Solomon's Seal

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

Please let this work.

  I took a deep breath and began. There was no fanciness, no worrying about complicated punctuation—the tiny keyboard was even more simplified from a cell phone’s.

  I typed: CAVE-IN. 6 OR 7 KM IN. 3 OF US OK. OTHERS UNKNOWN.

  I sent that and paused, looked at Tucker. His face was beet red and Laurel, tying his pinky and ring fingers in a splint, was muttering under her breath—yeah, that seemed to be going well. “Supplies?”

  He glanced at me. “What we were carrying.”

  Wonderful.

  SUPPLIES LIMITED. WILL NEED HELP.

  I paused again. Waited.

  About a minute later, words blinked on the LED screen in green. GO IT. WIL SEND PEPLE.

  Hmm, some letters went missing in the transmission—he’d warned getting messages through rock would still be tough. I hoped he got everything I sent and that he wouldn’t think I was joking when I added more.

  NOT ALONE DOWN HERE. ANIMALS. FAST. VIOLENT. RESCUE NEEDS TO BE PREPARED.

  Dawson returned with another. CANNIBALS?

  I snickered and sighed. It felt good to laugh for a moment. REPTILIAN. VERY VERY BIG.

  Another two minutes passed. ASFORD SAYS KEEP GOING.

  Of course he does.

  “Right, we’ll try not to die down here, then,” I muttered.

  BE CAREFL, Dawson typed next.

  WILL DO.

  AND TURNN ON YOUR IGNAL.

  Oh yes, that would be handy. I managed to locate it in the box and a red light flickered—supposedly they’d be able to find us above ground with that and track us as we moved. He’d said they had digging equipment, after all.

  I sighed. SEE YOU SOON.

  I disabled the other pieces and folded them back in the little box, then slipped it in my pack. My canteen was scuffed up; I pulled it out and took a long drink. “We need to keep moving.”

  “So is someone coming?” Laurel asked as she approached.

  A bitter smile twisted my lips. “Dawson says so. The boss man says we’re to keep going.”

  “But...” She looked back at Tucker and then the collapsed tunnel. Her eyes were wide and frightened and I did feel bad for her, as she couldn’t have been prepared for this. “I read before the trip—we’re supposed to stay put.”

  “Well, Ashford apparently didn’t write the literature you were reading.” I pulled out my gun harness, guns, and loaded extra mags into my pack’s pockets for easy access. Thus far, the temperature was cool but not cold and I had a feeling I was going to need to fight—I wasn’t being caught off guard again—so I stripped out of my coveralls and set about getting my hip gun harness on without disrupting my belt of caving gear. I’d feel better in shorts but my undersuit would protect me from scrapes for now. “Tucker?”

  “I’m good.” There was the click of weaponry moving, him reloading his gun. I was sure it was difficult, but he had enough movement in his remaining fingers to reload, which was useful.

  I rolled up my coveralls and stuffed them in my pack, loaded my guns in place, brushed hair from my brow and stuck my hardhat back on. Backpack and gear bag slung over my shoulder, knife cleaned on the dead creature’s body and stuffed away, and glowstick in hand, I nodded. “Let’s get moving then.”

  ❇

  We found a path in the back corner of the room and a lit match of Tucker’s suggested there was air flow, so we kept going. Laurel said nothing, walking in the middle of our tiny group as we moved from room to room, tunnel after tunnel, climbing and descending as needed. She was the only one of us unarmed and, I suspected, the only one who took Pilates rather than any kind of self-defense training. Not like I believed some weekend martial arts were going to do much against those creatures, but at least there was some self-preservation and preparedness taught. Laurel would probably freeze up and there’s nothing quite like having to protect yourself and someone else to increase the odds of mistakes and certain death. Tucker periodically tried the walkie-talkie and came up with nothing. I walked with my hands loose at my sides, ready to grip my guns, with the small camera on to record our trip.

  And trying very hard not to worry.

  We were without anyone who knew the caves—never mind that the map was useless because no one had ever been this deep before. Every cave was a bit different, and I had at least felt Mr. Rolph knew the area and would have instincts for us to trust.

  I wondered if Em was awake yet.

  The next passage went narrow again, forcing even me to duck to squeeze through it. Laurel managed okay but Tucker had a hell of a time, angling his hand so he wouldn’t hit it and his shoulders so he wouldn’t get stuck. My empathy for him wasn’t where it would be for someone more pleasant; I’m on the cusp of Scorpio and Sagittarius, and not known for my forgiving nature.

  I took a breath and stretched my neck when we were in a more open space again. “So would anyone like to speak up regarding the pest we ran into before?” I glanced back at them both and no one answered. “Because I’m starting to suspect armed mercenaries weren’t hired solely to escort me and the ring back to Mr. Ashford.”

  Laurel still said nothing but Tucker caught my eye with his dark, hard gaze.

  “He didn’t tell you what to expect, did he?” I asked.

  Tucker pushed past me, trudging rather ungracefully through the current room we traveled. “I assumed competition.”

  Competition.

  Martin.

  I immediately stopped and knelt in the dirt, dragging my backpack around so I could rifle through the pockets.

  “What are you...” Laurel began. When I neither moved nor answered, she went after Tucker, calling for him to hold on for a moment.

  The device from Dawson popped open and I swiftly hooked the wires up again. When it was ready, I hammered out my message on the keyboard.

  CALL MARTIN TALBOT ON MY PHONE. TELL HIM TO AVOID THE CAVE. SERIOUS DANGER. NOT KIDDING. I’M TRAPPED DOWN HERE. PLEASE TRY TO CONVINCE HIM. TELL HIM ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO.

  It seemed a long shot. Martin and I were far too competitive and had been since childhood—the curse of siblings even when not close in age. Had he sent me that message, I probably would’ve laughed and ignored him, but it was worth a shot.

  WIL DO. Dawson returned after a moment.

  I breathed again, willing down my nervousness, and folded the kit back up. It was the best I could do for him. I could’ve warned with “enormous murderous cave-dwelling reptilians” but then “giant stone lemurs” didn’t work the one time I tried it. Dawson, of course, might go that route anyway. Either way, I hoped Martin was at least cautious.

  I rose and started toward where the others waited impatiently, my backpack angled in front of me so I could zip the device back inside and big backpack of gear thumping against my spine. “Just touching base with Dawson—”

  Stone cracked, a thundering noise echoing all around us. Immediately I looked around, glancing about for the source, and dust rolled down on me. Nails clicked on rock; it wasn’t merely a cave-in.

  Another creature dove at me, my peripheral vision catching it as it rushed from the darkness. My right hand went for my gun, wrapping around the grip, drawing it from its holster.

  Before I could shoot, Tucker did; the creature hissed, turned. The tail struck my hip, whipping me into the dirt. I spit out a mouthful of sand though grit remained against my tongue, and crawled onto my knees, discarding the pack and radio kit in favor of a second gun.

  More stone cracked, drowning out the sound of Laurel screaming. I glanced up just as a chunk of limestone hurled toward me; I rolled, narrowly missing it, and scrambled to my feet. Movement caught my attention, something crawling up the wall.

  There was a second—

  Oh shit, no, there’s a third.

  10

  Wet

  One was bad.

  Two...not great, but at least we were armed.

  Three?

  I don’t think so. I re-holstered left gun again and screamed, “Ru
n!”

  I didn’t see the others, didn’t even bother looking because the cavern was full of dust and noise and bobbing lights and chunks of limestone falling—I had to trust, had to believe they were running too. If they weren’t, there was fuck all I’d be able to do for them anyway.

  My headlamp caught the lump of my primary pack on the ground; I scooped the strap up as I ran by, firing randomly every time I saw a definitely-not-human shape come near me. There might’ve been more than one exit in the cavern but I didn’t know, didn’t care, bolting instead for the nearest one I saw.

  It was narrow, barely a crack in the wall, and I turned as I neared it to squeeze through. Ahead of me light moved, someone having already made it in and shifting to give me room to follow. Rock scraped against my shoulders, my pack, my helmet, as I moved deeper.

  A whimper to my left drew my attention to the room we’d just exited, and I glanced back to see Laurel squeezing in after me, shuffling and twisting in a panic to make it away from the creatures pursuing us.

  “Get down!” My voice echoed, bouncing back at me, and Laurel dropped just as I raised my gun at the reptilian thing pursuing. I squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times in rapid succession but nothing slowed the creature down; it slammed into the wall headfirst, fighting to break through the crack.

  I held my breath, my heart a jackhammer pulse in my throat, and kept my gun raised.

  It reared up and shot forward again, once more striking the crevice we’d slipped through, but not making it in after us.

  I scrambled back, holstered my gun again, and tugged Laurel with me. My pounding heart didn’t let up, terror racing through my veins not easing. Boot treads scraped the ground, limestone cut into me with every movement, but at least it couldn’t pursue—

  It slammed again into the wall where we were, trying to break through, and rock cracked above. Dust shot down, swirling in the light from our headlamps.

  “Keep moving!” I shouted, wiggling to make it through the cramped space. I saw little but the limestone in front of me and blinked against the rising dust. Laurel coughed beside me and something hard thumped my head, cracking on the plastic helmet.

  Please don’t let us be stuck in a cave-in. Please, deities I don’t believe in, please.

  I shifted forward as swiftly as I could, the sound of breaking rock echoing around the confined space and filling my ears. The lessons played in my head—of breathing deep, not panicking, and keeping a level head—but the cave situation was swiftly turning into something that would leave me very susceptible to acting irrationally. My lungs ached and hot air bounced back against my dusty face; feet moved on instinct, feeling around, and I prayed the space wouldn’t get too tight to squeeze through.

  My right foot stepped down a good six inches lower than the ground had been and I pitched to the side, sudden chill air rushing over me before I met water.

  I landed hard on my padded right elbow and forearm, a heavy breath pushing past my lips in a grunt. Water soaked through half of my undersuit and iced my skin. I coughed, air scraping my dry throat, and struggled onto my knees just as Laurel landed in the water beside me.

  I glanced up to take in the space; another wide, dark cavern, this one with a curved floor and several inches of water at the deepest point where we sat. The light from my headlamp bounced on the glassy surface around me, catching ripples as the members of my party and I moved to gather our bearings. The walls were pale and wet, gleaming with trickling water—flowstone.

  While Laurel pulled herself onto her hands and knees, coughing still, I trudged through the water to peer at the crevice we’d gone through. Light hit fallen rocks at the end, keeping the things chasing us at bay but preventing us from turning back.

  And from retrieving my cave radio with its help signal still blaring.

  Wonderful.

  “Please tell me someone else has one of those radio things Dawson prepared—”

  A shriek caught my attention and I spun, right hand automatically going for the gun at my hip and the gear latched onto my belt rattling. But it wasn’t some fucked up creature from beyond attacking.

  No, it was Tucker.

  He was perched on Laurel’s stomach, straddling her. Right hand still useless in the splint, he had his left locked onto the loose fabric of her coveralls at her throat and he thrust her into the cold water, holding her as she thrashed. Bubbles surfaced, water splashed; fabric strained against his shoulders and arms as he held her tight.

  “Tucker!” I shouted.

  He jerked her up again, ignoring me. “Start talkin’.”

  Water poured from her helmet, slid from her face, and she blinked up at him, terrified, saying nothing, gasping in great gulps of air.

  Again he pushed her down, water cutting off a choked cry.

  And I had very little doubt he would in fact drown her if he didn’t get whatever answer he wanted. I latched onto my gun and drew it out, aiming the barrel at his temple. I was a few feet away—far enough that I’d see him move if he tried to flick it away, giving me time to fire, and near enough that he didn’t have a hope in hell of dodging.

  Tucker yanked Laurel from the water again and held her there as she choked and cried, his eyes shifting to look at the gun but not me.

  “We are down three people,” I said in a low voice, “down supplies, and we’re being hunted. If you want to be useless on this mission, I will happily leave you to find your own way, but for the time being, let her go.”

  “Down three because we didn’t know what we’d run into,” he said darkly. “She knows something.”

  My grip tightened on the gun. “Probably. And drowning her won’t get you the answer, especially if you’re as skilled a medium as you’ve been an escort thus far.”

  He let Laurel go and she dropped with a splash, kicking up water as she scrambled away from him. Tucker turned and rose in one smooth movement; I took two quick steps back to add space between us and lifted the barrel to his forehead.

  “9mm?” His voice was monotone, not quite threatening but edging there. “How many of those do you think it’ll take to put me down before I disarm you? ’Specially since you didn’t reload.”

  Fucking macho idiot. “What I lack in stopping power, I make up for in accuracy. There’s one in the chamber and placing it in your brain will be enough for to slow you down for a little while. Quality shots over quantity, which you’d know about me if you looked beyond some beauty pageant bikini shots on YouTube. You want to know how this ends? Hint: it involves holes in your forehead.”

  Getting in a pissing match with this man was probably not one of my better ideas but I had major issues with backing down or playing nice. I might get a knife in my back over it later—time would tell.

  But it was in his best interest to not test my rather exceptional aim.

  Tucker gestured to Laurel, who was well across the cavern now, without looking in her direction. “She starts talking.”

  I shrugged, then holstered my gun as a show of good faith. “Fair enough.”

  We both turned to Laurel, our headlamps crossing over her, and I turned off my camera for this.

  Ashford’s “eyes and ears” was crouched up against the limestone, spine curled and knees pulled up. If she’d had a weapon, I was sure she’d’ve drawn it; instead she huddled there, a speck of fear in the overwhelming dark room.

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered, voice jagged-edged like it would either break or cut us at any second. “I didn’t know what was down here, exactly...”

  Dread sank, a lead ball rolling in my gut. “But Ashford did.”

  She straightened and wiped at her eyes, then slipped off her helmet. Water dripped from her short black curls and she blinked as it rolled into her eyes. “You’re not the first.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Excuse me?”

  “He sent people. Before. Just mercenaries. Two times so far, that I know of. None of them made it back. Th-then there was another team of spec
ialists—archeologists, experts. Scholars. They didn’t either.”

  Motherfucker. MotherFUCKER. I thrust at my rising anger but it did no fucking good. My fingers twitched, wanting to grasp the gun and unload a few dozen rounds into the ceiling. It would cause a cave-in but I might feel a bit better.

  “He sent me because he said,” she spat the word bitterly, as if she didn’t believe it anymore, “I’d carry his authority and ensure things were done right.”

  Well, Dawson claimed her specialty was getting shit done.

  “Your boss have a reason for the last minute change up with my team?” Tucker asked.

  I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t turn away from Laurel and his left hand flexed, probably considering reaching for his gun. “Curtis was supposed to be down here, then Rolph showed up this morning with that black guy instead. Said he had orders to come with us.”

  Laurel shrugged. “I don’t know where Moti came from or why Curtis didn’t come down here too.”

  And no one had told me any of this while Ashford had me under the impression I was more or less running things. So we had someone whose function no one knew replacing someone who might’ve been a bit more helpful down here, and no one knew why.

  “He’s local?” I suggested. “Maybe he was the one who would’ve known what was down here?”

  “Doesn’t explain why Curtis was made to stay,” Tucker said.

  No, it didn’t, and I was liking this less and less the more I thought about it. She wasn’t about to be a one woman rescue team.

  Laurel’s haunted dark eyes met mine. “Mr. Ashford wanted experts for this trip. Mr. Rolph came highly recommended—he’s even worked supercaves before—but my boss wanted someone who was more of a bounty hunter. I researched several people in your line of work and offered him suggestions. People like you who...who do this sort of thing, who specialize in it. I thought...”

  You thought I was somehow magical and could do this without the facts. “So we were sent in unprepared?”

  “We didn’t know what—”

  “But you knew something.”