Subterra Heart

Chapter 13: Connor Rocha

A soft paw was poking at his face when Connor finally came to. Somehow, he must have found his way back to air. He groaned, blinking blearily in the dim light of his headlamp. Bug stood over him. She flicked her ears and poked him again. Her normally amber eyes were black.

"Don't worry," he mumbled, "I'm not dead yet."

"Congrrratulations," she meowed back.

Connor frowned, rubbing his aching head. He reached for his bag, but it was gone. He must have dropped it.

"Damn gas," he grunted. Its effects must not be out of his system yet. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's really freaky when cats start to talk?" he asked. Bug seemed to shrug before stepping over him and sauntering back into the darkness. Connor watched as she looked back at him over her shoulder, waiting.

"Never again..." he muttered. That gas was bad news. A small corner of his brain wondered how Bug had even gotten down here. But since the gas was still clouding his thoughts, he got back on his feet and followed her without further question.

This space was different than the tunnel from before. It looked like a wide road, worn smooth from use. The walls were pockmarked with regularly spaced openings. Some were small, like square windows, but the larger ones looked like carved doorways. Copper hooks above one opening still held in place a tattered curtain, stained by age. Connor stopped and reached for it, but the cloth crumbled in his fingers.

"Lenny," he whispered. Again, his radio remained silent. Connor swore. "I thought this stupid project was important to that idiot," he said to himself. Apparently, it wasn't.

Off in the distance, Bug meowed for him again. She must be getting impatient. Connor gave the doorway one final look and continued on. The further down the road the pair walked, the stranger the space became. Walls gained faded paint and elaborate carvings and black burn marks. Broken pottery littered the ground. Connor nudged a jade necklace with his foot. A small stone tablet lay next to it. He crouched down to turn it over, but he couldn't make sense of the writing.

"What is this place?" he whispered.

"Home."

Connor looked up to see Bug sitting in front of him, flicking her tail back and forth. Her eyes were very black. Once she had his attention, she got back on all fours and continued walking. Connor shook his head. He must have misheard. Or maybe the gas was still affecting him. He could also be dreaming – or dead. That'd explain Lenny's absence well enough.

Up ahead, the tunnel widened into a massive plaza. At its center stood a tall, broken tablet, and beyond it lay a barely visible pile of rubble. Bug stalked past it, disappearing into the shadows. As Connor followed, he paused by the tablet. Only the lower half remained standing, and it was scarred and scratched beyond recognition. He grazed his lights over the ground, where smashed pieces lay scattered at random. The largest fraction was close to his boot, so he crouched down to flip it over. The stone was heavy, and he strained to get it right-side-up. When he did, the faded blue features of a cat-human hybrid stared back at him. Carved, foreign lettering surrounded the engraving, but he still couldn't read them.

Connor turned his attention back to the rubble pile, trying to catch site of Bug again. The damn cat had gone and disappeared on him. He scratched his head, frowning. She shouldn't even be down here in the first place – unless she was just his imagination. He was tempted to try contacting Lenny again, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Lenny could eat termite dung for all he cared.

"Bug," he called, softly. His voice sounded too loud in this empty place, and it set his skin crawling. Connor stood up and walked towards the rubble. Now that he was closer, he could get a better look at it. It had once been a gateway – a massive gateway, several times his height. He could still make out the arched frame near the top. It had been covered in decorative tile mosaics of blue, red, black and gold. There was a narrow dark patch just below the frame that his headlamp couldn't illuminate. An opening? Connor squinted up at it and then at the boulders that filled the gateway. This wasn't a collapsed entry – the boulders had been placed here on purpose, he realized.

He took a step back, reassessing his situation. From where he stood now, he could turn around, stay, or carry on. Connor frowned. He had no recollection of the path he'd taken after the gas had gotten him. He could try to assume that the path back to the first cavern was a straight shot, but there was no guarantee. And he'd be risking the gas again. There was also no guarantee that he'd get help if he waited to hear from Lenny. Sure, maybe the man could miraculously come up with directions back to Heart, but that was a long-shot. Plus, Connor was out of supplies, and he couldn't afford to just wait around. He checked the time on his shae band. It read 06:00. Connor let loose a slow breath of air. Eight hours since his last dose of parlin. And none left now. The clock was ticking down on him.

"Guess I'm a dead man walking," he muttered to himself. "Might as well try and find a talking cat."

And with that, he started climbing up the rubble.