by S. D. Perry
Lovely. At least now you know where the bats are getting out. She was sitting in a thick layer of droppings. She’d have to burn these clothes before Jonah let her back on the plane.
Lara caught her breath, feeling hopeful as she took in the new passage. The cave had a single opening, a wide, rounded tunnel that appeared to climb upward some meters ahead. Another slope like the one she’d just climbed and she’d be on top of the labyrinth in no time.
She stopped long enough to disinfect the stinging wound, trying to quell thoughts of toxic saliva and flesh-eating bacteria as she scrubbed it clean. She slapped a piece of duct tape over the small bite, drank some water, checked her compass and moved on.
* * *
The soldiers, led by Harper, dropped efficiently into the cavern, the buzz of their lines echoing up into the night. Miguel slumped, staring at the seam of his boot, and the dry dirt beneath the worn sole. Trinity was going to kill Lara and then he and Jonah would die, and that would be the end.
The man Reddy was tall and broad, with a crooked nose and a stubbly shaved head beneath his helmet. He ordered the other one—Smith, a tall blond twenty-something with blank eyes—to go looking for anything Jonah might have stashed in the jungle. Smith nodded and started for the place where Jonah had come out into the clearing. Miguel still couldn’t believe he’d done that, walked out of the jungle with his hands up.
Reddy held Jonah’s radio, nodding at Jonah. “She calls in, you’re going to tell her to come back immediately, you understand? Or I’ll shoot your pilot here through his teeth.”
“Sure, absolutely,” Jonah said. “I understand.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Reddy said. “Don’t give me any fucking trouble and I won’t put my boot to your face.”
He backed up to the closest truck and boosted himself onto the rusting hood, speaking into a handheld radio.
“Team has descended to site, repeat, team is inside.”
“Copy that,” someone answered.
“How many are at the airfield?” Jonah asked, very quietly.
“Three,” Miguel said. “Plus the pilot, that’s four. They’re staying with the plane.”
“I said shut up,” Reddy called, but leaned back on the hood, clipping the radio to his belt. Smith was crashing through the trees behind them, his flashlight beam cutting back and forth across the bare clearing.
“These guys are going to get bored just sitting on us,” Jonah said. “When we get the chance, we’ll break for the jungle.”
Miguel shook his head. “I’m no commando, Jonah. And we’re tied up.”
“All you have to do is run,” Jonah said. He shifted his feet, recrossing his legs. “And I’ll see what I can do about the tied-up part, give me a few.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Miguel whispered. “They killed everyone at the compound. Who are these people?”
Jonah sighed. “Trinity’s like a death cult, masquerading as crusaders. Power trippers. They’re helping an archaeologist, Dominguez, who’s claims he’s going to resurrect an ancient god. He has to find this one artifact to do it, and Lara’s trying to get to it first.”
Miguel blinked. “You believe he can do it? That such a thing is even possible?”
“I think he can find the artifact,” Jonah said simply. “The rest of it…” He trailed off, seeming to look inward for a beat before continuing. “Lara wants to get to the artifact first, but all we’ve got is a riddle about where it is. She was hoping to narrow the search range, coming here.”
Jonah looked at him directly, his gaze apologetic. “I’m sorry about this. We didn’t think they would come after us, not this fast.”
Miguel didn’t believe in ancient gods, but he didn’t think Jonah was lying, either, about any of it. He didn’t know where that left him. He didn’t have a problem siding with Jonah and Lara—Trinity seemed to be made up of killers and villains—but he couldn’t imagine summoning the courage to run, here, now, with armed men standing guard.
A minute passed, and another. Smith came back, declaring that he couldn’t find anything, and Reddy went to take a look. Miguel felt exhaustion creeping through him. He’d been surfing an ongoing adrenaline dump for what seemed like hours, and as the night started to cool, slowly, he found himself nodding.
“Catch a few minutes, I’ll wake you if anything happens,” Jonah said.
Miguel nodded. He pulled his knees up and rolled onto his side, closing his eyes.
“So how come they called you Spicy, anyway?” Jonah asked.
“When I was smuggling, I transported Aji Charapita peppers, from Peru up into Mexico,” Miguel said.
Jonah sounded surprised, and amused. “Peppers?”
“Current market value is something like $25K per kilo,” Miguel said. “That’s a lot of taxes to avoid. I had a distributor who could get my stuff to gourmet restaurants on three continents.”
“Shut up over there,” the blond snapped.
Jonah went silent, shifting again against the warm ground. Miguel reminded himself that he was going to die soon, but the thought wasn’t compelling enough to keep him awake even a second longer.
* * *
They went in together, moving in a line through the entry tunnel, past a stinking bat cave and over a rock bridge, clipping to a fixed line for the crossing. Past that was another chamber, with several offshoots. According to his map, two of them opened into the main passages along the site, north–south tunnels with a dozen rooms decorated by the ancient Maya spaced out along their lengths. A third branch led into the thick, winding twist of the labyrinth; there were a few more Maya chambers in the maze, plus some murals, all at the very top.
Harper stopped them there. They’d lost radio contact with Reddy and Smith almost immediately. Once they split up, it was unlikely they’d be able to communicate unless they were in a line and in sight of each other.
“I’m putting you in pairs to start, but play it as you like,” he said, and watched their eyes light up at the freedom he’d just granted them. “Mitchell and Hux, take the top. Ace and Sergei, lower tunnel. I’ll stay here in case she comes out of the maze, or gets past all of you.”
“That’s likely,” Ace said. Hux and Sergei grinned. Mitchell only waited, her eyes like chips of ice.
“Check your maps often. There are six charges laid at critical locations. Geology reports say this system is relatively stable, but try not to get into a shootout, and watch your step. Any kind of emergency situation crops up, fall back to the drop point.”
Nods all around.
“Report back here at double-oh hundred. If there’s no sign of her, we’ll re-evaluate. If we can’t do this fast, better to rely on the insurance.”
Ace spoke up. “Closest charge is a big one, fifty meters in. We could tap it now, probably block everything.”
Hux answered. “There are vents and cracks through the ground all around here. All small and technically difficult so Trinity didn’t use them, but she could probably find another way out.”
“I want confirmation of her death, anyway,” Harper said. “We’re stepping outside the lines to get this done, we’re going to do it right. Questions?”
There were none. “Go play,” he said. “Curfew is midnight.”
Mitchell and Hux started into the tunnel at the chamber’s southeast corner, Mitchell leading. Sergei stopped to adjust his helmet and then trotted after Ace, who was already disappearing into the dark of the adjacent opening.
Harper listened to their careful footsteps fading away. He’d been through a few caves in the Middle East, but they’d been dry as bones. Just as cold, though, when you went deep. Harper didn’t like either kind. He clearly remembered the few times he’d had to turn off his light, how he’d felt like he was suffocating, like the dark was a presence and not just an absence of light. Like there was no air, only blackness too heavy to breathe.
This won’t take long. One of his people would take out Croft, quickly. He’d bet on Mitchell
or Hux, but luck was a big factor—it depended on who found her first. As soon as she was dead they would climb back up into the world, clean up the loose ends and then report that they’d followed Croft to Colombia, and were standing by for new orders. The great thinkers of the hallowed halls would still be arguing about what to do next when Dr. Dominguez fulfilled his purpose; with the cleansing already begun, it was probably only a matter of days. After that, no one would ever wonder or care what had happened to Lara Croft.
If she makes it to me, I’ll take her ear, he decided. Shoot her in the gut and then slice off her ear as a keepsake. A decade from now he could look at it and remember how he’d made the call.
Harper found a wall to lean against and reluctantly turned off the light on his helmet, closing his eyes as the dark flooded over him. If she miraculously made it past his top players, she was still most likely to come through here to get out. He’d be ready.
* * *
Just as she stepped off the wall to pull herself higher, a slender white scorpion crawled out of a crack in the rock and onto the back of Lara’s left hand.
She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to shake it off until she found a solid place for her feet. The scorpion was agitated by her movements, raising its pincers, its tail up and stinger poised.
As soon as she had her footing she whipped her hand away, a shiver running down her spine. The tiny animal dropped off without stinging.
She had climbed several meters of a near-vertical rock well, bats occasionally fluttering past. The holds were easy, if a bit slippery. Luckily, the scorpion was the only incident. She pulled herself into a low passage that branched after only a short walk, and followed the guano, clambering over humps of rock, the ceiling opening up into a tunnel. Lara only had to boost herself inside on her hands. She estimated by how many meters she’d come up overall that she was somewhere near the top of the maze by now, just below the main tunnels. She’d had to wedge herself up through a few squeezes and had to backtrack a few times, but there were a lot of places to go up. She was making excellent time.
The wide passage ran north–south, the trail of guano heading north. Lara saw a glint of metal at the ceiling, then found others, heading in both directions. Supports for Trinity’s lights.
She felt a burst of optimism. It was likely that she was still in the maze part of the dig. There were a few areas at the top that had items of interest—murals, mostly—but she was at least close to where she needed to be, and if Trinity had seen fit to run lights, the difficult climbing was over.
Now you just have to figure out where you are, exactly. And start watching for charges. She remembered the mines she needed to avoid along her route, but there were others that Marin only mentioned, all of them set in the uppermost tunnels.
She started south, moving as quickly as she dared. The passage narrowed to about a meter across and veered east. When she reached the curve, she saw a small chamber ahead that opened off the east wall.
Lara stepped carefully, reached the rounded entry and looked inside, her heart picking up speed immediately. She knew where she was. And she understood why the dig had been given its nickname.
A vast, apocalyptic mural was painted on the curving wall inside, meters across, an ocean of tiny figures painted blue, raising their hands to a black sun. The rich, bright indigo of the original pigment was stunning. Maya blue. Scientists had long marveled at its staying power, struggled for decades to replicate its exact chemistry.
A thousand years old. Older.
She automatically got out her camera and took a picture, the flash shockingly bright against the crushing darkness. She clipped the camera to her belt for ease of access. There wasn’t any writing, but she had no idea what might end up proving valuable. She felt sure the tunnels she wanted were directly overhead. She could go north, back through the labyrinth— she had no doubt that Trinity had drawn great sloppy arrows on everything this high up to keep their people from getting lost—and start at the beginning of the main corridors, where she’d meant to come in… Or she could find the upper labyrinth’s southeast corner. Marin had noted an access point between the lower main tunnel and the maze there. She was more certain of the northern route, but was undoubtedly closer to the access point; she could climb up into the lower of the main passages, and then it was a short walk to the first of the glyph rooms a bit farther south—
She heard something, a faint echo from somewhere behind her. A rock, falling? She listened for a moment but it wasn’t repeated.
Lara continued south. When the tunnel branched, she followed the eastern passage, scanning the ground for disturbances, any sign that Marin’s team had been through. She passed through a narrow tunnel that had the same kind of painting as the first she’d seen—a blue multitude, a black sun overhead.
An eclipse. The eclipse. The final cataclysm she had seen depicted in the mural back in Mexico, in the Temple of the Moon.
She snapped a picture, checked her compass and watch, and kept moving. If she found the rooms she was looking for immediately and ran all the way back, she was still going to be late, but maybe not so late that Jonah would start to worry. It was cold but she had started working up a sweat again, focused on the rocks beneath her hands and feet, her senses wide open.
A salamander shrieked, a lonely, echoing cry. Another answered. They were somewhere in the labyrinth behind her. Her breathing sounded loud in her ears, and so did the rustle of her clothes, her movements. She watched the ground for any unlikely stones where Marin’s pressure plates might be hiding.
She passed a third mural in an alcove, of a priest in blue robes offering a dagger up to a full moon. Beneath the flash of the camera she could see the haste in the artwork, in the rough lines of the priest’s face, a few drips of the precious paint. She felt a stab of regret as she left it behind. Evidence of Maya culture so far south was an incredible find. Had the Maya been on their way to Peru when they’d stopped here to hide the Silver Box of Ix Chel, or on their way back north? How many had come? She couldn’t help wondering what Dominguez had concluded as she continued on, only twice having to backtrack from a dead end. She followed the compass as best she could, south and east, and marked her passage.
Lara came around a bend in the winding tunnel she’d entered and saw a rough black opening in the ceiling where a small charge had been detonated. A heap of shattered rock had been pushed to one side on the floor of the tunnel. It seemed that Marin hadn’t found a hole; he’d blasted one.
She climbed the hill of broken stone and looked up. It was barely two meters into the tunnel overhead, and someone had hammered in a staggered line of pitons. This had to be it. Lara quickly climbed up, testing the thin metal pegs at each step, and then she was heaving herself into a wider passage, one that was clearly better traveled than the ones she’d come through. She saw scuffed boot prints in the dirt, a plastic bottle cap.
I made it. Finally. There were no traps this far in, they were all north of her, so she broke into a jog, confident that she would reach the first room in minutes—a tall chamber that connected to the top tunnel, decorated in Maya blue, with writings Marin thought she should see. After that, she only had to find one more room and a bit of tunnel before she got to the prize, the big chamber on the top level where Dominguez had failed to solve some puzzle—and all of it was on her way out.
The salamanders had started calling again, the cries both dampened and carried by the labyrinth, the sound distorted—and as the echoes faded, she heard a voice, a bare whisper of words carrying through the long empty dark behind her. English.
“…the fuck was…”
There was a low response, a mumble. That faded, too, and there was silence again.
Trinity.
There were at least two people in the system with her, likely more.
Dread and fear for Jonah knotted her guts. Had he hidden? Was he safe?
Dead?
She had to get back to him, immediately, and there were soldiers b
locking the exit. Even as she thought it, she heard the scuffle of movement, another whispering echo through the dark. Faint and far, the strange acoustics had carried the sound from a fair distance back, but she thought they were coming her way.
Drop back down, let them go by, get out behind them.
No. Go to the glyph room, climb up, take the top level back.
There will be people there, too. And even if you get past them, how many are waiting for you to climb out?
All of this passed through her mind in a flash. She dimmed her lamp and kept moving south, working out a plan as she went. Picking up speed, she breathed through her mouth, stepping ever so lightly. There were several connections between the uppermost tunnels, short passages and a few wells. If she was very careful, she might be able to skirt the soldiers, ducking from one set of tunnels to the next. It was the fastest way back. If there were guards waiting at the cenote, she’d deal with it when she got there. Assuming she got there.
Marin’s notes had mentioned the glyph room’s distinctive double-curved opening, and now she saw it, ahead and on the right. Lara swung her pack around and pulled out the camera, immediately bringing it up to get her pictures. She figured she had at least a minute before they would see her light, more if they stopped to check out anywhere she might be hiding; the tunnel was thick with cracks and crevices. She took in the large chamber as she turned and snapped.
A giant mural of the cataclysms stretched up the far wall, perhaps seven meters of smooth limestone reaching into the upper tunnel. A wide, thick ledge of stone ran at about the midpoint of the chamber’s height, where the two tunnels joined, but it had been chipped away on the west wall so that the paintings weren’t interrupted. At the bottom of the wall was the tsunami, a wave of sacred blue. Above it raged a blue storm, tiny figures flat on the ground beneath the angry clouds. The earthquake was represented as cracks in the ground and fallen blue temples, birds flocking above; the volcano spouted blue lava. And near the top of the chamber, a massive serpent rose from a background of Maya blue, the sea or sky. There were feathers around its face. One of its eyes was the full moon, the other an eclipsed sun. Kukulkan. She remembered a flash of a dream. There were lines of writing in both rooms, close to the mural.
