by Tom Hunter
“Listen, Knight, you can’t hold out forever. At some point, you’re going to let me go, whether you’re dead or alive,” she taunted. “However,” she purred, the soft ‘r’ rolling off her tongue, “if you let me go now, I might ask my boys to play nice with you,” she teased devilishly.
“I’m not ready to die and I’ll do what I have to do,” said Thomas evenly, pressing the gun nozzle into her back. “What did you do to Team 3?” Thomas called to the men. “Where are they?” And where in the hell are the rangers? Shouldn’t they be down here by now?
The mercenary whose gun was trained on Thomas responded, “What the hell you talkin’ about? We don’t know nothin’ ‘bout a Team 3.” His brows furrowed in confusion.
As the goons’ brows furrowed at the question, Miss Welker continued trying to wheedle her way out of captivity. “Seems to me we are at an impasse, you and me. If you kill me, Mr. Knight, then you are dead. If I were a betting woman, I would say this is your one and only chance to let me go.” He felt her tense again and in the same moment caught sight of the gun-toting goon step forward.
The goon readjusted his weapon, pulled back the safety, and took a few more steps forward. Thomas braced himself for the shot, when a stone spear sliced the air between him and the man with the gun. Both men stumbled backward when the first spear’s twin followed and landed firmly lodged in the side of one of Miss Welker’s men. Shocked into speechlessness, all stared in awe at the stone spear, and at the man it now pinned to a cave wall. He gurgled as he tried to speak, and then slumped into death.
All eyes turned to the holes in the wall as it began to speak; an unintelligible language peppered with shouts and cries as if cheering on its inhabitants. Thomas strained to understand the language.
For a moment, it was easy to distinguish human shadows from the others, and the creatures Thomas had thought were rats, weaved impossibly large, tall shadows on the walls. They look like…Thomas squinted at the shadows…they look like the cave paintings. He’d thought maybe it was the creatures forced into labor in the paintings, but upon closer inspection, he saw the figures were humanoid. They were getting braver, coming closer.
In the excitement and shock, Thomas lost his grip on Miss Welker, who flew toward her men dodging a volley of stone spears. Thomas stepped back as one of the weapons whooshed by him. Whoever was throwing spears did not discriminate.
In his haste to dodge the spear, Thomas had landed on his backside, the wind knocked out of him. He could now more easily see who it was attacking them.
“They are from the cave paintings,” Thomas muttered. “Holy shit!” Though the lights had grown dimmer, he could still see well. The creatures looked to be pale-skinned, humanoid figures, with a strange, grayish, dusky tinge to their skin. Perhaps something to do with being underground? Thomas wondered, his scientist’s brain working overtime. Regardless, they were large figures with powerful builds. And they were angry. Though he couldn’t determine the language, there was no mistaking the tone.
Thirty
As Thomas scrambled up from his sitting position, he caught sight of Ramon. When had he arrived? He must have been further in the shadows, out of sight, Thomas reasoned.
Ramon lifted his gun, aimed, and fired toward the area the spears had been thrown from. His mouth set in a firm line, he walked purposefully in the same direction, each bullet missing its target. With Ramon, his mercenaries, and Miss Welker otherwise occupied, Thomas spotted what he imagined to be an exit. Finally!
As he raced toward the opening, he heard a heavy crash and turned to see a large stone descend toward him. “Really? A movie cliché? Come on!” He bellowed as the stone collided with where he’d been only moments before.
The stone, a large, gray-pocked orb, rumbled and rolled down the passageway. Solid rock no man could lift gathered speed across the land bridge like a rolling pin across dried out cookies. Chips and flakes of rock lodged themselves in the walls, but the ball continued on its path of destruction. It was too heavy for the natural span to bear, and the land bridge connecting the tunnels and openings, rooms, and chambers began to crumble.
Thomas felt like an ant in a giant pinball machine, as he raced to safety across the crumbling bridge. He nearly collided with Alexia, and Pediah who had arrived with the rangers. “Get back!” He roared. “There’s something down here with us!”
Rage and frustration colored his face, as no one moved. “Get back!” he hollered again. “I will not repeat myself a third time. Do as I say. Pediah! Alexia! All of you, move!” he commanded.
As everyone retreated, they heard a loud, guttural growl reverberate and echo in the cavernous chambers. The growl lent its voice to the unintelligible language of the cave dwellers, an ancient dialogue whose echoes followed them as they fled.
Terrified footsteps pounded on uneven rock for what seemed like endless minutes, as they left the scene of destruction behind. They panted for air, but didn’t dare to slow down until the cool breeze of night met them. Abby’s worried face was a welcome sight to Thomas Knight and his team.
“What in the hell happened Thomas?” Abby demanded, her fists clenched at her sides, her brows furrowed, her face pinched with worry.
Thirty-One
Like a comedic scene in a film, in which all the characters bump into each other as they exit somewhere too quickly, so must have it seemed to Abby, waiting worriedly at the entrance. But, there was no laughter here.
“Calm down, Abby. Just give me – give us – a minute to catch our breaths and I’ll tell you what happened,” Thomas tried to calm her, but she knew him too well.
“Fine, I’ll check on the others first.” She went toward a small band of volunteers that had come up with the team. From time to time, she glanced toward Thomas and noticed his pinched and worried face. She knew that look, as it matched hers. “Let me know if you guys need anything. Please excuse me a moment and wait for me by my tent.”
Abby walked toward Thomas and took him by the arm. She led him a few feet away from the crowd, and asked in a low voice, “Okay. You’ve had time to catch your breath. Now, I repeat. What in the hell happened down there?”
“Well, Abs,” he began, “I wanted to take a break from the lab. Thought I’d go for a quick walk and ran into Alexia. Watched Robbie get his hands dirty, and was commenting on such, when I saw a shadow fiddling with something in one of the cavern walls.
“I thought – hoped even – it might be one of the survey team members. The shadow must have heard me come toward it or was finished, I’m still not sure which, and took off. I pursued.”
“Imagine my surprise, when I caught a camo-wearing shadow, known to Noah Ashbridge, Ramon, Pediah, and myself as ‘Miss Welker’. We met her the day Howard died.” Abby didn’t blink, her eyes wide with shock and worry.
“There was an armed confrontation,” Thomas continued. “Thankfully nobody was hurt, until stone spears started flying out of nowhere.”
“What?”
“Yup. The underground dwellers finally made themselves known.”
He paused for effect.
“Oh, my God.”
“The figures throwing the spears, get this Abs: they looked like the cave paintings we saw.” He nodded, as she clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise. “I know! Crazy, right?”
Thomas went on, speaking more quickly, with the urgency of the giant boulder he’d just escaped. “They were humanoid figures speaking in some language I’ve never heard. It sounds unintelligible. I’ve no idea if its Native American, Slavic, Germanic, or what. But, there is one sound I can be sure of. Somewhere in there, something growled. In fact, that would be right around the time, Alexia returned with Pediah and the rangers. They all heard the low, guttural growl.”
Thomas reached into his waistband and retrieved Miss Welker’s gun. “Wow, can’t believe this didn’t fall out somewhere. But, this is the gun I took from Miss Welker,” he explained, as he examined it and finished his story.
“That
is one hell of a story, Thom,” Abby exhaled, a low whistle crossed her lips. “I just have one question, though.”
“Yes?”
“Why would someone be rooting around in the caves below? And to that end, do you think this Miss Welker and her men might come back as a threat?”
“That’s two questions,” he volleyed, a twinkle in his eye.
“Fine, yes. But, the questions remain.”
“I’m not sure, but for now, we have the creatures to thank for that. Playing bowling with large boulders, they managed to not kill many of us, but they did destroy the bridge. However,” he held up a finger, “since no one has explored and mapped that particular section of the caverns there could be untold passageways that lead into them.”
“I don’t like it, Thom. Those are loose ends we don’t need,” Abby cautioned.
“I’ll have to update Donald.” She hesitated, took his hand, and said gently, “Thomas, Donald may have us shut down the operation. For now. Just until we can figure out what to do next.”
“Maybe we can get the police, or animal control specialists, or something to deal with the creatures – whoever, whatever they were,” Thomas suggested.
“Perhaps,” agreed Abby. “But consider all the security we already had. The rangers. The guards. It didn’t help, and we nearly lost you and Alexia.” Thomas looked at her then and opened his mouth to speak when Abby continued.
“Until I speak to Donald, I think we should play it safe. Everyone should double up or travel in groups whenever possible until police or rangers can be organized to protect the people down here.”
Thomas nodded, “Agreed.”
Abby sighed, a deep, heavy, heartfelt resignation to the inevitable. “What should we tell the members of the expedition? Even though not everyone was down there, rumors spread.”
Pediah, standing nearby, had overheard the whole exchange. He stepped forward to join them, quoting Proverbs 11:13 – “‘The integrity of the upright guides them, but the unfaithful are destroyed by their duplicity.’”
“In other words,” he explained, “I think the best to thing to do, is to tell the expedition team the truth. Honesty is the best policy.”
“It won’t be good if people don’t know what’s going on,” Thomas said. “In this case, ignorance isn’t bliss. It’s death.” He set his mouth in a firm line, fished his beard comb out of his pocket, made a few quick downward strokes, and returned the comb with a flourish. “I think I should talk to the team myself.”
Thirty-Two
“What the hell was that!” gasped Miss Welker at anyone who would listen. She could still feel the whoosh of air from the stone spear that had missed her by inches. Usually cool and calm under pressure, she felt unusually rattled. Then, looking to the other side of where the land bridge had once stood, and Thomas’ team had fled, she gathered herself together and got back down to the business of being a boss.
She looked around at her men, their eyes wide, their breath still coming in short bursts. As her cohorts’ breathing slowed and returned to normal, Miss Welker ordered them to collect their things.
A man stepped forward, his bag in hand, flashlight and gun at the ready, “Shouldn’t we go back down into the caves?”
Miss Welker considered him for a moment. A scar across his cheek was the only blemish on an otherwise clean-shaven face. “David, right?” she asked. He nodded.
“Well, David,” she explained slowly, “While we could go back, right now, it’s clear there’s something down here. And I don’t mean Knight and his team.”
She glanced over her shoulder, “We already lost Tony. That spear in him is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Have you?” David shook his head. “That’s what I thought. So, would it not be the wiser course to go explore with more men and more firepower? You saw how useless our guns were against those caveman weapons. Now, boys”—all looked toward her, their eyes steady—“let me remind you. You were hired to obey, not to think. Understand?” She moved closer to David and stood toe to toe. “Question me again,” she said through clenched teeth, “and I will ruin you.”
David looked down at this little slip of a woman, her head level with his chest and bent nearly backward as she looked up at him. “Listen, Miss Welker,” he hissed, “I was ordered here as muscle and I will not take orders from some little slip of a woman. I don’t care how dangerous they say you are.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she reached up one long perfectly painted nail, and jabbed him in the chest. “I dare you to say that again. Just see what happens. I assure you, I have been in this business longer than you can dream and I will not tolerate insubordination,” she snarled.
Ramon stepped forward. “David,” he cautioned, “there is an expression I learned when I first learned English. I think you should learn it now or it will be taught to you by force: ‘Though she be but little, she be fierce.’ There should be a picture of her”— Ramon pointed to Miss Welker” — next to that saying. I’m not saying I like her. But I do know what she is capable of.”
He pushed David back with one hand and reminded them both, “We’re still in this together. Come hell or high water, we have to figure out where to go.” Ramon leveled his gaze at David. “We should regroup back at headquarters,” Miss Welker directed. “We’ll have to clean our tracks as we go to keep anyone from finding or following us. Not sure what to do about that,” she followed Ramon’s glance at the hole, and twisted her lips together. “But, I’ll have something worked out in a few moments. And once we’re back, we can give Noah Ashbridge the bad news.”
Miss Welker turned her head back the way they’d come. Was that a drum? She thought she caught the distant echo of a beat, followed by some kind of digging sound.
“What the –?” she mumbled under her breath. The digging sound was getting closer, the distant drumming a backdrop to her heartbeat. She drew her secondary pistol from inside her jacket. “Silence!” she whispered loudly.
Everyone stopped and watched her for direction as she listened, her gun at the ready.
David gestured his chin toward the sound, “What do you think it could be?”
“Be quiet! I don’t know. That’s why I’m listening.” She turned toward Ramon, with questioning eyes.
“Yes,” he agreed to her unspoken question. “It’s time to get out of here, or we’ll have company we don’t want.”
The drumming stopped, but the digging sounds were upon them, and then Ramon heard a noise he knew all too well. “Oh, shit.” He’d nearly died the last time he’d heard that sound. “I think we may be too late,” he said quietly. When Miss Welker turned toward him to ask what he meant, she never got the chance, as he suddenly hollered at the top of his lungs, “Run!” With that final statement, the stone walls fell away, crumbling to dust. Whatever was digging had made its way through the walls.
Thirty-Three
Abby eyed her boxes of mysteries longingly as she walked toward her radio to call Donald Cunningham. She wanted to laugh. Who needs fiction when the truth is even stranger? She picked up the headset, and a small box, and went to sit next to Thomas, who’d already taken a seat on her padded bunk. Her books took up the only chair in her small tent.
She fiddled with the radio almost mindlessly, as she thought about everything Thomas had told her, with Pediah’s comments backing him up. In mid-dial, she turned to Thomas, “What precisely should we tell him?” she asked. “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Follow Pediah’s advice. Tell him everything. I trust him and besides he is the one signing the checks. He should know what’s going on,” counseled Thomas.
Abby shook her head, “That’s not what I mean.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow,” Thomas stroked his beard.
“Noah Ashbridge and his goons, I understand. I can explain. Lost team members, while tragic, I have a frame of reference,” she said. “But, if you were Don, and I called you talking about animal life in Death Valley, what would you think?” Abby paused,
and took a breath, “I guess what I mean is, if I have trouble accepting Death Valley is suddenly a hotbed of life, especially beings capable of raining rocks and boulders down on people, then how exactly am I to explain it to Donald or anyone else?”
“I see what you’re saying, Abby, I do,” Thomas replied. “However,” he held up his index finger, “the purpose of this trip was to discover if a civilization really existed beneath Death Valley. Consider the cave paintings. It was never out of the question, that civilization might still exist. Much as we like to know everything, we don’t. That’s why we dig – figuratively and literally – to find out what we don’t know.” Thomas smiled.
“I know that, professor. And I agree. Hell, I taught you that last bit when you took my courses,” joked Abby. “But, I suppose the real issue is this – I can’t and couldn’t imagine anything living down there and even if I could and did, I would think it would have abandoned the place or died off long ago.”
“Well, that isn’t the case now,” Thomas quipped.
“I know that. I just hope Don can accept it,” she said as she held the radio and tuned it to the frequency for Donald Cunningham. “Hello. Don?” Abby paused, then, “No, no discoveries, she slid her eyes toward Thomas, and took a deep breath, no new discoveries as such, but…we do have some news that may interest you.” She slid her eyes toward him and mouthed you tell him. Then, “I’ll let Thomas explain,” she finished as she handed the headset to him.
“Hi Don. Things are going well, I guess. No new discoveries as Abby mentioned.” Thomas paused and smiled, “well, no new discoveries as such of Team 3 or additional artifacts, but we did discover something…unexpected.”
Abby could imagine Don leaning into the phone eagerly asking Thomas to continue and from the crackle on the other end, she wasn’t far off the mark.
