“Let’s go. We’re running out of time,” Curt said. “Grab the lantern. I’ve got the shotgun and shells.”
The two men jumped from the boat. The slope made it difficult to stand, and Scott plunged a foot into the water to catch his balance. Curt tied the lead rope off on a nearby tree.
“Curt, if we get down in the caves and the water breaches the tunnel opening…”
“I know, I know. Let’s go.”
Curt tied the lantern to the end of the rope and carefully lowered it all the way down the long, angled shaft. “I’m going down. When I get to the bottom, I’ll untie the rope. You pull it up, tie the shotgun on it, and lower it back down. Then you come down.”
“Got it. I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Scott said.
Curt started down the rope, placing the flashlight in his pocket and paused. “Can you carry the box of shells?”
Scott appraised the size of the box. “No, but I’ll stuff as many shells as I can in my pocket.”
A few minutes later, they stood at the bottom of the shaft in the outer cave. Curt lifted the lantern, which provided ample light. Scott was in charge of lugging the shotgun.
“What is it you expect to find here that’s going to help us?”
Curt didn’t respond. Instead, he carried the lantern to the back of the rectangular, manmade cave and down into the sloped tunnel that led to the inner cave. Scott followed him, breathing in the musky aroma.
Curt stopped at the upside down Egyptian symbols they had discovered earlier that day with Tolen. “Queen Hatshepsut’s cartouche. I believe this is the key.”
“I’m still not following you.”
Curt followed the angled shaft, moving downward, stepping into the inner, natural cave where the stream cut through the rocky floor and the pile of stones was still stacked behind. The flowing water gurgled softly. He turned to Scott. “It bothered me that Hatshepsut’s cartouche was upside down. At first I took it as a sign of degradation by her stepson, Tuthmose III. Then Tolen confirmed that he found it on the obelisk, where it was also inverted. It was done that way on purpose, but I believe it had a deeper meaning. Remember, Tuthmose III loathed his stepmother enough to set up an entire expedition to send her mummy across the sea, even placing a false mummy in her tomb in Egypt. It didn’t make sense to me that he’d build her a standard pyramid. No, I believe his hatred fueled the formation of a unique structure.”
Scott still couldn’t latch onto what Curt was saying.
Curt placed the lantern on the ground. “Hand me the shotgun.”
Scott complied, and Curt opened the barrel to ensure it held two shots. Then he quickly moved to the side of the heaping stones and aimed the shotgun to the craggy roof above the pile. Before Scott could question what he was doing, Curt fired a deafening blast at the eight-foot-high ceiling above. The blast echoed harshly as the stone roof shattered and pieces from above fell around the men in small fragments.
Scott grabbed his ears. “Jesus Christ, Curt!”
Curt laid the shotgun on the ground. Scott slowly released his ears and shined his flashlight upward. He was astounded by what he saw: a jagged opening in the ceiling where, beyond, four flat walls banked outward, like a square funnel. Scott’s ears were still ringing, but he suddenly understood what Curt had been saying.
Curt said, “That’s why Tolen couldn’t find remains of the pyramid he had read about on the obelisk upriver. He was looking atop the rise, on the plateau, when it was actually inside the rise, built into the swell of earth and turned upside down, just like Hatshepsut’s cartouche was upside down. The point of the pyramid had been stuck downward through the roof of this cave. It was probably the last piece constructed. It was the ultimate slap in the face by Tuthmose III toward his stepmother, burying her in a tomb that was flipped over, instead of pointed upward toward the heavens. It’s also why this rise of land is such an aberration along the river. The entire swell of earth is manmade to hold the pyramid, except for this natural cave, which they must have discovered when they were looking for a place to build.
“Once the expedition returned to Egypt, Senenmut must have remained behind and discovered this cave. He pulled the point of the pyramid down in an attempt to get inside to his beloved Hatshepsut, not knowing that the Egyptians had placed Hatshepsut’s mummy and the Staff of Moses at the very tip. When it fell, Hatshepsut’s mummy and the Staff tumbled down in this heap of rocks. My guess is that Senenmut was mortally wounded or maybe even crushed by the falling rocks. There’s a good chance his remains were under the pile but have long since turned to dust. Falling debris from the pyramid sealed the ceiling opening after the Staff, Hatshepsut’s mummy, and the stone pieces—probably the remnants of Queen Hatshepsut’s sarcophagus—spilled out into the pile. We didn’t notice it because of the rough, natural way the entire ceiling appears. This would explain why Ed Leedskalnin saw the ‘drawn up face’ that we had already guessed was Queen Hatshepsut in the cave. My guess is that the Serpent consumed whatever remained of Hatshepsut’s mummy.”
“It’s amazing and all, but—and excuse me for being a bit self-centered—how does this help us against the Serpent? Remember,” Scott said, looking around nervously, “it’s got me in its sights.”
“Egyptians are notorious for telling their stories in their artwork. Inside practically every pyramid there are hieroglyphs and picture stories on the walls. With luck, we’ll find something on the walls inside the pyramid that tells us how to transform the Serpent back into the Staff.”
“Maybe it’s like the Fish? You know, fresh water activates it into the Serpent and salt water turns it back into the Staff.”
“We know from Ed Leedskalnin’s story that he placed the Staff in this stream, and it didn’t turn into the Serpent. Clarence Little must have done something else to trigger it. With luck, we’ll find the answer up there.”
Curt gave Scott a boost up. He found purchase on the side of the opening and pulled himself into the dark enclosure. He reached down and, one at a time, Curt handed up the shotgun, flashlight, and lantern. Scott stretched his arm down and helped Curt climb up.
Scott could see the wonder in Curt’s eyes as the two men straddled the opening on the remnants of a floor that jutted out from the slanted walls. Resting on the thin lip of stone allowed them to catch their breath and survey their surroundings.
“We’re standing in a 3,500-year-old pyramid built upside down into the ground. Amazing,” Scott said with a sigh. “God, I wish Marvin were here to see this.”
Curt shined the flashlight around the enclosed area. The walls were barren, and the roof was low; barely high enough for them to stand upright. In one corner of the roof was an opening. Grooves carved into the slanting stone wall crept toward the exit above.
“Let’s go up,” Curt said. He used the handholds in the wall and reached the ceiling opening, passing through. Scott handed up the items, and followed.
The men found themselves in another, larger enclosed area where, once again, as would be expected inside an upside-down pyramid, the stone walls slanted outward. The walls here were blank. The smell of aged stone was rich. Scott felt the smoothness and couldn’t help but marvel at the precision of the construction.
A distant sound quickly diverted his attention. A series of guttural clicks rose upward. They seemed to originate from the caves below. Scott could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew the Serpent was coming.
Curt must have read the urgency in his eyes. He shined the flashlight on yet another ceiling opening with handholds in the adjoining wall. They hurried up it, awkwardly carrying the shotgun and lantern. They found the third level to be identical to the first, except that, with each level, the area grew in size. They continued up in the same manner to a fourth level.
Here, it was quite different than the first three floors. This was not a single enclosure, but a hallway that follow
ed the slanting sidewall. With the light, they moved along the hallway until they came to a corner and turned 90 degrees. They came to a second, then a third corner, and each time they had to turn 90 degrees.
Shining the light ahead in the fourth corridor a short distance away, a mound of rubble several feet high swelled in their path. The light showed a smooth, polished stone, tapered nearly to a point, then expanding out on either side. There were two round, shallow divots, side-by-side near the apex. Scott moved to one side of the stone mound, which reached as high as their chests.
“Any ideas?” Scott asked.
Curt continued to stare at the odd stone formation.
“It’s obviously manmade.”
“Obviously,” Scott responded.
“These two recessed openings…they kinda remind me of…wait, wait, wait, wait,” Curt said excitedly. “Scott, see how this curved top slides off at an angle. Picture this slab of stone standing up, with this on the bottom…”
“I’m not following,” Scott said. “Wait, is it a….nose?”
“Yes,” Curt said, “better than that, it might be the missing nose of the Sphinx on the Giza Plateau.”
“There’s a bad joke about cutting off your nose to spite your face, but I’m not in the mood for humor,” Scott said, shining the flashlight to the backside to ensure nothing was lurking in the shadows before they continued past.
Continuing down the fourth corridor, they found yet another opening in the ceiling; this time, a vertical stone slab with handholds reached to the ceiling and another opening led to yet another chamber above. With each level, the pyramid was widening, as expected. The first hallway, though, was devoid of any artwork. Scott could feel his hope waning that they ever would find any.
A series of disturbing clicks made Scott jump.
“Curt, I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but we’re running out of time.”
“To the next level,” Curt said, motioning upward. Scott could hear it in his friend’s voice. He was also losing hope the pyramid would yield any secrets.
They climbed the vertical slab. It was considerably more difficult to ascend than scaling the outwardly slanted walls on the lower levels. Curt was first through the opening, shining the flashlight around. Scott handed up the shotgun and lantern, then followed. Like the fourth level, this fifth level had a hallway that hugged the side wall, which fell away at a sharp angle. By far, this was the tallest level, the ceiling towering some dozen feet overhead.
“If I wasn’t so scared, this would be absolutely fascinating,” Curt’s flashlight licked across the walls. This time, colorful pictures of an ominous beast and skeletal figure leaped from the darkness. “Now we’re talking,” Curt remarked.
Scott felt his spirits lift; that is, until the low, clicking noise permeated from somewhere below.
“Curt, we’ve got a Serpent on our asp.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Curt said, examining the images upon the wall.
Scott moved alongside him. The air was musty and warm. Perspiration ran down his face.
Suddenly, there was a tremendous crash from below and the entire structure shook. Scott looked worriedly at Curt. “I think we have company,” he said almost breathlessly. “It’s coming up the same way we did.”
Curt never wavered. He scoured the walls, examining each image. He moved quickly down the hallway with Scott following in tow. They made the first 90-degree turn, and pictures continued to coat the wall. Onward they moved, making the second 90-degree turn. Here, the images ended. Another vertical slab of stone reached toward the ceiling, but there was no opening; only a solid wall.
They were trapped.
****
Fawn’s eyes fluttered open. Pain radiated from her lower back to her left shoulder. She wanted to close her eyes, to sleep. Maybe the pain would go away. She was uncomfortable. Why was her bed so hard? She tried to turn, but a jutting pain caused her to cringe. Now she opened her eyes and forced them to stay open. She was outside. The sky above was misty. The moon glowed down on her.
Why am I outside? Where am I?
She could smell gas and the stench of muck.
Suddenly, a flood of memories returned. She had been in the helicopter over the river with Mike when a woman on the bridge had fired upon then. The helicopter had been damaged. The last thing she remembered was that they were falling and about to crash.
Crash! Oh my God!
She tried to push herself up, but she was in agony. Her left shoulder burned. She realized her hand had sunk in mud. She used her other arm to prop herself up, as it, too, sunk in mud. The pain was excruciating. Perspiration blossomed on her face, and her vision blurred. She felt dizzy, close to passing out. After a few seconds, the wave of dizziness passed. She looked up at the trees and vegetation crowding in around her. With considerable effort, fighting the pain, she rose to her feet. Her left shoulder ached with each breath. She swayed and caught herself against a pine tree, scraping her hand across the bark.
Then she saw it.
Several dozen yards away, the helicopter had crashed. No fire, no explosion…just wreckage.
Mike!
Holding her left shoulder, grimacing in pain, Fawn staggered through the thicket. The stench of the mud was palpable. Even with the moonlight, it was too dark to see inside the mangled cockpit. The closer she got to it, the more she prayed that he had been thrown clear just as she had.
Sloshing through muck and clogging plant life, she reached the cockpit. The craft was upright but in tatters. The door had been sheared off. Fawn gasped when she saw Mike’s still body, slumped forward, head turned to the side, partially cloaked in shadow.
“Oh no! No, no, no!” She climbed in beside him. Tears burst forth as she touched his back. He was not breathing. And then, with utter horror, she realized his body had gone cold.
The reality took several seconds to sink in. Her husband, Mike Roberson, was dead.
Fawn put her head down in her muddy hands and wept. She felt a deep remorse, an aching in her stomach that caused her to double over in anguish.
****
“Not good,” Scott said, eyeing the light across the solid ceiling. “This ladder leads to nowhere. This is futile.” The rumbling from the floors below intensified, and they heard a succession of clicks. “It’s getting closer,” he said in a panicky whisper.
Another crushing sound of rock, and it felt like the entire structure trembled, as if threatening to collapse.
Scott spoke with urgency, “We’ve got to get out of here. That creature is tearing this thing apart. If it doesn’t get us first, we’ll be crushed in the rubble when it brings everything down.”
Curt could hear the fear in his friend’s voice. He didn’t blame him. Curt had led Scott here on the premise there was hope. Now he wondered if he’d sealed both their fates.
The tumultuous noise below grew louder. There was no time to continue examining the pictures. They had to get out before the Serpent trapped them, but their only avenue of escape had been cut off by the creature.
“Curt, I hope you have another plan, because this one hasn’t worked out so well.”
Curt looked at the stone wall with the handholds. “It makes no sense. You don’t build a ladder to nowhere.”
“Well, they did,” Scott said nervously. He began plucking the shotgun shells from his pocket. “Get that thing reloaded. It’s our only chance.”
Curt dispensed the used shells and quickly loaded two fresh shells. “I have a bad feeling it will be like throwing pebbles at a grizzly bear.”
An explosion of rock fragments came hurling toward them, striking them, and knocking both men to the ground.
Curt gasped when he saw the creature. The Serpent lifted its mighty black head through the newly formed opening, spilling drops of liquid fire from its mouth. The creature released an eerie su
ccession of clicks, and turned to face them with its one red eye cutting through the haze of dust it had stirred. All around them they heard rocks cracking and the groaning sound of the ancient stone structure giving way.
“Shoot it,” Scott yelled.
Curt pulled both triggers at once, sending a gigantic blast at the creature’s head. The kick of the shotgun nearly toppled him over. When he regained his balance, he saw that the creature had recoiled, as if somewhat befuddled, then refocused on them with its one red eye. The Serpent slowly emerged from the hole, pulling its tremendous girth through, and slid toward them.
“Hand me more shells!”
Curt quickly flipped out the old ones and inserted the new ones Scott gave him.
“It’s no use,” Scott said in resignation as the creature drew closer and closer.
Curt turned to the handholds leading up to the ceiling. He had a hunch. He had time either to fire on the creature or test his theory, but not both. With his adrenaline racing, he pointed the shotgun upward.
“What are you doing?” Scott asked.
Curt pulled the trigger to both barrels again. The blast struck the ceiling, echoing harshly and sending fragments raining down on them. A hole appeared.
“Go! Go!” Curt shouted to Scott, throwing the shotgun down.
Scott dropped the lantern and scampered up the handholds with Curt right on his heels. Instead of leading to another level, the opening led into a low tunnel that went horizontally over the ceiling. They went quickly, forced to scurry on their hands and knees, ever fearful of the creature in the level just below them. When they heard the crashing of rocks behind them, they knew they were still being pursued.
Scott was in the lead, so Curt handed him the flashlight. Just then, he heard a horrendous thud. Curt turned to look behind and saw the Serpent smashing into the narrow tunnel entrance, the red eye staring at him. The walls fractured as the Serpent pressed into the condensed tunnel. “Scott, don’t stop, he’s right on our tail.”
Evil in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 2) Page 30
