The group followed Yupanqui, who led them down a previously unseen tunnel. They walked in relative silence for a short distance.
“By the way, Dr. R, where’s Mike?”
Randall stopped immediately, the lump returning to his throat. Unable to look into his graduate student’s eyes, he said, “Mike didn’t make it, Phil.”
Phil blinked and hesitated before speaking again. “What do you mean?”
Randall steadied himself. “I found him in Dumond’s compound. He must have been brought there when Dumond found you two in the tunnel. I was able to sneak into the compound and into the room where he was being held, but a guard heard us talking and burst into the room ready to shoot. I fought with him and his gun went off. The bullet hit Mike … I couldn’t do anything to help him … he died in my arms.”
Phil remained motionless.
“Phil,” Sam said softly, touching his arm, “I’m really sorry. I know you two were close.”
Sam could see that he was fighting back tears. Only an occasional sniffling noise broke the deafening silence. Finally, he spoke. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He was like a brother to me.” Now the tears began falling. Phil tried mopping them up with the sleeve of his bloody shirt. “It’s not fair, I could have been the one who died, but they saved me. Why did it have to be Mike?” Phil’s head began shaking back in forth as if he was trying to get the image of his dying friend out of his mind.
“I’m sorry Phil, I …” was all Randall could say.
The group stood in the same spot for some time while Yupanqui patiently waited. Finally George spoke.
“Guys, I got to know Mike while we were in that room together and I know this is hard, but we still need to find our way out of here. Mike thought of you as his family and he would have wanted all of you to get home safely.”
Phil was the first to respond. “You’re right. It’s bad enough losing Mike, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you guys, too.” They walked along in silence, following Chief Yupanqui to a fork in the tunnel.
“My friends, follow this to the surface. I must return to my people, our time is at hand.” Randall stared up the shaft that led to the surface. A faint but persistent glow shimmered in the distance. Daylight.
“Thank you, Chief, we’ll never forget you.” Randall shook his hand.
Yupanqui looked squarely into Randall’s eyes. “You will always be remembered by my people for what you have done for us.” Looking at Sam now, he added, “You and your father are heroes to my tribe.” With that, Yupanqui departed from the group.
Randall started up the angular tunnel, anxious to get Sam, Phil, and George to safety. He took two steps and stopped. Something seemed to be calling him back into the main cavern. Not quite a voice as much a sense of unfinished business. "You all go on without me, I'll be a few minutes behind you."
"Is everything okay?" Sam asked.
"Everything’s fine, I'll only be a couple of minutes. You three get to the surface." Randall turned away from them and walked back into the cavern to end the possibility of discussion. Phil and George looked at Sam, who hesitated momentarily but began walking up the tunnel. They followed after her.
Randall entered the cavern and was greeted with an eerie silence. He sensed a presence but never actually saw anyone or anything.
"I have so many questions for you and there is so much my people could learn from you. But you haven't returned to offer explanations, have you?"
Although no words were uttered, Randall understood that the answer was an emphatic no.
"Then why did you call me back?”
"When you accessed our database, you learned about my people. Our history and our purpose on your planet. You also discovered some troubling information."
"They're real aren't they? Who are they? Where are they from and why are they here?"
"Our understanding of them is limited, but their purpose here isn't peaceful."
"Can you help us? What can I do if I encounter them?"
"When the time comes, you will know."
Randall stood in the middle of the tunnel, somewhat uneasy about the conversation taking place inside of his mind, but his confusion was soon replaced by a brief sense of profound serenity.
"Can you tell me what they’re called?"
"We simply call them The Others. More than this, I cannot tell you.”
Randall was overwhelmed with a sense of wonderment and uncertainty.
“What should I do next?"
There was no reply. Randall stared into the shadows and caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone or something was walking towards him. He braced himself for what would happen next.
The figure moved slowly and deliberately, staying in the shadows. When it was finally within arms distance of Randall, it stepped into the light.
Shock gripped Randall as he stared into the face of Chief Yupanqui.
“It’s you,” he said, a sense of bewilderment washing over him. “I just imagined the whole experience of meeting your brethren,” Randall said, unsure what to think.
“In time, all things will make sense to you,” Yupanqui said, a warm smile on his face. He reached up and grasped Randall’s shoulder. “You are a good man Randall. Watch over your family and appreciate each day with them.”
Yupanqui turned and disappeared back into the shadows as Randall stood motionless, once again dumbfounded by the turn of events.
After a few moments, Randall started up the gently sloping shaft, suddenly feeling exceptionally fatigued. His muscles ached and his every movement was a struggle. His body was finally experiencing a let-down after many days of operating on sheer adrenaline. Suddenly, all Randall could think about was a warm shower and a long nap. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a new thought: They are in danger. Randall stopped dead in his tracks thinking, Who is in danger? But before the words had finished, he realized the answer. He ignored the fatigue and picked up his pace. Three words suddenly flashed brightly in his mind: Ackers is here! His slow jog morphed into a sprint, the beam of his flashlight bouncing madly as the words repeated in his mind, Ackers is here, Ackers is here! A new thought flashed through his mind: Duck. He did, just in time for the shiny metal blade to pass narrowly over the top of his head.
Ackers let out an animalistic grunt. "I'm going to kill you, mother fucker!" Even in the dim lighting, Randall could see the madness in his eyes. "No one fucks with me and gets away with it."
Randall sensed immediately that there would be no reasoning with Ackers, he was too far-gone. Instead, he employed the opposite tact, hoping to throw him off. "It's going to be pretty pathetic when you get your ass kicked by a guy who makes a living lecturing to college students."
Ackers responded by swinging his knife in violent uncontrolled arcs, each closer than the last. As Ackers swung again, Randall parried the blow with his forearm, knocking the mercenary into the wall. Ackers was fuming, bewildered that the scrawny academic was able to match him in hand-to-hand combat. He stood facing Randall, his knife shifting from hand to hand. Randall, for his part, marveled at his ability to fight off the younger, stronger man, looking at his hands in surprise.
Ackers breathed in short, snorting noises, his eyes wild with rage. This time, the attack was well disciplined. Ackers drove Randall back against the rock face, cutting off his line of retreat at each attempt. Randall, his back literally against the wall, searched desperately for a weapon. He found none. His prey now cornered, Ackers made his move at Randall, pinning him against the wall with his open hand, while driving his blade in an upward arc at Randall’s chest. Randall grabbed Acker’s knife wielding arm with both of his hands, using all of his force to slow the impending impact of knife to chest. Ackers grunted against the opposing force, willing the knife closer to his target. The knife slowly pierced Randall’s stomach – he let out yelp of pain. With all of his force, he pushed the knifed hand sideways, the blade tearing a ragged wound in his stomach. Ackers staggered agai
nst the sideways force, the knife moving past Randall and becoming embedded in the cavern wall. The pain in Randall’s stomach was at first a searing heat, then a throbbing ache.
Randall backpedaled away from Ackers, but the mercenary regained his footing and drove his elbow into Randall’s injured stomach. Randall staggered backward, holding his stomach. Ackers gripped the knife handle, wrenching it from the wall. Ribbons of light from the surface created a surreal view of the crazed mercenary lurching closer to Randall. Ackers lunged, the knife blade leading the charge. Randall dodged to the side. The blade swung again, catching Randall in his left thigh. He spun away from Ackers, his stomach and thigh oozing blood. The stench of sweat and blood filled his lungs, causing Randall to wretch. He wiped his mouth, watching Ackers circle him like a wild beast moving in for the kill.
Another attack, this one up high. The blade of the knife narrowly missed Randall’s right cheek as he pulled away. Ackers countered with a kick to Randall’s stomach, which sent him careening into the wall. He bounced off the hard, slick rock, falling to the ground, gasping for air. Despair gripped him. If Ackers beat him, he would surely kill Sam and Phil as well. Randall dragged himself to his feet, knowing that if he didn’t he was dead. He saw Ackers wearing an evil smile. “It will all be over soon.”
“Come on, you psychopath, come and get me!” Randall goaded.
The crazed mercenary’s eyes narrowed, the look on his face a mixture of confusion and sheer hatred.
Ackers grunted. “Get ready to die, asshole.” He moved toward Randall, who matched each movement forward with a step back.
“You talk tough for a man who keeps backing up,” Ackers said, savoring the moment.
Randall watched the mercenary, his eyes locked on his every move.
Ackers moved forward, breathing heavily, switching the knife from one hand to the other. “Where are you going, Professor? There’s nowhere to hide.”
Ackers bull-rushed him, trying to tackle him to the ground. Thinking quickly, as he fell, Randall placed his booted foot into Ackers’s stomach. Using the mercenary’s own weight against him, Randall launched Ackers into the air and sent him flying into the tunnel wall. Ackers hit the wall hard, letting out a scream as he did, his body making a loud cracking sound as it impacted. Randall watched as the now lifeless body dropped the floor, the mercenary’s contorted face coming to rest looking at Randall. It was over now, Ackers would never harm his family again.
Randall grabbed his flashlight and sprinted up the tunnel, which grew hotter by the minute. He shined the light up and down the shaft, moving back toward Vilcabamba where Ackers had first attacked him. “There has to be an exit here somewhere!” The increasing heat within the tunnel made it more difficult for Randall to move. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a side tunnel. Randall turned the corner and saw Sam, Phil and George bound and gagged on the ground.
“Thank God, are you all okay?”
Randall removed Sam’s gag first.
“Dad, you have to watch out, he’s crazy! Ackers caught us, tied us up and said he was going to kill you!”
“It’s okay Sam, he’s gone now. He can’t hurt anyone else. We’ve got to hurry, this volcano is going to erupt any moment now.”
Randall quickly glanced at his watch; eleven minutes remained until the event horizon.
Once again, the earth shook violently. Chunks of rock fell from the roof of the cavern. The air became choked with dust. George was the only one still tied up.
“Sam, Phil, get out of here, I’ll get George.”
“We can’t leave you!”
“Phil, get her out of here! Now!”
Phil grabbed Sam and forced her into the shaft, pushing her toward daylight. Another earthquake shook as they stumbled up the cavern.
The small side cavern was filled with dust, obscuring anything farther than an arm’s length away. Randall felt his way along the side of the cavern until he found George, still bound and gagged, and not moving.
“George!” Randall removed the gag first and put his ear against his friend’s mouth. He was rewarded with a string of coughs. He struggled to find the knot in the rope Ackers had used to tie George up. The cavern shook again. Randall shielded George from falling debris. Once the shaking stopped, he was finally able to untie him.
“Come on, we need to get out of here.”
George screamed in pain as Randall pulled him to his feet. “My leg, I think it’s broken. Goddam it, it hurts like Hell!”
Randall waved away the dirty air, revealing a nasty gash and a purple-black lump the size of a baseball on George’s leg.
“It’s broken, but we’ve got to move. George, I’ll get you out, but you’re going to have to help me. You’ve got to use your good leg to walk.” Randall grabbed George under the armpit and hoisted him onto his shoulder, bracing the young engineer by placing his arm over his own shoulder. “Okay, we move on three. One, two …” Another violent shake, worse than the previous two. Debris was everywhere and the two men were thrown to the cavern floor.
George screamed in pain. “Dr. Randall, you’ve got to get out of here, just leave me.”
Randall struggled to his feet, grabbing George once again and moving toward the main tunnel. As they reached the shaft, they immediately felt the heat. Randall glanced down to where Vilcabamba had once been. There was only superheated, glowing magma slowly forcing its way up the main shaft. As they moved into the main tunnel, a wall of heat hit them. The main exit had become a blast furnace. Randall struggled forward; the ragged wound in his stomach felt like someone had shoved hot coals into him. The air was thick with dust, which coated his throat and the inside of his lungs. The combination of the intense heat along with the choking, dusty air was a deadly elixir, one that promised to make the last hundred yards a nightmare for Randall and George.
They pressed forward, Randall telling himself, Just a little further. Another earthquake struck. More debris and dust choked the shaft. The pair lost their balance and crashed against the hard rocky floor. George moaned in pain, Randall coughed up brown mucus. The movement of earth created a curtain of dust, which temporarily blocked out all light from the surface. Randall picked himself up, his thigh pulsing with pain. He grabbed George and they continued their slow crab-like crawl out of the mountain.
Minutes passed like hours, the heat increasing with each step forward. The light was becoming brighter now; they were getting closer. The shaft of light beckoned them forward, and Randall responded with a surge of energy. “Just a little bit farther George.”
Randall could hear Phil’s voice and he knew they were close now, maybe fifty feet. The added strain of carrying George through the dust-choked chamber had drained him of his energy.
“Phil, Sam, can you hear me! Hey guys, we need help.”
“Dr. Randall, we’re here!” Phil entered the shaft, Sam close behind.
“Grab George and help him out.”
Phil and Sam grabbed their injured friend and carried him to the surface. Randall leaned against the side of the cavern, needing the rocky wall to hold himself up.
“Come on, Dad, you’ve got to keep moving!”
Randall pulled himself to his feet and continued the march forward toward daylight, moving slowly with exhaustion. His muscles burned like never before, but the thought of exiting that hell on earth drove him forward.
Sam and Phil gently set George down on the ground outside the cavern. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see daylight again.” He smiled weakly.
Sam kissed him gently on the cheek. “We never would have left you behind.” Under his dusty mask, George’s cheeks blushed from the unsolicited affection.
Just another twenty feet, Randall told himself. Then the earth moved again, this time more violently than the other times. Randall was knocked off balance, tumbling sideways into the side of the tunnel and then to the ground. His flashlight, no longer under his control, danced crazily in the air. Randall slowly got to his feet and surveyed th
e darkness. Seeing the beam of light, he bent down and grabbed it. Large chunks of rock had fallen from the roof of the cavern, sealing his path out. He was trapped, only a few feet away from Sam and Phil.
Randall sank to his knees, exhausted and beaten. His entire body ached and he was light-headed. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat, feeling the extreme heat radiating from the oncoming magma. He glanced wearily down the cavern toward the molten rock, seeing that it had progressed slowly but steadily in his direction. From the other side of the rocks, he could hear Sam and Phil’s voices, distant dismembered sounds floating off into the distance.
He assessed his options, quickly concluding that there weren’t many. He could try digging his way out through the fallen rocks, though getting through was not likely, given their size and weight. His only other option was to head back toward the magma and hope he could reach the side tunnel before it was engulfed and hope that it led to another way out. Once again, this wasn’t much of an option. He wasn’t even sure if the opening to the side tunnel was still there and, if it was, there was no guarantee it would lead to the outside world. Randall rubbed his eyes. The only thought that crossed his mind was that he hadn’t come so far just to trip at the finish line. Randall willed himself not to quit. He had to make it to the side tunnel.
Pulling himself to his feet, Randall made his best attempt at running back down the tunnel toward where he had left Ackers’s body. As he drew nearer to the magma, its heat increased dramatically. Using his light, Randall tried to see if the side tunnel was exposed. He couldn’t tell from this distance, so he kept running, the heat getting more and more unbearable. Another earthquake struck and again he was thrown about like a rag doll.
The dust was palpable, covering the inside of his mouth with a fine layer each time he inhaled. If there were a hell, this was surely it. Randall fumbled for his light, which had tumbled to the ground when he had fallen. He stopped looking; no time for that. He felt his way in the darkness, the soft glow of the magma producing the only light in the tunnel. Blind and fumbling in the dark, Randall could not tell if the side tunnel was there. Only that the magma was getting closer and he was quickly running out of real estate. He estimated that the magma was a mere twenty to thirty feet away now; his face felt like it was burning, and his clothes seemed ready to ignite. Still no side tunnel. He groped onward, feeling both sides of the tunnel for any sign of an opening. He could no longer take the heat. He had to go back.
The Vilcabamba Prophecy: A Nick Randall Novel Page 22
