Dahl's injured ankle folded under and a bright flare of pain raced up her calf. She cried out, lost her balance, and landed hard on her backside. Gravity reached up and dragged her down as the steep, unstable slope slid towards the cliff face. Eve leaned out, grabbed her by the hand, and hauled her back to safety.
Moss heard the commotion, reeled around, dug his feet in and peered up, his jaw dropping. The cliff path above him slid down, picking up speed and mass, so he dove to the side. Rolling rocks and slapping underbrush lifted him up and carried him towards the edge.
The world tilted at a disorienting angle. Up was down; down was up, and 25-yards below a mile-high drop lay in wait.
Moss heard her fall, grabbed at the nearest bush, came up empty-handed and felt the slope slide away beneath his muddy boots.
Dahl and Eve called in unison as the jungle undergrowth became a dangerous quagmire. Moss groped at the passing foliage, but the shallow brush pulled out in clods of twisting roots. A few long branches tangled around his dirty glove, and he jerked to a painful stop, arm stretching upward at an unnatural angle. He screamed in agony as a sickening pop exploded from his right shoulder. The tangle of roots securing the branches to the muddy cliff-side held.
"Are you alright?" Dahl shrieked.
"Been better," he said in a gasping voice.
She stood, preparing to move down to retrieve him, and Eve held her back.
"Stop," he blared, looking over his dislocated shoulder. "It's not safe. The slope is unstable." He waved her off with a trembling hand. "Just give me a minute to catch my breath and I'll come up to you. We can find another way down."
"There," Dahl called out, eyes widening, face paling. "In the brush beneath you," Dahl pointed down the narrow path. "There's a body."
Moss peered down, drew in a deep restorative breath, praying she was wrong. But there it was. A dirty boot heel protruded from beneath a small patch of bushes. They had come down a narrowing trail, hoping to find Lilith alive, only to find a body.
Moss hadn't told his comrades. He thought Lilith was dead; he hadn't even admitted it to himself. No one could have survived the swarm of creatures that descended upon her. But as long as she was missing, he could tell himself she was still alive. He could still hope.
The uprooted shrub Moss dangled from let go, and he slid down a few inches and Dahl shrieked.
"Goddammit," he blared up at her. "Will you stop doing that?" The bush had arrested his downward momentum, but even now, he felt the slope beneath quaking.
He eased his heels into the soggy, loose soil, and the ground gave another inch. Mud and stone flew out over the cliff edge and tumbled away, striking the lush green canopy far below, and sending up a flock of frightened cawing birds.
That could have been us, he thought, pushing away the images of their twisted corpses lying at the bottom of the cliff base. What a shitshow this trek turned out to be. He looked around, trying desperately to find another handhold as Eve and Dahl looked on wide-eyed. His dislocated shoulder exploded with pain as the loose embankment slipped again. He fumbled his knife out and jammed it into the ground, but the soggy soil wouldn't hold. When he wrenched the knife free, pain rocketed up his twisted arm and punched him in the shoulder socket. As the world around him shrank and spun, he almost dropped the knife.
He cursed his bad luck and snap decision to take the first trail they came to. And now, after 10 hours of working their way down the vertical cliff-side path, they had not even reached the halfway point, leaving two thousand feet of slippery rock face between them and the serene beaches below.
He had screwed up royally, and Dahl's ankle had ballooned to the size of her calf. Worse yet was that Eve's calf was a haggard, oozing mess half the size it should be. A noticeable chunk was missing, leading him to believe there was a serious problem with her supposed regeneration capabilities.
He lay back, taking in the blue sky above him, not thinking of himself, but how he could get them back up the impassable cliff-side trail. In his current condition, there was no way he could; and they wouldn't be able to help him either. Moss peered up at Dahl, noticing a heavy layer of blood on the sleeve of his arm. "Isn't that just fucking great" he said to himself. "And you re-broke your arm. Nice."
In the past few hours, Moss had looked back more than he had watched his own muddy boots sinking into the ever-loosening soil. He had missed the deteriorating slope and allowed them to venture deeper into an untenable situation. This mess was his fault.
None of them had given the trail much thought or the respect it deserved. After Lilith's horrifying disappearance, the trio descended into the underbrush straight ahead, not seeing the carved stairs on the side of the slope. Their twisted descent lined up in the direction the swarm had flown off in.
In his rush to save the woman he loved, Moss had reconfigured his motion tracker to work as a topography generator. The original device used radar pulses to generate snapshots of approaching objects, but now it glimpsed behind the dense vegetation to ensure nothing lay in wait. He described his Tracker 2.0 as a horizontal fish finder, revealing everything a hundred meters straight ahead. It did not show soil depth or density. Which had thinned to less than two feet of muddy soil, covering a base of slippery iron ferrite. The mountain beneath them was not rock; it was the outer edge of an enormous secret.
Moss pressed his back into the soggy terrain, trying to keep himself from slipping any lower. But each time he shifted his weight, it felt as if the slope was about to let go. As he lay there, he realized the impassable terrain was just another obstacle thrown up to keep out unwanted visitors.
"Can you get up?" Dahl called down, preparing to slide down to offer him a hand up.
"Stop," he ordered, waving her back. "It's too loose. It won't hold our combined weight." He thought it wouldn't hold much longer. But he couldn't tell Dahl he was in danger; she'd risk her life to save him even if it meant she would die, too. "Just move back up the cliff."
"Are you calling me fat?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. He mustered a weak smile, and in his eyes, she saw what he already knew. He was in serious trouble. And the fact that he was trying to hide it only made her fear that much greater.
Paying no heed to his warning, she made to move lower, but Eve held her back. "Don't," she warned. "You can't help him. He's going to have to get himself back up."
Moss's eyes were on the same level as Dahl's boots, and Eve's boots were level with Dahl's eyes. From straight on, the trio looked as though they were standing on one another's shoulders. But they were actually 10 feet apart.
"Back up," he said. "Slowly, no sudden movements."
"That's the third time you've told me what to do."
"Now," he replied, and she saw the sweat on his face.
"No."
He cast an unspoken order over Dahl's shoulder, and Eve nodded and closed her hands around Dahl's upper arms, ready to haul her back if the slope gave way. He nodded, thanking her for the unspoken help.
He stretched backward, fingering the tip of a long branch with a trembling hand. He wanted to pull himself toward them. But his muddy glove only slid off, again and again. Each time it did, the slope groaned, and he slipped closer toward the edge. He leaned back, digging the heels of his boots into the squishy soil, and the trail beneath him vibrated and groaned. The whole damn trail is going to give way if you keep doing that. But what other option was there?
Dahl saw his expression and blurted, "What? What's wrong?"
Moss gestured for Dahl and Eve to go back in the direction they had come from. "Move your asses. The cliff-side is coming down."
"I won't leave you," Dahl protested, gesturing for Eve to toss her the walking stick she had just dropped. Eve handed it over. "Take this," Dahl said, squatting down and shoving the end of the stick towards Moss.
He reached up, muddy gloves tickling the end of the stick. It teased him, slapping his weak hand away with every attempt made to seize it.
"Really," he said to himself, grimacing at the taunting walking stick. "Fucking hold still."
He straightened his shaking legs, forcing himself upward, and used his remaining strength to grab the walking stick and, for the first time in what seemed like hours, he felt anchored to something solid.
Dahl looked down, a momentary sense of relief easing the tension in her severe expression, watching as Moss dragged himself upward.
His cramping hand slid down the walking stick, and his heels slammed into the earlier indentations. The full weight of his body opened a foot-wide crack between him and the others. Dahl thrust the stick out again, but his flailing hand was nowhere near the tip of the stick. He pulled the tracker strap over his head and lobbed it to Eve. "Promise me you'll get her out of here alive."
Eve nodded, realization gripping her face.
Moss laid his head back, peering up at the sky above, wishing he could be there to see her escape this hellhole, wishing he could see Lilith one more time. To finally find the courage to tell her he loved her.
"Don't give up on me!" Dahl screamed, elbowing Eve in the ribs to make her let go. Eve winced, but tightened her grip. She had made Moss a promise.
"Don't be stupid!" Moss yelled back, looking at Dahl with a desperate stare. "The trail is giving way."
"Just hold on. I can pull you up," Dahl blared, elbowing Eve in the face and sliding down to the edge of the crack when she let go.
Dahl jammed the stick in Moss's outstretched hand just as Eve leapt behind her, morphing into the creature and seizing her around the waist. The two women screamed in shock as the fissure opened wider between them. Dahl lurched forward, nearly dragging Eve over the edge with her, jammed the stick into Moss's hand and heaved him up a foot. An instant later, powerful hands yanked them back up the slope. Dahl tightened her grip as Moss landed in the large crack, noting the rock was actually shining iron. Eve and Dahl dragged the full weight of Moss upward, his hands at the upper edge of the crack as Eve took the stick from Dahl. Dahl leaned forward, and Moss hurled his useless hand at her. By some miracle, she grabbed it and heaved upward. Pain exploded in his freshly broken arm and dislocated shoulder.
Muscle tremors came off Dahl's reverberating body in waves as she strained to support half of his 235 pounds. He could see pain and prayer in her eyes, and she could see desperation in his.
Several things happened in quick succession. Eve- drained of energy- shifted back into human form. The stick snapped, and Eve's feet slid over the edge of the crack. A mixture of gravity and physics threw Dahl forward, nearly toppling her into the widening crack. Moss slammed his heels against the moist soil. Above him, the entire bank beneath Dahl and Eve threatened to give way.
"No," Dahl blared, reaching out. But this time, Eve yanked her up and threw them backwards. Dahl landed in Eve's lap in a semi-seated position.
"Stop, Goddammit," Moss screamed at them. "Or you'll get yourselves killed."
Dahl punched the ground and let out a primal roar that sent up flocks of nearby birds. She twisted and turned and struggled to get away from Eve, and when she couldn't, she bawled a mixture of sorrow and anger.
Moss looked around, searching for a handhold or a way out of the looming danger. But every time he moved, the loose bank threatened to let go. He peered over his shoulder at Dahl and said, "This isn't your fault. I should have been paying better attention. Just go back up the trail the way we came and find another path down. You're going to get out. You're going to make it." Then he leaned back, closed his eyes and said in a calm tone, "I'm just gonna hang out here until I get my strength back and then I'll catch up. You go on. I'll be okay."
Dahl turned to Eve, wearing a horrified look of desperation, tears flowing, mouth pleading soundless words. Eve felt sick. Helpless. Guilty. She shoved Dahl forward, extracted herself from the sagging bank and ran up the trail out of sight. Dahl froze in shock, thinking she had left them. A minute later, Eve reappeared, dragging a long sapling. She dropped to her knees behind Dahl, shoved the small tree into her hands, and shouted, "Use this!"
Dahl pushed it towards Moss. "Grab it."
Moss took it, but turned back when he saw Eve squinting at something on the trail below him. The earlier, out of reach boot peeked over the lower edge of the crack. It was little more than an arm's reach away. It looked as if someone had fallen on the trail and slid to a stop face down, concealed by the dense underbrush.
"No," Dahl said to herself, processing his body language into coming events. But it was too late. Moss was already leaning forward.
"No," Dahl shouted as Moss let go of the sapling and inched down and grabbed the boot with his good hand.
The boot pulled out of its resting place with a severed hairy calf protruding from the still laced cuff. Moss threw it over the cliff. "It's not her."
"You idiot," Dahl said, overextending herself to reach Moss. "Take it," she blared, leaning out even further. As Moss's fingertips closed around the branch, Eve seized the waistband of Dahl's pants, and drove her feet into the bank, anchoring them to the cliff-side.
Moss met Dah's eyes, and he smiled. Then the bank let go, leaving Dahl suspended over the edge of the fissure, holding an empty branch and hanging in the eerie silence. The two women, faces cast in horror, waited for the crash. But no sound came. It was as if Moss had vanished right along with Lilith.