Cleve gives a final glance down at the nearby remains of the creature who attacked me. “Definitely not my Bella,” he mutters as he leaves it behind to investigate the only new door. I hadn’t noticed her in here at all, but now we all see Bella hovering by the edge of the mural. It’s like the mention of the shimmerfly summoned her. Marina comes closer—there’s something on the wall by Bella that she recognizes.
“That’s the ranger field sign used to mark a place of importance,” she tells us. It’s further evidence that Ayumu really was here, though there is no other sign of them in this room.
We join Cleve at the door, since answers about Ayumu likely lie beyond it. It seems like the kind that should slide open, but there’s no power to it right now. I can just barely get my fingers around the slightly open edge that is thoroughly caked with dirt and mud. This is probably also a result of my recent upheaval of the landscape. I use both arms and throw my weight into it, but between the gunk encrusting the door and the slant of the floor, I can’t get it to budge. There’s just a mild ache in my left arm from the exertion, so maybe I’ve been babying it more than is medically necessary. I just… Honestly, I’m just scared of another permanent injury that I’ll carry with me the rest of my life.
“This thing is really stuck,” I tell Cleve and Marina as I back away to let them take a closer look for themselves. While they do that, I study the distant ceiling, wondering what kind of HVAC system this building has. The only vents I see are too small for a person. Bluebell could probably fit through, but I’m certainly not going to ask her to go further into this building via a route we can’t join her on.
Bluebell clacks her claw sharply at me, frantically signaling that she does not want to proceed on her own. I guess she’s picked up on my intentions without me fully voicing them. I assure her that’s not my plan. It’s unlikely she could do anything from the other side of this door to help open it, anyway. Other than maybe a bunch of digging. And the risks to her are too high.
Little progress has been made on the door when I return my attention to it. “Presumably, Ayumu got through this door and not terribly long ago,” I observe. “Potentially it’s my terraforming that has blocked it.”
“That does seem to be the case, yes,” Marina agrees.
“There’s gotta be dirt on the other side, too,” Cleve says. “Just clearing this side isn’t helping.”
“Maybe there’s enough roots and mycelia around that I can agitate them to clear that blockage,” I suggest.
Marina pulls out the bioscanner Shroomnuts gave her and begins waving it around in front of the door, looking for the ideal spot for me. “I can’t tell,” she says, worriedly. “There’s a lot of, of interference here,” she stutters out apologetically.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. She needs some deep breathing exercises to calm those nerves. I’m sure Cleve’s muttering about how we’re all going to die in each and every situation is no help. I’ve learned to tune it out, but Marina hasn’t been around him long enough yet.
I gesture Marina aside and step up to the door again myself. Then I place my palms on the slick surface and lean my forehead against it, trying to sense whatever I can tug on the other side. There’s not much. Behind me, Cleve runs through his inventory aloud, wondering what might help: an acid sac, some chili powder…
I give up on the resonance approach in time to see Cleve receiving a gift from Bella, a tube with a nozzle on one end and a pump handle on the other. Whatever is in it, some kind of solvent or lubricant, it does the trick. Cleve applies it through the slight crack of an opening, clearing enough space for Bluebell to insert her metal rod and me my cane. Then we pry while Cleve sprays more along the rest of the track the door needs to retract along. When the gap is wide enough, I move into the doorway myself and use my back to push the heavy metal up the slight incline. It very much feels like it wants to slide right back into its original position. Once he has enough access, Cleve knocks away the dirt blocking our path into the next room.
All the while, Marina holds her flashlight on the doorway, lighting our work. Thus, she’s the first person to see what is inside, other than the pile of dirt. “Oh no!” she gasps. “Oh no no no no no!” She slips past us all into the room. I stay right where I am, holding the door open, but I turn to see what upset her. Marina drops to her knees alongside a pile of cloth and bone with a crushed skull. Ayumu.