Return To Primordial Island, Rick Poldark [top non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

close his eyes to focus. He reached out to sense Mary and Tracey. “I can feel them. They’re beneath us, a level down.”

Jason produced a small flashlight. “I can’t feel jack squat.”

“That’s good,” said Peter. “That means no zombies this time.”

Up ahead was an open doorway, the room beyond it dimly lit. The light came from the ceiling of the cavern, and in the middle of the room sat what looked like the top of a large, leafless tree growing out of the floor. “Look,” said Jason.

“I see it,” said Peter. “Let’s be careful.”

They walked up to the doorway, careful not to cross the threshold. They inspected it carefully. Peter looked for any kind of crude mechanical trap while Jason checked the ground for prints.

“I don’t see any obvious traps,” said Peter.

Jason squatted down, looking at the floor within the room. He swept his flashlight beam back and forth. “There’re prints. Two sets.”

Peter nodded “Mary and Tracey. Nazimaa’s a ghost, so she wouldn’t leave tracks.”

“Looks like the ladies walked in here,” said Jason. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nazimaa can probably control them. I think it’s safe to step inside.”

“You first,” said Jason, making a sweeping gesture with his right hand.

Peter huffed. “Typical.” He stepped into the room, bracing himself for projectiles, trap doors, and whatnot. However, much to his relief, nothing happened.

Jason stepped into the room and looked around. It appeared to be a natural cave located within the cliffs. “Check this out.” He pointed his flashlight at crude cave paintings depicting large apes in various poses. Some depicted families composed of a large male, smaller female, and a few young. The young were painted in lighter colors.

Peter remembered a late-night nature show on television asserting that the young had lighter fur so the adults could better keep track of them. When they reached a certain age, their fur darkened.

Peter and Jason walked the perimeter of the cavern, taking in the paintings. The colorful scenes covered the walls.

“Look.” Peter pointed at a depiction of several of the male apes (he guessed by their size and musculature) engaging in battle with green figures with tails and flared dewlaps. They clutched spears and threw rocks. “They fought the Zehhaki.”

Jason passed Peter and stood in front of a depiction larger in scale than the others. “This must be the Simian King.”

Peter caught up to him and saw exactly what Jason referred to. There was a throng of apes—male, female, and juvenile—all arranged in a semi-circle around a prominent ape, who stood alone at the center. He was slightly larger, clutching a club. He was a king holding court.

Peter turned to investigate the tree. It rose up, practically to the ceiling, where a hole in the center must’ve led up to the surface, as some sunlight passed through into the room.

“How long do you think that shaft is?” asked Jason.

“Those cliffs go up about fifty feet.” Peter reached out to touch one of the tree branches. The wood was rough and hard.

Jason reached out and grabbed Peter by the arm, pulling him back.

“What?”

Jason pointed down. There was a large gap in the floor through which the top of the tree passed. The trunk and branches appeared to descend down to another level.

Peter ran his fingers along the bark of a branch. “This wood is petrified. This tree must be ancient.”

Jason looked around the room, which was about one hundred feet across. “I don’t see any other doorways.”

Peter peered down into the hole. “I think we’re supposed to climb down.”

Jason sneered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He shone his flashlight down.

Peter arched an eyebrow. “Hey, this temple was built by apes. Apes swing from trees. It’s how they get around.”

Jason peered down into the hole. “Yeah, well, I hope you know how to climb.”

“How hard can it be?”

Jason slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit!” He stuck his small flashlight into his mouth and bit down. He leaned forward over the hole, reached out, and grabbed onto a branch. He swung over the hole, legs dangling. He switched his hands on the branch, turning to face Peter.

Peter smirked. “That’s a good look for you. Natural.”

“Ha, ha,” he said, mouth full. “Get your ass out here. We’re climbing down.” Jason swung a leg up onto the branch he grasped. He pulled himself up so that he lay face down on the branch, balancing his body.

Peter took a few steps to the left, leaned over the hole, and grabbed onto a branch. He tried to swing out over the hole, but his grip wasn’t tight and his body weight pulled him down. He dropped into the hole, crying out as he fell, and he landed hard on a branch below.

Jason took his flashlight out of his mouth with one hand while holding onto the branch with his other hand. “Peter! Are you all right?”

Peter gasped for air, moaning. The wind had been knocked out of him.

“Stay there. I’ll come get you.” Jason placed the flashlight back in his mouth and swung down, his legs dangling. He stretched his feet until they touched a branch below. He moved, hand over hand, until his feet were solidly on the branch. He walked his way towards the trunk and leaned his body up against it.

“It’s dark down here,” said Peter, sounding hoarse.

Jason pulled his flashlight out of his mouth. “Don’t move. I’m coming down to get you.” Jason shoved the light back in his mouth and lowered himself until he crouched on the branch. There was another one directly in front of him, but further down. He braced himself, leaned forward, and kicked out. He fell and caught the branch beneath him, the rough bark biting into his skin. He swung back and forth from the momentum