sea level, four thousand and six feet lower than before.”
“I hope we don’t hit water,” Walter said. “I didn’t bring my swim fins.”
She set the computer close to the wall. “I’m sending a scan. It’ll be pretty rough, but see if you can clean it up and read it to me.”
“Ready for transmission.”
Holding down a button on the side, Ashley guided the computer along the etching and stopped after a few feet. “That should be enough of a sample.”
Several seconds later, Larry’s voice buzzed through again. “I compared the phrase to several dictionaries and calculated the most likely rendering. It says, ‘ Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate. ’”
Ashley slid the computer back into her pocket. “Sounds like Italian.”
“Affirmative. It repeated a few words before the transmission ended, so I considered the extra verbiage dispensable.”
“Yeah, it looks like the same message over and over.” Ashley laid her hand on the letters again. “What does it mean?”
“I found the exact rendering in my electronic library, so I will provide the version in that translation. It means, ‘Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.’”
She jerked her hand down. “What did you say?”
“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. Shall I adjust my volume again?”
“No. … No, that’s not the problem.” Ashley grabbed one hand with the other, trying to keep from trembling. “It’s from Dante’s Inferno,” she said, “the first part of his Divine Comedy.”
“A comedy?” Walter shook his head. “Someone needs a better joke writer.”
“‘Comedy,’ Ashley explained, “just means it’s supposed to have a happy ending. In Dante’s book that phrase is inscribed at the gates of Hell.”
“Not exactly a welcome mat,” Walter said, “but it’s not going to stop me from barging in. I’ve been there before.” He turned and descended. “Let’s get moving.”
Ashley took in a deep breath and followed. Since Walter had slowed down, she was able to count the steps, announcing the number at each hundred. Larry added to the bulletins, providing a report of their elevation every five minutes.
All along the way, she kept glancing at the writing on the wall. The same morbid letters repeated themselves again and again while Larry’s voice echoed in her mind, Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. As the echoes grew louder, her heart raced, and sweat streamed down her cheeks. Her childhood nightmares were coming true. How many times had she descended these stairs during her fitful dreams? Once at the bottom would she find tormented souls? Since she had never truly believed in her grandfather’s God, would she become one of them, lost forever in Hell? Finally, her heart pounding, she leaned against the wall again, breathless. “We have to rest!”
Walter retreated to one step below her level and leaned against the wall. “We’re almost to ten thousand.” His chest heaved as he spoke. “The air’s stuffy, it’s getting hot, and my ears are about to implode.”
“Because,” Larry interjected, “your elevation is eight thousand three hundred and sixty-three feet below sea level, give or take an inch.”
“Eight thousand feet!” Walter let out a low whistle. “That’s more than a mile!”
Ashley closed her eyes. “One point five, eight, three, nine miles, to be exact.”
Walter wiped his brow with his sleeve. “It doesn’t take a computer brain to figure out that getting back to the top is looking more impossible with every step down.”
Slowing her breathing, she gazed into the dark descent. “But we can’t just leave Karen.”
“I know, but what if the dragon was lying? What if she’s not there at all, and we’re just going down an endless spiral staircase? Maybe he just wanted to get rid of us.”
“It can’t be endless,” Ashley said, closing her eyes again. “There are no actual infinites in the physical cosmos. It’s impossible.”
“Perhaps there are actual infinites you do not yet understand, dear child.”
“Dear child?” Ashley opened her eyes and squinted at Walter. “I don’t mind terms of endearment, but … ‘dear child’?”
“I didn’t say that.” Walter set his feet and raised Excalibur. “I thought it was Larry, but it sounded too clear.”
Ashley angled her head upward. “Larry? Did you just call me ‘dear child’?”
“Negative. My terms of endearment of late are draconic in nature and usually alliterative.”
“I noticed.” Ashley looked up the dark stairwell and listened. Nothing. She then padded softly down two steps and halted, listening again as she stared into the deep, spiral void. Still nothing.
Walter whispered into her ear. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
His question chilled her heart, but she quickly shook it off. Wrinkling her nose, she