch to King Charles V of Spain

17

FLESH

West beneath

the Clipperton Fracture Zone

Following Molly's death, they  cast lower on the river,  anxious to resume  their  sense  of scientific  control.  The  banks  narrowed,  the  water  quickened.  Because  they  moved faster,  they  had  more  time  to  reach  their  destination,  which  was  the  next  cache  in early  September.  They  began  to  explore  the  littoral  regions  bordering  the   river, sometimes staying in one place for two or three  days.

The  region  had  once  abounded  with  life.  In  a  single  day  they  discovered  thirty  new plants,  including  a  type  of  grass  that  grew  from  quartz  and  a  tree  that  looked  like something  out  of  Dr.  Seuss,  with  a  stem   that   drew   gases   from  the   ground  and synthesized  them  into  metallic  cellulose.  A  new  cave  orchid  was  named  for  Molly. They   found  crystallized   animal  remains.   The   entomologists   caught   a   monstrous cricket,  twenty-seven  inches  long.  The  geologists  located  a  vein  of  gold  as  thick  as  a finger.

In  the  name  of  Helios,  who  held  the  patent  rights  on  all  such  discoveries,  Shoat collected their reports  on disc each evening. If the discovery  had special value, like  the gold,  he  would  issue  a  chit  for  a  bonus  payment.  The  geologists  got  so  many  they started  using them like currency  among  the  others,  buying  pieces  of  clothing,  food,  or extra  batteries  from those who had extras.

For  Ali,  the  most  rewarding  thing  was  further  evidence  of  hadal  civilization.  They found  an  intricate  system  of  acequias  carved  into  the  rock  to  transport  water  from miles upriver  into the hanging valley.  In an overhang  partway  up  a  cliff  lay  a  drinking cup  made  from  a  Neanderthal  cranium.  Elsewhere,  a  giant  skeleton  –  possibly  a human freak  – lay in shackles solid with rust. Ethan  Troy,  the  forensic  anthropologist, thought  the  deeply  incised  geometric  patterns  on  the  giant's  skull  had  been  made  at least  a  year  before  the  prisoner's  death.  Judging  by  the  cut  marks  around  the  entire skull,  it  seemed  the  giant  had  been  scalped  and  kept  alive  as  a  showcase  for  their artwork.

They  collected around a central panel emblazoned with ochre and handprints. In  the center was a representation  of the sun and moon. The  scientists were  astonished.  'You mean to say  they  worshiped the sun and moon? At fifty-six  hundred fathoms!'

'We  need  to  be  cautious,'  Ali  said.  But  what  else  could  this  mean?  What  glorious heresy,  the children of darkness  worshiping light.