Robert Silverberg: The Impossible Intelligence

We drove off lakeward, with di Cesare keeping the Fiat humming along unnervingly close to Norman Burke’s station-wagon. It was now past nine, and I thought longingly of what the evening might have been—two hours of glorious opera, followed by some delicate liqueur and a good night’s sleep. Instead, we would be dragged by di Cesare’s zeal through dank caves and dreary darkness until who knew what hour of the night.

Mist was rising from the lake. The frogs that inhabited the shore region ceased their songs abruptly as our cars arrived.

Lake Thomas was ringed with low limestone cliffs that were hollowed by years and centuries of erosion. The children of the town were fond of wandering in the caves, but some were extremely deep and were dangerous for any wanderer but an expert speleologist. Burke and two of his companions entered the nearest of the caves, while di Cesare, Collins, and I followed not far behind. Within the cave, all was cold and damp, bone-chilling. Our voices, when we spoke, echoed eerily. Up ahead of us prowled Burke and his associates, while we kept our eyes open for anything unusual.

After fifteen minutes of exploring the twisting labyrinth within the cliff, I was moist and uncomfortable, and my bones did indeed ache from the dank-ness—though I would sooner have cut off my legs than admitted my discomfort to di Cesare.

The little Italian strode ahead buoyantly, wandering into every bypath and crevice he came to, until I greatly feared that at some turn he would slip from sight and be forever lost. He maintained his footing, though, with the agility of a mountain goat.

From time to time the walkie-talkie carried by Burke would burst into chattering sound—reports from his colleagues in different caves. Invariably, they were reports of no consequence. I was wearying rapidly. At my side, Collins murmured, “Does Dr. di Cesare really think that caves have anything to do with this? It was only delirious raving, after all.”

I shrugged. “It’s altogether possible that di Cesare is on a false trail. But it’s best not to question him, I’ve found.” After nearly an hour, we had

penetrated as far into the cave as any of the spelunkers had gone before, and no clue had been found. We seemed hopelessly immured beneath the surface of the cliff. I was exhausted; and even di Cesare, turning to me, muttered, “ Ahime, friend Starbuck, I fear perhaps we have chased the wild goose.”

“Tell me, di Cesar, do you think we ought to. ”

“Hold it!” Burke said sharply. “There’s a message coming through. What? You’ve found them? All right, we’ll be there as soon as we can get out of here!”

“What is it?” I cried.

“Dan and Corinne Haley have found the missing women. They’re in Cave Seven, all the way around on the other side of the lake.”

“The side near my house!” Collins exclaimed. “Did they find my wife?”

“They found all four,” Burke said.

“Meraviglioso!” di Cesare exclaimed. “Wonderful! Let us make haste!”

Making haste was not all that easy, however. We were no longer fresh-winded, and we had come a considerable distance. Even at top speed, without pausing for any side explorations, it took us nearly half an hour to retrace our steps and reach the open air once again.

We hastened around the lake to the cliffs on the eastward bank, and saw as we did so that the other cave-explorers were similarly congregating. Young Collins was tremendously excited. “See, there’s my house right back through there—we’re only a couple of blocks from this side of the lake. It wouldn’t have been hard for Ellie to walk this distance.”

We plunged into the cave, but we did not have far to go. No more than a hundred yards back from the face of the cliff, we came across a widened chamber hewn by erosion into the side of the cave proper. Two of the spelunkers, a middle-aged couple named Haley, stood by the entrance to the little natural chapel. As we approached, they flashed their beam in.

I gasped. The four young women were standing asif petrified against the bare rock. They were shrouded with fine cobwebs, and small dark insects scuttled frantically for shelter as the light struck them.

“They’re all breathing,” Dan Haley said. “We haven’t touched them at all, though. We called to them, but they wouldn’t wake up.”

“’Ellie!” Collins cried. He started to lunge into the chamber, but di Cesare shot out a thin, wiry arm and restrained the young man with ease.

“Be not impulsive, signore,” the little Italian warned. “Your embrace might prove fatal to your wife.”

He bowed to Burke and the other speleologists. “ Mille grazie,” he said courteously. “A thousand thanks for your assistance tonight. I have but two favors more to ask.”

“Of course,” Burke said.

“The first is that you and your friends depart at once. What remains to be done can best be done with only a few onlookers. My second request is that you notify the good Sergeant Berkowitz that the missing women have indeed been found, but that Dario di Cesare requests a short time alone with them before they are removed from the cave.”

Burke nodded, and his group of spelunkers began to disperse. “I’ll leave you these flashlights,” he said. “You won’t have any trouble finding your way back out of here.”

They departed, discussing the strange case in whispers that echoed back to us. We stood together at the entrance to the little chapel—di Cesare, Collins, and I.

“My wife’s in there,” Collins cried. “And spider webs all over her! Let me go to her!”

“Va via!” di Cesare cried. “Away from here! Your wife will recover, if you obey me.”

“V-very well.”

“Take this searchbeam and step back. Hold the light so it illuminates us. Ah. Bene! Come, now, friend Starbuck. Let us examine these women.”

With Collins providing light, di Cesare and I stepped into the chamber. The four women did not awaken. They were all in their twenties, and only one of them was clad in anything substantial. Two wore nightgowns, and one—it was Collins’ wife—had been drawn from her house totally nude.

Kneeling, di Cesare placed his hand gently on the girl’s slim, pale bosom. “She breathes. She is in very deep sleep. Fetch your bag from the car, friend Starbuck. Adrenalin will bring these girls to wakefulness.”

I made my way out of the cave, found my black bag, and returned. Collins still held a head. “He’s talking to the spiders, Dr. Starbuck! I think he’s out of his head.”

I peered in. Di Cesare indeed presented a strange sight. He had scooped up one of the many insects that crawled over the floor of the chamber, and his lips were moving in a subliminal murmur as the insect clung to his cheek!

“Di Cesare!” I cried out. “That insect may be dangerous!”

He blinked, opening his eyes like one awakened from deep sleep. “You called, Starbuck?”

“I said that insect might be dangerous. Brush it off your face!”

He laughed. “The insect means no harm. And do you not notice anything strange about this insect, amico mio?”

“Strange? It’s just a nasty little brute of a spider, that’s all.”

“Ah, this is no arachnid, caro. Nor is it any insect spawned on this Earth, I’ll wager. Come: let us awaken these girls and attempt to talk with them, before the arrival of the ambulances.”

I prepared the injection of the stimulant, and di Cesare, who, of course, had a medical degree, administered it. In a few minutes, color returned to the faces of the four women. They stirred; they moaned; they opened their eyes and sat up. Suddenly conscious of her nudity, Elinor Collins shrieked.