Filaria - Brent Hayward [104]
As time progressed, the relentless uniformity of his surroundings was not only getting tedious but was also making him think that he might never find another elevating device, and that he was stuck in this limbo of darkness, water, and halls. The only way he could be certain he was moving on was the varying depths of fluids on the floor and the odd patterns it made, splashing up onto the walls either side.
The lights in the ceiling flickered. The floor shook. There was a distant rumbling far above, sending dust and other debris to patter down upon him, and by then he entertained the idea that somehow he had actually died in the ductwork, and had been given a test in the afterlife — temptation, by Sandra — which he’d promptly failed.
Was eternity in this place his punishment, his snide answer?
A hot gust of air embraced him and left him, cold.
Feeling twinges of disconcertion now, Tran so Phengh conceived of a plan to mark a trail as he went, perhaps scratched into the tiled wall, and was thinking about just what he might use to scratch the tiles with when he spotted yet another figure approaching, walking, head down.
He did not call out.
As the figure neared, he saw by the graceful, rolling gait that it was a woman. His heart raced. This might be the beginning of another test for him to mess up. He hoped the woman was unattractive. That would be easier for him.
Soon he saw more details: large, fleshy, bald. Dressed in threadbare rags. He began to feel a little better.
She finally looked up, and saw him. Her dark face, oddly pleasant, betrayed no surprise. She smiled with sad but welcoming trepidation; it was a toothless smile.
“Hello,” he said.
Her skin was blotchy and dry, as if she were diseased, but her eyes, like her gappy smile, betrayed a humanity and warmth that almost made him forget about his concerns. Nonetheless, cautiously, in case he was falling under a spell similar to the one that Sandra’s beauty had cast upon him, Tran so introduced himself. They shook hands. Her grip was cool, firm.
“You’re from far away,” the woman said. This was not a question.
“Yes.” But looking into her glittering eyes, anxiety took a sudden, inexplicable leap inside him. He stammered, “I’m, uh, from, from Hoffmann City. It’s where the water comes from. Above . . .”
Her smile widened. She continued to stare into his face. “I don’t know where that is but we all appreciate the water. I suppose it has to come from somewhere. My name is Reena.”
“Reena.” The nervousness, which had stung his palms and roiled in his guts, now consumed him; he tried to force it away, to reason with himself, but to no avail. He took a deep breath. “I came here, came down here, searching for something called the network but now — ” He shrugged and, to his mortification, uttered an awkward laugh that could only be described as part way between a honk and a titter. “I’ll, uh, settle for the nearest exit.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what the first thing is or where the second might be. An exit? From where? To where? Where can you go?”
“Up, of course.”
“Up? Nothing but beasts up there.” She might have been mocking him.
“There are some creatures up there,” he conceded. “But no more than any other place.”
“Is your hair a wig?” she asked. “And your teeth? They’re real?”
“Yes . . .”
Reena seemed impressed. “The world is changing,” she said. “Rules are changing. At the best of times I never knew what stories to believe. Then again, I didn’t set out to find out which ones were true, either.”
“I did,” Tran so said. “I set out. That’s exactly what I did!”
“And? Which stories are true?”
“None of them. Not one.”
Reena smiled. “You know, I wasn’t aware that these halls existed, going on and on like this. Maybe they never did before, not until now.”
“Reena, listen, the network is sometimes called the god of all gods. Does that mean anything to you?”
She shook her head. “There are no gods down here. I think there once were, but not any more. But I have to keep moving. See, I’m also looking