Free The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga) by Jeremy Robinson Page B

sinewy flesh that holds the centipede’s shell together. I carve along both sides, and then reach under the base of the carapace, which was severed from the head when I crushed it. With a quick yank, three feet of segmented centipede carapace peels away, revealing a row of segmented dollops of rank, white flesh. At first glance, the meat looks solid, like lobster, but when removed from the body, it turns to something like pasty oatmeal slathered in lard.
    I scoop some of the flesh paste onto my fingers and rub it over the wounds inflicted by the centipede. It’s disgusting, but the flesh expedites healing and fights infection. With the wounds covered, I flick the paste off my hand and wrap my arm with cloth bandages I’ve used in the past.
    My wounds have been tended to. My thirst has been quenched. All that’s left is my hunger. I scoop out a larger wad of centi-flesh and slop it into my mouth. I wince at the flavor. The normally offensive food is bad enough when eaten regularly, but after three months without food, it’s downright vile. After swallowing the mouthful, I nearly throw up, but manage to keep it, and three more bites down. As I eat, I remember the last time I had this meal, with Em, just before facing Ninnis and Nephil at the gates of Tartarus. Centipede is far more bearable when shared with a friend. At least then, you can laugh at each other’s disgusted expressions.
    Thinking of Em gets me to my feet. I stretch and twist my body in preparation for traveling in the underground. I’m still cold, but it pales in comparison to the chill experienced in Tartarus. I can manage it , I tell myself, and I can always build a fire. Dung is the fire fuel of the underworld, and it’s usually not hard to find. Feeling slightly more prepared for the journey ahead, I look to the stone wall, find a fissure and slip inside.
    Moving through the underworld puts me at ease. It’s like returning home after a long vacation. Its familiarity is welcome. Now if only I had a destination.
    I need to go up. To the surface. It’s where Em and Luca will be hiding. But Antarktos is the size of the United States. Finding someone on the surface could take a lifetime. Maybe longer. Especially if they’re hiding and skilled at it. Even if I did know where they were, I don’t know where I am. I’ve never been in this part of the subterranean world. But I’ve got a good sense of direction, even without the sun to guide me. And sooner or later, I’m bound to come across a tunnel I recognize.
    But everything seems different. Not only are these tunnels unfamiliar, but the scents of the underworld are off. Actually, they’re gone. I should be able to smell traces of animal feces, urine, fungi and blood almost everywhere. Fresh blood stands out from the rest, but there is always an underlying stench of life in the underworld. But there is none of that now. It’s like the whole place has been scrubbed clean.
    Could the flood that killed Behemoth have affected the entire underworld? Could everything be dead?
    No. I’d smell the decay.
    Unless everything were swept away.
    But to where? There would be pockets of trapped flesh everywhere. The underworld would reek of death, even three months later. No, this is different. I think everything, and everyone, has left. All the flood did was clean away the filth.
    But not all of it. A strange odor reaches my nose. It’s like a mix between Nephilim blood and something antiseptic. Or chemical. It’s a smell that makes no sense in the underworld. Curious, I follow the scent path and exit into a large, unnatural tunnel leading up at a steep angle. The walls are smooth and barren of decoration except for two lines of glowing yellow stones spaced four feet apart. A large staircase twisting up through the tunnel sports four-foot tall steps—sized for a Nephilim warrior. A second staircase, with steps sized for human beings, runs parallel.
    The tunnel is curved, so I can’t see what lies in either