by Sean Ellis
Russell shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. You probably won’t believe me when I say it, but I do have my orders. And right now, I’m doing my damnedest to follow those orders without letting that psychopath kill you.”
The admission stunned Kismet, almost as much as Leeds’ cryptic revelations about Prometheus. But before he could inquire further, Russell slid his diving mask down over his face.
“I need to get topside again. Pretty soon, everyone’s going to be down here. Leeds still has your little girlfriend and he won’t hesitate to hurt her to get you...or her father...to do what he wants. I suggest you just sit tight and wait. If you can refrain from rocking the boat, there’s a chance we all might survive this.”
With that, the man dropped back into the water, leaving Kismet in absolute darkness. He was still coughing intermittently, but in the quiet spaces in between, he tried to use his other senses to compensate for his total blindness. The musty air smelled disgusting, like something rotting, but it was breathable. The only sound he could hear was water sloshing at his feet, but the way it echoed gave the impression of being in a much larger space than what he had imagined based on his brief glimpse. Cautiously, he got to his hands and knees and then stood up.
With a hand stretched out in front of him, he started forward. The loss of a boot interfered with his gait, so he kicked the remaining one off and proceeded forward in just his socks, probing with both his toes and his outstretched hand before advancing.
He hadn’t gone more than about fifty feet when a splashing noise echoed up the tunnel, accompanied by the glow from a pair of dive lights. He glanced back to find Russell, and another figure climbing out of the water. It was Elisabeth Neuell.
She wore no SCUBA gear—save for a face mask—and no wetsuit. Instead, she was clad only in matching lacy white bra and panties; dry, the undergarments wouldn’t have left much to the imagination, and soaking wet, they were nearly transparent as well. She stripped off the mask, cursing when the rubber strap caught a strand of her golden hair, and then realized that she and Russell were not alone.
“Nick!”
For the briefest instant, her face clouded with something like worry, even fear, but then her expression transformed into a dazzlingly perfect, plastic Hollywood smile. She immediately began to shiver in the cool tunnel. Goose pimples appeared on the bare skin of her arms and she hugged herself for a moment, framing her breasts with her arms and accentuating her piercingly erect nipples. Her coquettish pose reminded him of their first meeting in Jin’s fortress—the first time she had tried to arrange his death.
Another figure emerged from the water, one of Leeds’ hirelings, likewise wearing just a face mask and underwear—Confederate battle flag boxer shorts. He was holding a dry bag, and upon seeing Kismet, quickly opened it and took out a pistol.
“Put that thing away,” Elisabeth said. She tried to sound commanding but her shivering made her sound like a harried babysitter pleading with a wayward child.
“Screw you, lady. I’m fed up with jumping through hoops for you and that damn freak. So unless you’ gonna do something with that ass ah yours ‘sides wiggling it, I think I’ll just have me a looksee at this here cave that y’all’re so wound up about.”
Kismet stepped aside as the man, still clutching the dry bag in one hand and the pistol in the other, charged up the sloping tunnel.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Russell cautioned belatedly.
The hand with the pistol came up, middle finger extended in the air. “Screw you, too. I ain’t in your army.”
Elisabeth was still sputtering with unfocused rage as the man reached the top of the rise and then stepped over, out of their line of sight.
A loud snap thrummed in the still air, followed immediately by a wet squishing noise. A grunted curse drifted back down the tunnel, and then something heavy crashed to the floor and everything was quiet again.
Kismet shared a confused look with Elisabeth and Russell, but before anyone could voice an inquiry, the pool behind them erupted in a plume like an underwater explosion, and Higgins, with a thrashing Annie locked under one arm, came into view.
Annie, who had only just a couple days earlier suffered a nearly paralyzing bout of claustrophobia, was in full panic mode. Kismet could only imagine her reaction to being ordered to dive into a dark, water-filled hole, and then told to swim into another dark hole with millions of tons of earth poised to bury her alive. He wondered why Leeds hadn’t simply just left her topside and saved himself the trouble, but then realized the obvious answer; she was the leverage that would buy continued cooperation from himself and Kismet.
Annie had not stripped down for the swim, and so now was fully clothed but soaking wet. She remained on the verge of hysteria, but when she saw Kismet she brightened a little and wrestled free of her father’s protective grasp to rush up the tunnel and embrace him.
“I thought you were dead.”
He returned her embrace, holding her tight.
Her shaking relented a little, but she continued to cling to him, refusing to look anywhere but at his face. He eased her forward and continued up the passage to see what had befallen Leeds’ hireling. Elisabeth and Russell were right behind them, while Higgins waited, alone and seemingly cast adrift, near the entrance pool.
The headstrong man stood frozen in mid-stride on the threshold of a much larger chamber. Kismet took another step forward and discovered why the man’s explorations had ended there.
A pole of wood, bristling with sharp spikes now blocked the entrance to the cavern. Kismet recalled what he had read in Fontaneda’s diary; he and the other explorers, besieged by angry natives, had turned the cavern into a fortress, with snares and booby traps as a passive defense against invasion. Evidently, he had left those measures in place, maintaining them over the years.
One of the stakes had impaled the man, who still wriggled soundlessly in his death throes like a worm on a fishhook. The man finally succeeded in pushing himself off of the deadly poniard and collapsed backwards, splashing onto the floor where the last of his lifeblood drained away. Elisabeth turned away in disgust.
Other faces now filled the entry tunnel below them; Dr. Leeds and two more of his hired thugs were advancing up the passageway.
Leeds’ gaze went immediately to the motionless form on the ground. “What is going on here?”
“Your man tried to go on ahead without you,” explained Russell. “I tried to stop him, but...something happened.”
“A parting gift from our friend Fontaneda,” supplied Kismet.
Dr. Leeds drew in a sharp breath. He whirled to face Russell, and savagely grabbed hold of the front of his wetsuit with his good hand, bringing the deadly hook on his other to the major's throat. “You saved him?”
Russell sputtered, trying to find an explanation for his actions that would satisfy the occultist, but Elisabeth spoke first. “John, there was a trap. He walked right into it.”
Leeds paused, stifling his rage. “A trap?”
He thrust Russell away and turned to Kismet. “You knew about this, didn’t you? The Spaniard did this?”
Kismet nodded and flashed a defiant grin. “Better watch your step.”
One of Leeds’ men knelt beside the body a let out a low wail. “Ah, shit. Lonnie!” Almost clumsily, he scooped up the dead man’s pistol and brought it to bear on Kismet.
“Stop it,” Leeds barked. “Put that away.”
The man, almost blubbering, pointed at the corpse. “He’s dead.”
“You men knew there was risk in this endeavor. Great accomplishments require great risks, and sometimes, great sacrifices. Your friend took a stupid risk and has paid for his recklessness. But we may yet benefit from his sacrifice.”
A wicked gleam flashed in Leeds’ eyes as he turned to Kismet. “The Fates must have a reason to keep saving you. Who am I to argue with the forces of the universe? Since you seem so eager to discover the secrets of this place, why don’t you t
ake the lead?”
“Why should I do anything for you, Leeds?”
The occultist pointed his hook at Annie. It was answer enough.
Kismet sighed. “All right, Leeds. Let's finish this.”
* * *
Leeds’ party took a few minutes to unpack their gear and dress in dry clothes before pushing on. Russell remained in his wetsuit and carried his SCUBA gear with him, perhaps anticipating more submerged tunnels along their path. Annie had nothing to change into; her father had, against her protestations and without any preparatory measures, grabbed hold of her and jumped into the water. Still, she was better off than Kismet who had somehow lost his shoes, never mind that he looked like he’d been put through a wringer.
He stayed close to her, and that helped, but she was still in the grip of overwhelming emotions. She could not will her body to move; the nearness of the cavern walls smothered her, as did the knowledge that the only escape from this place was through stone and water. Yet, it was not just the irrational fear that stabbed at her heart.
Kismet was still alive, but how long would that last? Leeds was only keeping him around to accomplish his twisted purposes. And she was nothing more to the occultist than a lever to force Kismet—and her father as well, she supposed—to remain compliant. That realization sickened her.
With flashlights to show the way, the party advanced to the top of the rise. The spiked pole still barricaded the end of the passage like a deadly tollgate. Kismet was ordered to investigate the grisly trap while Dr. Leeds kept a firm grip on Annie's shoulder, ready to punish her at the first sign of resistance.
Kismet quickly discovered the trip wire that had triggered the trap and announced that it posed no further threat. One of Leeds’ men produced Kismet’s kukri and used the heavy blade to chop through the barrier, whereupon Leeds gestured for Kismet to proceed.
When Annie got her turn to pass from the tunnel, she discovered a wondrous underground room. Had she been slightly less intimidated by the location of the chamber, she might have been amazed by the discovery.
The walls of the chamber were a smooth, brilliantly white limestone, reflecting and amplifying the glow of the flashlights to fill up the entire area with illumination. There were a few mineral deposits—stalactites that looked like drips of milk frozen forever in time, and stalagmites that rose from the floor like anemic toadstools—which threw long, bizarre shadows against the bright walls. Flowing through the midst of the stone forest was a stream of water, seepage that had found its way down through the bedrock to ooze from the walls and ceiling.
Then Annie saw that not all of the lumps on the floor were stalagmites. There were also bones, picked clean of flesh, but still unquestionably the remains of human beings.
Kismet paused in the center of the cave and contemplated the path ahead. When Leeds approached to question him, he pointed to three separate holes in the limestone walls, passageways which each led in a different direction. “Fontaneda didn’t mention anything about this.”
“I defer to your judgment,” replied the occultist casually.
A surge of quiet terror seized Annie. If they made a wrong turn now, pushing deeper into the bowels of the earth, they might wander forever, never reaching their goal, never escaping to see the light of day.
A closer inspection revealed that the right-hand passage was merely a niche in the wall, reducing their choices by one. Kismet chose to explore the center passage, which seemed to descend slightly. He had only taken a few steps into the shallows when he called an abrupt halt. “It's another trap.”
The trip wire was hidden in debris that conspicuously littered the floor. The device, another spike trap like the first, was concealed in a depression in the wall. Only Kismet's cautious pace had prevented him from being skewered.
“Excellent,” crooned Leeds. His dark clothes were a stark contrast with the brilliant white of the cavern, and when he spoke, it was if the words were emanating from a hole in the fabric of the universe. “We're on the right path. The Spaniard would not have bothered to defend a false passage.”
“I’m going to trigger it,” Kismet announced. “Stand back.”
He pitched a head-sized rock onto the trip wire. There was a twang, followed by a snap and a blur of motion as the deadly spikes swung out of the wall across their path. An involuntary shriek tore from Annie’s chest.
Kismet extended a palm, and to Annie’s complete surprise, Leeds’ man handed over the kukri, allowing Kismet to clear the passage. She was even more shocked when, after sliding the knife blade into his belt, Kismet reached out to her.
“Come on,” he said, as if they were the only two people there. He handed her his flask. She accepted it and took a gulp, grimacing as the bourbon went down. Strangely, she did feel a little better.
He returned the container to his pocket and then gave her a hug. “Stick with me. We’ll get through this.”
Leeds made no move to interfere, but watched them with a bemused expression. “How touching. But be careful about making promises you can’t keep Kismet.”
“Oh, I keep my promises, Leeds.”
“Keeping a promise requires power,” retorted the occultist. “You are in my power, and you live or die at my command. Your life, and your ability to keep you word is dependent upon your cooperation.”
Kismet just smiled, as if he knew something Leeds didn’t, and put his arm around Annie. As they passed the splintered remains of Fontaneda's spike trap, Kismet whispered in her ear. “I swear to you, we'll get out of this, somehow.”
A ways further on, Kismet spied another spiked barrier trap. After disarming it, they rounded a corner and came to an abrupt dead end; a massive wall of rough limestone blocked their way.
Leeds strode forward, his eyes now hungry and excited. “This is not possible. We are following the correct path, I am sure of it.”
Russell also advanced and began examining the edges of the wall with his flashlight. “This isn’t part of the cave. It’s a loose rock...like a boulder. See here along the edges...it isn't connected to the walls.” He shone his light overhead. “I think the tunnel continues. There might be room to crawl over at the top.”
Kismet pulled himself partway up the boulder. “It’s another of Fontaneda's traps. He must have rigged up a portion of the ceiling to collapse. This one was an accident waiting to happen. Who knows what triggered it? But if he set one rock to fall, we have to assume that he may have rigged the entire cave to collapse if his final sanctuary was violated.”
“A chance we shall have to take,” retorted Leeds. “Or rather, I think, that you will have to take.”
Kismet's eyes narrowed but he made no retort. Instead, he continued up the rock wall. Annie watched as he picked out handholds and minute cracks in which to insinuate his fingers and toes. With each step, he left dark smudges on the white rock. The scattered chips of limestone debris, no doubt leftover from Fontaneda’s engineering project, had cut right through his socks and blood was oozing from dozens of scrapes and cuts on his feet. The injuries however didn’t seem to slow him down one bit. He pulled himself up high enough to inspect the top of the barrier then asked Russell to pass him up a flashlight.
“There must be an opening to the outside. I can feel the air moving. God, what a stench.”
Major Russell, with a loop of climbing rope draped around his neck like a bandolier, scaled the rock to join Kismet, and quickly rigged up a belaying line.
Annie was an adept rock climber, but as she watched the rest of the group ascend, she was filled with an uncharacteristic panic. They were all squeezing into the narrow gap atop the rock, directly beneath a ceiling that had been rigged to collapse with the slightest disturbance.
“No.” She shook her head when her turn came. “I can’t.”
“There’s only one way I’m leaving you behind, Miss Crane,” Leeds said, his soft tone making the threat all the more ominous. “And I don’t think Kismet or your father would approve of that solution.
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Higgins decisively took the fixed rope and secured it around her midsection. “Pull her up,” he called to the men already atop the rock.
The ascent was brief, only a few seconds, but it stretched out like an eternity of torment, until at last, she found herself once more in Kismet’s embrace. He freed her from the rope and then guided her through the narrow crawlspace and helped her down the other side.
An acrid odor, an animal smell, drifted in the light breeze that wafted through the tunnel, but Annie saw no evidence of anything living in the cave, nor any sign of an exit leading to the outside. Nevertheless, the gentle movement of air gave her hope. Maybe there was another way out, just around the corner...an end to this ungodly nightmare.
Kismet took the lead again, now watchful not only of the floor, which was deliberately littered with chips of limestone, but also the ceiling overhead. Thirty yards further along, he pointed up to an unnatural pattern of cracks outlining a ten foot long section of rock.
“It's Fontaneda’s doing,” he announced. “A trap, but I can't figure out what the trigger is. Probably a pressure plate on the floor.”
Leeds was becoming impatient. “We'll have to trigger it and crawl over as before.”
“That's insane. If we drop that rock, there's no telling what might happen. The crash could cave in the whole tunnel or open a crack to the lake and flood us out. We should go back.”
Kismet’s cautionary assessment set Annie’s heart racing again, but seemed to have no effect at all on the occultist. “Find a way, Kismet. Or I'll send Miss Crane ahead in your place.”
“No, damn it,” rasped Higgins, pushing through to the front of the group. “I’ll do it.”
The unexpected declaration shook Annie out of her despair. “Dad, no!”
Her father was already striding purposefully toward the area beneath the snare. Kismet stepped in front of him. “Don't be stupid, Al. I don’t know what’s going on in your head any more, but I know you care about Annie. It won’t do her any good if you get yourself killed.”
