Free Logan's Search by William F Nolan Page B

were here. Kilimanjaro.
    The king of peaks—rising in snowcapped majesty more than nineteen thousand feet into the African sky, a blue-white mammoth to stun the mind, a thing of myth and mystery.
    At the lower slope, looking up, Logan and Jessica felt the power and immensity of the mountain, a palpable presence around them. They could not imagine scaling this massive stone citadel. Where was the ledge? How could they possibly reach it?
    “There’s no way up for us,” said Jessica.
    “Nyoka told me, ‘Upon the insect’s back you will ascend the great mountain.’ We’ll have to trust our robot friend here to do the job,” said Logan.
    “You mean, the ant knows where to go?”
    “He was programmed to get us this far. I figure he’s also programmed to find the ledge. Just hang
    tight.”
    And Logan nudged the marabunta forward.
    Obeying preset tapes, the giant metal insect began ascending the slope, moving with surety over ancient trails and along narrow rock fissures, climbing steadily higher on its six legs, transporting its fragile human cargo slowly upward on this final stage of their journey.

    The heat of the plains had now given way to the blowing cold of the upper mountain, and Logan halted the marabunta long enough for them to put on the thermosuits and snowgoggles Nyoka had provided. The light duraloid suits, strong and flexible, had built-in heat controls that adjusted automatically to maintain normal body temperature.
    “At least we won’t freeze,” said Logan, tabbing up his suit.
    “What about the leopard?” asked Jess. “If there really is one up here, won’t we need some kind of weapon to defend ourselves?”
    “If a weapon was needed, Nyoka would have provided one,” said Logan. “The leopard’s obviously no threat. Whatever it is, it can’t be alive.”
    “A robot,” said Jess. “It could be a machine—like this ant.”
    “Maybe. But we won’t know till we get there.”
    Now the lumbering insect moved upward on a path that laboriously followed the contour of the mountain’s flank: This path had been carved from the iced rock centuries ago, had taken many years to complete, at a staggering cost in human life, and was a marvel of engineering. At no time, despite the foul weather and the incredible height they’d attained, did Logan feel threatened or uneasy. The way was safe.
    As a young man, had Nyoka trod this same path?
    Their climb ended at a high shelf of wind-packed snow. Here the marabunta stopped, became motionless.
    “This must be the ledge,” said Logan.
    He and Jess dismounted, heads lowered against the gusting ice wind. In touching ground, Logan’s left foot dislodged a rock, which dropped from the ledge, booming down the rugged flank of the mountain.
    Jessica spoke against Logan’s ear in the moaning wind: “There’s nothing here. Not anything .” 
    Logan moved closer to the mountain, peering through his goggles. He pointed. “Cave!” Logan guided Jess past a curtain of blowing white as the shelf area deepened into blackness.
    Inside, the wind decreased sharply. Normal conversation was possible.
    As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Logan examined one of the cave walls. It was smooth.
    “This is man-made,” he said, running his fingers along the marbled surface. “Like the path—somebody carved it.”
    “But why? For what purpose?”
    “Probably built as a shrine…long ago,” said Logan. “For tribal worship.” Jessica pointed ahead. “There’s some kind of light!”
    Deep in the man-carved cave, a pale green radiance tinted the curving walls. They started toward it.
    Suddenly Logan tensed, put his hand on Jessica’s arm. “Listen!”
    A rumble. Faint, and high above them, but increasing by the second. It grew to a roar, a tumbling cataract of sound.
    “What is it?”
    “Avalanche!” shouted Logan, sprinting for the outer ledge.
    It must have been the small stone he dislodged. All it takes up here, he thought; the concussion from a single