What they needed was more help. But even if he were able to radio for help somehow it wouldn’t make a difference. No one could make it up here in time to do anything.
If only I could hold them in my arms one last time…
Suddenly Robert began shaking, and a powerful heat began to spread through his body, opening up from his empty belly like a giant flower. Did he have hypothermia? Was this how he was going to die?
He tried to sit up but couldn’t. Invisible hands kept him pressed against the ice until he began to accept the fever running through him. The images of animals and faces of old men stared at him with glowing eyes while he started to drift out of consciousness. You can’t do this. You’ll go to sleep and then you’ll die…
Robert awoke to the sounds of people moving nearby.
Had they found him?
“Peggy?” he called out, hearing his echo careening away through a maze of glacier corridors.
He waited. No one replied. And yet there were rustling sounds very close by.
Robert remembered to open his eyes. When he glanced around he realized he was still lying in the ice shrine on his back with the low ice ceiling pressing down at him. When he sat up he saw the research team had come to life again, had pulled themselves up from the bloody muck and were headed out of the shrine. Some had their heads hanging by strands, while others pulled themselves along the ice on bloody stumps.
Oh god. They’re coming back to life.
And it’s because of me…
CHAPTER 61
Satisfied that the sled of gold was safely secured, Marsh and Chester began to head out of the glacier. Billy stayed behind to see that the load didn’t get hung up on anything while the others would see to bringing it to the surface. But just as Marsh and Chester reached the place where they’d have to start climbing, the crevasse echoed with Billy’s horrified screams.
Marsh stared at Chester, bewildered. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
Chester shivered with fear. “Something’s scared him bad. That doesn’t sound like the Billy I know.”
“I knew he wasn’t worth a damn. We’re so close now and he’s going to mess things up for us.”
“Maybe it’s Crain. He could be killing Billy down there for all we know.”
“Shit.” Marsh said, resigned. He dropped his pack to the ground, cracked his rifle to make sure it was still loaded. “I should have wasted the son of a bitch when I had the chance. Come on. Let’s get back down there before he cuts the line or something.”
****
They hadn’t even touched Billy yet.
He couldn’t run. In his hurry to get away he’d slipped over the ledge and crashed against a glassy spire of diamond-hard ice. Some barbs growing out from the spire had gotten hooked through his jacket and shirt and possibly into his flesh. Held up above a seemingly bottomless crevasse, he’d kicked wildly in an attempt to find a foothold. Soon his legs turned to mush, and all Billy could do was hang there and cry for help.
They were supposed to be dead. And now they were moving toward him, quietly, making only delicate mouse scratches on the ice with the tips of their boots, their gunshot-mangled bodies floating in the blue hue of the glow sticks.
Billy shrieked again. He could feel the air rattle up from the bottom of his lungs, burning and twisting as it broke from his mouth. He’d never been this scared in his life. Piss soaked the front of his jeans and froze painfully against his crotch. What managed to escape his jeans was forming icicles.
“Go away!” He shouted at the black approaching mass. He could see the pale yellow orbs of their eyes dancing with a kind of life that seemed otherworldly. It was clear they were angry, that they wanted him dead. When Billy saw them float across the crevasse without falling he turned his head away and sobbed like a child.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
Then they were upon him, squeezing his flesh between their cold hands, and the woman scientist who’d stood up to Marsh in the ice shrine sank her shattered teeth down deep into his Adam’s apple and tore it away.
Gunfire exploded throughout the cave. A bullet passed through the back of the dead woman’s head and tore Billy’s lower jaw to shreds. Billy went limp and his head toppled back spouting blood as the woman slid away from him and plunged down into the shaft below.
The three dead grad students turned away from Billy and faced Marsh and Chester.
“Fuck me,” Marsh said, clumsily reloading fresh bullets from his coat pocket as he backed up. Suspended not far above Billy was the treasure-laden sled, swaying back and forth like a canvas-skinned cocoon. Marsh was relieved to see the ghouls appeared to show no interest in it.
If I can slow them down enough to get out of this place… it shouldn’t take much time to reel the sled out of here.
Chester stepped forward with his rifle at his side, unloading all he had into the ghastly figures whose eyes burrowed into him.
They weren’t going down like he wanted them to. Chester worried that once his and Marsh’s ammo was spent there would be very little left they could do to stop them. Even the grisly remains of the woman who’d been biting into Billy’s neck had floated back up to the edge of the crevasse. She drifted in their direction, leaving behind cold clumps of brain matter splattering against the ice like uncooked hamburger.
The ammo wasn’t going to last forever. Especially if those things just kept getting back up again...
Lagging behind, Marsh raised his rifle and searched for a target. He only had a few bullets left and he had to make them count. He aimed at a large bearded grad student with lungs that bubbled from a gaping wound in his chest. But just seconds before he pulled the trigger Marsh was struck by a better idea. He calmly re-guided the crosshairs over to Chester’s leg and fired…
Chester hit the ice floor screaming as he grasped at the splintered chunks of what used to be his knee. Marsh didn’t stick around to hear his curses.
Sorry pal, but I’ve got my priorities. I’ve waited too long to get this far, and I’m not going to spoil it by becoming dog meat for those things…
CHAPTER 62
Robert pounded Maynard with his fists until they were completely slimed with his own blood.
“You son of a bitch. I never asked for your help. I never did.”
His head was swimming with the after-images of his encounter with the ghost of the frozen man. He no longer knew what he was supposed to do, or who he was anymore for that matter.
“You must get out of here,” a voice behind him said, as brittle as crackling ice.
Robert recognized the voice from long ago. His heart slammed against his ribcage. He turned to face the ghost that had nearly frightened him to death when he was a boy. The tall figure wavered in the candlelight, but created no shadow on the smooth porcelain-white walls. He was surprised by the expression on the ghost’s face, for unlike the cruel ghost of Charlie Maynard he thought he sensed concern.
“Jared Horn… Why did you have to speak to me in riddles? Why couldn’t you have truly warned me when you had the chance?
The ghost of his great grandfather took a step closer and his features began to appear sharper, as if his transparent form was now being filled with solid matter.
“I wanted to protect you. I’ve watched your father become a man. Not a perfect one, but your father nonetheless. And then you came along—as did your cousins—and I wished I could have put a stop to it all.”
“It’s your fault people’s lives have been ruined and innocent people have been killed. I wish to god I’d never been born.”