vestigial

When we pry open the rusted door to the last chamber, there is nothing behind it but a thick mass of brown growth, like roots packed into a small metal box. I reach out to squeeze my companion's shoulder, there is nothing left here, but he is gripping and pulling at the growths. The bandages on his hands catch and tear, small red rivulets flow and swell from his palms and from under his fingernails. It is impossible that his hands should contain so much blood; our feet are sticky with it.

The root-like tendrils lie twiching on the floor behind us. Perhaps they are nourished by the blood of his hands. Even now they are growing behind us, though intimidated for the time being. We must leave, it is not safe here.

Mud is splattered across the back of the metal cell. I can just make out the shape of two ridged rubber tubes from under the mud, running up into the ceiling. Respirators. A soft and rhythmic wheezing wavers just at the edge of hearing.

We are clawing togther at the wet dirt now, my fingernails tearing. Just under the surface, there is a length of tattered hair. Something I heard, somewhere far away: we are freeing the figure in the marble. Two figures, a boy and a girl. Their chests are covered with mud -- I feel a sudden apprehension, distant but sharp. My companion is scooping the mud away in frantic handfuls.

This is victory, unexpected and sweet. But -- an irrational impulse to turn away, to leave well enough alone. I can not form the reason, my feet are rooted to the ground.

Hollow. Their chests gape open, wildly empty cavities beneath the mud. Late, too late, too late, something moans in our minds, helplessly. We can still help you, let us help you. The figure with shorter chin-length hair regards us sadly. Thank you, he says with his eyes. Their mouths are covered with plastic masks which feed into the ridged plastic tubes.

Boy and girl turn to each other, their masks clink together. A kiss -- I will understand this later. Then, gripping the plastic tightly -- no, we can help you, let us help you -- he pulls the masks away. The sound of wheezing fades away, presently. I hear something fall wetly beside me.

Hours later, I stumble into the light alone.