Seizure tb-2

by Kathy Reichs

  Watch check: three fifty-eight a.m. Had we really been underground only an hour?

  I barely remember my life before these freaking tunnels.

  “No one will be on the streets this early,” Hi said.

  “Then we can wait!” Shelton snapped. “Someone will rescue us eventually.”

  Air drifted from the tunnel ahead. Curious, I stepped to the opening and peered in. The air was gusting, blowing gently, then going still. The cave’s waterfalls formed a creek that ran along one side of the passageway.

  Every fiber of my being yearned to explore.

  “If we quit now, they’ll split us apart.” I addressed the boys gently, no bullying this time. “All of us will move, probably far away. Permanently.” No one answered.

  “We’ll call each other, and text,” I said. “Maybe chat every day. But we won’t live in the same neighborhood. We’ll never hang out at the bunker, or take Sewee to chill on Loggerhead.”

  Still no responses.

  “If we give up, we can’t protect each other. Can’t watch each other’s backs. We’ll never figure out what’s happened to our bodies. Each of us will be stuck dealing with the flares alone.”

  They’d heard it before, but I had to try one last time.

  “We either see this through, or abandon our pack forever. No more Virals.”

  My hand found Shelton’s shoulder. He didn’t pull away.

  “I’m going ahead. I can’t force you to follow, but I’d appreciate the company.”

  Ben dropped from above. “I’m in.”

  Hi’s head flopped backward, revealing dirt in the creases circling his neck.

  “Blaaeeaaah,” he groaned. Then his head came up. “In.”

  Shelton merely nodded.

  Words of gratitude were forming when a soft whooshing floated from the tunnel behind us. Our heads whipped around. The sound was faint, but unmistakable to our enhanced ears.

  Footfalls.

  Someone was approaching from the direction we’d just come.

  What should we do? I mouthed.

  Shelton and Hi looked uncertain. Not Ben. Hurrying to the tunnel mouth, he aimed his flashlight into the gloom.

  “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

  All noise ceased abruptly.

  But no. I could still hear something. Breathing. Just outside the range of Ben’s beam.

  Ben stepped back, turned, and raised both hands in silent question.

  Crack! Crack!

  Bullets ripped the airspace Ben had vacated.

  “Run!” he bellowed.

  As one, we fired into the tunnel ahead, fleeing for our lives.

  I RAN PANTING, then skidded to a stop.

  The Virals slammed into me from behind.

  “Stop!” I ordered. “We can’t just run blindly!”

  “Gun gun gun!” Shelton yelped.

  “Why do people always try to shoot us?” Hi whimpered. “We have the worst freaking luck!”

  “Quiet!” Ben alone sounded calm. “Kill the lights. We have an advantage in the dark.”

  The beams cut off, followed by the lantern. We crouched in silence, breathing hard, listening for sounds of pursuit.

  “Wait here.” Ben disappeared down the passage, then hurried back. “Someone’s in the cavern.”

  “Could you tell who?” I asked.

  I sensed Ben’s head shake. “Too dark. The person’s not using a light.”

  “Keep moving,” I whispered. “Everyone still flaring?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s hustle. Hi, you’re in front with me; you’ve got the best eyes. One flashlight only.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Shelton, hang back and listen for signs of someone following. Ben, stick close to Shelton. If someone catches up, you know what to do.”

  “No problem.”

  We moved as quickly as possible in the tomblike dark, senses probing for the slightest whiff of danger. My pulse raced. Sweat coated my skin.

  Please, no more traps!

  Twenty yards. Thirty. Fifty.

  With each step, the tension mounted. Water murmured in the creek at my side, kicking my nerves into even higher gear. I begged various deities for the passage to lead us to safety.

  “Wall dead ahead,” Hi whispered.

  The murmur became a rush of falling water as the passage hair-pinned left and narrowed to a crack.

  We shifted to single file and scraped through, one by one.

  The darkness on the other side was denser, the air colder. A strong breeze stroked my damp skin.

  “Lights,” I ordered.

  Shelton powered the lantern.

  “Whoa!” Knees shaking, I shrank backward until my back struck solid rock.

  We were on a five-foot-wide stone ledge overhanging a deep, black chasm. The tunnel creek was now a waterfall, cascading to an unseen bottom. The shelf stretched forward ten yards before ending at the cavern wall.

  Across the abyss jutted another outcrop similar to the one on which we stood. From it, a passage led into the wall behind. The gap between the ledges was at least twenty feet. Infinite.

  Dead end. Trapped. There was no way to cross.

  “How do we get over there?” Shelton whined.

  “Jump?” Ben suggested without enthusiasm.

  Hi’s head wagged emphatically. “No chance I make that, not even flaring! Try again!”

  “Then I’ll toss you,” Ben growled. “We can’t stay here!”

  “Everyone calm down,” I said. “Look around. What do you see?”

  Flashlight beams searched the darkness. I examined the far ledge, but could see no way to get there.

  “Up,” Hi squeaked. “Giant stone platform, dead overhead.”

  My eyes shot skyward.

  Hi wasn’t kidding.

  Fifteen feet above us, a slab of rock dangled on rusty iron chains. One end overhung us directly. The other hung above the opposite ledge.

  “Why’s that monster up there?” Shelton groaned. “How do we reach it?”

  “Impossible.” Ben was eyeing the wall at our back. “This cliff face slopes outward. No chance without professional equipment.”

  “Then we bring the rock thingy down to us,” Hi said.

  Synapses fired in my brain.

  Bridge. Chasm. Bridge.

  “The treasure map!” I shouted. “The second verse!”

  My fingers tore at my backpack.

  I grabbed the parchment, unrolled it, and hit the words with a flashlight. The Virals huddled close as I read the first two lines aloud:

  Down, down from Lady Peregrine’s roost,

  Begin thy winding to the dark chamber’s sluice.

  “The first line is done with,” I said. “And we’ve certainly been winding, but what is ‘the dark chamber’s sluice’?”

  “Skip to the bottom,” Hi urged.

  I did.

  Spin Savior’s Loop in chasm’s open niche,

  Choose thy faithful servant to release correct bridge.

  A tingle traveled my spine. “This riddle has to contain the answer!”

  “But it makes no sense,” Hi said.

  “Correct bridge.” Ben frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “If this really is giving us directions,” I said, “we’ve got to identify ‘Savior’s Loop’ and locate the ‘chasm’s open niche.’”

  For a moment no one spoke.

  Then Shelton gasped.

  “Could it be that? That hole?”

  Shelton’s trembling finger pointed at a moss-covered alcove cut into the rock wall at our backs. Bread-box-sized, the tiny cubby was barely visible.

  I scraped away the moss with my fingernails and peered inside. The nook contained a single object—a flat, circular stone the size of a small pizza. Seven nodules formed a T on its face. The center was notched. The object was clearly the work of human hands.

  “Shelton�
�s right!” I said. “This must be the niche!”

  “Now we need ‘Savior’s Loop.’” Hi said. “But what could that be?”

  I worked the phrase in my mind.

  Spin Savior’s Loop. Spin the loop. Savior’s Loop.

  “Anne Bonny was Christian,” I said. “Jesus would be her ‘Savior,’ right?”

  “So maybe we spin Jesus’s loop?” Shelton asked. “Like a circle? Spin Jesus in a circle?”

  Click.

  “Say that again.”

  “What? Spin Jesus in a circle? How would we do that?”

  “What represents Jesus?” I squealed. “A cross! And look!”

  I pointed inside the niche.

  “The bumps form a cross!” Hi exclaimed. “Spin that sucker!”

  “Do it!” Shelton was right with us.

  I reached in and tried to rotate the stone clockwise. Nothing. I tried counter-clockwise. No go.

  “Let me.” Ben strained, muscles bulging. No movement in either direction. “It’s too wide. I can’t get a proper grip.”

  “We’re missing something,” Shelton pounded his forehead.

  A new synapse fired in my brain. “Bonny capitalized ‘Savior’s Loop.’ Like a proper name.”

  “So we need a real object?” Hi scanned the rock wall. “I don’t see anything.”

  The answer came in a flash. “I’ve got it!”

  Riffling through my backpack, I pulled out the object I’d found on poor Jonathan Brincefield. A circular stone disk. Seven holes.

  The gaps formed a T. A sort of cross.

  Savior’s Loop.

  “This is it! The holes should match the bumps!”

  I fitted the disk over the carved stone and pressed firmly.

  Chunk.

  The holes and bumps aligned perfectly, and the wedge on the disk fit smoothly into the notch in the stone.

  I rotated the pattern clockwise. The stone circle turned easily.

  In the darkness, something rumbled.

  Crash!

  A chunk of wall tumbled free, tipped forward, and dropped off the edge. Seconds later we heard it strike far below.

  A new niche had been revealed in the wall behind our ledge. Inside were seven dusty levers.

  “What now?” Hi sounded nearly spent. “Another fricking choice?”

  I nodded grimly.

  “Oh no.” Ben was flat on his belly, peering down into the void.

  “What?” Hi asked.

  Ben hesitated.

  “What is ‘oh no’ down there?” Hi insisted.

  “I know what the poem means about releasing the correct bridge.”

  “Yes?” My mouth went dry.

  “We’re standing on the incorrect one.”

  “WE’RE ON A ledge,” Ben said. “Connected to the rock face by wooden beams.”

  “So?” Shelton toe-tested the ground with one foot. “Seems solid.”

  “Ropes run alongside the timbers,” Ben continued. “If we choose Bonny’s ‘faithful servant’ incorrectly, I think this bridge will release.”

  I heard Hi swallow. Shelton’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Ben looked at me.

  I was about to respond when noises from behind us cut me off. We all turned, startled. Ben reacted first.

  Springing to the opening, he craned his neck around the corner and peered back into the passageway.

  Two slugs slammed the tunnel’s rear wall, sending Ben reeling backward.

  “You’ve got to come through here!” Ben shouted. “I’ll be waiting!”

  His eye darted to mine. I read their message. Hurry!

  “Shelton! Hi! Help me decide!”

  Terrified, we examined the levers.

  “‘Choose thy faithful servant to release correct bridge,’” I repeated.

  “But which one?” Hi said.

  “Five of the handles are crossed!” Shelton exclaimed.

  “Good!” I said. “‘Thy faithful servant’ must be another Christian reference.”

  I stared at the five candidates, willing the correct choice to announce itself.

  None did.

  “Check the proportions,” Hi said. “The horizontal bar on this lever is too low for a traditional cross.”

  I froze. Why did that seem important?

  “Same with those two!” Shelton squeaked. “And that one’s too high!”

  “This one!”

  My mind spun. What? What?

  Hi pointed to a central handle. Even in the dim light of our lantern, it was clear that better care had gone into its carving. The lever formed a perfect cross in exact, eye-pleasing proportions.

  Still I hesitated. Something in my lower centers was clamoring for attention.

  “Tory!” Hi exclaimed, “It must be the center one!”

  “Footsteps!” Ben hissed.

  “Pull it!” Shelton urged.

  I locked up. Something was terribly wrong.

  “I’ll get it!” Shelton reached for the knob.

  What? What?

  Shelton’s fingers curled around the handle.

  “NO!”

  My hand shot forward and slapped Shelton’s away. He jerked backward, startled by my sudden move.

  “Bonny called it ‘thy faithful servant!’” I rushed. “‘Thy!’ Hers! We need to look for Anne Bonny’s cross!”

  “The symbol from the map!” Hi was with me.

  I grabbed the treasure map, held it before the levers.

  At first, nothing was obvious.

  Then I saw.

  The rightmost lever had a high crosspiece, making it tall and skinny, just like the curious little illustrations. I shoved my nose close. Details zoomed in with laserlike clarity.

  There. The upper tine curved ever so slightly to the right. Nearly imperceptible, unless one was looking for it.

  Bonny’s bent cross. Her calling card. Thy faithful servant.

  I pointed.

  “Together?”

  Hi and Shelton nodded excitedly, then reached for the dusty stone handle.

  I called a heads up to Ben. “One! Two! Three!”

  The cross arced down slowly, groaning after centuries of disuse. Finally, it could descend no further.

  Fearfully, we pressed our backs to the cavern wall.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Ropes snapped. Pullies creaked. Iron chains screeched as they released their centuries-old payload.

  Overhead, the massive stone slab began to descend.

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  The rock suddenly halted. A rumbling sounded behind the wall at our backs.

  I tensed. Something was wrong.

  Crack! Boom!

  The slab above us shivered, then dropped in an avalanche of dirt, pebbles, and mouth-coating grit. It struck with the power of a train crash.

  The noise thundered in my canine ears. I covered them, yelping in agony.

  SNUP.

  For seconds, all was chaos. I couldn’t see or think. Choking and gasping, I tried to breathe through my shirt.

  After what seemed an eternity, the dust storm settled.

  I surveyed the scene.

  “Oh no.” Ben pointed across the abyss, his eyes their normal black-brown.

  Upon impact, the stone slab had shifted sideways, leaving only one corner on the opposite ledge. It teetered, threatening to slip into the chasm at any moment.

  “We have to go now!” I jammed our lantern and the map into my pack. “Before it falls!”

  “I can’t cross that!” Shelton was almost crying. “I lost my flare!”

  “You have to!” I hand-cupped his cheeks. “Remember, you’re a Viral. You can do anything.”

  Screwing his face into a determined mask, Shelton spun and shot over the bridge, never slowing until he slammed into the opposite wall.

  “Ooof!”

  Hiram and I inhaled sharply. Shelton crumpled, but gave a woozy thumbs-up.

  “Unreal!” Hi croaked. “Here goes nothing!”
>
  Hi stormed forward, wailing the entire way. Then he collapsed next to Shelton. The two exchanged a shaky fist bump.

  “Go!” I said to Ben.

  “You next. I’m heaviest.”

  I squeezed Ben’s arm, then fired across.

  The platform wobbled wildly as I dismounted. A low grinding filled the cavern.

  “Now Ben!” I screamed. “Hurry!”

  As Ben raced for the bridge, a shadow appeared in the opening behind him. I barely noticed. My eyes were locked onto Ben, who seemed to move in slow motion.

  The grinding amplified.

  Crrrreeeeeeeaaaaaaaaak!

  Ben pounded across. With each step, the bridge wobbled more. Then the end slipped from the ledge and the slab plunged downward.

  “BEN!”

  I watched in horror as the bridge dropped from beneath his feet.

  Ben threw himself forward, arms out-thrust.

  Time froze. My heart stopped.

  Ben’s forearms caught the cliff’s edge. His fingers clawed for purchase. Then his body slammed the rock face, causing his grip to falter.

  Six hands shot out and seized Ben’s arms, hair, shirt, and neck. As one, we pulled him to safety.

  “Thanks,” he wheezed. “I was a little short.”

  “Anytime.” Shelton. Doubled over.

  “I still owe you one,” Hi panted. “And that’s just tonight.”

  Crack! Crack!

  Bullets smashed the rocks above our heads.

  “Move!” I shouted.

  We charged into yet another black passage.

  WE TUMBLED DOWN a ramp and landed in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Everyone lay still, too overwhelmed to move. My thoughts were firing in short jagged clips.

  We’re alive. Unharmed. The shooter can’t follow.

  Slowly, my panting subsided and my pulse decelerated. Disengaging myself from the others, I rose and looked around.

  The current chamber was circular, the size of a classroom. A waterfall poured from a hole in the roof to a pool in the center of the floor. I guessed the pool’s diameter and depth at about ten feet each. The water swirled, eventually draining through a chute at the bottom.

  The effect was beautiful, like a graceful garden fountain. The rest of the room was empty.

  “This must be ‘the dark chamber’s sluice,’” I said. “We made it!”

  My gaze scoured the walls, snagged on a platform jutting from the rock. Roughly a yard square, the platform held nothing. Deep gouges marred its otherwise smooth stone surface.