‘Go ahead … I’ll be right over,’ Ramirez said, peering into the other containers as he drew closer. He waved agitatedly for Holt to move on.
Reluctant, Holt levelled his rifle and advanced towards the opening. Once inside, he hesitated and shone the light into the tunnel. The passage looked similar to the one that had brought them into the cave — a wide conduit cutting through rock with a quarter of a metre to spare overhead. The ground pitched steadily downwards into a sharp bend that curved out of sight about ten metres from where he was standing. Whatever was causing the disturbance was definitely in there.
‘Damn.’ Despite the subterranean chill, he had to wipe sweat from his forehead. Wait for Ramirez. Not safe. Wait for Ramirez … his mind kept repeating.
Ramirez’s shrill voice called out, ‘Keep going, you pussy … I’ll be right there!’
Holt groaned in frustration. Overriding his inner alarm, he pressed onward.
This isn’t smart. You’re being stupid. Turn around … he thought.
The ground was tricky underfoot with lots of jagged edges that pushed upward like petrified fingers. Holt tried his best to dismiss any notion that they would suddenly come to life and grab at his boots.
There are no such things as demons, he began repeating over and over again in his mind. That Kurd is whacko.There are no such things as demons …
As the light rose and fell over the rough walls, Holt’s eyes began playing tricks with him, thanks to Ramirez shining the light right in his eyes. Circles of floating colours drifted like phantasms over his field of vision. He flicked his eyelids rapidly, hoping to make them go away. They didn’t.
As he followed the bend, he raised his M-16 higher on his shoulder, stared down the muzzle. Whatever was making the noises, he was certain of one thing: there were no friendly targets in this godforsaken underworld. So if anything moved — anything at all — he would shoot first, ask questions later.
The sounds intensified, throwing his senses into high gear.
Definitely didn’t sound like a machine. Or terrorist, either.
Ssssst.
Chssst.
Fffffsss.
Ssssssssssst.
He paused to crank his courage up a notch. Instead, his anxiety ballooned. The walls seemed to constrict around him as if he’d been swallowed by a gargantuan snake. His chest started heaving. He fought to catch his breath. He lowered his weapon and used his sleeve to blot more sweat from his spotty eyes.
Something tapped his shoulder from behind and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. In the same instant, he whirled fiercely and tweaked his ankle. When he tried to bring the rifle up for a shot, the muzzle hit the wall hard enough to shatter the element in his light.
‘Whoa! Relax!’ Ramirez yelled out, holding out his hand. ‘Calm the fuck down. You scream like a girl. I’m not the Boogeyman.’
‘What the fuck!’ Holt screamed. ‘Why are you sneaking up on me like that!’
‘Sorry,’ Ramirez said. ‘Sorry. Geez, you sound like my niece when I take her on a roller coaster. Take the skirt off, Sally.’
Holt took a few seconds to compose himself.
Ramirez couldn’t help but laugh.
Holt laughed too, and it felt good. ‘Scared the crap outta me, you—’
The droning from deep within the tunnel suddenly whipped up like a raging tempest.
Ramirez’s smile went flat. He took a step back and brought his rifle up high. ‘What the …’
Before Holt could turn to see what was emerging from the shadows, he saw Ramirez’s eyes go wide with terror. ‘Holy shit! Get out of the way!’
Fully panicked, Holt refused to look back. He scrambled towards Ramirez, clumsily barrelling into him when he tried to squeeze past. Both men went down.
‘What the fuck!’ Ramirez shouted, scrambling to his knees and reaching for his M-16.
Holt’s frantic hands swept the ground, probing for his weapon. His fingers registered something. But it wasn’t steel — it was spongy. And it bit him. Then came another deep bite on his thigh. ‘Ahh!’
Ramirez was back on his feet and shone the light on Holt. His blood went cold as thousands of eyes glared back at him.
73
Anxious to share his discovery of Lilith’s tomb with Shuster, Hazo made his way towards the cave’s centre and along the row of containers. Arranged side by side, two metres apart, the containers reminded him of railroad boxcars.
Glancing into the interiors, he spotted Shuster milling about inside the fourth container. Best not to disturb him, Hazo thought.
He waited outside.
He aimed his light up the ventilation stack that rose directly above the fourth container straight through the cave’s lofty ceiling. He traced the light down the stack to a truck-sized motor housing mounted on a sturdy steel platform atop the fourth container, directly above the door. Round amber lights blinked on its control panel. Having heard the buzzing fan come to an abrupt stop a few minutes ago, he presumed that the system had gone into sleep mode. He noticed that other critical systems hardware had been installed on the platform too; clearly, the brain centre for the installation. Bolted alongside the container’s doorway was the platform’s access ladder.
A shrill scream rang out and Hazo spun towards it, sweeping his light side to side.
The corporal responded in an instant, bursting through the dangling plastic slats and bounding down the short ramp with his M-16 at the ready. ‘What the hell was that?’ he asked Hazo.
‘Back there.’ Hazo pointed to the cave’s rear.
‘Stay here,’ Shuster told him then bolted off to investigate.
When the corporal disappeared around the container that sat at the end of the row, Hazo decided to climb up to the control platform for a better view. Gripping the ladder rungs, he began his ascent. Halfway to the top, he paused to catch his breath.
Off in the distance, he heard Ramirez laughing; Holt joining in shortly thereafter.
Must have been a false alarm, he guessed, continuing his ascent, slow and steady.
The wheezing in his lungs had given way to something much worse. Suddenly something ruptured beneath his breastbone. Within seconds, he felt like he was drowning. He coughed violently and a hot viscous liquid swelled into the back of his throat, bringing with it the taste of copper.
Blood.
Fighting the dread that threatened to paralyse him, he spat out the vile phlegm and managed to catch his breath. Clambering topside, he was overtaken by a bout of dizziness that forced him to his hands and knees. He cleared his lungs again, spat up more blood. If he’d been sickened by the same disease that afflicted Al-Zahrani, he realized it wouldn’t be long before the lethargy would give way to complete immobility and delirium. And after that …
Hazo remembered what Karsaz had told him at the restaurant: ‘Maybe it’s not so bad that you don’t have a family of your own. Less grief and worry.’ Death was far worse for those left behind. Hazo had learned that firsthand with the loss of his father, mother and brothers.
He shone the light down at the bloody puddle glistening over the platform’s metal floor panel. Am I dying? he wondered.
When Ramirez and Holt stopped laughing and began screaming again, Hazo came to his senses. Getting to his feet, he was able to clearly see shifting light coming out from the tunnel they’d gone into. But he could only see the top of the opening.
‘Get out of there!’ he heard Shuster yell.
Hazo saw Ramirez’s helmet bob in and out of view, Holt’s next.
Three seconds later, all hell broke loose as the cave filled with the deafening clack-clack-clack-clack of machine gun fire and strobing muzzle flash.