The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3)

by Neil Carstairs

  Alex reached out and touched her spirit. Emily’s warmth filled him for a moment. It made Alex smile. “We do,” he said. “But not you. We are dying, Emily, but you are alive. I want you to go back to your body. You’ve done enough by coming here and freeing us.”

  Emily looked at Alex and then around at the other spirits. They seemed to understand. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “End this,” Alex said. “End it now.”

  Connor wrapped his arms around Emily. He whispered in her ear. Alex saw tears in her eyes as she mouthed the word ‘no’. The boy took her away, lifting her up towards the bank of smoke and ash that blotted out the sun. Alex watched them for as long as he could until their shapes merged and vanished.

  “That girl is special,” Gerry Williams said.

  “And she doesn’t know it yet.” Alex wanted to keep his voice steady but it almost broke as the sound of the gods’ laughter reached them.

  Alex and Gerry looked down. The tiny figures of Ben, Joanne and the others looked lost on the shore.

  “It’s time,” Gerry said.

  Alex saw the other spirits waiting. None had returned to their bodies. They knew the truth. They could return to their bodies and witness the end of the world, or stop the gods. Now.

  ***

  “We can’t fight this.” Kramer grabbed hold of Ben as the ground shook. The grinding sound of rock on rock filled the air. “Get to the boat.”

  They splashed through the shallows, the gods stalking them all of the way. On the horizon, Ben saw huge slabs of mountainside break free and tumble into the valley. Swathes of pine forest went with them in a tumbling mass of greens and browns. Ranson dragged the anchor free, and with Pruitt at the outboard again, the rest of them pushed the jon boat out into clear water. As the boat slid free of the sandy bed Ben slipped, falling into a lake that had gone from ice-cold to simmering hot as vents on the bed opened up to heat the lake water towards boiling point.

  Buhl pulled him back up and shoved Ben into the boat. He found a bench to sit on as waves lifted the craft and dropped it again in a sickening swoop. The gods danced on the beach, causing more fractures to splinter out from their feet.

  “Fire consumes,” Kramer said, from behind Ben.

  He looked at her. “What?”

  “We have to get them into the fire. It’s the only way of stopping them.”

  “Are you telling me we have to go back?” Ben stared across the open water between the boat and the gods.

  “We can do it.” Alex appeared between them, a faint outline of his human form.

  “We?” Kramer asked.

  “The spirits. The gods are expecting us to flee but we can’t. This has to stop, and we’re the only ones who can do it.”

  “Do what?” Ben struggled to see what the spirits could do.

  “Capture them and carry them to the forest fire.”

  “But you can’t drop them in,” Ben said. “They’ll escape.”

  The boat rocked again as another savage wave struck it broadside. Pruitt fought the surging current and swung the vessel around to head directly into the swell.

  “We’ll carry them into the heart of the fire,” Alex said.

  “But-” Ben never finished the sentence. Alex knew. They all knew the sacrifice they would be making.

  “Not Emily,” Kramer said.

  Alex’s watermark face smiled, “She’s gone. Connor has taken her back. She’s safe.”

  The boat rose and fell over another wave. A thunderous blast reached out from within the mountains, and a huge plume of rock and ash reached skywards.

  “We can’t wait any longer.”

  Alex rose from the boat and Ben tracked him through the air. He joined with the other spirits, and they closed on the shore. The gods didn’t see them until it was too late. The spirits formed a swarm, falling upon the gods and seizing them. Rising again, Alex and the others carried their captives up. Ben saw them gain height, punching holes in the smoke that came from wildfire and eruption. For a moment, they hung in the air as if searching for the centre of the inferno. And then they fell, disappearing from view into the raging flames.

  Ben breathed out a prayer. The land convulsed, a halo of energy erupting from the point of impact. It formed a shockwave that crushed the erupting earth down and extinguished the fire in a heartbeat. A final, tsunamic wave carried the jon boat out into the centre of Yellowstone Lake before it left them floating on calming water as it raced on to the far shore and swamped the low land at the lake’s edge.

  No-one spoke. Kramer put her hand on Ben’s shoulder, and he reached up to touch her fingers. Pruitt turned the boat, putting it on a heading for the bridge, or what remained of it after the earthquakes. They watched the smoke drift like a morning mist, blanketing the remnants of the forest. It gave the shoreline a ghostly look, and every time he looked Ben expected to see gods walking. He saw someone else.

  The High Priest stumbled out of the dirty grey curtain. They heard his scream of anger across the water. A hot breath of air brushed their faces, carrying the scent of death.

  “He’s dangerous,” Itzel said from the bow, where she sat between Buhl and Ranson.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Ben saw another figure appear.

  “Ki,” Kramer said.

  “Who?” Ben watched the woman approach the High Priest.

  “A goddess,” Kramer said.

  The High Priest saw her too. His rage made the sky crack with thunder. He lunged at Ki, and as his raised fists came down to strike the goddess, they both vanished in the blink of an eye.

  ***

  The High Priest fell into darkness. His feet caught on rubble, and he sprawled across the sharp edges of fractured beams and shattered masonry. Pain flashed through his ribs and across his face as his head banged on the uneven corner of a joist. He lay, inhaling the dust that swirled all around. As his breathing evened out, he realised this place held total silence.

  And total darkness.

  Where am I?

  His last conscious memory was of the woman, smiling as he struck at her. The High Priest used his hands to explore the world around him. Hard. Dirty. Dark. He reached out and found he could stand. Whatever ceiling this place had was far enough away for him to be able to walk in comfort. But debris littered the floor, making each step an exploration in danger. His ankles folded three times on brick and wood. Feeling carefully, he found a wall. He traced the stretcher bond pattern of bricks.

  The High Priest paused. A cold thought claimed his mind.

  No.

  The fear began deep in his chest. He tried to suppress it. Failed, as it grew to fill his throat. His heart rate increased, and he heard the panting of his breath. He moved again, scraping his legs on concrete, stumbling as the fear took control of his limbs. He fell. Rose and fell again. One arm felt numb; blood ran down the other from a gash on his forearm.

  When the fear reached his head, he screamed.

  Epilogue

  1

  At three a.m. most guards would be starting to lose concentration. Their natural body clocks would be telling them that they should be sleeping. Kramer watched the two men at the entrance to the temple through infra-red binoculars and saw they were alert; waiting and watching for any threat.

  “Bang goes the ‘let’s walk through the front door plan’,” Jason Buhl whispered, as he lay beside her in knee high grass.

  “Oh, we can still walk through it.” Kramer lowered the bins. “We might just need to avoid stepping in their blood.”

  She snaked back into the covering vegetation and moved right to where her sniper team had set up position. “We’ll move in as close as possible,” she said. “Watch them for any reaction if they spot us. I’ll give you the freedom to fire at any point you think we’re in trouble. Otherwise, wait for my command.”

  Kramer tapped Buhl on the ankle, and he slid back to join her and the rest of the team. Fourteen of them had come ashore on a RIB, a rigid
inflatable boat, staging off a US Navy destroyer sitting six miles off the coast. She gathered her team close, dropping night-vision goggles down across her eyes to get a better view.

  “Two guards,” she said, “and they look awake, so we move in two teams of six, either side of the street. Try not to wake the locals. If the guards spot us, the sniper team will take them down, and then we get inside asap. Questions?”

  There were none. Kramer smiled, checked her assault rifle, and made sure that none of the spare magazines, grenades or knife would make a noise as she moved and waved her teams off.

  The pyramid shaped temple dominated one end of a small village. Kramer chose the main street as her route of approach. She thought that the guards might hesitate for a fraction of a second if they spotted movement, thinking it might be a local. The two teams separated, easing forward through shadows cast by a full moon. Somewhere in the village, a dog barked twice. Kramer waited for more, but none came. She moved on, stepping around a pile of garbage and glancing across the street where the other team moved in tandem.

  Closer, the temple grew to a massive size. The intricate relief carvings casting strange shadows where the moonlight fell on them. Kramer held up a hand. Fifty yards. Almost all of it open ground covered in the same scrubby grass she’d lain in a few minutes before. Kramer gauged the options. Call down the sniper team and hope she could get inside before anyone raised the alarm or move on, keeping down to ground level.

  Moonlight dimmed as a cloud crossed in front of it. Kramer made her decision and she crawled into the grass. She checked her team. All good. Everyone moved with minimal disturbance. Even the crickets didn’t seem to notice them pass by as they kept up their incessant chirping. Kramer paused again, lifting her head she checked the distance. Thirty yards. The grass died out in another five, changing to sun-baked earth where the feet of worshippers over hundreds of years had worn it away. That would be the limit of their approach. The guards still moved back and forth, not speaking just watching the land around them.

  Kramer passed the message in a series of hand-signals. Wait for the sniper team to suppress the guards. She paused just a moment longer. The information received from Itzel said these men would be the temple’s gunslingers. What was it she had called them? Acolytes. Probably high on something. They would kill without compunction.

  She touched her throat mike. “Sniper Team, fire when ready.”

  On the other side of the village, Kramer knew the spotter would be calling the distance and wind speed to the man on the rifle. She gave them a few seconds and then looked at the guards. The first one dropped like a stone, half his skull missing. The silenced round made a slapping sound as it smashed through bone. The second guard just stared in shock at his dead comrade, unable to believe his eyes. Kramer saw him take a breath to shout a warning, and then the top of his head lifted off. The guard stayed upright for a moment, legs kicking like an Irish dancer before he collapsed. Kramer started running before the second guard even hit the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Buhl leading the other team. They had a few yards on her and plunged into the temple entrance as she hurdled one of the dead acolytes.

  Kramer ran down a tunnel lined by oil lamps that gave off a half-light glow. She flipped up her goggles and saw the man in front of her make a sharp left turn. Kramer followed him into a room laid out like a guardroom. Six acolytes were watching a European soccer match on a flat screen TV. They had no time to react as Buhl’s team cut them down, the suppressed gunfire coming as a rapid chat-chat-chat sound. Kramer waved her team on. Time of the essence now.

  The sketch plan of the temple interior that Itzel had given them had been improved by consultation with Dr Steele, from the Boston MFA, who had detailed plans of various Mayan temples. His additional knowledge gave them what she hoped would be a precise layout of the temple. What Kramer wanted, on this night of a full moon, was the temple chamber.

  Chat-chat-chat.

  Kramer stepped over the body of another acolyte. His face still surprised by a death he didn’t expect. The soldier in front of her stopped, and Kramer almost barged into him as he signalled left. She followed him into a small room. Two women were chained to the far wall. Kramer saw where the steel bands around their wrists and ankles had rubbed the skin raw. One of the women barely registered their appearance, the other moved back in shock, pressing herself into the wall.

  Movement. Kramer turned, a curtain made from an old sack hung down across another doorway. She saw it pulled to one side and a middle-aged guy in white robes came through. The clothes didn’t stay white for long. Kramer’s three-round burst splashed ragged, bloody holes in the white material as he fell. She stepped to the curtain and peered around it. A long stone staircase led up.

  “See if you can free these women and get them out of here.” Kramer checked to make sure her team were all with her. “Two of you go with them; the rest come with me.”

  They took the steps two at a time, weapons braced to their shoulders. Flickering lamps gave the stairway an unearthly appearance. If they’d headed down, then Kramer would have sworn they were descending to hell. The exit appeared ahead, a rectangle lit by a brighter light. Kramer slowed and took the last few steps with caution. She knelt, Ranson close behind, and looked out into the temple chamber.

  Two dozen priests and twice as many acolytes gathered in front of a huge stone throne carved in the shape of a jaguar. A slim female figure lay on a stone plinth at the foot of the throne.

  “Drugged,” Ranson whispered.

  Kramer nodded. The girl didn’t move as a priest cut her clothing and stripped her naked. The audience began to chant, and Kramer felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The sound they made cut deep into her chest, a primeval touch that made her shiver. Another priest approached, this one wore a headdress that covered most of his face. He also carried a blade as long and sharp as Kramer had ever seen.

  The chanting rose in volume. Kramer eased back. “Flash-bangs,” she said. She pulled hers free, the guys with her did the same. A quick glance showed the girl still unresponsive as the priest stood at her side. He raised the knife above his head in a two-handed grip.

  “Now.”

  Four stun grenades sailed into the room. The sound they made as they bounced off the stone floor made the chanting skip a beat. Kramer covered her ears, closed her eyes and opened her mouth. The four blasts rolled into one continuous roar, joined by a new sun that seared through her eyelids. Screams followed. Kramer came up. “Ranson, with me.”

  Out into the chamber. The flash-bangs had turned the priests and congregation into gibbering wrecks. They rolled on the floor, giving Kramer problems as she tried to reach the plinth. Headdress Priest climbed to his feet. He still carried the knife and Kramer realised in horror that the ornate mask and its decoration had protected him from the worst of the stun grenades.

  A rolling body tangled with Ranson. He fell and hit Kramer so she lost balance and her aim went wild as she fired. The rounds smashed chunks of stone from the relief carved into the throne. But she’d done enough to scare the priest. He ducked behind the plinth as Ranson fired from the floor. A hand grasped Kramer’s legs, and she looked down into the angry face of a priest. Without thought, Kramer put the muzzle of her gun between his eyes and blew his brains out. Free of his hand she rose. The masked priest had dragged the girl from the plinth, the knife blade poised again above her heart.

  Kramer fired on the run, taking the steps up to the throne. She clipped the priest, blood blossoming from his shoulder. The blade fell to the floor as he came to his feet. Kramer saw his eyes through the mask, and the hate in them made her smile as she put three rounds through his heart. Kramer reached the girl, sheltering behind the plinth as Ranson joined her. The other priests and acolytes out in the chamber were recovering, and all eyes turned towards them.

  “Carry the girl,” Kramer said to Ranson. As he picked her up, Kramer gave the two men she’d left in the doorway a hand-signal.
They stepped into the chamber and opened fire. The attack sent a shockwave through the gathering. Kramer rose and switched her fire selector to fully automatic. She emptied the magazine in a sweeping arc. Bodies tumbled to the floor. Hit from both front and rear the acolytes, worshippers and priests scattered.

  “Go, go,” Kramer screamed at Ranson as she reloaded.

  The big guy launched himself over the plinth, the girl a toy in his hands as he plunged into the space made by Kramer and the others. She stayed in place. A priest reached out at Ranson and Kramer gunned him down. She heard fire coming from the other side of the chamber. Ranson dodged a knife-wielding acolyte and disappeared through the doorway. Kramer grabbed a grenade from her belt, primed it and chucked it out into the floor. She saw another come from one of her team as she dived behind the plinth. The blasts brought dust down from the ceiling. She rolled out, saw the carnage of tattered bodies and came to her feet like an Olympic sprinter. Blood and gore made her boots slide on the stone floor, but she stayed on her feet long enough to reach safety.

  “Time to bug out,” she shouted, and the two guys followed her down the stairway, into the prison cell and out into the corridor.

  Buhl waited. His team tense behind him. Kramer gave him as good a smile as she could manage. “We can confirm the human sacrifice,” she said. “Time to go.”

  The night-time air welcomed them with its cool embrace as they ran back through the village, not caring now if they woke anyone. They continued up the rising ground to the long grass and slid into the cover with relief. Kramer lay there, staring up at the stars and, for some bizarre reason, thinking about Scarrett.

  Not now.

  “Radio?” she asked. A shadowed figure came and gave her the portable unit. Kramer took a second to calm her breathing before transmitting.

  “Anvil, this is Lance, do you copy?”

  “Copy, Lance, five-by-five.”

  Kramer smiled, “Anvil, you are green for Hammer. I say again, you are green for Hammer.”