Cal walked ahead of me. He had a carbine slung over his shoulder. How he could use the weapon with only one arm, I wasn’t sure. But I was sure that he wouldn’t have brought it if he couldn’t use it.

  He didn’t seem at all concerned with me lagging back behind him. Would he even notice if I were to take off and bolt in the other direction?

  I was pretty certain he would.

  We climbed the sloping path out of the jungle. The dragons that had been wheeling above the trees were gone. Spooked by the earthquake, maybe, though I doubted that.

  The ground still tremored under our feet— no longer the rock shattering earthquake, but a constant rumble like being close to a big machine.

  Blueboy trod beside me. Every now and then I caught him staring up at me. Once he brushed up against me, nearly tripping me up.

  When I first came across him I thought he was going to kill me, but back where I’d been tied up, he’d stood between Cal and me like a guard. I didn’t understand the change.

  I wondered if it bothered Cal that Blueboy was showing me affection. I hope it did. But what did that matter? I had no plans of staying with them much longer. G.I. told me, up ahead the path would branch, and we’d pass a narrow cave that would slope down into what he called the high grasses. I think he meant they were plains or maybe it was a marsh. Either way G.I. assured me if I bolted into that cave, and even if Cal and Blueboy followed it would be nearly impossible to find me amongst all the grass. And from there, if I was quick, I could make my way up to the ship before Cal, and warn my crew.

  That was the plan G.I. had come up with.

  I kept wondering when G.I. had come up with it. After I had been captured, or long before— just waiting for someone to do what I had done? Command the wind, G.I had called it. That earth quake didn’t at all sound like I was commanding the wind.

  At the next fork Cal went left. That wasn’t right. We were supposed to fork right then a hundred or so meters I would make my break into the cave.

  We were walking back up towards Cal’s hut. If I were to break now, I wouldn’t make it. It was too open.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  Without turning his back to me, he said, “I want to show you something.”

  His hut was exactly as it had been the last I had seen it.

  He stood there, by the table, watching me.

  “What?” I said.

  He nodded to the bed.

  Oh, God, was he— then I saw him— Buzz was there, the covers up to his chin, asleep.

  I stood over him. He didn’t move.

  My stomach turned to stone. “Buzz?” I said. Was I looking at a dead man? First G.I. and now Buzz? “Buzz,” I said again.

  “He’s sleeping,” said Cal.

  “You drug him too?”

  Cal pulled back the blanket. A makeshift splint and bandage was around his left leg. The bandage was stained.

  “Broken femur,” Cal said. “He’s running a fever. I set it as best I could but it was a bad break.” He put the blanket back over Buzz. “But yes, he is drugged. If we don’t get him back to your ship soon...” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Then we need to take him back right now,” I said.

  “After.”

  “You said it yourself. If we don’t get him back to the ship—”

  “If you don’t do what you started,” Cal said steadily. “There won’t be a ship to go back to.”

  I stood there, looking over Buzz. His breathing was slow, maybe even labored. Sweat dotted his brow and cheeks.

  “How long has he been here?” I said finally.

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  “A day,” Cal said. “Or just about. There are only a handful of paths leading out of the docking bay. I found him passed out at the bottom of a pit with this break.”

  I thought of my own fall. Buzz hadn’t been as lucky as me. Was he down there, calling for help? Or had he passed out immediately? Were there other broken bones that we couldn’t see? I couldn’t tell.

  All I knew was that G.I.’s plan was gone. I wouldn’t be going through the high grasses. I wouldn’t be going back to the ship. If I were, I’d have to do it alone, leaving Buzz behind.

  And that was why Cal had brought me here.

  My suit and broken helmet hung by the door. Whatever needed to be done I wasn’t going to do it barefoot and in my underwear. Quickly I stepped into the suit, remembering how Gilley and I had done the same after the ship had crashed.

  I left the broken helmet where it was.

  “You’ll want that,” Cal said, pointing to the helmet. I had no plans of taking it, not seeing a need.

  “Why?” I said.

  From the table he picked up a radio. We’re close enough that I can patch in to your frequency. When I made no move to still pick the helmet up he added, “I know you hate me. I get it. But you’ll need my help to get through the catacombs.”

  G.I. didn’t tell me all that was involved in Commanding the Wind. Just that it would get Cal to release us. At the time that was all I cared about, so these catacombs he was talking about, outside of the definition of what a catacombs was, I had no idea what to expect.

  “Besides, there’s a light on it,” Cal said, tapping the helmet. “You’ll want that to get past Humbaba.”

  The monster? Fuck. I forgot all about Humbaba.

  I took the helmet.

  We went back down the way we had come.

  “We have to be quick,” Cal said.

  We jogged back down the slopping path, back towards the jungle floor, then back up again, forking right just as G.I. said we would. A hundred meters, we passed the narrow cave that would have been my escape into the high grass. We jogged passed it, not slowing.

  The vegetation diminished. Those blue plants and their blue lights diminished with it. When Cal turned on the carbine’s flashlight I turned on my headlamp.

  We passed under a rocky archway. At the other end of the archway was a metal post with an orange reflector. Beyond the post was absolute darkness.

  Cal stopped next to the post.

  “This is the beginning of the line,” Cal said.

  I moved to the edge of the archway and aimed my light past the post. The beam found no wall, no ceiling, just blackness and the rocky floor.

  “This is our life line,” Cal said, illuminating the orange reflector with his flashlight. “There will be a post every fifty or-so meters. Your flashlight should pick up the next one easily enough.” Cal swung the flashlight out past the post and in the distance another orange twinkle came back. “Orange reflectors will take you to the catacombs. That’s where we’re going.”

  “You’re coming with me?”

  “Just past this part. Past Humbaba.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. It’s also in my best interest that you at least get to the catacombs and ring that bell.”

  “There’s a bell?”

  “Yes. I’ll tell you more after we cross this place.”

  He waited to see if I had anything else to say. I didn’t.

  “We’ll come to a couple intersections,” Cal continued. “Blue reflectors and red reflectors. We’re staying to the orange reflectors. Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you lose any post, you stop, and look for it with your flashlight. If you can’t find it, make your way back the way you came, keeping a lookout for the last post. Do you understand?”

  “Follow the orange reflectors,” I said. “If I get lost, I stop. If I can’t find the next reflector, I turn around until I can see the previous one.”

  “That’s right. You lose the trail, you’re dead. This part of the rock is two hundred kilometers at least—”

  “Two hundred kilometers,” I said. “That’s impossible. The whole place is less than one kilometer.”

  “I don’t have time to teach you about spatial distortion and relative dynamics. You have to trust me. If you lose this path, you’re gone.”

  “And Humbaba is out here?”

  “Yes. I’ve never seen him closer than the fifth post, though. Odds are that we wont even see him, but in case we do, we turn our flashlights off and wait for him to pass us.”

  “That’s it?” I said.

  “That’s it.”

  “What if we see him and he just like plops down next to us?”

  “Then we’re dead,” Cal said. “But I’ve never seen that happen. Humbaba is quite possibly blind. I don’t think he can see our flashlights—”

  “You don’t think?” I said, not at all liking the uncertainty.

  “Odds are we won’t even see him,” Cal said. “Remember, this place is huge.”

  “How the hell are we going to cross two hundred kilometers on foot?”

  “We’re not,” Cal said. “That’s just how big this part is. These posts will take us to the Catacombs. Its less than three kilometers.”

  There was a loud grinding sound then— rock on rock— followed be a jolt as if some internal engine just stopped.

  “Is that Humbaba?” I asked.

  “No,” Cal said. “Something worse. We don’t have much time. Make sure you keep up. That’s the most important thing. Blueboy you stay. I’ll be back.”

  Then Cal was off, darting out toward the orange sparkling guidepost.