by David Wood
Hadel and Roman exchanged looks, clearly not appreciating the curt dismissal. Finally, the two stood, and Roman shook hands with David and Salvatore.
“We will talk again in two weeks,” Roman added, squeezing Salvatore’s hand tighter than was necessary. The imbecile actually believed that, in the twenty-first century, musculature was a sign of power? He would not last long in Washington.
“I look forward to it.” Salvatore tapped a button on his phone, indicating that Alex, who was temporarily and unhappily filling Tam’s role as receptionist, should see his guests out.
Hadel stepped through the doorway, paused, and turned back to Salvatore and David. “Traffic in the Washington area is dangerous, is it not?”
“It is.” Salvatore had no idea where Hadel was going with this, but he was certain the man would not bring it up without reason.
“Perhaps you heard about the death of a dear colleague, Reverend Felts. He was killed in a tragic accident very recently.”
“Yes, I did hear something about that.” Salvatore kept his tone conversational, but his mind was racing. How much did Hadel know?
“Truly a tragedy.” Hadel grimaced. “How Reverend Felts, who was a competent driver without a blemish on his driving record, could have run off the road like that is beyond me.” Now he looked Salvatore in the eye. “I wish I could say I was sorry to hear the news, but I fear my friend had lost his way. It is a shame, but accidents do happen.” His smile was mirthless and his eyes cold.
“Yes they do,” Salvatore agreed.
Hadel nodded and closed the door.
“He knows.” David’s fists were clenched tight. “He knows we are behind Felts’s death, and he obviously approves. Why doesn’t he just say so?”
“He’s sending us a message.” Salvatore pursed his lips. He wants us to think we can’t do anything without him knowing about it.” Perhaps it was the truth. So much they did not know about Hadel.
“So, do I proceed with our plans regarding the senator?” David eyed him in trepidation.
Salvatore took a deep breath. “Hold off until Tam has completed her mission. Perhaps it will not be necessary.” He hated the feeling that someone else was controlling him, but he had not risen this far by putting ego before wisdom. Tam, he thought, do not let me down.
Chapter 20
Dane was the first into the tunnel. The initial drop was so steep that he was forced to slide down, using his Recon 1 knife as a brake to control his descent. About fifty feet down, the way became less steep, and he was able to stand, though he kept a steadying hand on the ceiling, which was no more than six feet high.
“Come on down!” he called to the others. “Bones and Willis, the ceiling’s low, so don’t bump your heads when you stand up!”
Kaylin came down, springing gracefully to her feet at the end of her slide. Her eyes widened as she played her light down the tunnel. “Awesome!”
“You sound like Bones.” Dane had to grin. Though Kaylin looked like she belonged behind a news desk or reporting from the sideline of a college football game, she was a Navy brat through and through, and wouldn’t let something like a dark tunnel bother her.
“Oh well. You’re the one who keeps him around. If he rubs off on me, it’s not my fault.” The rest of the group joined them in short order and they proceeded down the passageway.
The floor was made of stone, but the walls and ceiling were lined with wood, much of it succumbing to various stages of decay. Roots peeked out in various places and Dane wondered if they were strengthening or weakening the structure. He hoped it was the former.
“This whole place looks like it could come down at any moment,” Kaylin observed, shining her light on the ceiling. So engrossed was she in the construction of the passageway that she almost didn’t see the pit in front of them.
Dane grabbed her by the arm and snatched her back just as her foot came down on… nothing. He shone his light down on a deep pit. Twenty feet below them, a body lay impaled on a wooden stake. Other stakes lay shattered on the floor, confirmation of Dane’s assessment of the weakened condition of the wood due to years of dry rot. One of the stakes, though, had held together, to the detriment of the man who had fallen. He was lying on his stomach, the stake jutting out of the small of his back. His face was turned to the side, and Dane could make out his native features.
“One of the guides,” Bones observed. They’re down to seven. Sweet!”
“Hey! Anybody got a notepad or an index card?” Willis looked around at the others, grinning.
“What for?” Kaylin cocked her head to the side.
“I want to make a scorecard, like baseball. I know I’ll kill more of them than y’all.” He elbowed Matt.
“Want to put some money on that? A hundred bucks?” Matt offered his hand to shake on it.
“Hell, Army boy, you don’t even get to be on the scorecard. You’re gonna’ carry my backpack and let the SEALs do the killing.” Laughter drowned Matt’s profane response.
Beyond the pit, the tunnel sloped down and they were again forced to descend in a controlled slide. Dane kept a sharp eye out for more pits or other hazards, all the while thinking that the condition of the tunnel made the whole place a potential booby trap.
Faint light glimmered in the distance and they reached the bottom of the tunnel without incident. Weapons at the ready, they followed the winding passageway toward the glow that grew brighter the farther they progressed.
They emerged in a deep canyon, walled in by sheer cliffs that ran out of sight to the north and south as far as the eye could see.
“No wonder they had to build the tunnel.” Dane looked behind them at the wall of stone. “There’s no way you could climb down that.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bones said. “I am Spider-Man on rock walls.”
Dane rolled his eyes. “And,” he turned back around, “no telling how far this canyon runs. This might be the only way across for miles or more.”
“This place has a weird vibe to it.” Willis stepped forward, looking all around, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “It feels like we don’t belong here.”
He was right. The canyon was very different from the jungle through which they had trekked thus far. The trees here were smaller and grew farther apart than they had up above. It was as if the valley had once been cleared, but later left to lie fallow. On the opposite side of the valley, a waterfall poured over the canyon rim.
“It’s like a lost world,” Kaylin whispered.
“Let’s hope it’s not as dangerous as the one from the book.” Dane’s eyes scanned the valley, all his senses alive, seeking out any potential threat, but the silence was complete.
“Looks safe to me,” Bones said. “Should we keep following ScanoGen’s tracks?” He didn’t wait for Dane to say yes, but moved ahead.
They had walked only five minutes or so when they came upon an abandoned campsite. Four tents had been slashed and trampled, and camping gear lay strewn everywhere. Dane noticed a spatter of something dark on a tree trunk, and took a closer look.
“Looks like blood,” he said to Kaylin, who was peering over his shoulder. “Can you tell anything from the tracks?” He called to Bones.
“Only that everyone scattered in a big hurry.” He looked at Dane. “There are about five paths we could follow, and I assume you want to stay together?” Dane nodded. “Good call, I think. So, the question is, which path do you want to follow first?”
Dane pondered the question. They had come to the end of Fawcett’s imperfect map. They did not know the final landmark, which left following ScanoGen, or wandering until they found something as their only choices. The first option was out for the moment and the second was unappealing.
A shot rang out in the distance, breaking the silence, and then another.
“That way,” he said, pointing toward the waterfall on the opposite side of the canyon. He wasn’t sure why he chose it as their destination, except that it would be an easy landmark for
everyone to find should they get split up. That, and it just felt like the right way to go. “Everyone stay concealed as much as you can, and be careful.”
Chapter 21
Cy felt like a bumper car as he careened from tree-to-tree in his mad dash for safety. He had emptied his rifle and hadn’t had time to reload before being forced to abandon it. His pistol was gone, dropped in the midst of hand-to-hand fighting with those freakish, silent natives that had swarmed their camp.
They won’t die!
He had put bullets in a half-dozen of them at least, and stabbed one in the gut, but they kept coming! What were these things? Zombies? Couldn’t be, but he had no explanation for how a man could take a bullet in the chest and keep coming. He had seen Kennedy blow the leg off of one and it kept on crawling forward like it hadn’t felt a thing. That’s when Cy panicked and ran.
He could hear the sound of the waterfall somewhere up ahead. His only hope was that Tam had been correct in her assertion that the final landmark would be found somewhere in its vicinity. If he could find it, maybe he could get away from these… things.
A limb smacked him across the face and he reflexively covered his eyes. He stumbled a few steps, and then the ground went out from under his feet. He had only a moment to cry out in surprise before he was enveloped in cold darkness.
Water filled his mouth and nose, and he choked. His feet hit the slimy bottom and he pushed up. He emerged gasping and coughing. He vomited a stream of water, and then blew out through each nostril, clearing them.
Eyes burning, he looked around to see he was in a dark waterway surrounded on all sides by thick vegetation. The channel was straight and narrow, obviously man-made, and he could see that it cut a straight path to the waterfall! His feeling of relief was cut short by a rustling in the foliage.
The jungle growth parted, revealing two of the natives armed with primitive stone axes. They were broad-shouldered with glossy black hair and weird orange body paint with black spots, like a giraffe. What made them frightening were the blank, inhuman eyes that gazed down on him as if he were no more than a fly to be swatted. He heard a sound behind him and whirled to see another of the zombie-like warriors emerge, pointing a spear at Cy’s chest.
Cy slowly raised his hands above his head. There was no fighting, no running, only the hope of surrender.
“Please.” He was so frightened that he didn’t know if he had said the word aloud or not. The native pressed the tip of his spear against Cy’s throat, and Cy felt his bladder release.
Excruciating pain, the like of which he had never imagined was possible, erupted not in his throat, but his groin. He screamed in pain and staggered back, clutching his burning genitals.
Perhaps taken by surprise, the native drew back his spear, leaned down for a closer look at him, and then looked at his companions. Was it possible that a ghost of a smile played across his stony face?
A fragment of a memory flashed through Cy’s mind as his body crumpled down into the water in sheer agony. Something he had learned about the Amazon and its native fish.
Candiru.
Enters the urethra.
Locks its spines in place.
Agonizing death.
He screamed again, staggered backward, and found himself facing the two club-bearing warriors. “Please,” he wailed. This time he was not begging for his life, but for release from this agony.
Still staring at him with empty eyes, one of them raised his club and brought it down in a swift motion. The world fled, and with it, the pain.
Tam ducked down in the shadow of a thick shrub, her Makarov at the ready. Kennedy crouched beside her, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle. How had she gotten stuck with him? This would be a good time to put a cap in him, but she probably needed all the allies she could get against this swarm of seemingly-unstoppable natives. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. They’d killed several, but they were nigh-impossible to bring down, and didn’t seem to feel pain the way a normal human being would.
“See if you can raise ScanoGen on the sat phone,” Kennedy barked. “Maybe they can get a read on our position and send help.” The tone of his voice said it was futile, but they were in a desperate situation.
“Already did,” Tam lied. “They said they’d do what they could for us, but it would take some time.”
“That’s not very promising.” Kennedy scowled, still searching the surroundings for the natives.
“It is what it is. We can’t count on anyone but ourselves to get out of this.” She bit her lip. How was she not only going to get out of this situation alive, but then get away from Kennedy?
“Have you figured out the final landmark yet?” he snapped. “That would help.”
“Yes!” Sudden inspiration struck her and she forced down a smile. “It’s that rock formation up there.” She pointed to a nondescript outcropping.
“How can you tell?” Kennedy tilted his head to the side and squinted. “It doesn’t look like a skull.”
“You have to see it from the other side. I was trying to work my way to it when these… things blocked my way, and I had to double-back. That’s it though, I’m sure of it. Think we should make a break for it?”
“Why not?” Kennedy sneered. “Even if you’re wrong, I’d rather be doing something than hiding here like a scared woman.”
Tam didn’t know if that last comment was meant as an insult to her, or was simply a reflection of his misogyny. She was just happy to see Kennedy take off at a dead sprint in the direction she had indicated. Scared woman? How about gullible man? Hopefully, he’d get himself killed. If not, she had bought herself enough time to get to the waterfall and see whether or not her theory was correct. She raised her Makarov and took a deep breath.
Time to roll the dice.
Chapter 22
Dane stopped and dropped to one knee as dark figures appeared from the cover of the surrounding trees, stalking toward them. They were natives, armed with axes, spears, clubs, and wooden sword-like weapons with teeth, probably those of a caiman, set in either edge like the Aztec macuahitl. Oddly, they didn’t charge Dane and his party, nor did they halt, but stalked toward them, weapons at the ready.
“Stop! Don’t come any closer!” Dane shouted, hoping they would get the gist of his words, despite the language barrier. No luck.
He fired off a warning shot with his M-16 just over the head of the foremost warrior, held up his hand with his palm toward them, and again shouted for them to stop. It didn’t do any good.
They charged.
Gunfire opened up on all sides, shredding the line of attacking natives. Some stumbled, some reeled or staggered backward.
But they did not go down.
Bloodied and torn, the warriors kept coming. Some stumbled forward, slowed by their wounds, but none of them stopped.
Willis, pumping and firing his Mossberg at a steady rate, blew the legs out from under an attacker. The man tumbled to the ground, shook his head, and began crawling forward. Willis fired another shot, taking the man in the top of the head, and he lay still.
“No body shots!” Dane ordered. “Legs or head!”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Bones shouted, taking aim with his M-16 and hitting an attacker with a clean head shot. Matt opened up with his MP 5 submachine gun, spraying a thigh-high stream of lead across the line of attackers. The withering gunfire was taking its toll, sending the attackers to the ground, but more were appearing, drawn by the sounds of gunfire.
Dane emptied his M-16, drew his Walther, and opened up on the attackers. “Everybody retreat back to the tunnel entrance!” Dane ordered.
“No can do, boss man.” Bones spoke as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. “They’re behind us.”
Dane glanced back to see an even larger group of warriors stalking toward them. They wouldn’t be getting through that way any time soon.
“Scatter and meet up at the waterfall!” he called. “Kaylin, follow me!”
/> He dashed to their left, where only a few warriors stood in their way. Two shots with his Walther put bullets through two skulls. He trained his weapon on the next warrior who impeded his path, and was about to pull the trigger when Kaylin screamed.
His shot caught the attacker in the shoulder, and he turned to see Kaylin use her shotgun to deflect a spear thrust by a warrior who had just emerged from behind a tree. He had time to fire off a hasty shot that caught Kaylin’s attacker in the chest before the warrior whom he’d shot in the shoulder was on him.
Dane ducked beneath the vicious stroke of the primitive sword, and fired off two rounds into the man’s chest, emptying his clip. The warrior staggered backward, but before Dane could finish the job, another attacker charged in, from behind. Still holding his M-16 in his left hand, Dane deflected the downstroke of the man’s club, but the rifle was battered from his hand. He lashed out with his right foot, sweeping the stumbling warrior’s legs out from under him, and delivered a kick to the temple. The warrior groaned and slumped to the ground.
He heard someone coming at him from behind. Dropping his empty Walther, he snatched up the warrior’s club, drew his Recon knife, and turned to face the second attacker, who was charging back in despite gouts of blood pouring from twin holes in his chest. They didn’t seem to feel pain, but surely loss of blood would take its toll. The problem was, before that happened, the man just might live long enough to finish Dane off.
The warrior, snarling through gritted teeth, swung his weapon in a deadly arc with much more speed and precision than Dane would have expected from someone who had taken two bullets to the chest. Dane dodged the stroke and lashed out with his knife, opening a cut on the man’s arm. It might as well have been a mosquito bite for all the difference it made. The tooth-lined sword came around in a vicious backhand stroke. Dane deflected it with the club and stabbed twice for the heart in rapid succession. The warrior staggered backward, clearly on his last legs. He raised his weapon, his arms quaking, but before he could bring it down, Dane leapt in, opened his throat with the Recon knife, and shoved him backward, where he landed atop his stunned tribesman, who was just beginning to rise.
