She had to know my camera was on; perhaps Ashford wouldn’t care, then, that she was being a snarky bitch. My jaw ticked but I ignored the jab and tried to keep my voice calm—and not condescending. “Move up front and go after me.” There was no sense getting her claustrophobic and I preferred the experienced Mr. Rolph to bring up the rear.
I dropped my pack and gear bag behind me, grabbed a glowstick, and went first. I rose onto my toes, took a breath, heaved myself up and through; my headlamp caught the narrow, uneven tunnel around me. There was just enough space for me and my helmet, which I happily left on.
The hole went for maybe nine feet or so and then disappeared into darkness. I squeezed, shifted. Panic naturally rose, though I breathed through it and kept calm. I’d been through worse. I couldn’t recall worse at the moment, but certainly I had at some point. I wiggled, snake-like, along the few feet until I reached the end where darkness yawned. My light only crossed so far—it must’ve been another massive room. A grunt left my lips echoing in the enclosed space.
I came nearer to the end and grasped the edge, hauling myself forward. Looked down.
Nothing.
My heart thumped hard and I fought down the panic clawing at my throat as I glanced around. I couldn’t see the other end of the room, nor anything past the sheer drop below—my headlamp sensed the difference and brightened; though I thought I saw the bottom, my eyes were tired and the weight of hours in darkness could have left them unreliable. A glance up put me a dozen feet from the ceiling of the cave, however—my headlamp shone over stalactites. There had to be a bottom.
I cracked the glowstick, illuminating bright green, and tossed it down. It twirled and fell, landing maybe ninety to one hundred feet below. A breath of relief left my lips—not that bad, then.
I scrambled back until my feet hit the other edge and I slipped out, brushed stray hair from my face and back into my helmet. “There’s a drop, several stories. I need a lot of rope, bolts, and a drill.”
Brandon dug through his equipment bag while I gathered some supplies from mine, like my harness which I immediately slipped on. I was the one to drill the bolt and set up the rigging outside the hole because of course I trusted no one but myself—sometimes I was such a control freak, I thought it a miracle I let anyone else help raise my daughter. I cast the rope through the hole and with Tucker’s assistance went back through feet-first, on my belly and dragging my packs after me.
I felt with my toes until I got near the edge, then kicked the remaining rope down. It was awkward as hell but I managed to slip down, gripping the rope and climbing backward with my feet scraping the cave wall. When I was at the end of the small tunnel, I gave the rope a tug, found the rigging secure, so let myself go over the edge.
Despite the fact that I was hanging a bazillion feet in the air, I felt remarkably better being out of that awkward crawlspace. I slung my packs over my shoulder and began the descent, gazing around in wonder at the massive cavern. It was the largest we’d been in thus far, and the cave seemed to swell with pride, fresh air whistling around me. The glowstick still shone green below, promising solid ground was in reach.
My feet touched down at last and I slipped off of the rope and out of my harness. “I’m here!” I called. Laurel would be next and I hoped like hell she’d had decent training ahead of time.
I left the glowstick as-is and cast my headlamp around, taking in the walls. It looked like another typical cavern, though several times the size of any of the others we’d been in and definitely not the manmade one with the ring. Walls were rough limestone, asymmetrical. I swung around, glancing at the floor next, and when I spotted something white, my stomach plummeted again.
Finding human bones in this excursion really wasn’t inspiring my confidence.
Yelps and squeals sounded above me; Laurel was slipping through the hole and I could all but imagine her white-knuckled grip on the rope as she descended. I paused my look for creepy things to toss a few encouraging words her way and watch she was doing everything right.
She grunted as her feet touched down, brown eyes huge and dark skin sweat-soaked. Her hands shook so I helped get her out of the harness and off the rope. She said no words of thanks but plucked the helmet off at the end of her journey and rubbed at her forehead, leaning forward and panting. “I am not enjoying this trip.”
I had plenty of snarky comments but held onto them for the time being. “It’ll get better.”
The heat from traveling was starting to get to me as well. I took off my hard hat first, tucked my harness in my pack, and then slipped my coveralls down to hang at my waist, over my belt. I shone the headlamp in my hand over at the pile of white I’d spotted earlier and started over there to take a look.
“What is that?” Laurel asked as she followed.
I wasn’t entirely sure she’d want to know, but given Ashford wanted eyes and ears with us...
Even without picking them up, I could tell the bones were human. How long they’d been there, I couldn’t say, but were definitely stripped right down to nothing and I saw no sign of clothing. I toed the pile, which was scrambled and not laid out how a skeleton is in the movies, and spotted a skull.
“Oh my god,” Laurel whispered beside me, fear unraveling her voice. “Could someone have fallen from where we came through? Is that what...?”
They could have. One would have to lay out the bones to check for breaks to indicate a fall, though I’d seen no sign of other caving equipment. But something had disrupted the pile and I saw nothing on the skull to suggest an obvious head injury. The bones did, however, look gnawed upon.
I said nothing because there wasn’t a point. We didn’t know precisely what might be in the cave—or at least I didn’t suspect most of my party knew, and I couldn’t yet ask—and since it wasn’t obviously attacking us at the moment, it didn’t need to be their focus.
I took Laurel’s shoulder and steered her back to the hanging rope, then set her helmet back on her head. “Keep several feet back—rocks can become dislodged and fall. Watch whoever is coming down for signs of trouble. I’m going to take a look around.”
Laurel stepped away from me with irritation but nodded and crossed her arms under her breasts, gazing up at the rock face. The light from her headlamp barely touched the feet of whoever was slipping through the hole above.
I inched along, my steps slow and cautious. I’d feel better with my guns, but they were still sealed away in Ziploc bags in my pack. Instead I reached for the easily accessible large combat knife sheathed in the pocket of my pack. My headlamp, from the helmet gripped in my other hand, shone white back and forth over the rock walls and jutting stalagmites.
I listened, picking through the sounds around me. Laurel’s breathing was loud still, noisy through her nose as if it was plugged. Maybe allergies. Her steps shifted nervously, pebbles and dirt scraping under the soles of her boots. Beyond, more boot treads skimmed rocks, someone else from our party descending. The descender squeaked. Voices echoed in the distance, perhaps someone else moving through the short tunnel to squeeze through the hole—
There. Sand whispering. Click click click, ticking over stone.
Prickles rolled down my spine and my throat went dry. I backed up, swinging my head—and headlamp in hand—from side to side, fingers tensing around the handle of the knife.
It darted suddenly, swiftly, streaking in an instant and disappearing in the darkness far to my right. I’d had little more than a flash to take in but one thing was for sure...
It was big.
My lips parted to shout when it dashed forward, great, gaping mouth open and hissing. The creature was long and sleek, maybe fifteen or more feet from nose to tail. Body of a large, thick snake but with four legs jutting from its sides, some evolutionary link in between creatures far bigger than something like that should be. It scampered forward, kicking up dirt, charging at me with a long forked tongue flicking.
I dodged, dropped, rolled. Its tail whipped pa
st me, cutting through the dirt—I did not want to be hit with that thing.
Laurel screamed, babbling something, but I didn’t hear—I was already on my feet, bracing. I’d tossed aside the helmet and now it threw white over the dirt, fading off into blackness. I had but a small area of light to maneuver in—too far in any direction and I risked ending up in the dark.
“Quiet!” I called and Laurel squeaked to silence, just her occasional whimper and the creaking of someone descending on the rope breaking the quiet. I glanced back and forth, hand tense on the knife’s hilt, hair cutting over my face, the top of my coveralls folded over my belt rustling at my sides.
A second before I saw it, I heard it rushing at me again, scampering over the rocks and dirt. This time when I dove to the side, it anticipated, braking suddenly to turn. I couldn’t move fast enough and its tail snapped out, hitting me in the gut and knocking me off my feet. I flew back, slammed hard into the ground, gasping for breath. I blinked dirt from my eyes and winced as I struggled to rise—my arm hurt from the landing, ribs stung from being struck. Now dread sank in my stomach as I found myself with darkness at my back, Laurel, my helmet and the glowstick far ahead.
And no sign of the creature.
I stepped forward cautiously, glancing around in a rush, wincing as I breathed in and pain zigzagged through my chest. I squeezed the knife handle.
Should’ve pulled out a gun, I knew it.
Light was bouncing high up—Tucker had stopped his descent, holding the rope with one hand and pulling out a gun with the other. “What the hell was that?” he shouted, voice echoing off the walls.
Well, at least I could assume he hadn’t been prepared for any potential monsters in the cave. Small comfort that he didn’t know and simply hadn’t warned me.
I parted my lips to answer before movement flashed again in my peripheral vision. The snake-thing rushed forward. It barreled toward me, that pronged tongue firing out, black eyes on mine—
Shots fired, Tucker shooting from his spot suspended in the air.
The creature halted, hissed. Its eyes widened but a sheen of white covered them—I suspected the thing was blind. A bullet pinged its rough hide, perhaps what would’ve been a headshot if it wasn’t already running toward our resident merc.
Shit.
I dove, reached for the tail—missed it by inches, landed on my stomach in the dirt. The thing leapt for the wall, slithering madly, Tucker firing again and again. It clung to the wall, climbing, the clicking of nails punctuated by the firing of bullets. Voices shouted, echoing, probably from the rest of our party trying to figure out what was going on.
Then something cracked.
The creature dove from a stalactite to the wall just above the hole and rock snapped, buckled. My helmet was gone—I was dimly aware of where I’d left it due to the light from its headlamp ahead—but I shouted warning of the collapse just as I dropped to a crouch and covered my head. Someone screamed, a male voice bellowed, rocks tumbled. I glanced up through my arms—it was too dark to see the hole, which worried me, as a glimpse of light from our collected companions gathered there should’ve been visible. I stood warily, dust and pebbles rolling off my back and arms. Laurel was on her hands and knees, choking several yards away; Tucker groaned, tangled in rope and pinned in a mess of rocks, his headlamp bobbing light around the dark cavern as he shook with a cough.
The room was so, so black, the patch of light I stood in seeming smaller than before. I tensed, gaze darting around. It was here, still. Breathing. Waiting.
It moved.
Slithering from the darkness, mouth parted in a hiss, it spilled blood from holes in its torso as it went. I took a breath, held still. It raced closer, closer—twenty feet, fifteen, twelve...
I ran.
Toward it.
Dirt gave and kicked up under my feet, pebbles flying. Its mouth opened wide, fangs sharp and glistening.
Two feet away from it, I pushed forward on my right foot and leapt, high, flying, feet kicking, its mouth snapping and missing me by inches. My foot stepped down on its snout, pressing its mouth closed, then I jumped again.
I twisted as I landed on its back, both hands on the hilt of the knife. Weapon raised, I plunged it down, down, even as the creature kept moving and threatened to topple me over. The blade sank into its skull, just behind the eyes, biting down deep and through bone. For a moment, the creature thrashed, knocking from side to side violently, but I gripped the damn knife and pinched my knees against its sides like riding a bucking horse, holding on with everything I had in me.
The monster stilled.
9
Fractures
I heaved a great breath, still tense and holding on, legs splayed over the beast like I was riding a pony. Hair was in my eyes, sweat dripped down my brow.
It didn’t move.
Shaking, blinking dust from my watery eyes, I got one knee under me and braced against the creature. The knife, I gave a twist and blood oozed out, striking my fingers and then slinking down the dark, scaly head. Satisfied—mostly—that I’d put it down for good, I yanked the knife out, got onto my feet, staggered as I climbed off the thing but righted myself. My blade dripped blood and I was too anxious to clean it, half expecting the creature to jump up again and eat me.
It lay there, still, eyes closed, brain bleeding. I got a long look at it, from the reptilian head to the snake-ish body. Its thick tail was so long, it disappeared into darkness.
“Well. That was fun.” I sighed, shook blood from my gloves and fingertips, and reached painfully for my helmet; my breaths were labored but I’d had a broken rib before and this wasn’t near as bad. Maybe slightly bruised. I shone the lamp up at the wall where the hole had been, reaching my arm up to extend the light’s reach—it was caved in now. I decided not to think about what shape our companions were in. Instead I moved for Laurel, who leaned against the limestone wall. She met my eyes and nodded in answer to my unasked question—she was okay, then.
Now to see about Tucker, who was half sitting up, thrusting away large rocks. His gun was dusty and cast to the side, slide open and indicting he’d run out of ammo—not like it had done him much good. These creatures would need either massive bullets to put them down or headshots.
And there would be more of them; I was sure of it.
I knelt and started pushing rubble off our mercenary. His right hand was bloody even through the dust, mangled and twisted at an odd angle. “You’ll need to set that.”
“Saw it.” He grunted, pulled himself onto his knees. I reached for him but he jerked away, cold glare settling on me.
Okay, if he wanted to fix his broken bones himself, he was welcome to.
Instead of dealing with that right away, he pulled out his walkie-talkie, cradling his right hand in his lap and holding the device with his left. “Brandon? Come in.”
The signal could rarely go through rock. Good for short distances but that was all—not through the cave-in, apparently.
I scanned the ground for my small pack and couldn’t find it—I had a sneaking suspicion the creature might lay on it. Stifling a groan of displeasure, I went to it, pressed my foot to the beast and gave it a push.
It barely budged.
Goddamn it.
Steps hit the ground behind me, not Tucker because I still heard him cursing over the radio. Laurel came to my side, seeming so frightfully tiny in her gear. “What is it?”
“I haven’t the slightest,” I said with a sigh. The thing was three feet wide—perhaps I could glimpse part of my bag and ascertain which part of the beast needed to be moved. “Tell me, as the official eyes and ears of Mr. Ashford, are we having fun yet, Laurel?”
She said nothing, just watched me do my circle. At last I glimpsed the bright yellow strap of my pack peeking out between one of the hind legs and the part of the body that led to the tail. Basically, its big snaky ass. I dropped to my knees, coiled the strap around one hand, and pushed at the creature with the other until
my pack came loose. I believed most of the items in it were safe from being flattened, but I’d find out in a moment.
Tucker cursed and tossed his walkie-talkie, the device thumping and skidding in the dirt. He gave us his back next and shouted a string of expletives I could scarce identify in a particularly thick southern drawl, presumably as he realigned whatever he’d broken in his hand.
I shuddered and tried not to think on it too much.
I left the beast, enjoying the idea of distance from it even though it was dead, and kicked through rubble until I located the glowstick. I found a spot to sit and set both the stick and my helmet down to give me light. My side ached as I lowered myself to the floor, and I unzipped the front of my undersuit to better feel my ribs. No, nothing broken, just tender. The more breaths I took, the less it hurt—I was in better shape than Tucker.
Next, I went through my pack. The first aid kit—which was stocked a little more thoroughly than a typical one from a drugstore—I held out to Laurel.
She glanced at the box, brow furrowing, and refused to take it. “I’m not—”
“You are used to being in control things and giving the orders—I get that. I am used to dealing in an actual life or death emergency, so you’re going to buck up, swallow your pride, and listen to me for a damn second. There are a couple of small splints in with my first aid supplies. Tucker will tell you how to help him with it.” If he needs the help. Honestly, I’d’ve done it, but men could be babies about such things and refuse assistance. I’d let her fight with him.
Laurel took the kit and went to Tucker, where he still cursed up a storm.
For the following task, I switched off the camera wrapped around my ear and dug out the small box Dawson had given me, which thankfully held up quite well. I popped it open, pulled out the parts, and peered at the small pictorial instructions printed on the interior. Seemed simple enough, so I went to work plugging the wires in and unfolded the keyboard. A light told me it was on.
Solomon's Seal Page 9
