by John O'Brien
We scale a shorter part of the western bluff where a section has fallen. From there, we start a steep descent down a tree-covered ravine, scrambling over boulders that have been displaced by heavy runoff. I’m guessing that whatever physical changes occurred when I was infected with night runner blood didn’t include my knees. Each of them must have stepped out of the line and said, “None for me, thanks.”
The breeze flowing up the side of the ridge is refreshing, but it diminishes as we descend. By the time we reach the bottom, I’m covered with a thin sheen of sweat and my body is protesting.
I can’t wait until I get to climb back up that, I think, as we gather for a moment before proceeding down the central ravine.
The narrow dirt path we pick up at the bottom snakes its way through a scattering of smaller trees. Thick bushes taller than us crowd the trail, limiting our view to just the peaks of the ravines rising on either side. There are times when branches almost cut off the route altogether. The footpath crosses back and forth and is muddy in places from the recent rains. Finding a small pool, I rinse the remaining blood-encrusted sand off the bottom of my boots. From what Greg mentioned, there are some rock walls we’ll have to scale and I’m sure that bloodied sand on the soles doesn’t provide the best traction. I need all the help that I can get. Plus, it’s just gross.
The line pauses as each team member drops to their knees and covers the sides. Greg whispers on the radio and I quietly snake my way to the front to find him crouched behind a screen of bushes. Through the branches, I see where our narrow footpath intersects a much larger dirt trail.
“This leads to the backside of the building where the entrance we used is located,” Greg whispers.
Peeking around a bush, I see the trail wind its way upward. Only the very top of the facility’s roof can be seen poking above the tall bluff. Scanning the ridge, I don’t see any sign of movement or anyone looking down from above.
“I take it that we can’t be seen on the way up,” I say.
“Not until we near the top. The building makes an ‘L’ shape and there are windows looking out the back. The last time, they had shades drawn, but who knows if that’s the case now. The entrance we took inside is surrounded by steel poles and links of chain. They may or may not have posted guards since,” Greg comments.
“Well, there’s only one way to tell,” I say, rising and stepping out onto the trail.
With the others following behind in single file, we quietly make our way along the pathway cut into the side of the rock wall. The climb is a steep one, but we’re hidden in shadow and the coolness of the day makes it semi-tolerable. Pressed close to the cliff, I lose sight of the buildings above until we near the crest.
Waving the others back, I crawl along the side of the path until I can see over the lip. It’s as described, the shape of the building creating an alcove of sorts. In the middle lie the poles and chains surrounding the hole in the ground through which Greg and the former team members entered the caves. The facing windows have their shades drawn, and even better, there aren’t any guards posted.
I wave the others forward and we scramble to the two intersecting walls that make up the L, making sure to stay away from the large windows. I don’t hear anything except the periodic gust of wind. Nodding to Greg, he and another Echo Team member dash over to the steel posts and begin tying off a long rope with knots along its length. With a quick tug to test the sturdiness of the connection, Greg tosses the length into the hole. He checks that his NVGs and gear are secure before scrambling feet first into the cavern. Working his feet and hands on the knotted rope, he quickly vanishes below the surface.
I radio Gonzalez our location and that we’re entering the cave system. The teammate kneeling by the rope waves another over, and slowly, one by one, all vanish except for one who will remain to safeguard our exit. So far, no one has cried out with discovery, nor has gunfire erupted from within the cave. It’s my turn and I dash over in a crouch, stepping over a length of chain. I start down into the blackness.
Once inside, a sudden drop in temperature is immediate and wraps around my whole body. Motes of dust dance in the shaft of light from above. The brightness diffuses as I descend, becoming gloomier as I work my way down. The rope sways, but not overly so, as two members are holding it fast at the bottom. The light above momentarily dims as the one guarding the exit peeks downward. The silhouette of his head is only visible for a few seconds before he withdraws. Looking from the light into darkness interferes with my vision and it seems like I’m descending into a void. Before I reach the bottom, the glow from above diffuses enough that I’m able to see the faces of a couple of soldiers below peering up. The others have spread into a loose perimeter, each keeping watch through their goggles.
After what feels like hours of swaying and working my way down hand-over-hand, my feet touch hard surface. The interior smells musty and, well, like a cave. Freeing my M-4, I glance around at the vast interior, everything visible in varying shades of gray. Above, the light from the opening looks like someone poked a pencil through a black sheet of paper. To one side, I see the rock wall we’ll have to scale. I had imagined a sheer surface but there appear to be plenty of crevices and small ledges we can use.
We cross the rocky surface, our breath visible in the subterranean cold. As we draw closer to the wall, I pick up the faint odor of decomposition and spot two bodies near the base of the cliff. They almost blend in with the cave floor. In the arid environment, they haven’t decomposed much and appear more desiccated than anything.
“The two guards we encountered,” Greg faintly whispers.
I nod. It’s important that we keep the noise to an absolute minimum within the cave system. And, by that, I mean completely silent. Sound is magnified and carries in the caverns all too well. A pin dropping can sound like it’s coming through Bose speakers turned up to full volume.
We begin to scale the rocky wall. Carabineers and rope make the going easier, for which I’m thankful. I’m old and the times when I could monkey-climb are long behind me…if they were ever there to begin with. We soon find ourselves in an upper cave and begin slowly making our way down its length, taking our time with the placement of each foot. Our gear is taped down, but a boot scuffing on the hard surface will echo loudly. Greg leads, I’m just behind, and it’s not long until we arrive at a steel door barring our path.
Pausing behind the metal surface, Greg peeks through a small opening on the side.
“Just ahead is the main entrance from above. The last time, there were two guards the same two who are now resting at the bottom of the cliff. I don’t see anyone there now,” he whispers.
I look through a gap on the other side of the door. The cave continues to another intersection a short distance ahead. I also see that the door is padlocked. As I’m about to motion regarding our blocked route, Greg reaches into his pocket and produces a key.
“Well, aren’t you just the answer-man?” I quietly comment. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to produce a scotch and seven, would ya?”
“Are you kidding!? If I had that kind of super power, do you think I’d be standing here in a freezing cave?” he replies.
“Work on it, then,” I say.
Greg reaches through the gap and unlocks the door, slowly pulling the chain free. I lift on the handle to minimize the weight on the hinges, not so much that the weight will transfer to the top part of them, but enough so that the metal on metal contact is minimized. If they squeak in protest, I might as well announce our arrival with sparklers and a bullhorn. I open it slowly. No sound emits and we slide through the gap.
The cave we’re in continues forward with a larger one branching to the right. Across from it stands a door like the one we just came through. I’m surprised they don’t have a guard, but perhaps they keep a watch upstairs during daylight hours.
As we near the intersection, I pick up the faint smell of kerosene. It’s not much, but it’s there nonetheless. I pause and s
niff. It could be from the lantern that Greg knocked over on his last trip, but it seems too fresh. I take another step and freeze. I hear a faint scraping sound, like metal against rock.
“Fuck,” I hear a whispered voice. “I hate this fucking place.”
“Calm down. We don’t have that much longer,” another voice quietly says.
“I can’t take this any longer. I’m heading out tomorrow.”
A light suddenly flares out of the branching tunnel.
“Come on, man. Sit down, you’ll feel better when we don’t have to watch the door,” the second voice states.
“Bah, screw that.”
The shadow of a figure stretches across the floor and up the far wall of the cave we’re standing in. Pressing close to the entrance of the branch, the shadow elongates, which means either the light is receding or someone is approaching. Footsteps across the rock surface grow louder, giving me a good indication that it’s the latter.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I think, watching the shadow get larger.
I glance behind to see that the rest of the team has also noticed and are pressed tight against the rock wall. Should whoever is nearing step into the tunnel, we have no choice but to take action. I have no idea what lies around the corner but it’s better to strike with the initiative. We can’t afford to allow our presence to become known, especially as there’s no way of telling how many may be deeper within. With what we came across at the crosses, there isn’t an issue about taking this group down, but we have to maintain the element of surprise. I give a nod to Greg and motion a plan.
Looking back, I lower my carbine and silently draw my knife. My heartbeat thuds loudly in my ears. I take in a deep, calming breath, turning my head so the plume of my breath doesn’t extend across the entrance. The chill is pushed into the back of my mind; the only thing prevalent is the sound of someone approaching and the feel of my knife in my hand.
The dark end of a flash suppressor appears, pointed downward; then, the toe of a boot. The shadow on the floor and wall moves as another step is taken. I crouch slightly, my weight centered on the balls of my feet. I feel the tension emanating from the team behind me. A man steps fully into the tunnel, and stops.
Faint yellow light spills across the rocky floor, illuminating the back of the man’s jeans and denim jacket. A plume of silvery breath escapes from his lips. I am no more than four feet away, pressed against the wall and ready to spring. He is standing sideways to me, which makes a quick, fatal attack more difficult. I remain completely still, not looking directly at him, but still watching for a reaction out of the corner of my eye. He turns away, presenting his back. I spring into action.
In one step, I am directly behind him. Reaching around with my empty hand, I clamp it around his mouth and nose. I place my knee in the small of his back and pull his body toward me, plunging my knife just under the rib cage and deep into his kidney. I feel a heavy expulsion of breath against my clamped hand, his body goes rigid. A small explosion of sound erupts behind. Greg and another soldier brush against my back as they round the corner and enter the branching cave.
Twisting my knife, I take it out and thrust again. Warm blood trickles over my hand, his jacket absorbing most of it.
“You should have left earlier,” I whisper into his ear.
Two quick flashes of light paint our shadows starkly against the far wall. With another twist, the man’s rigid body goes limp. Catching him, I pull my knife out and ease him down. Turning, I see Greg and one other soldier silhouetted against the glow of a lantern sitting on the floor of the cave. At their feet, two bodies lie motionless. Bending to clean my knife on the man’s jacket, I sheath it and motion for one of the soldiers to help carry the body down the cave toward where we entered. Greg and the others join us carrying the other two.
“We need to move quickly, yet quietly, before they’re missed,” I whisper. “One of them mentioned not having to wait much longer, so we can expect company soon.”
“Okay, the cavern where we found them last time is down this tunnel a little ways,” Greg replies.
Leaving another at the intersection to watch our backsides and keep our return route clear, we start down the tunnel. It doesn’t wind much, but the path rises and descends, at times narrowing so we can barely squeeze through. The cold returns to the forefront as we make our way through the cave, feeling its chill with each step as my clothes come into contact with my skin. With my M-4 held ready, I take a few steps, pausing to listen before moving on, hearing nothing but the soft shuffling of those behind.
Before long, I see a glow ahead, its flickering light outlining the cave. I stop and look for a silhouette of someone keeping watch. Unless they’ve mastered the art of invisibility, there’s no one ahead. I feel sand under my boot as I slowly inch forward, the end of the tunnel growing larger with each step. A soft murmuring comes from somewhere within the cavern we’re approaching and I fully expect to see a sudden silhouetted figure stepping into the entrance. From the moment we entered, everyone we encounter is considered hostile. If someone comes into view, I’ll have no choice but to immediately drop them.
Stalactites encrusted with dirty ice hang overhead. I inch ever closer to the opening, my finger caressing the trigger guard and my thumb rubbing along the selector switch. The murmuring increases until it becomes a chorus of voices. I can’t make out any words, but it seems like one person talking with others periodically responding. I’m against the wall to present less of a target should someone suddenly materialize ahead.
I kneel at the exit of the cave where it opens up. Shadows dance against the walls in the flickering light. The cavern bends to the left and rises slightly. A sudden shout of voices causes me to tense, my M-4 instantly against my shoulder. The sound diminishes and a single voice rises above the clamor. I know the layout from Greg’s description; just around the corner should be an alcove where they kept the prisoners manacled to the wall. The niche should be hidden from the rest of the cave.
Taking my mirror out, I ease it around the corner near the floor. Angling it, I see two darkened shapes kneeling at the recess, their attention focused toward whoever is speaking. They are staggered, one behind the other. Turning to Greg, I pull him close and whisper in his ear.
“Two guards, kneeling and looking away. I’ll wait for the next escalation of noise and take them out.”
Focusing again to the front, I watch our neighbors, who remain focused on whatever is going on out of view. The speaker’s voice rises to a crescendo, bringing a roar from others. Dropping the mirror, I lean out around the wall, bringing my carbine up. Centering my small crosshair on the nearest target, I squeeze the trigger. A quick strobe of light fills the alcove, the sound of the shot hidden below the din. The round connects with the man’s ear. A small splash of blood explodes from the impact as his head rocks to the side. He slumps silently over, brushing against the man in front.
Shifting my sight, I center in on the next, hoping the uproar in the cavern beyond continues. I catch him as he’s turning his head, a flash of light signaling another projectile on the way. The bullet slams into his cheek, tearing a hole in the soft tissue before exploding out the other side in a spray of red mist and teeth. My next round hits in the corner of his eye, ripping into the brain. The bullet slams into the rear of his skull. The momentum of his turn continues and he flops face forward, hitting the hard surface.
In a rush, I’m around the corner and into the alcove as the clamor fades. In the shadows, dark red liquid slowly flows outward from the two bodies, following the crevices and contours of the rocky surface. Shadows continue to dance against the rough-hewn walls, contributing to the macabre scene. Inside the niche, three people are chained to the wall, each one seated on the hard ground with their heads bowed. They appear either dead or near to it, my motion should have drawn their attention. Greg and the three other soldiers fold into place slightly behind me. Pulling one of the bodies to the side, I ease onto my stomach and feel Greg’s hand
on my shoulder. I turn.
He leans forward and whispers. “What about them?”
“No time at the moment. We’ll have to see about them after we figure out what’s up ahead,” I state.
He releases my shoulder and I crawl forward, inching toward a small rise that will give me a view into the larger part of the cavern. Reaching forward, my hand lands in a warm pool of blood. I pull myself through small pools of cooling liquid left from the removed body. Near the corner of the alcove, I peek over the crest.
Ahead, down a sloping incline that reaches a large, flat area of the cavern, a group of people stand around a lone man. His voice echoes off the rock walls, but I pay little attention to what is spoken, instead trying to obtain an accurate count of those gathered. It’s difficult to see them all from my vantage point, but there appear to be about twenty.
How many could the company chasing Greg have taken out if there’s still this many here? I think, inching back.
“How are the prisoners?” I ask.
“They’re alive but not very responsive. They look dehydrated and malnourished, so I’m not sure if it’s that or if they’ve been drugged,” Greg answers.
“Well, there’s not much we can do about them right now, unless we decide to cut and run.”
“No, I did that before and it didn’t turn out well,” Greg says.
“Okay, there’s around twenty of them ahead and they’re gathered close together. You wouldn’t happen to have a flash bang in those magic pockets of yours, would you?” I query.
“Are you seriously thinking about tossing a flash in here?” Greg replies.
“Yeah, it crossed my mind,” I answer.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We’re in an underground, rock cavern. It’ll affect us just as much as them,” he whispers fiercely.
“But we’ll be ready for it…big difference,” I respond.
Greg expresses hesitance.
“Look, we’ll crawl back to the tunnel entrance. The way the cavern is shaped, it will limit the sound,” I comment.
