Postmortem Ch2 || The Descent

It felt as though he was descending into an abyss. The red flash of an emergency light was Tobias’ only companion for a time, and the more stairs that he descended, the weaker its light became. New smells came up the stairway, which heralded an entirely new stretch of the facility with new memories. His path took him there.

Rust and metal smelled the strongest in the stairway, but beyond that, earth. Moist soil that was the stuff of envy to the pitiful pots that he’d passed by in the entryway at the start of his calling. The earth down here was well-tended by gardeners that had long since expired, and tended to still by the spike-backed dacentrurus who had replaced them. They sustained the garden left behind, and in turn the garden gave them sustenance. A mutual benefit. It was no wonder that they so jealously guarded the plants that grew in the long stretches of greenhouse.

Tobias paused, stepping delicately over a spot that had rusted through. Why did he believe the dacen to be jealous?

He tilted his head, peering into the darkness. He was approaching a lit doorway, a portal that would take him away from the inky blackness of the stairwell into an entirely new world. There were echoes of blood here. Someone had fallen. The dacen had finished it off, dragged the corpse away to fertilise their gardens. Fruits and vegetables grown strong with the help of death and decay. They were resourceful workers.

The air was thick down here. Warm and humid. Droplets of water formed on his hide, clinging to his dark scales. Water had recently fallen from the ceiling, sprayed down by metal constructions that poked out of the ceiling. It was the closest thing to rain that any of those that had been raised in the facility knew. The water made the broken tiles slick to walk on in places, turned dirt into mud. He stepped carefully, leaving footprints behind that would be testament to his existence in this place for as long as they lasted.

The scent of metal had long been overwhelmed since he stepped into what appeared to be a display room of sorts, but you would’ve been forgiven to assume it as a jungle. What had once shown off the greenery that the facility was capable of producing was now almost overwhelmed by it, tangled vines and choking weeds kept from the path by diligent dacen. It smelled of green and growing things here, of flowers and pollen. There were no bees underground to visit the flowers, but flies and beetles buzzed by from time to time. It was enough to keep the plants going.

He stepped carefully in here, around piles of shattered glass and lifting his feet above the reach of vines which threatened to trip anyone not paying close attention. Left as a warning or a trap to any albertos that grew curious and travelled too close to the dacen’s zone, no doubt.

It was almost easy to forget that he was still inside, and in fact deep underground at this point. The path took him from room to room, each just as wild as the last. Displays were replaced with grow beds which were rich with fruiting herbaceous plants and trees, vegetables of all shape and size, and plants that didn’t reveal their spoils, yet must surely be edible or the dacen would have ripped them out long ago to make room for something more sustaining.

And above, if not obscured by the foliage that grew up and spread out into a canopy, were hot, burningly intense lights that stretched across the ceiling. They kept it warm in here, much warmer than it should rightly be this far underground, and kept the plants healthy - so long as they stayed far enough back that they weren’t scorched. False suns shining down in long strips that ran great lengths along the path which he walked, creating artificial dappled light that concealed the dangers that prowled here.

There were dangers, once and still. The foliage was a natural camouflage for any dacen that wanted to hide from albertos and acros, or anyone else that invaded their home. They defended it fiercely and without discrimination. The blood that stained the tiles was enough evidence of that. Here and there, especially closer towards where he had come from, arcs of blood that had turned brown with age. Spatters, sprays, mists. It was a gruesome painting, with the dacentrurus holding the brush.

The path was harder to follow here. Tangled in the vines and leaves and vegetation, stretched thin and frantic. Run while you can!

Tobias glanced up when shattered glass again lay strewn across the floor ahead of him. Blood on the fragments, not yet browned with age. He cocked his head, eyeing the ground. Broken spines lay strewn amongst the glass shards. Quills. Their owner was still alive, somewhere. A violent, but not tragic, story. He could continue on.

He felt eyes on him as he walked. Not all of the dacen had gone yet. There were some who lingered, who either had stayed behind because they were too old or weak to move on, or too stubborn yet to leave. They whispered from the shadows. Ghost. He didn’t understand, and could hear nothing more to give him context. It wasn’t important to his journey to understand what they whispered about.

Until a voice much louder than a whisper appeared before him. One of the dacen stood in his path, green and white with patches of warmer colours along its back. “Are you alright?”

It gave Tobias pause. This was not the sort of interaction that he had been expecting, should he encounter one of the dacen. They were defensive, dangerous. They killed those that threatened their way of living. This dacen had kind eyes. He helped others, if they needed it. Sunflower had decided that Tobias needed help.

Tobias was silent for a moment. Apprehension hung heavy in the air. There were other eyes on them. He could feel the ghost of spikes being driven into his ribs, crushing the air from his lungs-

“I need to go down.”

Sunflower shifted his feet, giving Tobias a long look. This newcomer looked alright. Maybe he had a twin that he was looking for. “Well sure, I’ll take you through the warehouse. There’s a stairwell there that other visitors have been taking. It should be alright for you.”

When Tobias was silent still, Sunflower turned to lead the stranger onwards. Only when Sunflower started walking did Tobias follow. He kept a healthy distance from the spiked tail that swayed as the dacen walked.

“You did a good job making it this far. What brought you down here?”

Tobias didn’t answer again, observing the change in surroundings. This was wrong. The path didn’t go through here. There was somewhere else that he was supposed to go. But...if there was a stairwell, it would go down. He could continue on from there.

“I need to go down,” he repeated, after a moment. The air was less thick the further they got from the grow rooms. There were still plants, spread over time and growing determinedly through cracks in the floor, but they were less unruly. They were a comfort more than a source of food, and maintained so that they didn’t get too out of control and difficult to pass over.

If Sunflower was at all put off by getting the same answer twice, he didn’t show it. “We’ll get you there, it’s just this way.” The dacen glanced back. He had kind eyes. “Hope you know what you’re doing, going down there. It’s a dangerous place. I’ve heard...some really not nice things about what’s gone on in the acro’s territory.”

They were moving faster, now that there were less plants in the way. The terrain was easier to maneuver. Lead by his spike-backed guide, there was no risk that he would be attacked by another dacen. There were many places in the warehouse in which the dacen could hide as well, but it seemed that most of the cubbies were used as places of rest rather than attack.

Though...Tobias’ blank eyes fell upon gouges that raked through the metal side of a container. A dacen’s tail had left those marks, and not for the fun of redecorating. They were not safe, even here. The dacen had to deal with albertos from above and acros from below. It was little wonder that they were so suspicious of strangers. Despite the violence, there was still growth here as well. Egg shells told the story of little feet hatched to replace those that had been taken. Plants grew up the walls and across the twisted metal, softening harsh edges. All things were made better with time.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to. We can talk about something else instead.” Tobias blinked. Had Sunflower asked him something?

“We’ve seen lots of strangers come through now. Of course, some of them thought that they could sneak past without anyone noticing, but we notice a strange scent when it comes up. What does outside smell like? Do you sleep in metal dens too? Are there different sorts of fruit that grow there?”

The questions went on faster than Tobias could answer, but Sunflower didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to be talking to himself more than expecting an answer.

“Oh.” Sunflower seemed to have not realised where exactly they were, lost in his thoughts as he was, and had almost walked past a doorway. “It’s just through here.”

Tobias glanced around the room of containers once more before he followed behind. The oppressive feeling that he was unwelcome lifted as soon as he passed the threshold.

“I won’t be going with you past here, you understand?” Sunflower looked almost apologetic that he couldn’t - and wouldn’t - be going further. Tobias had to go on though. He was off the path. He had to find it again. He could still feel it drawing him towards an end that he didn’t yet understand. Tobias dipped his head. He understood. Sunflower’s place was here.

Sunflower brightened. “When you come back up this way, I hope to see you again! Whenever that may be, of course.”

Perhaps. Tobias was unsure what the path would look like once he reached the end. It would be nice to see Sunflower again. He was a warm and bright presence, like the flower that shared his name. The stairwell, in contrast, was dark. There was no emergency light to guide him this time. The stairs that he could see were painted with grit and grime. More aged blood was splashed across the floor; an echo left by a skirmish long past.

From the dark depths, though, he could feel it. The draw, pulling him in, down into the dark. The dacen of Zone B were relieved when a ghost stepped into the stairwell.