"Robert." The tone in Connelly's voice forbade him from saying it again.

"What?" Robert said. "He's never this late. Not during an emergency."

"Remember that time in the Arctic?" Connelly said. "You got stuck in the squall and hid under a frost heave for three hours before Willard reached you."

"It was a white out," Robert said, indignant. "How was he supposed to find me faster?"

"You had a GPS tracking device sewn into your gear. He knew where you were."

Robert stared straight ahead working hard to hide his surprise. "Why would he make me wait?"

Connelly smiled. "He was teaching you a lesson."

"What could Willard teach me?"

"A few things..."

Robert raised his eyebrows. He wanted examples.

"Every time Willard's given a storm warning since that day, you hauled ass back to base. He never had to chase after you again." Connelly stretched and took a deep breath, which did little to ease the burning in her chest. "While you were shaking in your boots, we were sipping on hot chocolate and playing checkers."

"That little-I could have frozen to death." Robert locked his gaze onto Connelly. "Wait. You knew?"

"Calm down before you use up all our air," Connelly said.

"I could have died."

"Willard had faith in your equipment. I had faith in Willard." Connelly looked through the sphere's window and took in the view of the barren cave. "I still do."

Robert stood and leaned against the wall of the sphere. "Think this is another lesson?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Unlike your time in the storm," Connelly said, "Willard doesn't have faith in our equipment."

"What? What do you mean?"

Connelly sighed. "He ran a safety check on TES and the sphere back in the Antarctic. Everything checked out...except for the submersible mode. The GEC made attempts to correct most of what he found, but he was still unconvinced. I think the submersible is fine, but given our current predicament..." Connelly saw that Robert's face had fallen flat and pale. "What?"

He turned to her, his eyes filled with fire. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to stop the dive."

"I would have."

"I know...I'm sorry."

"Why didn't Willard tell me?"

"He thought you knew."

Robert lowered his head and then glanced at the air gauge. "We have ten minutes of air left, Kathy." Robert's voice was low and gravely. He stood over Connelly and looked down at her like an angry father.

She couldn't bear to look into his eyes. She knew her betrayal by omission would be the cause of their deaths. It was a pain beyond description, worse than any heartbreak she had felt before. Robert's hand took her under the chin and lifted her tear wet face up, so they were looking eye to eye.

Then Robert did the last thing she expected, he smiled. "Seeing what we have seen is a gift beyond my most vivid dreams. I'm glad you didn't tell me about the submersible flaws. I'm glad we're here. And if we die...there is no one else I would rather have by my side."

Staring up into Robert's glossy eyes, Connelly became overwhelmed by the strongest emotion she had ever experienced. She'd known Robert for as long as she could remember. They were the closest of friends, but now she wondered if they were more than that.

Connelly stood up, wrapped her arms around Robert's body and kissed him full on the lips.

Robert melted into her embrace, but then gripped her arms and pulled away.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I just realized," Robert said, his eyes wide. "I don't want to die!"

A pulsing sphincter the size of a monster truck wheel opened and closed with quick bursts. The liquid within the chamber reached the half way mark of the taut muscle, which pulled in the rotting flesh of the giant predator's victims and crushed it with each colossal pinch. The system was painfully efficient and as Willard approached he didn't see any safe way through. Knowledge from some hidden vault in his mind had brought him this far, but it seemed he would go no further.

The digestive juices near the sphincter were thick with thoroughly decomposed bodies and golden, bubbly, froth. A loud slurp accompanied each pulse. Willard had never felt more disgusted in his life. He thanked God he couldn't smell this mess, and then realized that whatever the stomach of the creature smelled like, it would only be worse deeper within its bowels.

Willard watched the undulating circular muscle and began to see a pattern. Three quick twitches, a large crushing squeeze, and then three more twitches. The process repeated consistently. A plan suddenly came together. The idea was simple, yet didn't seem to be his own. He simply saw what would happen and then realized it might work.

Screw where the idea came from, I'm getting the hell out of here.

After turning away from the deadly exit, Willard throttled the propulsion unit and sloshed away, careful not to collide with any carcasses. After moving fifty feet he turned back toward the palpitating flesh and saw a wall of rotten corpses blocking his path.

Willard pushed himself below the liquid and descended ten feet, well below the gassy corpses and foam. Despite being prepared for the sudden acceleration, his head jerked back when the propulsion unit rocketed forward. Rushing liquid surged past his suit. He reached his top speed in ten seconds and had nearly covered the distance to the exit. Arching his back, Willard aimed up, steaming forward at a forty-five degree angle. He watched the sphincter. He counted out the pulses as it continued the pattern.

One. Two Three.

One.

One. Two Three...

Five feet away, the muscle-filled flesh pounded down, crushing a rotted body and pulling nearby liquid through. Willard's body was jerked forward, covering the five feet in a second. Before his face careened into the chamber wall, the sphincter snapped open again. Willard shot through and felt a quick rush just behind his feet as the squeezing process continued.

Relief at being out of the second stomach turned out to be short lived. He found himself in a sewer-sized tube that was covered in sticky mucus and undulating phalanges. A river of thick sludge oozed forward, working its way toward the inevitable exit. Pushing his rising revulsion down into the depths of his psyche, Willard crawled forward on his hands and knees.

The way was lit by his headlamp, but the further he traveled, the tighter his surroundings became. The digested flesh around him was still milky white, but it was growing more compact with every few feet. The tunnel soon closed in and his back slid against the ceiling, scraping off phalanges as he went. A sudden rise in what Willard now knew was feces, blocked the majority of the intestinal track.

Not wanting to wait for nature to take its course, Willard slid up the rise, lying on his stomach, inching forward with one arm and clasping onto the emergency supplies with the other. As the tunnel tightened around him, Willard's ribs began to ache. He could see that the tunnel grew wide again on the other side. Blowing the air from his lungs compressed his chest enough to give a little wiggle room and with a determined shove, he crushed himself forward, then stopped.

Stuck.

He tried to move back, but a wall of fresh feces had already sealed him in from behind.

While Willard's oxygen supply was more than plentiful, he found breathing to be nearly impossible. The dense fecal matter below and tight intestinal wall above had him in an unrelenting grip. Stabbing pains filled his chest as each breath pressed his lungs into his ribs, which threatened to crack under the strain. As dark splotches began to appear in Willard's vision, he became aware of an escape plan.

He slid a hand down to his waist, pushing past the impacted feces and grappled with one of the several spare tanks of compressed air. Though his muscles suffered from severe spasms, caused by lack of oxygen, he worked his fingers as quickly as he could, twisting the cap off the air tank.

As consciousness faded, Willard felt the cap fall into his hand.

You're about to get a serious case of gas, my friend.

Instantly, the tightness around his body loosened. The tube expanded, wider and wider. Willard climbed up the rise and slid to the other side. He looked down the tunnel and saw a wall of white. He knew what it was, and as the gas from his open air canister continued to expand the chamber, he understood what the end result would be.

Figures, Willard thought, I had to get eaten by a constipated alien.

Preparing for a wild ride, Willard fell to his hands and knees and gripped the pliable fecal floor. And not a moment too soon. Everything began to move, shaking wildly. Willard imagined that the pressure inside the creature's bowels must have become extremely uncomfortable. The travel had so far been even footed, but now the creature must be moving, writhing in pain.

With a sudden burst, like a roller coaster dropping down its tallest peak, everything launched forward. Willard felt himself pulled up, then shoved down. One moment he was impacted in sludge, the next he was being tossed through open air. A sudden decrease in speed pulled at his muscles. Air returned to his lungs. He was free!

A cloud of chalky fecal matter swirled around Willard's body. It rose toward the surface, revealing the colorful ocean floor only ten feet below. Yes! Willard looked at the tracking unit strapped to his wrist. It was still functional and the signal from the TES sphere showed brightly on the small screen. He glanced at his watch and felt a twisting pain in his gut. He'd survived the worst hell he could conceive of, but for all his efforts, he might not make it to Connelly and Robert in time to save them.

Click, click, click.

Willard sucked in a deep breath that sent a jolt of pain through his recovering lungs. "I'm not going through that shit again!" Willard shouted and dove down to the ocean floor. Emergency equipment in tow, he entered the nearest cave, hoping...somehow knowing that it would somehow lead to the cave Robert and Connelly were trapped inside.

Since the day Robert met Connelly, he had loved her. But in his mind, it was a platonic love. He now realized that he'd been wrong. Something in his forgiveness of Connelly's actions allowed her to see it first, but when their lips met, all of the barriers that kept his honest feelings for Connelly locked away were torn down. But now that they were down, he felt angry.

"Why did you want to kiss him?" he asked, his voice quietly conserving the last view breaths of air inside the sphere.

Connelly looked up at him. He was sitting on the floor of the sphere with his back against the wall. She was leaning against him, sitting between his legs. She was held tight in his warm embrace, but as he asked the question, his arms loosened slightly. "What?"

"Peterson...in the bio-lab."

Connelly lowered her head. "Oh."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them.

"It was a stupid thing to do," Connelly said. "Very stupid. And if we both knew about...this...about us, I would have never done it."

"I know..." Robert fussed with his hair, twisting it into a bird's nest. "I just don't understand why you actually would pick me over him. For all his obvious flaws, he's the babe magnet, not me."

"You're calling me a babe?"

"A smart babe. I've seen you in your skivvies, you know."

"You said you weren't looking when I changed."

Robert smiled weakly. "There was a mirror."

Connelly elbowed Robert in the ribs, gaining a grunt and a laugh. He squeezed her tight. "You forget the peeking, I'll forget the attempted lip lock."

"I'm sorry."

"I've already forgotten it," Robert said.

"Not about that...I'm sorry it took a near death experience to bring us together."

"I've had you almost completely to myself for years... I wouldn't change a thing." Robert waited for a response, but Connelly remained silent. Robert looked down at her. She wasn't breathing. Robert realized that, though he was still pulling in air, his head was spinning and the world was growing dark.

Time had run out.

Clank! As Robert eased into unconsciousness, a loud metal on metal boom filled his ears. Darkness consumed him. Boom! Boom! The sound persisted. Robert's head lulled back and his arms fell away from Connelly's body. He opened his eyes for one last look at their tomb. He saw the strangest thing. Willard was lying on top of the sphere, banging on the exterior and shouting.

What a strange thing to dream of before I die, Robert thought.

Then, along with the banging, came Willard's voice, muffled but screaming. Robert slowly comprehended the words. "Robert! I'm here! Up here!"

Robert returned his gaze to the ceiling of the sphere. Willard looked frantic. With stabbing fingers, Willard pointed towards the control console. He shouted again, this time as loud as he could. "Retract the fins! Blow the ballast tanks!"

The words oozed into Robert's mind as he became acutely aware of a fire burning in his lungs. It felt as though tiny creatures with cheese graters were shredding his chest. But the words finally made sense.

Robert pushed Connelly aside and she slumped to the floor. His muscles ripped with pain from the effort. He stumbled forward and clasped onto the console with both arms. He looked at the screen-a blur of color.

Putting all his effort into focusing his eyes, Robert felt his head spin, threatening to rend him unconscious. Everything became clear for just a moment. Robert worked both arms in separate directions, pushing buttons and working keys. The entire motion lasted ten seconds. Then he'd had enough.

Robert's head fell forward, cracking against the console. He slid back and collapsed on the sphere's floor. His chest, like Connelly's was no longer rose and fell. They lay together, twisted on the floor Dead.

THE DEN.

CHAPTER 23 -- AWAKENING.

A volcano of vomit erupted from Connelly's mouth as she regained consciousness. Her vision flashed in and out like a slideshow. The TES consoles blinked brightly at her. Willard stood over her, his face, free from his helmet, twisted with fear and relief. Robert was there too, leaning over her with a crooked, imperfect grin.

Connelly sat up with some help from Robert. "Did we get drunk?" she said. "Because I have the worst hangover." She wiped her mouth with her suit sleeve.

"Must have mixed your hard liquor and beer," Willard said with a grin.

Connelly grunted and braved a glance at the mess, which was spilled out on the floor next to Robert's drying vomit.

"Well," Robert said, "at least you can't blame the smell on me alone."