When the dirt flow ceases, there is only the sound of Uri quietly weeping. The darkness so oppressive it bruises their eyes. But at least they can no longer hear Sara cackling. And at least for the moment it seems safe to breathe again.

“Are we all here?” Ava wonders, instantly regretting the choice of words as Uri's cries intensify.

“Still here,” Bach mopes.

“There, there,” comes Ellie's voice in the dark as she moves to comfort Uri, “it's okay. Let it out.”

“I'm fine.”

“I know you are,” Ellie coos.

“Just leave me alone,” he protests, but in the next moment he is hugging Ellie around her middle and sniffling on her shoulder.

“What now?” she asks.

“Not quite the campsite we're used to,” Ava says. But maybe she can bring her companions some comfort in this moment – even if minor.

She closes her eyes and visualizes the ItemID's of the components she needs. Six twigs to make kindling. Mushrooms and onions and impossible palm fronds to fashion [Hobo Hot Pockets]. And one at a time as she focuses her will the items materialize in her hand. The others remain unaware—they can't see what she's up to on account of the complete darkness—and she works quietly to maintain the surprise. She arranges the kindling and prepares to light it with a spark from her finger – but how does that work, exactly? She knows how to [Overload] but can she scale it down?

“Here goes nothing,” she whispers, extending her index finger toward the pile of kindling.

The motor within her hums just slightly, and her mechanical hand begins to glow—casting enough light for the party to see each others' dirty faces—but no spark is emitted. She frowns and concentrates but nothing happens, and while the glow of her hand might prove convenient – it does nothing for the hunger in their bellies. It's not much of a comfort seeing each other's faces. Bach chuckles, morbidly amused.

“Why can't I command the electricity?” She holds the hand up for inspection, as if there's simply some flaw to be corrected in its construction. She focuses to maintain the glow; maintain the low vibration of the motor within her. “I have seen you light the fire a dozen times – why can I only Overload?”

“Because you haven't learned any other techniques,” Bach sighs, “and there's no way for you to observe them now, because I'm broken. No way for me to teach them, because with the removal of my skill chips I too have forgotten how to function.”

"What kind of tunnel is this?" Ellie wonders.

The party trudges along having rested a few hours though without so much as a wink of sleep, sustained now by raw mushrooms alone. Bach at least regains the strength and coordination to once more walk without help but he does so trailing some distance behind the others.

Ava leads the way uneasily, maintaining part of her concentration to keep her hand aglow. The floor and walls and ceiling are solid rock, smooth and rounded. Not at all like a tunnel dug by pick and dynamite. Somehow all of it is kept from collapse by nothing at all – no rock support to be seen, no timber beams nor props. As if some humongous worm has simply burrowed through the earth and they are now following in its wake.

“We're lost again,” Uri says to Ava, “why don't you do some of your Scum magic and find us a way out of here?”

“I'll try.” She doesn't bother arguing with his characterization of her abilities as 'Scum magic.'

She stands facing the wall, inching nearer, trying to trigger the event—the vision—the way she did back in Sara's lab. But she can't see her reflection in the dull stone wall of the cave. And she doesn't know another way to provoke the vision – she needs a reflective surface to let her eyes unfocus. Attempting to do so here is useless and after a moment she feels stupid, standing there with her nose nearly touching the wall like a kid on a timeout.

"I'm sorry," she says to Uri, bowing her head, feeling defeated.

"Sure.”

"Leave her alone," Bach says, "she didn't do anything wrong. This is all my fault, blame me."

"You're right," Uri says, and he resumes the march, slipping past Ava, disappearing into the darkness. “It is your fault. And I do blame you.”

“My Benjamin is probably about your age.” Ellie walks alongside Uri, some paces ahead of Ava and Bach. She corrects herself, whispering, “was.”

“What happened to him?”

“Our town was attacked by Scum.” Her shoes scrape the rock floor. “We escaped into the woods for a couple nights, but they found us.”

“Yet you managed to live?”

“Benjamin and his father distracted the Scums so I could flee with the baby. We made it to the far end of the forest but then Human Resources found us and stuck us in Big Traffick.”

“They took your baby?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

“I'm sorry about Uma.” Her words hang in the air, unanswered.

“It's not fair,” Uri finally whimpers, “it should have been me.”

“But it wasn't.” She holds him around the shoulder. “You're still here.”

“Yeah.”

“We have to accept it. But we keep them in our hearts – and then they're always with us and they will never die.”

“You don't believe that,” he sniffles.

“Sometimes you have to fake it at first, but it'll get easier.”

“Is that how you get by?”

Ellie doesn't answer. They walk in silence for awhile.

Finally, she just says, “yeah. I guess that's how I'm getting by.”

“Would you like to try exploring the tandem mind with me sometime?”

“Yeah,” she says, tearing up in the darkness, “I'd like that, Uri. Hey I'm going to drop back and see how the others are holding up.”

“Ok,” Uri says. She stops walking alongside him, but as he leaves her behind she hears him say, “thanks, Ellie.”

For some time they go on this way—Uri feeling along the wall, a sort of advanced scout in the darkness—Ava and Ellie marching in the electric-blue glow of Ava's cybernetic appendage and Bach trailing behind.

"Did you hear that?" Ellie suddenly snatches Ava by her non-mechanical hand.

"Hear what?"

"I could swear I heard music," she says, her grip on Ava intensifying, "and coins jingling. Like someone with a fat purse was following us."

"I didn't hear anything," Bach says.

"Uri?" Ava calls to the dark, seeking confirmation one way or the other. He does not answer.

"Uri," Ellie calls, more urgently "are you still out there?"

"I think I found something," he says from the darkness. The others stop marching to await his report.

“What is it?” Ellie squeezes Ava's hand harder still until she pulls it free. “Sorry.”

“You're fine,” Ava says, and then she calls down the tunnel to ask, “what do you see, Uri?”

“Nothing.” His voice echoes. “It's too dark. But I was feeling along and the wall here is just different – colder to the touch.”

“Stay put. We'll be right there.”

"Hematite.” Bach inspects the cave wall by Ava's light. “Containing iron. An absolutely epic vein; perfect quality and a massive lode."

"Could this tunnel be part of some sort of mine?" Ava wonders.

"There are signs here of excavation," Bach explains, “without a doubt this site has been worked – and recently, I'd wager.” He leans over and picks up a hunk of dislodged hematite from the cave floor.

And suddenly, back in the direction from which they've just come, they hear the unmistakable jingling of coins.

"There!" Ellie whispers, "you all heard it that time, right?"

"Yes," Ava says, consciously dimming the light from her hand, "you three stay here. I don't know – try to hide or something. I'm going to find out who the Sneak is that's been following us."

Jingle jingle jingle.

Whoever it is sure isn't making an effort to be stealthy. She hears him humming, even singing a few unintelligible words on occasion:

“La, la, la, diddy-da, diddy-da.”

Ava crouches, hugging the wall where it curves subtly. She'll be hidden until the last moment. She'll take the intruder by surprise. And she'll do what, exactly?

There's no time to concoct a real plan. She hears shoes scraping the stone floor, coming closer and closer. She steels herself, breathing deeply, purposefully, readying for combat. Because lately everything calls for combat. And for a moment she marvels at her own propensity for violence – is this who she's always been? But then the footfalls are right upon her and it's time for action. She activates her hand so that the glow is just enough for her to see what she's striking, and then:

The Sneak is still only a man-shaped shade when she whirls and kicks, striking at the shadow's midsection. Her foot zips through the air at the conclusion of her pirouette – but the kick does not land. Her target has somehow sensed her attack and nonchalantly slides back a step to flawlessly dodge it.

“Oh, hello there, little girl!” he chimes melodically, “I didn't see you!”

Ava's momentum from missing the kick rotates her body so that this slippery opponent now flanks her on the right-hand side. She panics and pivots, taking a step back and opening her shoulders while drawing the revolver from its holster. She points it at the Sneak as steady as she can.

"Don't shoot!" the intruder squeaks, holding his hands high above his head.

"I'm not making any promises." Ava cocks the hammer, bluffing as if she has bullets. "Tell me why you're following us."

"I don't know," he says, mindlessly dropping one hand to itch his chin, "am I following you?"

She intensifies the light cast from her hand as much as she's able. It is adequate to see by and yet she has trouble believing her eyes. At first she's not sure this thing she's ambushed is even human. He bears many of the tell-tale markings of humanity but there's something way off: bipedal, five protrusions from the torso(two arms, two legs, and a head), five fingers on each hand, blood red eyes and a yellowed bucktoothed overbite and skin so white it's nearly translucent—

And as she's done several times recently, Ava can't help but flashback momentarily to Socrates and Spartacus – the albino rats. If the Sneak here just had a twitching nose and a nude pink tail he'd be damned near indistinguishable from the cloned rodents.

“What are you?” she wonders aloud, instantly embarrassed to have uttered such an indelicate question.

“I'm Javors,” says the ratman, performing a dainty bow, “at your pleasure. I don't mean you—nor anyone—any harm.”

“If you weren't following us then just what are you doing down here?”

"I guess I'm lost," he quips, "but I'm trying to make the best of it."

“You're going to have to do better than that,” Ava frowns, unimpressed with his nonsense, “my companions and I aren't in any mood for.... shenanigans.”

“Apologies,” he explains, “my tongue has a mind of its own sometimes.”

“So what is it, then?” she presses, “what are you doing down here?”

“I swear I don't know.” He's wearing a white silken tank-top and black leather pants. A crimson beret sits tilted atop his head and he straightens it. “Truth be told I'm not certain how I came to be in this cavern, at all. Does this look like spelunking attire to you? I'm not even wearing any shoes!” He taps his gruesomely long, yellow toenails on the cave floor.

“Yeah, you'll have to forgive me if I just don't buy what you're trying to sell me.”

“But it's the truth!” He steps forward with his hands clasped, praying she'll believe him. “Last I remember I was having a drink with Rosalinda and now I am here by myself in these lonesome caverns where there flows no mead.”

“Just hold it right there.” She re-trains the gun on him. “Don't come an inch closer.”

“Yes, of course. I'm only trying to make you understand – I mean you no harm.” Hands re-raised, he smiles with his yellowed buckteeth. “Perhaps we could join up? Watch each other's backs?”

“I already travel with a capable party.”

“Oh, wonderful!” He claps his hands rapidly without lowering them from the air above his head. “Then perhaps I could tag along? Just until we find an exit? I can cook – and entertain!”

Ava sighs. This Javors may not be dangerous after all but he's exhausting in a different way. Or maybe it's just recent events catching up with her. Maybe they could use some entertainment – a light-hearted interlude. She studies his red eyes for signs of deception. They are un-pupiled, like marbles made of blood, and she can't stand to look any longer. He smiles sheepishly and shuffles his feet, padding out a little impromptu soft-shoe dance. Ava can't help but laugh. Whatever else this Javors might be, first and foremost he's ridiculous. She slips the pistol back inside its holster.

“Alright,” she says, “come on, Javors. I'll introduce you to the others.”

“Za!” He exclaims nonsensically, his dance increasing in tempo as he comes along to join her. “You won't regret this.”

“I'll take your word on that for now. I'm Ava.”

“Most pleased to make your acquaintance, Ava.” He struts along beside her, whistling a lilting ditty, and the notes drift from his lips out into the air in bold neon writing. The notes morph to become fleeting mathematical equations before liquefying and dripping to the cave floor or splashing against the walls and disappearing.

“How are you doing that?” She asks, bewildered.

“Whistling? It's simple! You just purse your lips, like this—" He hops in her path to demonstrate. "—and blow!”

His song comes billowing out in neon notes.

“But, the notes—I can see them." She reaches out and touches one. It is warm and gooey like melted caramel. "And I can feel them. How is that even possible?”

“Are you not familiar with the many splendors of music?” he asks, laughing. “You are in for such a treat! I'll put on a show for you and your companions once we arrive at your camp. By the way – what sort of morsels await us?”

“Raw mushrooms and onions,” she answers flatly, “and there is no camp to speak of.”

“Well we will have to do something about that.” He winks his blood-red eye and Ava cringes.