Son of Cerberus (The Unusual Operations Division Book 2)

by Jacob Hammes

  He had his eyes dead set on Brenda.

  “You need to get back to the control center,” he said in a very serious voice, which was high for his age. “Phillip said the team has come under attack. Marcus and Henry are both missing.”

  Marcus hadn’t seen the death of Stewart coming, but his powers of intuition had kicked in quickly enough to keep him from plummeting to his own death. When the dying man had stumbled into him, knocking him over onto his backside and then backwards into the well, his mind was already working a thousand miles per hour. The inside of the well was roughly hewn from the natural bedrock, but provided no purchase for the rapidly falling Marcus. He didn’t see any way out of his immediate predicament, yet knew that somehow he would come out of this particular incident without harm.

  His foresight proved right, for the most part. After about twenty feet he came down hard directly on top of a pile of dead bodies. Their bloated corpses made his impact less severe, yet the hard skulls, elbows, and knees jutting out in every direction meant that he didn’t come out of it unharmed. In fact, Marcus found it hard to move his legs for the better part of five minutes due to the large amount of well-placed bruises he received all at once.

  Though it was nearly pitch black, Marcus quickly realized he was lying in a pit of bodies. He scrambled to the side and off the mass as quickly as he could, trying hard to keep down the large amounts of bile he felt rising in his esophagus. The men and women who had taken the town had massacred everyone they could get their hands on. It made him feel sorry for the ones who lived to see their loved ones thrown down this stinky hole.

  Wind tousled his hair from behind. Marcus remembered a similar incident when the dead were not so happy to see him. With that thought in his mind, he pulled his shoulder-holstered pistol out and flipped on the light. His carbine had been lost, somewhere, and he wasn’t about to go digging through corpses to find it when bullets could start raining down on him any second.

  The wind had come from a small dark shaft that lead off somewhere into the rocks. Marcus looked around, careful to keep his eyes averted from the corpses, to see if he had any other options. The well was far too wide for him to use his leverage to scale, and he knew for a fact he couldn’t climb the slippery walls. He couldn’t exactly yell for help, either—the men up top would surely kill him as soon as they knew he had lived through the fall.

  “Can anyone hear me?” Marcus tried his radio. It was completely silent—dead from the fall.

  Since the town was, in fact, a mining town, he decided to take his chance with the dark shaft and see where it led. A quick breath and he was on his way.

  Ten feet down the tunnel and Marcus came to yet another steep drop. It occurred to him that what he had fallen down was not a well at all, but an air vent for the mines that must be much deeper than he could have known.

  “At least there’s a ladder,” Marcus said out loud. He figured the echo would travel through the rock walls better, but somehow it sounded muted as it left his mouth. He descended the ladder and was immediately greeted with just what he had expected—pure abysmal darkness.

  He took his time at the bottom of the ladder. Controlling his breathing was easy. It meant he could listen for anyone who might be following. In the dark, cramped place, he was sure shuffling feet would be easy to recognize.

  With his shoulders to the rough wall, he rubbed the soreness out of his legs and back. The men and women behind him had been slaughtered like cattle. Some of the little ones, small enough to be considered babies, looked as if they had been thrown down alive. The rest, blood soaked and bloated, had been shot point blank or beaten until their heads no longer resembled that of a human

  Marcus cursed, knowing too well they had stumbled into the grips of something they should have avoided. He wished, however, that they had been there sooner. At least with a few armed and well-trained men, the town might have stood a better chance.

  To take his mind off his immediate situation and the sadness he had left behind, he checked his supplies. He didn’t bring a bag, which meant he only had what was on him. In his cargo pocket was a snack bar, on his side were three more magazines, a knife, a broken radio—and that was it. He hadn’t anticipated being thrown down a well, so he hadn’t exactly packed for the occasion.

  With no other choice, he got up and looked into the darkness. Without a flashlight, it was impossible to see his hand before his face. With it on, however, the cavern was like looking into a different world. Rocks of all shapes and colors showed through the hand-mined tunnels. Some were beautiful and made Marcus want to stop and stare.

  He thought better of it when he remembered where he was. He had read in many articles how mines could go for hundreds of miles belowground. Even ten miles would mean Marcus would be moving all day long. He couldn’t afford such problems, but at least the shaft he was in was straight and completely void of any side chutes so far as he could tell.

  As Marcus made up his mind and headed off through the darkness, he turned his light off and on periodically. In the darkness, he would sit and wait, listening for anything that might provide him with a way out. Unfortunately for him, there were no sounds and no lights. There was just a crushing darkness and a very gentle breeze.

  He moved on for over half an hour through the darkness, hoping he would soon find his way into a bigger shaft. Though his intuition, his gut, told him he was doing the right thing, it was hard to trust his instincts instead of running back to the light of the air vent. At least there he wouldn’t be surrounded by the oppressive darkness; just a bunch of dead people.

  Marcus realized after a short time how ridiculous his current predicament was. He could be down here for an eternity and never find his way out. Meanwhile, the case they had been sent to investigate would still go on. It meant he would never figure out whether or not the box had been a weapon.

  The box.

  There were men in the mining town. Though Stewart had claimed they were mere rebels, they seemed quite interested in the infrastructure of the village itself. They had obviously taken up residence in the houses, and if Marcus remembered correctly, had already begun using the town’s only automotive shop. At first glance, he had dismissed the bullet-ridden vehicles as unusable. He wondered now whether or not the vehicles belonged to the bandits, not the deceased townspeople.

  If they were there for the crystals then perhaps they were the ones making the weapons. Marcus knew quite a few terrorist groups operated in the lawless territories of Africa. He briefly wondered whether or not this was just some successful takeover in order to secure more resources. Then, the group could simply go on making the hallucination-inducing boxes forever.

  Whatever the situation, Marcus had a lot of work in front of him. He had not been walking for an hour yet and already felt as if he would never get out. The worst thing he could do would be to panic, yet all he could think about was his flashlight running out of precious power and leaving him stranded, forced to find his way back to the pit by following walls.

  He pushed the thought out of his head. There was no room for error here, and no room for doubt. His gut told him that as long as he stayed straight and true, he would eventually find his way out of this maze. He knew everything would be all right, at least here in this place. Marcus had been through worse; granted he had come out with his fair share of scratches, dents, and dings. He had no objections against coming out battered, as long as he could get home to Julie and her proposal.

  Julie—the woman of his dreams. He had a quick fantasy about her and her horn-rimmed glasses, slowly gliding toward him. Marcus was an easy target when it came to Julie. All she had to do was smile at him and he was hers.

  He kept going, turning the flashlight off for long stretches of cave. Instead of relying on the little beam of light, he would close his eyes and trace along the wall for as long as he could stomach. It was a fairly straight tunnel, though the rock walls were far from smooth. They had beams of wood that acted as supports for the natu
ral ceiling above and the walls on each side. Sometimes he would see a wire coming out of the wall that was attached to a light, but the lights never worked.

  It was at the end of one stretch of cave when Marcus came to yet another conundrum. He felt the wall end beneath his hand. Deciding it was best to open his eyes and not chance a fall down some hidden precipice ended up being a good decision. There before him was just what Marcus had feared—completely vertical walls fell away before him. There was a tunnel that disappeared below into nothingness and one above which did much the same. Two more steps and Marcus would have found out whether there was a bottom the hard way.

  He breathed heavily and counted his blessings again. Unfortunately his straight-and-true plan was not working out. There was no clear path to the other side, just a shelf that was less than six inches wide which connected ten or eleven different tunnels in the circle. Four opened up between him and the only path that would keep him going straight. A cold draft seemed to come out of nowhere, nudging Marcus closer to the hole.

  Peeking over the side proved to be more troublesome than he had previously anticipated. There really was nothing that would stop him from falling to his death. Though there were more tunnels below and a few ledges he might be able to grab onto, he knew that landing on one was a longshot.

  Without any other options, Marcus decided to move ahead. Detaching the small light from the bottom of his weapon allowed him to hold it in his teeth while he tiptoed along the path. Cautiously, he tried every step before he committed to it with the heel of his foot. Near his head he was able to find handholds. They offered a bit of confidence, but not much. It wasn’t long before he came to the first opening, where he decided it was best to continue on without resting.

  The second opening was equally easy to reach, and so was the third. At the fourth and final opening, he was met with something he did not expect. A sharp human voice echoed shrilly down the cavern walls. Though Marcus had anticipated moving forward one more tunnel, he stopped short and held his breath.

  The cave was dark and narrow. The distant noises of water burbling through a cave echoed off the walls. Then, like a breath of fresh air, came more voices. Marcus sighed in relief, hoping he hadn’t stumbled into some trap or another.

  He made his way cautiously down the new path, hoping he wouldn’t encounter anyone before spotting them first. After twenty feet, the sound of rushing water and people talking became louder. Another twenty feet and Marcus saw light trickling through a small hole in the wall. A quick assessment of the area led him to believe he was in a cave adjacent to the men he had heard speaking. Tiny flicks of light filtered through an opening, though Marcus couldn’t tell whether or not it was natural.

  He crept on hands and knees to the opening in the cave. The water washed slowly through a shallow rocky crevice near him and on past the speaking people. From his angle, he could see them clearly without ever having to worry about being noticed.

  They were clothed in what looked like military attire, held AK-47s, and had three or four captives. The prisoners all had their hands tied behind their backs with thick gags shoved into each of their mouths. One man that Marcus had not seen at first was poking what looked to be a corpse with the butt of his rifle farther off down the cave.

  The little girl he poked wasn’t dead—her chest rose and fell in what Marcus recognized as a near-death reaction. Her head bled from multiple areas and her mouth gaped as she took her last few inhalations. The man above her, a tall African with sweaty black skin and crooked teeth, smiled at what Marcus thought must be the father. His smile grew wider as she passed on into the afterlife.

  The presumed father, broken with pain, doubled over and sobbed violently into the floor.

  Marcus had seen enough. He could see the quickly moving water pass through a hole in the cave near him and into the chamber where the prisoners were being held. He knew the foolhardy plan might not work to his advantage, but he wanted to see these men die. For all they had done, it would be the least Marcus could do.

  Marcus pulled his pistol back out and attached the flashlight to the bottom of the barrel. Careful not to make a noise, he crept on all fours to the hole through which the water was flowing. It was a much larger space than he had initially assumed, which meant he could slide through easily on his belly. The space was also dark, which meant it gave him optimal cover from being seen.

  He got on his stomach and started inching his way into the icy cold water. It moved along at a brisk pace and Marcus soon realized he would be swept away if he didn’t keep control of himself. If this little creek fed into the larger river outside, he might even be swept into some rapids. Marcus changed directions. With his feet in front of him and his back in the water, he found he could easily float through.

  Marcus made himself as small as he could to fit through the hole. In a matter of seconds, he was through. Rage filled his vision, guiding his weapon.

  The first man to receive hot lead from the business end of his pistol was the man who had killed the little girl. One shot made sure he would never move again as it took his brains and splattered them on the wall behind him. The next man took two rounds to the chest and the final man took one through the neck. It all happened within the span of two seconds and no one but Marcus had any time to react.

  The slippery sides of the underground creek made it hard to crawl out of, but Marcus only needed to wait a second before someone came to his assistance. With the huge man’s help, Marcus was hoisted out onto cool rocks of the mineshaft and quickly pulled to his feet. The man before him was tall, much taller than Marcus, and had chocolate-milk colored skin. He managed a few quick words in his native tongue before Marcus waived him off.

  “English,” he said, hoping the man would understand the language barrier. “I don’t understand you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, surprising Marcus. “I am Jahar. Thank you for saving us.”

  “Jahar,” Marcus tried the name on for size. Jahar had used parts of his mouth that Marcus hardly knew existed to pronounce his name. It was difficult to comprehend and even more difficult to replicate. “What are you guys doing down here?”

  Marcus made quick work of the ropes securing Jahar’s hands. He, in turn, went to work untying the other men alongside Marcus.

  “We are miners,” Jahar announced. “These men came into our village, burned it to the ground, raped and killed most of the women, and put us here. We were told that if we do as they say, we would be free soon. They raped and murdered my friend’s little girl, there.”

  He pointed to the girl Marcus had seen die. The father bent over her, whispering between sobs into her small ear. A shudder of anger and pain went through Marcus as he realized how terrible this must have been.

  “Who are these men?” Marcus asked, pointing to one of the three dead men.

  “They said that they were our replacements,” Jahar said. “They told us our employer sends his regards.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes,” Jahar looked defeated. “All I can say with certainty is that they are here to wipe us out. They don’t want any of us getting away. I wish I could help you more, as you have helped us.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Marcus said, looking around the cave. “How far from the village are we?”

  “About five kilometers,” Jahar responded. “Where are the rest of you?”

  Marcus didn’t really understand the question. He was confused as to whether Jahar thought he was part of a rescue squad, or some government agency that had known about this operation from the beginning.

  “I hate to tell you, bud, but I’m the only one. Were you expecting someone else?”

  “An army,” Jahar said, unabashed. “I was hoping an army would come to save us, not one mercenary.”

  “I’m not a…” Marcus stopped short. He didn’t need to let Jahar know who he was, after all. It was best he was mistaken for someone hired to rescue them. Perhaps then he would get more help.

  �
�I wasn’t alone,” Marcus started again. “We didn’t know the village had been taken over already. Most of my crew was pinned down by the men in the village. I can only hope they made it out alive.”

  “Don’t you have a radio?”

  “Not a working one.” Marcus held up the broken radio that had been attached to his hip. “We need to get back to that village of yours and take it back from whoever killed everyone.”

  “That is easier said than done.” Jahar looked shameful again. “There were at least thirty men with heavy weapons in the village. I do not think that even you can take out that many of them.”

  “Maybe not by myself.” Marcus looked around at the five more prisoners. All of them would be willing to help, Marcus was sure of that. To see the men who had raped and murdered their loved ones die would be the best thing that Marcus could do to aid in their recovery.

  “Is there transportation nearby?” Marcus pondered aloud.

  “Those men brought two trucks,” Jahar announced. “One has a big weapon on top, the other is just a truck.”

  “We need a driver,” Marcus said, formulating a plan. “Get these men up and ready, collect the guns and as much ammunition as you can, and meet me outside.”

  Marcus had an itch he had to take care of quickly, before the action started again. He ran back down the mineshaft toward the direction of the large cylindrical hole. After thirty feet, he found it. The cave took him back to the large, circular area through which he had been traversing. It meant he had guessed right.

  “I knew going straight would get me out,” he said aloud before turning back to meet his destiny.

  Chapter 12

  Cynthia, her clothes ripped in many places, looked much the same as her counterparts David and Stephen. With dirt covering most of their visible skin, blood splattered every few inches from the vast amounts of scratches they had received, and clothes ragged, they seemed like a bunch of vagabonds. In reality, they had been trudging for over an hour away from Marcus, who might be dead for all they knew, and toward Henry’s captors. It was the only logical thing they could do. There was no way three of them could fend off an entire town full of armed men, obviously intent on killing anyone they thought might fight against them.