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Mendez settled back into the pads within the egg-shaped module. Reaching up, he pulled down the dome to fit over his head. His movements were swift but sure, in contrast to the nervous twitches of the white-robed figures around him.
The leader of the Underfolk now settled more firmly into the seat of the Chair of Power, his face grim. He closed his eyes and commanded in a husky voice, “Activate the Chair!”
One of the figures extended a hand from the long sleeve of his robe and gestured to another, who waited at the control panel. The switch was thrown.
Instantly, the entire visual display of the control panel changed. One section of lights went dead and another lit up brightly, blinking rapidly, then swiftly settling into a steady beat that matched Mendez’s pulse. Another panel changed colors several times, rearranged its pattern. Then all lights turned green.
The robed figures standing before the egg-shaped chair game his leader a searching look, then turned away toward the repairmen who were working feverishly on the ruined converter. “Hurry with the repairs! Mendez has only a short time!”37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡurR3qBROZ3
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“Halt!”
General Urko’s voice cut through the rumble of tanks and the crash of trucks over the steepening desert hills. His jeep swerved to miss a rock hidden behind a dry, scraggly bush and a shower of dust.
The gorilla commander stood up, impatiently waving the dust away, and put his field glasses to his eyes. He scanned the rock cliffs above, then snarled to his aide-de-camp, “Sovak! Where in the name of the Sacred Scrolls do you think the base of that cursed statue was?”
The gorilla captain’s reply lowered his fieldglasses with a frustrated grunt, shaking his head. “I had the spot in my sights, General…but it’s vanishing, shifting like smoke. If I had to guess, I’d say it was right near that jagged outcrop—before it——blinked out.”
Urko growled, a threatening rumble that came from his hate-filled chest. “Is this some trickery of the Underfolk? Or do my eyes deceive me?”
The captain wisely kept silent, his glasses too, searching the sheer rock faces for some clue to the mystery.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqGco8BOT2J
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The Fat Man waddled hastily up to the Chair of Power, his ornate white robe flaring with each hurried step. He grasped the edges of the concave compartment where Mendez sat with the dome over his head. “They’ve escaped, Mendez!”he bellowed, his voice rich and theatrical. “The humanoids—-your precious Baruk and his towering companions—-are gone, fled like spirits from a conjurer’s flask!”
One of the white-robed figures stepped forward swiftly, placing a slender, gloved hand on the Fat Man’s arm. “Peace, brother,’ he intoned solemnly. “Do not disturb Mendez—-He is awakening the entire defense system.”
”But…”
Mendez’s voice came from the egg-shaped chair—-a hollow voice, distant and weak. “Stop…them…!”37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ02gLUw5PF3
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An ear-splitting roar shattered the tense darkness as a violent explosion ripped through the ancient tunnel. Shards of jagged rock and broken concrete blasted overhead, whistling through the air like razors. The cart lurched as the shockwave slammed into it, and for a moment it seemed the ceiling itself would collapse.
Steve, gripping the wheel with white-knuckled hands, shouted something—-a warning—-but his voice was lost beneath a second detonation that thundered from deeper behind them. The blast lit the tunnel in a pulse of blinding orange before plunging everything back into night.
Chunks of fractured stone and gritty concrete hailed down like a storm, clattering off the roof and ricocheting into the open cabin. Valerie ducked and cried out as a splintered tile struck the side of the cart with a metallic clang. Fitzhugh yelped and shielded his head, while Betty threw her arms around Barry to shield him.
The vehicle clattered onward, a rattling blur in the dark, skimming just ahead of collapse, the ruins of a long-dead world crumbling at their heels.
“They’re shooting beams at us!” Steve yelled.
The stolen caddy cart hurtled forward into the gloom, its electric motor humming with desperate urgency. Inside, the seven passengers were jolted and jostled with every vibration of the tunnel floor. All but Steve, who gripped the wheel with iron focus, instinctively clung to each other—-arms wrapped around shoulders, hands clasped tightly, bracing against the next unpredictable lurch.
Betty gripped Valerie’s arm with white-knuckled intensity, while Mark Wilson braced himself between the seats, shielding Barry with one arm. Dan clung to the side rail, his other arm steadied around Fitzhugh, whose every bone-rattling bounce was punctuated by low groans of distress.
Then came a sudden, bone-jarring jolt—-the front wheels kick slammed into a jagged chunk of rock jutting from the floor of the tunnel. The cart tilted perilously, the left side lifting just enough for hearts to freeze and breath to catch.
For a split second, the vehicle threatened to overturn.
But then—-SLAM—-it thudded back to all fours, wobbling before finding balance. The rear wheels struck the stone with a violent kick, sending the chunk skittering away into the abyss, tumbling noisily through the dark like a warning hurled behind them.
”Still with us?” Steve shouted back over his shoulder.
Nobody answered.
They just held on tighter.
A searing crack of light sliced through the dark—-a white-hot beam that hissed through the stale air and flashed just inches past the racing cart. It struck the tunnel floor ahead with a violent burst, sending up a spray of molten debris and a sound like glass shattering underwater.
“Oh, God!”
The stolen caddy cart jolted violently as it surged over uneven ground, its undercarriage clanging hard against something solid. For a moment, everyone was thrown upward in their seats as the suspension buckled—-then whump! the tires caught ground n again, skidding slightly before regaining their grip.
A jagged boulder, half-buried in the track, spun away into the shadows with a gritty scrape, just inches from catching the cart’s axle.
Dan, catching his breath, let out a tight laugh from the second row. “We didn’t clear that rock—-we just missed it by dumb luck!” He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled shakily. “I’ll take dumb luck over the alternative any day.”
Without warning, Barry's head slumped forward, his small body going limp against the side rail of the cart. Valerie gasped, catching him before he tumbled.
"Barry?!" Steve called back sharply, eyes still locked on the dark track ahead. "What happened—? Is he hurt?"
"I—I don’t know," Betty stammered, cradling Barry gently. "There’s no injury, no sign of anything wrong. He just… passed out."
Dan leaned forward, peering at the boy. "It’s like someone threw a switch. He was fine a second ago."
Before anyone could say more, a *searing bolt of light* ripped through the air behind them, followed by a *roaring detonation* that filled the tunnel like the fury of the gods. The cart shook violently as the blast echoed through the ancient subway, and a choking *cloud of dust* surged forward, engulfing them.
Centuries of grit, ash, and decay came *raining down* from the tunnel’s ceiling, showering the roof of the cart in a grim, staccato drumbeat. The seven travelers ducked instinctively as fragments of plaster and gravel pelted their shoulders, and Steve fought the wheel with white-knuckled fists, pushing the cart faster into the deepening darkness.
Fitzhugh clutched the back of Steve’s seat with both hands, his face pale and glistening with panic. ”Never mind the boy!”he bellowed, eyes wide with terror. “For heaven’s sake, Burton, make this infernal contraption go faster! If those creatures catch us, we’ll all be turned into curiosities in some underground chamber of horrors!”
The squealing and groaning of the ancient vehicle gradually faded into a steadier, almost hypnotic rhythm. The clatter of metal and dry rubber gave way to a dull, repetitive thrum as the creaky axles settled into motion and the electric motor warmed into something resembling efficiency. Each rotation of the wheels now produced a regular beat—ka-thunk, ka-thunk—that echoed in the tunnel like a heartbeat, as if the old cart had finally remembered what it was built for.
Ahead of the cart, standing in the darkness of the ancient maintenance tunnel, were two white-robed figures unseen by the approaching Spindrifters.
”They come,” one said, hearing the rumble echoing in the tunnel. “Prepare.”37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbJnKwn2A1A
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Steve risked a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing into the dusty dark behind them. “They’ve stopped shooting,” he said, half to himself, half to the others. “For now.”
Fitzhugh clutched the side of the cart with both hands, his face pale and drawn. "I suggest we all start praying for a turn in this tunnel," he declared, voice quavering. "Preferably one *away* from our executioners!"
Steve gritted his teeth and slammed his foot down harder on the accelerator. The electric motor whined in protest before catching with a sudden surge, launching the cart forward down the time-worn track. The ancient pavement blurred beneath them, a mosaic of cracked stone and debris from centuries past.
As the tires skidded across the uneven surface, dried bones—splintered ribs, the curled remains of some forgotten creature’s hand—snapped and scattered under the wheels with a sickening crunch. Rusted tools, shattered glass, and a long-dead helmet popped up from the dust only to be crushed again, lost to the echoing rumble of the cart racing into the darkness.
Dan looked up to see a faint red light ahead, and the thin red crack of some kind of door. Then he saw the red-framed outlines of two robed figures.
”Look out! More of them!”
Steve cast a quick glance over his shoulder—and that’s when he saw it.
From beneath the hood of one of the pursuing Underfolk, a jagged beam of light snapped forth like a spear, surging directly from the smooth, gleaming surface of the figure’s exposed brow. The beam was pure, white-hot energy, buzzing with the crackle of raw force, and it lanced into the tunnel ceiling just above them.
There was a tremendous explosion—a blinding splash of incandescent light—and the overhead ruin shattered. Chunks of ceiling, stone, and metal supports crashed down behind the cart, striking the rails and sending sparks in all directions, narrowly missing the rear of the vehicle.
A second Underfolker stepped forward, his entire body stiff with power. He began to hum—not with a voice, but with something deeper and more alien. The sound started low, like a tremor in the bones, then swelled into a piercing frequency that set the air vibrating with an unnatural pitch.
From his hooded head, a ribbon of pale blue light unraveled like a whip and sliced forward with surgical precision. This time it sailed just overhead, gliding soundlessly through the stale air.
It struck the tunnel wall twenty yards ahead in a brilliant burst of turquoise fire. The impact flared outward, igniting dust clouds and peppering the tunnel with glowing debris. The wall cracked but held—barely—leaving a blackened crater and a new wave of heat in its wake.
Steve ducked back behind the wheel, hands white-knuckled. “That was too close,” he muttered.
Steve slammed his foot down on the accelerator, his grip firm on the cart's controls. The electric-powered caddy surged forward, striking one of the figures in white robes with a heavy thud. The figure crumpled under the impact, stumbling into his comrade before collapsing to the ground. The caddy sped past, its wheels grinding over the rough terrain as the other figure lurched back, caught off guard.
The second figure called out in a suddenly stricken and surprised voice. “Bar-ook!”
The cart rattled on in the darkness as the fallen white-robed man lurched to his feet. He started to fire another bolt after the cart, his humming sound growing fast, but the other figure stopped him.
”No! They have Bar-ook! We cannot stop them!”
The risen robed figure grew still and spoke in a calm vice, “It’s up to you, Mendez.”
In the embryo-like confines of the Chair of Power, the Underfolk leader spoke in a sepulchral voice. “Very well.”
The lights on the control panels began to blink at a different tempo and further generators began to hum. A special panel, unlit before, glowed red and started to form a dazzling concentric pattern of lights, which blinked furiously.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3kEUXKaFqi
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Barry groaned and shook his head. The echoing rattle of the cart as it rolled down the dark tunnel was like a hammer at his brain. But he gathered his strength and raised his head. He saw that the tunnel was black, with only an occasional shower of sparks as the ancient hurtling vehicle ran over something on the floor.
Though slipping in and out of full awareness, Barry could still make out the sounds around him—echoes in the dark that seemed both near and far, distorted by the rushing air and the rattling chassis of the speeding cart.
From time to time, he heard the groans of his fellow passengers—uneasy, cramped, and jolted with every violent bump along the tunnel. Valerie let out a breathless gasp as they lurched around a cracked rail. Betty muttered something under her breath, clutching the side rail. Fitzhugh, ever dramatic, grumbled theatrical protests about his spine and shouted each time his seat bounced.
Mark Wilson gave the occasional sharp complaint—part frustration, part nausea—and Dan made low, clipped sounds through clenched teeth, the kind of noises that accompanied holding on for dear life.
Above all of it, Barry could hear Steve.
The pilot was swearing—a steady, muttered string of curses as he wrestled with the ancient controls.
“Come on, you bucket of bolts—hold together—damn it—keep moving—don’t you quit on me now—”
Then another jolt, another groan from the back, a creak from the cart’s straining frame, and Steve again—
“Hang on, folks! I think we’ve got just a little more hell to go!”
The end came too fast—too fast for any warning to register beyond instinct. The tunnel curved sharply, but the cart, pushed to its limit and still accelerating, couldn’t make the turn. The squealing of rubber wheels on ancient concrete hit a fever pitch before the entire vehicle bucked like a living thing.
A gut-wrenching CRACK sounded beneath the front axle—-something vital giving way.
Then chaos.
The cart veered, struck a jagged piece of collapsed stonework, and flipped sideways in a screech of grinding steel and shattering glass from a long-dead instrument panel. The world turned sideways and then upside-down aas the seven passengers were thrown from their seats like rag dolls.
”LOOK OUT!” Dan shouted, his voice lost in the metallic shriek.
”WE’RE GOING OVER!” Betty screamed, flailing midair.
“MOTHER OF MERCY!” Fitzhugh bellowed, just before he landed with a meaty thump and a strangled wheeze.
The sound of bones hitting steel, elbows scraping rock, and groans of pain erupted from the crumpled pile of bodies.
The cart slammed down on its side with a final metallic crash, rocking once before going still—-an ominous hiss of steam or ruptured hydraulics leaking into the stale, dust-choked air.
Someone—probably Mark—-was coughing violently.
Valerie let out a breathless, pained, “Is everyone—-everyone okay?”
There was a dull clang as the rear wheel finally fell free and rolled a short distance before tipping and spinning to a stop with a lonely rattle in the darkness.
Barry’s voice came low and strained, barely above a whisper, as he struggled to sit up among the tangle of limbs and overturned metal. “I’m…all right,” he said, his breath catching. “Just….tired. Everything feels….heavy.”
“Here, let me help you.” Dan found his arms and gathered him up, to bring him to a sitting position. “There. You’re sure there’s nothing hurt?”
”No,” Barry said into the blackness, forcing out the words painfully.
Steve stood and stared back the way they had come. “We’re out of their sight and range. I think we’d better get some light down here. We can’t see what we’re doing.”
Dan patted down his pockets, then looked around. His expression darkened. “They’re gone,” he muttered. “The torches, the lighter, everything we had to see with.” He looked around at the pitch-black tunnel and then added grimly. “Perfect. We crash in the one face darker than Urko’s conscience.”
Fitzhugh, brushing dust from his sleeve and peering through the gloom, sniffed indignantly. “Will someone kindly tell me who this Urko person is? Sounds like the name of a poorly trained but very aggressive dog.”
Dan, helping Barry sit up, shot him a look. “It’s not important now, Fitzhugh. Just know we don’t want him finding us first.”
Steve scrambled over to the boy through the debris that cluttered the floor. “How are you?" he asked him.
”Weak….very weak…..Mendez is draining my….energy.
"What?!" Steve exclaimed, puzzled. Then, as he began to comprehend the control the Underfolk leader still must hold over his mind, he comforted him as best he could: "Hold on, Barry, we're trying—just gotta clear this debris and figure out how to flip the cart before they catch up."
A few feet away, Dan let out a sudden happy cry. Steve turned to see the tiny flame of the Laser-Flame lighter!
Steve and Jeff worked quickly and silently, tearing strips of fabric from a battered seat cushion and dipping them into a canister of oil salvaged from a storage nook in the wall. Jeff bound the rags tightly around lengths of broken pipe, while Steve lit one with a match from his belt pouch—blessedly dry—and passed it on. In moments, the tunnel flickered with new, flickering life as more torches caught flame, their wavering glow pushing back the oppressive dark.
To Barry’s blurry eyes, the figures around him looked like primitive shadows on the walls of some prehistoric cave. Their movements were jerky and elemental, hunched over their new-made torches like early humans discovering fire for the first time. Everything—faces, clothes, even the fear—was etched in stark light and deeper shadow, giving the moment a strange, ancient quality. For a heartbeat, it was as though they were back at the dawn of time, struggling not against an army or ancient powers, but against the dark itself.
As the torchlight spread, it revealed the upturned cart leaning precariously against a tangle of stone and twisted metal. The obstacle they had struck was no mere rubble—it was the collapsed remains of an old rail support column, reinforced with rebar that jutted like broken ribs. The cart’s nose had wedged hard against it, crumpling slightly and trapping one of its wheels beneath the debris.
Without waiting for instruction, the group set to work. Mark and Valerie hauled chunks of concrete away with bare hands, while Dan and Betty formed a rough relay, tossing stones and clearing space. Even Fitzhugh, with great reluctance and louder complaints, dragged broken beams from the tracks. All around, the ring of shifting rubble and the strained breaths of their small tribe echoed against the stone walls. They worked not just with desperation, but with shared purpose—because behind them, somewhere in the dark, they knew the Underfolk still hunted.
From time to time, they paused to listen for pursuers but heard nothing. Soon the track was clear and after they had cleared the debris, they realigned the front wheel, tightened a loose cable beneath the chassis, and wedged a broken beam under the axle to lever the cart upright.
Dan wiped dust from his brow and said, “We’re lucky this thing was built like a tank—most rides this old would’ve shattered like glass.”
One by one, the group clambered back aboard the battered electric cart, their movements careful, tired but determined. Jeff offered Betty a hand, while Valerie helped steady Fitzhugh as he muttered something about bruised dignity. Mark boosted himself into the back seat, grunting. Dan took his place near the front, glancing back at Barry, who still looked pale and dazed. Steve gently guided him into the middle seat.
Barry gave a faint groan as he settled into place, his voice thin: “I feel like I’ve been stepped on by a dinosaur... twice.”
Steve jammed his foot down on the control pedal, and the cart jerked forward, sputtering with renewed life. With a shudder and a lurch, it picked up speed, bouncing along the uneven tunnel floor. Grit and dust spat out from beneath the ancient tires, striking the walls with dry clicks and hissing like sand in a storm. The frame groaned, but held, rattling as it surged ahead into the unknown.
They were doing fine—better than anyone had expected—until Steve caught sight of a faint patch of light up ahead. It wasn’t natural, but neither was it artificial in any way he could name. Just a weak, pulsing glow that seemed to leak from some distant source. As they neared, he squinted—and then frowned.
The pavement ahead was no longer level. It slanted—downward, subtly at first, then more dramatically. The darkness made it difficult to gauge, but Steve’s instincts screamed something wasn’t right.
Fitzhugh’s voice rose above the wind and the whir of the wheels. He clutched the side rail of the cart with white-knuckled desperation.
“Stop! Stop this infernal thing! Can’t you see it? It’s a trap—I know it! We’re headed straight for doom!”
Ahead of them was a huge chasm, faintly lit from some unknown source. There the pavement was ragged and torn and bent down into the crater at an impossible angle.
Steve immediately yanked the brake lever hard, his knuckles whitening as he strained against it. The cart gave a shriek of metal on metal—but didn’t slow. He slammed his foot on the floor-mounted backup pedal, trying to override the ancient acceleration system. The wheels skidded briefly, spitting sparks, but the slope had them now. Gravity was in control.
The cart rattled violently, tilting slightly as one wheel dipped into a groove in the broken track. The glow ahead grew brighter.
Steve shouted over the roar of the wind and the grinding machinery, “It’s no good! We can’t stop—we’re locked into it now!”
Dan rose slightly in his seat, gripping the edge of the cart as it bucked beneath him. His voice cut through the rattling chaos: “Everybody—get ready to jump when I say so!”
But the others were frozen, eyes wide with fear, clutching their seats or each other.
Then it was too late. The cart hurtled out into the air above the pit!
And kept right on going!
The castaways braced for the worst—but it never came. With breathless disbelief, they felt the cart glide across the gaping chasm like a miracle on rails, not even a wobble to suggest the abyss yawning below. The crater’s far edge loomed, impossibly close, and then—thump-thump!—the front wheels hit solid ground. The shock of familiar stone pavement jarred through their spines as the cart bumped once, then again, and then they were sailing smoothly forward, the darkness swallowing them once more.
No one dared speak. Their stunned silence said it all. They were still moving. Still alive. There wasn't even time to question how it had happened.
Steve eased off the throttle, and the ancient cart groaned in grateful response, its speed diminishing to a manageable crawl. Behind them, the faint light that had marked the impossible drop-off faded, swallowed by shadows. One by one, the passengers turned in their seats to look back—searching for answers in the vanishing glow and the void it revealed.
Jeff squinted and murmured, “There wasn’t a bridge, was there? I mean… there couldn’t have been.”
Valerie, her voice trembling, added, “Then what did we just cross? That didn’t feel like air.”
Betty hugged herself. “It looked like the world just gave out… but we kept going. Like something let us.”
Fitzhugh blinked hard and clutched the back of his seat. “It was witchcraft. Or—hallucination! Yes. Mass hallucination. That’s all.”
Mark shook his head slowly. “Illusion or not, it felt real to me. That drop was there.” He glanced at the others. “And yet… we’re still on the rails.”
Dan turned forward again, his jaw tight. “I don’t know what it was. But if it wanted us dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Only Barry, slumped beside Steve, remained silent—his head lolling slightly with the motion of the cart, too weak or unconscious to register the miracle they’d just survived.
Steve’s hands tightened on the wheel as he stared ahead, his voice calm but firm. “That pit—never there. It was an illusion. The Underfolk wanted us to think it was real, but it wasn’t. We crossed it without even feeling a shift.”
Barry's groan alerted Dan, and he bent to him. Speaking to Steve over his shoulder, he yelled, "Step on it! Get us out of here!"
As Steve revved the motor of the motorized cart, Dan gathered Barry in his arms. "Barry! What's happening?".37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJR02ec42S3
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The control panels glittered with diamond lights, their patterns intricate and keyed to Mendez's mind and body. The high-pitched whine continued, rising and rising. Mendez's assistants watched him with apprehension.
The jewel-like lights flickered for a moment, then resumed their steady blinking beat. The blue-robed assistants frowned, and watched their leader ever more carefully.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvwhqgVu9Wz
