The Abyss of Time

Chapter Thirty Five

     The land descended as they continued on. A vast, lowland area that Alan Felgin called a rift valley. A place where the planet's crust was splitting open under the influence of slow but irrisistible geological forces.

     "I had thought that the processes of plate tectonics might have stopped by now," the scientist said as they trudged onward down the gradual but seemingly endless slope. "Apparently I was mistaken. There's still enough heat in the planet's core for it to go on a little while longer."

     Miller had not the slightest interest in geology and had only the vaguest idea what the scientist was talking about. On top of that he was almost unbearably hot. The air, blowing out from the forest behind him, was still too moist for his sweet to evaporate and cool him. He took a sip from the water bottle hanging from his waist to wet his throat. It was already three quarters empty. Soon he'd have to go to one of the water tanks being towed behind the mules for a refill.

     Simply saying nothing would have been rude, though, and so he struggled for a way to keep the conversation going. "Is that why the trees don't like it here?" he asked. There were still Atlas trees growing here, spaced every couple of kilometres or so, but most of the time they were invisible in the darkness. When one came into view, illuminated by the beams of the mules' headlights, they were visibly thinner and sickly looking.

     "Very probably," Alan replied. "If my deductions are right, the trees need carbonate rocks to grow in, but a rift valley only contains igneous rocks. Solidified magma. No carbon. The trees we're passing probably have roots that stretch kilometres back to the carbonate rocks, but not even they can survive further away from them than that."

     And so it proved. They were trudging on through the darkness, the wind growing steadily stronger around them, stinging their bare hands and the lower parts of their legs with particles of blown sand. Suddenly the land was lit up by the blinding flash of a lightning bolt. The Orchid crew had a momentary glimpse of rolling hills on the horizon, entirely bare of vegetation, and then the air was split by a deafening clap of thunder that made the very air shake around them. Twelve year old Alicia Matthews gave a shriek of fear, but then she gave a giggle of laughter as she recognised what had happened. She'd lived on Earth all her life and was used to thunderstorms.

     More flashes followed, smaller and further away, and now that they were out from under the sound-dampening effect of the forest canopy they became aware of a continuous rumble of thunder coming from all around, as if a titanic battle were being fought with artillery just over the horizon. The flashes illuminated the underside of the cloud decks that shrouded the entire planet, roiling and churning above them like boiling water. Off to their left a particularly bright ligntning flash momentarily illuminated a tornado, moving sinuously across the landscape like a belly dancer.

     "I'm beginning to wonder if it was a good idea to come this way," said Miller to his son.

     "Not too late to turn back," Jack replied.

     "This is probably as bad as it's going to get," said Felgin, though. "The air is finally dry enough, and windy enough, to keep us comfortably cool." He grinned. "I don't know about you but I'm feeling pretty good."

     "I'm game to go on if you are," Jack said therefore.

     Miller nodded. "Let's see how it goes," he said.

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     The sand was getting under Lucy's robes and collecting in her groin and armpits, causing an annoying itch. When they stopped to rest, she saw a large boulder off to the left, intermittently illuminated by the overhead lightning discharges, and went over to it. Once she had the rock between herself and the rest of the Orchid crew she took off her robes, rolled them up into a ball and used them to rub away the sand encrusting her skin. The tingle of windblown sand hitting her bare back was quite exhilarating.