Free The Lost Level by Brian Keene Page B

own.
    As we continued on our way, Bloop took the lead. Kasheena
followed him, and I brought up the rear. More of the jungle gave way to forest,
and the breeze became more noticeable. Pausing, I removed my helmet and closed
my eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on my face and forehead, cooling my
sweat. Then, the breeze brought something less enjoyable—an overpowering and
unmistakable stench of feces. Scowling, I put my helmet back on, but it did
little to block the smell. Bloop and Kasheena noticed it, as well. Both of
their noses wrinkled in disgust, and Bloop coughed. I wondered how sensitive
his sense of smell was and what impact this foul odor might be having on him.
    As we pressed onward, the stench grew stronger. Soon enough, we
discovered the source. A tremendous pile of animal dung lay directly in our
path. It was as wide as a full–sized car and taller than I was. A horde of
insects buzzed and flitted around the stinking pile. My companions paused in
front of it, inspecting the mound. Bloop prodded at the feces with the tip of
his sword, dislodging several skeletal remains.
    “What the hell made this?” I gasped.
    “A dragon,” Kasheena answered. “But the pile is not fresh. See?
There is no steam coming off it, and the smell is not as strong as it would be
had these been recent droppings. The insects have already begun to burrow
inside of it. I would say this dragon passed through here several hours ago. We
should be safe.”
    “A dragon?” I repeated, gagging.
    “That is what my people call them. Perhaps your people have another
name.”
    “I doubt it. Dragons are a pretty universal concept. But there’s
no such thing as dragons.”
    “Of course there are,” Kasheena said. “Here is the dung of one.
Be thankful we crossed paths only with its dung and not with the dragon itself.
Otherwise, we would be part of its next droppings.”
    I started to respond, when a gleam amidst the feces caught my
eye. My attention focused on it. Noticing my curiosity, Bloop dug around with
his sword and freed the object. It was a bent and misshapen wheel from a
wheelchair—not the common type found in hospitals, but from one of the more
expensive kind used by people who are paralyzed or otherwise convalescent and
spend their entire lives in such things. A few more wheelchair parts and bits
of metal oozed from the feces. I wondered who it had belonged to and how it had
gotten here, and more importantly, how it had ended up inside the belly and
intestinal tract of a supposed dragon.
    This place was full of such quandaries, just like the Jeep I’d
discovered the day before, sticking out of a cliff–face. These were only the
first two I’d discover, but as time went on, I’d find many more. To write of
them all would fill this notebook and leave me no room to complete my story, so
these examples will have to do. Suffice to say, I came across castoffs from my
world and dozens of other worlds on an almost daily basis. Some were mundane.
Others bizarre. Some were as strange to me as a cell phone would be to a
caveman. Every day, the flotsam and jetsam of the universe washed up here in
this strange dimension, just like I had.
    We pressed on again, grateful to be clear of the stench. Kasheena
and I continued our conversation as we hiked. I was full of questions about
this place, and she was a patient, if bemused, guide. We spoke of the weather
patterns and geography. I found that the Lost Level had deserts, snow–topped
mountains, and even a vast sea. She did not know what was on the other side of
the ocean, nor had she ever stood on its shores, but some among her tribe had.
Seasons were something else she was unfamiliar with, and I soon surmised that
the Lost Level’s various temperate zones remained that way pretty much year
round. Another surprise was that her people had no concept of years or days.
Some of that was attributable to the fact that they had no clear way to mark
the passage of time. With an eternal sun