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“It seems to emanate from the rocks.”
“That it does,” Giordino agreed. “Take a look at my hand.” He held up his palm and the skin emitted a faint glow. “I can’t give you a chemical analysis of the mineral content, but I’m reasonably certain it contains a healthy dose of phosphorescence.”
“I’ve never known it to be quite this bright,” Pitt said.
Giordino sniffed the air. “I smell eucalyptus.”
“Eucalyptus oil. They use it to lower the humidity and keep the air from getting stale.”
Giordino began peeling off his own wet suit, gently easing it over his injured feet. They were, Pitt discerned in the strange light, torn nearly to the bone and were soon surrounded in a spreading pool of blood. But, he thought, he could still walk easily enough.
“I’m going to scout the stairway. Why don’t you hang around and enjoy the sights?”
“No chance,” Giordino smiled gamely. “I think it wiser if we stuck together. I’ll keep up. Just mind the
road ahead.”
Pitt squinted at Giordino’s bleeding body and then looked down at his own. We’re certainly a sorry-looking invasion force, he thought; they were both hurt badly.
“Okay, tough guy, but don’t play silent hero.” Pitt knew his words were useless. Giordino would follow until he passed out. Without waiting for a comment, he turned and began walking up the stairway.
They climbed with agonizing slowness amid the unreal surroundings into a winding tunnel. The only sounds came from their labored breathing and the constant splatter of water trickling from the ceiling. The tunnel gradually narrowed until it was slightly over five feet high and three feet wide. The steps suddenly shortened until they became a smooth ramp.
Pitt kept his back pressed against the damp surface of the wall, and stooped to keep from, hitting his head, while inching his way through the passage. The batteries of the dive light were almost dead, and the beam they projected through the lens barely cast more illumination than the phosphorescence. Every thirty feet he paused and waited for Giordino to hobble painfully within arm’s length. Pitt noted that each time he halted, Giordino took a little longer to catch up. It was becoming increasingly apparent to him that Giordino couldn’t last much longer.
“Next time, find a cave with escalators,” Giordino panted. It took him three breaths to get the words out through clenched teeth.
“A little workout never hurt anybody,” Pitt said. He had to keep Giordino going now. If they didn’t find a way to the surface above the seamount, they would die a lonely death, crushed under thousands of tons of rocks and water.
Pitt pushed on. The dive light was down to a faint glow and he simply, uncaringly, let it slip from his hand to the rock floor. He hesitated a moment, staring unconcernedly at the light as it rolled down the tunnel in the direction he had climbed. He vacantly wondered what Giordino would think when it came rattling by. Pitt’s gooseflesh rose in unison with a sudden cold air current that danced across his skin. There had to be a vent or an opening ahead. Soon a gentle, textured blue film met his eyes. The blue seemed to waver and alternate in tones that cast soft, animate shadows on the passage walls. Pitt moved closer. The thing swirled with a movement that was familiar. Why can’t I recognize it, he dazedly wondered. His brain was fogging-fatigue rushed through his veins and deadened all his thought processes. He stopped and waited for Giordino, but Giordino did not come.
Pitt couldn’t combat his feelings of isolation and oppression. For the second time in the last hour he found himself forcing back the black veil that circled his vision. He reached out with his hand and lightly touched the shimmering blue light. His fingers met with a soft, smooth substance.
“A curtain,” he mumbled to no one. “A lousy curtain.”
He parted the folds and stumbled into a fairyland of gleaming black statuary and blue velvet-covered walls. The huge room was decorated with delicately sculptured fish in ebony stone imbedded in a deep indigo carpet. The carpet was unlike anything Pitt had ever seen. It encased his feet to the ankles. He looked up and saw that the entire fantastic setting was reflected in a gigantic mirror which spanned the ceiling from wall to wall. In the center of the room, elevated by four carved leaping sailfish, was a clam shell-shaped bed adorned by the body of a naked girl lying on a sparkling satin spread, her white skin contrasting vividly with the blue and black motif of the chamber.
She lay on her back with one knee drawn up and one hand palmed around a small white breast as though caressing it. Her face was enticingly hidden by long, sleek hair that glinted in the light as it trailed across the pillow. The rise and fall of her breathing distinctly showed that her stomach was hard and firm.
Pitt leaned unsteadily over the bed and brushed the hair away from her face. His touch awakened her and she moaned softly. Her eyes slowly opened and locked on Pitt, gazing unseeing for a moment until her sleep-dulled brain registered the sight of the bloody specter standing over her bed. Then her lovely face snapped into shock and her large, inviting lips opened for a scream that was never uttered.
“Hello, Summer,” Pitt muttered with a crooked smile. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in.”
Then the door in Pitt’s skull slammed shut and he pitched backward onto the waiting carpet.
Pitt lost count of the number of times he straggled up from the dark mist, only to slip off the top rung of consciousness and fall back into the black void. People, voices, and scenes barreled through his mind in a disjointed swirl of kaleidoscopic confusion. He tried to slow down the blur of images, but the crazy vision persisted; when he opened his eyes to erase the nightmare from his mind, he saw the nightmare itself: the bestial yellow eyes of Delphi.
“Good morning, Mr. Pitt,” Delphi said drily. The tone was courteous, but the hatred was manifest in the icy lines of the face. “I regret your injuries, but you can hardly sue for damages, can you?”
“You neglected to post NO TRESPASSING signs.” Pitt’s voice came through his ears like the halting speech of a senile man.
“An oversight. But then no one invited you to blunder into our power turbine’s exhaust current.”
“Power turbine?”
“Yes.” Delphi seemed to relish Pitt’s questioning look. “There are over four miles of tunnels here in my sanctuary, and as you’ve noticed, it can be rather cold. Therefore, we require an extensive heating and electrical supply as only steam turbines can produce.”
“All the comforts of home,” Pitt mumbled, still trying to clear his head. “I take it they’re responsible for the surface fog.”
