He could hear the children’s ughter. The sound was still audible over the radio device built into his hazard suit, all garbled and mixed in with intermittent clicks and static pops of failing technology. He longed to hear them without the background noise. It reminded him of the danger that surrounded them. Even through the dirty sealed pstic visor, the underground cavern he stood in, filled with brilliant glowing pestilential mosses, toxic luminescent gases, and giant fat multicoloured mushrooms plump with poison, did seem beautiful. He could see how the children might forget that the hazmat barrier between them and that deadly charm was all that kept them safe. Yet, no matter how distorted the ughter may have been, it was the truest moment of soce he would ever get down here.

  He had never taken them this far from their home before, and they were enjoying the novelty of it. To them it was just an adventure. It was good that they were, since, they had to go further, and if they could travel under the guise of an adventure then all the better. In this deep section of the Neurocity, well below the markets, underneath the tunnels and the sections of piping, where the deepest outflows finally poured out, where the water and waste were the only things flowing down even further, there was occasionally beautiful caverns such as this one. It seemed almost as if they were there to break up the horror and loneliness of the dark long tunnels and stretches of tedious quiet.

  Back where they left it, at home was their little hovel. It was the vacuum sealed remnants of an old tank, and outside, was a little patio of sorts. There was the makeshift furniture and veranda made from discarded sheet metal and across from it a spot where a little homemade windmill sat by a river of sludge, and every so often would get stuck. When that happened he would go over and he would wipe the weighty clump from the rusted metal. The fans would move again, and he would turn and see Piva get gleefully excited for no particur reason he could understand. There was a preciousness, that could exist even in such an objectively wretched pce. This was why they descended so far now. He dared not leave them behind, sealed away forever in that tank, should he not return. But now the materials required for the sustenance of even such a woeful state of life as theirs were dwindling, and becoming harder and harder to find. Thus they had to venture further.

  Perhaps they had found all the materials they could, and they had reaped everything avaible. Or perhaps the manufacturing above had become less efficient, no longer dumping anything and everything of excess down into the dark pits where no natural sun could find it. Maybe it was true that it had finally achieved a state of blissful equilibrium. It was hard for him to believe the tter.

  It was quite unusual, then, for the children to find something, and with cheerful glee, went off in pursuit of it. It was something terrifically shiny, even from further behind he could see its glimmer, amplified in this dark pce, glittering. He was getting x in his own appreciation of the danger; his own suit insuted him with a false sense of protection. As they ran towards it, he pursued, dropping the supply bag behind him. He tried to shout, but the radio was jammed with innocent incessant joy, and irresponsible voices.

  Piva was older, she was the first to barely hear her father’s footsteps as he ran after them, she stood behind little Pike, as he reached out towards the crystalline shine. She stopped him, but it was not enough, the crystal whipped up and back and the scrap beneath it sank away repced with the unmistakable shape of giant teeth. Piva dragged away her little brother, and ran, asthe long spears shut behind them. The shape of the beast, gigantic and toad-like revealed itself. It opened its huge bulging eyes of orange, and red, dited pupils and bloodshot. It opened its mouth again.

  John was so busy running he did not think to draw his weapon at first, an old musket, re-engineered and filled with whatever toxic metallic scrap he could get his hands on, powered by whatever chemicals could be synthesized into explosives. He struggled to get it out, and to aim. He was not used to firing, there was little time or material for practice. The beast's tongue whipped out again, the shining crystalline tip snaked out and tagged Pike, threatening to pull him back in. John squeezed the trigger, he was aiming for the eye, but the musket didn't aim well, it hit the mouth. Consequently, the Beast let go of Pike, withdrawing its tongue but letting out a bellowing moan. John ran ahead again as the Toad turned towards him, its flesh embedded with waste, but as it did, the roof above began to colpse. John did the only thing he could, dive to the ground.

  After the stones had finished falling, he looked around frantically. A colpsed ceiling does not always colpse evenly. The toad got the worst of it, but he saw Pike and Piva were moving, sitting up, at least. He himself had been hit by one or two small rocks himself, but it was not enough to keep him down, although it was enough to crack his visor at least. Behind them, the way they came in was shut, and the supplies he had brought were covered also. Heading over to the kids, he saw the Toad was almost completely buried, this time unintentionally. Hopefully permanently. He wondered if it was the shot, or the guttural bellowing that caused the colpse, but it didn't matter. Something was wrong, though, while Piva was sitting up, little Pike remained on the ground, not motionless, not still.

  Piva sat on the ground herself, her own visor cracked, but it seemed intact. Pike’s head y in her p. Across his chest, a grid of holes, each slowly bleeding in a uniform fractal pattern. His heavy breathing fogged his visor, but from what John could see, the colour of his face was changing. It was clear it was poison. Piva was crying, it was clear she bmed herself. He knew, though. The medical supplies were buried along with the rest of the danger, but something had to be done soon. Pike was still small enough to carry, and the lights on their helmets still worked, they would get them through the darkest tunnels where there is no natural luminescence.

  “The hermit is not far from here. We have to carry him.”

  “It’s all my fault!” Piva wailed, rising, grabbing onto her father with one arm and vainly trying to wipe the tears through her visor with the other.

  “He is not lost yet Piva, he needs you.”

  John grabbed her hand. She was so independent, sometimes he forgot she was just a child. The hermit was actually closer than he thought, the sonar device on his wrist dispyed a recognizable pattern. Pike kept fading though, he could feel his heartbeat, he heard his breathing grow fainter through the radio, it was a reminder to keep moving, to keep breathing on his own. The darkest tunnels were the hardest, the sound was amplified. They saw almost nothing, and felt out for the footholds in the darkness. It kept him chained to the present moment.

  The hermit’s hovel was in an open cavern divided by a chasm which was held up by God knows what. The home was up the rock wall, after a crude staircase built to an stone outcropping high above the rest. Putting Pike on his back, they climbed. Though if they could’ve flown, they would have flown there. Upon reaching the top, he called out. But there was no sound except the echo of his own voice, and a curious wind that seemed to ebb and flow. The fabric of his suit was too thick to feel, but he saw the gentle bouncing of the loose wooden pnks of the wall, and the way the door seemed to sway a little, closing over and then closing back. Either invitation or warning. Opening the door with his foot, he was greeted by more nothing. More darkness. The shack was empty of life, hermit or otherwise.

  Pcing Pike down on the floor, he searched for supplies. They were minimal. There was nothing sufficiently medical, everything left seemed to be fairly basic. There was no Medic-X pack, or HealthTM injector. His own medical knowledge was supremely limited. That was Sarah’s domain of expertise, he found it strange to be thinking of her now. After a minute of frantic searching. He found the sealed compartment, and opened it. Then he carried Pike in, Piva following. Upon switching the airflow, he could take off his helmet. Pike’s breathing was now very boured, his colour awful, he didn’t know whether to leave the helmet on or not. Piva took off her helmet as well.

  “He’s not going to make it is he?”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “But there’s nothing here to help him.”

  “You’re right, there is not. Not that we know.”

  He thought for a moment.

  “Hermit’s as paranoid as most scavs, perhaps more so. There might be a stash here somewhere.”

  “We should look for it.”

  “I will look for it. You stay here, you talk to him.”

  “You need my help, though!”

  “If I can’t find it, then I track down the hermit.”

  “But he could be days away.”

  “Maybe, but one thing hermit’s love is their hovel. I’m guessing he won’t be far. You stay here little bean, hold his hand, give him water, and keep his eyes open.”

  Piva kept protesting, on the verge of breaking down, but it was what John thought was best. He put them in danger before, he could not do so again. The stash could be trapped, or even elsewhere in the cavern, and who knew what other dangers lurked down here. He donned his helmet, resealed the crack with tape. It obstructed his vision. He said goodbye to Pike and Piva as he closed the door to seal them in.

  The door sealed with a click as he felt the airflow from his pack return. He began to search. There was little to find, wherever he went the Hermit had left very little behind. John wondered if he had been lost out there, in one of the junk heaps, the collections of trash, or perhaps he was decomposing in the bed of a poisonous flower. He dismissed the thought, the hermit was too tough for that, hermits did not die out there, they died in their home, alone, and they never ventured out for anyone but themselves.