A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [54]
The shearing snip of razor claws rang desperately behind him. Looking back, he saw a black claw reaching into the gap, scissoring open and closed well out of reach. Jason panted, watching in mesmerized horror as the crab returned to the gory remains of the boarhound and began dissecting the corpse in a frenzy.
“Oh my gosh!” Rachel exclaimed, voice trembling. “We almost died. I can’t believe we made it!”
“That was close,” Jason grunted.
“You alive?” The hoarse shout came from across the cavern.
“We made it!” Jason cried out, still trying to fully accept that they were out of danger.
“First since Galloran! Good luck to you. Safe journey.”
“Thank you!” Rachel called.
Jason crawled deeper into the cleft, emerging into a small room with no visible exit and no water. Sunlight filtered in through a tall shaft in the ceiling. He slumped onto his back and closed his eyes, hesitant to examine his injuries. Shock had dulled the pain, but even so he could feel his skin burning where it had torn, throbbing where it had bruised.
“Are you all right?” Rachel asked, crouching beside him.
“Just banged up,” Jason replied. “How about you?”
“I made a luckier landing,” Rachel said. “Having clothes on must have helped. These pants may not be the most stylish, but they’re made of tough material.”
Suppressing a groan, Jason sat up and began checking his wounds by the light on his wrist. No elbow or knee had escaped abrasions and bruises. One thigh had the largest scrape, beneath where his boxers had torn—a blotchy discolored wound streaked with thin lines of blood and sensitive to the touch. His palms were raw. Thankfully, nothing felt broken. Just sore.
“The scrape on your thigh looks nasty,” Rachel commented.
“Could have been worse,” Jason said, finally beginning to relax. “I could have lost a limb. Or my head.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that crab,” Rachel said. “I thought we were goners. Did you see what it did to that dog? I mean, that was a big, strong dog.”
Jason winced. He didn’t expect to get the image of the dog’s violent death out of his head anytime soon.
“It was probably a good thing,” Rachel consoled. “The conscriptor had turned it into a monster.”
Jason shook his head. “Nothing deserves to die like that.”
“It was disgusting.”
“Thanks, by the way,” Jason said, “for helping me keep my balance.”
Rachel smiled. “I heard you stumble. You might not have fallen. I hope I didn’t slow you down.”
“I probably would have fallen,” Jason admitted. “You pretty much saved my life.”
“What are friends for?”
Jason stood up. “We should keep moving.” He could hear the crab snipping frantically at the narrow gap again, probably drawn by his open wounds. The passageway curved, so Jason could not see Macroid from his current position. He wondered if the dog had already been devoured; then he tried to shut down his imagination.
Jason and Rachel examined the room. Off in one corner a wooden platform attached to a chain dangled perhaps a foot off the ground. An iron lever projected from the wall beside it. Jason crossed to the platform and looked up. Most of the rocky ceiling was dark, but daylight spilled in through a single tall shaft. The chain from the platform stretched up the center of the shaft, which had to be nearly as high as the cliff. Sunlight came in through an opening in the side near the top. In the lofty sunlight he saw where the barbed chain disappeared into the rocky ceiling.
“A primitive elevator?” Rachel asked, gazing up as well.
“Looks like it,” Jason said. “Should we see if it still works?”
“Give me a second,” Rachel said, lacing her hands behind her head and blowing out air. “I’ve never almost died before. Not really.”
Jason noticed that her eyes looked a little misty. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I mean, a giant man-eating crab? Seriously? What have we gotten ourselves