At some point, our conversation faltered. I looked into her eyes. She smiled. An instant later, we fell into a passionate kiss. We made love to each other right there on the moss, and halfway through, it began to rain. Kasheena laughed softly as she rode me.

  “You see, Aaron? I told you it would rain.”

  I nodded, reaching up to massage her rain–slicked breasts. She lowered herself and kissed me again. The campfire sputtered and hissed before fizzling out completely. Our lovemaking continued, and soon we were drenched, both from passion and the weather. Concerned about birth control, I attempted to pull out at the last minute, but Kasheena wrapped her arms and legs around me and locked her hips, urging me on.

  Later, we crept back into camp and lay down near Bloop. I shook him gently until he awoke and then tried to communicate that it was his turn on watch. Kasheena had already fallen asleep. He glanced at her and then looked at me. His nostrils flared. He grinned, flashing his fangs, and then playfully punched my shoulder. I returned the gesture, even as I felt my ears turn red from embarrassment. Still smiling, Bloop grunted and then moved to the edge of the shelter. With his weapons within easy reach, he sat cross–legged and stared out into the rain.

  I curled up next to Kasheena, spooning her, and tried to sleep. I’d feared that sleeping during perpetual daylight might prove difficult, but it didn’t with her by my side. I closed my eyes and sighed. My last thought was a feeling of contentment and gratitude, and a vague sense of disquiet when I considered my eventual return to Earth.

  §

  I awoke at some point, unable to guess how much time had passed. I felt groggy and found it hard to focus at first, so it couldn’t have been too long. The first thing I became aware of was that the rain had stopped. It occurred to me that I hadn’t noticed if the sky got darker with the arrival of the storm clouds, preoccupied as I’d been, and now it was too late to tell. The sun beat down upon us, as always. The cooler temperatures the storm had brought with it were gone now, dissipating like the steam rising up from the ground.

  The forest was now filled with the sound of water droplets falling from the trees, but that wasn’t what had disturbed me from my sleep. What had woken me was a second sound—a low, distant rumbling that sounded unmistakably like a machine. Despite the heat and sunlight, the sweat on my body turned cold and the hair on my arms stood up. Fearing that another giant robot was approaching our camp, I bolted upright, gasping.

  Bloop turned, startled by my reaction. He cocked his head, staring at me with a puzzled expression. I pointed to my ear, but his confusion was still apparent. I held a finger to my lips, indicating silence, and then cupped my ear as if listening. The machine sounds hadn’t grown louder, but now that I was aware of them, I could hear them more clearly. They were a distinct, steady throbbing noise, similar to an idling engine. Curiously, it seemed to be coming from beneath our feet. Then I became aware that the trees around us were swaying slightly, and yet there was no breeze. Whatever it was, it was enough to disturb them from below.

  I made a listening motion again and then pointed at the ground. Bloop cocked his head and then shrugged. I repeated the hand signals more insistently. Sighing, Bloop got to his feet and padded over to me. He pointed at the ground, then his ear.

  “You hear it, too, don’t you?”

  I know he didn’t understand me, but my tone must have communicated my intent, because Bloop nodded and then shrugged. Then he put his hands together, lay his furry cheek against them and pretended to sleep. When he opened his eyes again, he pointed at me and then back to the shelter, where Kasheena still slept undisturbed.

  “But what is it?” I asked. “What’s that noise? Aren’t you concerned? What if it’s another one of those giant robots?”

  Bloop commiserated by making a low murmuring growl. Then, he gave my shoulder a gentle pat and indicated once again that I should go back to sleep. Sighing with frustration, I crawled back to bed while Bloop returned to his post. I lay there listening to the machine sounds and wondering about their origins. Eventually, the noise ceased, but it was a long time before I slept again.

  7

  THE FINAL FATE OF FLIGHT 19

  THERE’S NO WAY OF TELLING how much longer we slept. It could have been only hours or it could have very well been days. I awoke to find that Kasheena had already risen. She had managed to light another fire and was in the process of cooking breakfast. I was surprised to see Bloop curled up nearby me, snoring softly. Obviously, enough time had passed that she’d relieved him on watch. When I asked her about this, I was stunned to discover that each of them had stood two additional watches while I slept.

  “I did not want to wake you,” Kasheena said. “You slept so soundly, and it seemed a shame to disturb it. I thought perhaps you needed time to recover from the shock of being away from your people. So, we let you sleep.”

  “I can’t believe I slept that long,” I replied with some embarrassment. “Time travel must have really worn me out.”

  “Time travel? Is that what you call your journey from your world to here?”

  Shrugging, I moved over to join her by the fire. The heat felt good, despite the already warm temperature of the air. “Well, some might call it time travel, although I would guess that the term dimensional travel might be more appropriate. The methods I used to arrive here allowed me to move through both space and time.”

  I could tell by her expression that she didn’t understand me, so I tried to explain it. As I did, I found that talking it out helped me come to terms with my situation, as well.

  “This wise man from your tribe—”

  “Shameal.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Shameal. Back home, I guess I was sort of like him. I was interested in magic. The occult. I studied it and practiced it, and that’s how I ended up here.”

  “You were a wise man?”

  “Well, I don’t know how wise I was if I ended up getting shipwrecked in another dimension.”

  “I still do not understand this word—time travel.”

  “There are different worlds other than this one,” I said. “Different places where people live.”

  She nodded. “This I know.”

  “Time passes in each of those worlds. You mark its passage differently here, but your people still have a concept of time. You judge it by sleeps or the changes a person undergoes as they grow older.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, each of those worlds also has different versions of themselves existing in parallel dimensions. Some call those dimensions levels. Things don’t exist in them at the same time together. In my studies, I read of your world—the Lost Level. This is a place—a dimension—where things from all those other worlds can end up stranded at the same time. That explains all the different flora and fauna—the plants and animals. You don’t see them as strange because you’ve lived here all of your life, but from my perspective, it is unusual to see them all together in one place. The rabbits we had for dinner last night versus the thing you called a dragon yesterday. In my world, they don’t exist at the same time. The dragons died out millions of years ago, long before rabbits flourished. But here, in your world, they exist side by side. Or take all the things I’ve found since my arrival. Before I rescued you and Bloop, I came across a vehicle—something my people use for transport—embedded in a cliff. That’s from my time. But some of those weapons the Anunnaki were carrying must have come from the future, given how advanced they were. Or, it’s even a possibility that they didn’t come from my world at all.”

  “Like some of the things in your pack,” she said. “When I retrieved the rocks from your bag to start the fire, I glanced at them. I do not know what some of them are, but I know they are not magic. The things you lent to Bloop yesterday, that allow a viewer to see far away—”

  “Binoculars.”

  “Yes. Ben–ock–you–larz. Some in my tribe would think them magic, but after studying them, I can see that they were made by humans. They are a tool. Nothing more. A wondrous tool, but a tool all the same. It would take a long time for someone to make them, so they are from the future?”

  “Sort of,” I replied. “My present, but your future, perhaps. If your people invent a whole bunch of other things first.”

  “And when you say you are a wise man, do you mean that all of your magic is like these binoculars?”

  “Not really. But there are some on my world who say that magic is simply science we don’t yet understand, so perhaps?” I paused, considering. “Yes, perhaps it is after all.”

  Nodding, she turned her attention back to the fire for a moment. She had suspended a large stick above the flames. Hanging from it were three tubular roots that resembled a cross between a potato and a carrot.

  “What are those?” I asked.

  “My people call them squatosh. They are not from the future. I dug them up while you and Bloop were sleeping. That means they are from the past and have traveled through time.”

  It took me a moment to realize that she was joking. Grinning, I scratched the back of my neck and shook my head. “I guess I kind of deserved that.”

  “We should wake Bloop,” she said, still smiling. “Our meal will be ready soon. It is a shame. I had hoped we could be together again before he awoke.”

  She bent over the fire, swaying her hips back and forth, and I went to her, encircling her waist with my arms.

  We decided to let Bloop sleep a little bit longer, after all.

  §

  The roasted squatosh was delicious, with a taste and texture much like a sweet potato. It was also surprisingly filling. I’d anticipated still being hungry upon finishing mine but instead found myself pleasantly full, as if I’d just eaten a bowl of oatmeal. Bloop was indifferent about his. I couldn’t figure out if that was because he preferred meat or if he was just not a morning person. The thought made me crave a hot cup of coffee to wake up with, but when I asked Kasheena if her people had such a beverage, she looked at me strangely and explained the only hot drinks they served were for medicinal purposes and tasted bitter.

  “Here’s hoping a Starbucks gets sucked through the space–time continuum and ends up here,” I said.

  “Starbucks?”

  “Never mind. Just something from back home.”

  We put out the fire and packed up camp and then started on our way. Once again, Kasheena guided us in the direction of her village, and I marveled over her apparently uncanny sense of direction. When we came across a wide, swift–moving stream, we stopped. After Bloop had verified that the water was safe to drink, I filled up my travel mug. Then we waded across the stream.

  The water was cold and shallow, reaching only to my ankles in most places and up to my knees at the deepest point. The current was swift, but not overpoweringly strong, and it would have been easy to stand if not for the slippery rocks beneath the surface. They were covered with small, black–shelled barnacles and different types of algae and plants—everything from fronds of what looked like kelp to thousands of strange, translucent tubers that resembled miniature jellyfish. There were also dozens of tiny brown fish. They looked remarkably like brook trout, but smaller. Kasheena and Bloop did not react to them, so I assumed they were safe as they darted around our plodding feet. I saw no trash or foreign debris—no broken glass bottles, rusty tin cans, discarded fishing lures, or any of the other things I might find in the streams back on Earth. I did, however, see a rock beneath the surface that looked like either a fossilized brain or a sponge. It was about the size of a soccer ball, and when I picked it up, I was surprised by how light it was. Upon closer examination, I determined that it was indeed a fossil, but I didn’t know of what. Reluctantly, I dropped it back into the creek. It made a loud splash, and Bloop scowled at me with gentle reproach.

  After crossing the stream, we continued on our trek through the forest, sticking to game trails when they were available and beating our way through the underbrush when they weren’t. Time passed uneventfully. We didn’t encounter any more dinosaurs or robots or snake men. Indeed, we didn’t encounter much of anything at all. The trees were alive with bird songs and the chatter of small animals, but for the most part, the wildlife itself remained out of sight. It was uneventful enough that I almost found myself lulled into complacency, but each time my attention wandered, I remembered some of the dangers that lurked all around and focused again on our surroundings.

  After several hours, the vegetation around us began to change. I noticed many new species of trees and bushes, the likes of which I had never seen before. I wondered what world they were from or if they were perhaps native to the Lost Level. I also found myself considering the vegetation in general. Some of the plants were undoubtedly from my world or others like it. Others definitely weren’t. How had they come here from their individual levels? Had they been carried by castaways such as myself? Or perhaps their seed pods or saplings had been transported here? And how, I wondered, could I tell what the native flora was and which were from another world? Indeed, when it came to flora and fauna, was any of it native to this realm? Or had it all come from elsewhere, just as I had? Sure, Kasheena had been born here, so she was certainly native, but what of the roots of her tribe? Where had they come from originally? Was everything in the Lost Level part of the dimensional flotsam and jetsam?

  Different worlds, different dimensions—they all occupied a specific place in space and time. Physical locations like Earth or Mars, or metaphysical realms such as Heaven or Hell or the Void, all of them existed in a specific place, accessible by specific means. But what space did the Lost Level occupy? And if it was possible to breach its space and to be transported here, then why was the reverse not true? Why, supposedly, were we unable to leave?

  We clambered up a steep hillside that was covered with tall, brown grass and several short, stunted bushes that jutted sideways from the rocky soil. At the top of the hill, we found the remains of a stone wall. It had collapsed in places, and moss and weeds jutted from between the cracks. I wondered aloud who had built it, but Kasheena did not know.

  “I heard something,” I said as we hiked. “While you were sleeping during our last camp. Bloop heard it, too.”

  “What was it?”

  “It sounded like machines, far beneath the ground. Do you know what they were?”

  “My people have heard them from time to time,” Kasheena replied. “As has anyone who lives in this land. They sound like the giant metal man, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “I do not know what makes the sound,” Kasheena said. “When we were little, Shameal told us that the sounds were made by the Creator.”

  “The Creator…you mean some type of supreme deity?”

  “The Creator is the one who made this land.”

  “But when we first met, you said your tribe believes everyone in this land came from elsewhere.”

  “Yes, that is true. The Creator made the Lost Level, but not the things that live in it. Those came from elsewhere, like you, or were born here, like me.”

  “And you worship this Creator god?”

  Kasheena laughed. The sound was light and musical.

  “Worship the Creator? No. No one has ever seen the Creator. How can you pay tribute to something you cannot see? The Creator simply is.”

  “Okay.” I was intrigued. “Tell me more about this Creator.”

  “There is not much more to tell, Aaron. We do not think about the Creator. We do not see the Creator. We never speak with the Creator. The Creator simply is. When you hear the rumblings beneath the Earth? That is the work of the Creator. Shameal says it is better not to ask questions about the Creator and to simply let it be.”

  I had more questions, but Kasheena had no answers. She patiently rebuffed my requests until I gave up in frustration. Instead, I let her point out edible plants and roots to me while I slapped at insects. I noticed Bloop swishing his tail back and forth to chase the bugs away, much like a horse or cow would do back home.

  We descended the hill and entered a broad ravine with a dry creek bed in its center. The treetops grew close together overtop the gulch, casting a perpetual shadow. The ravine walls were covered with sprawling growths of ivy and vines, and after Kasheena had guided us a few hundred yards, I noticed something jutting from the undergrowth. It was a rusted section of airplane fuselage with the numbers 45714 and FT3 painted on it. I rushed over to the hulk and cleared the vegetation away with my sword, revealing the battered shell of a World War II era TBM Avenger torpedo bomber. As a child, I’d often built model airplanes with my grandfather, so I knew the aircraft well.

  I glanced around the ravine and noticed more derelicts, each of which was nearly hidden beneath the ivy. I began hacking at the vines with my sword. Kasheena and Bloop watched me as if I’d lost my mind and then began to help. Bloop swung both swords, making quick work of it. Soon, we stood there panting and covered in sweat, staring at the remains of five TBM Avengers. Four of them were TBM–1C models, and the fifth was a TBM3. The paint on their fuselage was faded, muddy, and eaten through with rust, but the numbers were still legible on four of the planes—FT36, FT81, FT117, and FT28. The fifth was too faded to read. The numbers were familiar to me, but I couldn’t figure out why. After a few moments, I realized what they were, and my skin broke out in gooseflesh, despite the heat.

  “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “It’s Flight 19!”

  “I have seen a thing like these before,” Kasheena said, “but it was a long time ago, when I was a little girl.”

  “You mentioned that once before, but you never had the chance to finish telling me about it.”

  “It flew over my village like a strange metal bird before crashing in the jungle.”

  “Was there anyone inside of it?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It burst into a ball of flame. When the men from our tribe went to investigate, they said there was nothing left. I remember that it burnt down a swath of the forest, and many were worried that we might have to flee. But our people dug ditches to halt the fire’s advance, and eventually it burned itself out.”