The Eight of Earth

9: Leo Abernathy- *A World Below*

My eyes crash open. Water spewing from my mouth in violent, convulsive coughs. Sand coated thick on my face. I'm a beached carcass. Water soaked so deeply into my skin, I think my bones may be soggy. The hair that dangles over my face still drips to the ground.

What the hell happened?

I've washed ashore, laying half submerged in frigid water, and half burrowed in sticky, damp sand. It's so dark I can barely see my hands in front of my face. The type of blackness that plays tricks with your mind. "Hello?" The yell sends a twinge rifling through me. Cracked ribs. Add it to the list. I grab my torso and roll onto my other side to avoid the pain. Breathing is a nightmare. My lungs wheeze as if the heel of Bryl's boot presses upon my chest.

The yell seems to echo indefinitely. Rattling around so often, I'm not convinced it isn't just in my head. I battle to my feet. The darkness disorienting. It's hard to gain my balance, but I do, probing the unknown with my hands. A rock ledge scratches at my palms about shoulder high. The top is flat and wide. Dry. Dry is all I care about right now. I try to pull myself up, but my ribs remind me I'm human. Holy shit.... A groan that sounds like a dying Garpo involuntarily squeezes from my throat.

I eventually slog up the rock face and flop to the ground.

Laying here until I die doesn't sound so bad. There are worse ways to go.

My suit looks like molted insect skin after I moan my way out of it.

The rock face is freezing, but the irritation on my skin from the air in Paradise needs soothing, so I don't mind it.

How the hell am I alive?

I must have fallen 100 meters... At least.

Thank God for modern suit technology.

I stare up at the pit's entrance, which is no more than a greyish spec in a sea of blackness punched into the ceiling of this massive cave I've fallen into.

My throat kills.

Damn noose.

I run my fingers along the raw skin of my neck, and my mind instantly sends me back to that moment.

The twine squeezing tighter and tighter around my throat. My vision beginning to blotch. The image of the Proselyte who attacked me as I was disposing of the hung bodies, fading away. I can still picture the horror as my life flashed before my eyes. All the mistakes, all the memories, all the moments. Everything. But one memory lingered. Flashing over and over. That heartbreaking night with Gwinn. How empty and hopeless and betrayed and...

I press my palms to my eyes and shake away those devastating thoughts. I can't go back there again.

Instead, I need to figure out where the hell I am?

The screen of my comm stares blankly back at me as I tap it. Nothing. Water and electronics, still mortal enemies. Calling for help is out of the equation... I close my eyes and let out a weary sigh. I should've left with the crew. The poisoned air would've feasted upon the cultist's bodies, and I could've gone back to the lab to scan the Redemption salvage for traces of human DNA before we had to report it to Russa.

I sit up and try to scan my surroundings.

No... I did the right thing. Life is too precious to let rot at the end of a rope.

From the rock's vantage point, a faint twinkle of light pierces the darkness, reminding me of the lone stars that are bright enough to be seen through the haze of busy nights in the Capital. Thankfully, my eyes begin to adjust enough to see meters in front of me, and I'm no longer floating inside the pitch-black bowels of a beast, yet standing on the jutting fringes of a cave.