It was easy to imagine what had happened. Once upon a time, when the bones had belonged to recently deceased slaves and prisoners, a few insects had found their way into the chamber. Trapped though they were, there was a seemingly endless feast of flesh, sustaining not only the insect and arachnid populations, but likely larger vermin such as mice and rats. The supply was not infinite however, as food began to dwindle in the closed environment, its denizens adapted to a new diet, devouring one another as occasion arose. No doubt, the scorpion’s deadly sting had moved it to the top of the food chain, but now that fresh meat had been delivered, there was no longer reason for anyone to go hungry.
Kismet turned back to roll the remaining distance to safety, then froze. Dozens more insects, spiders and scorpions had materialized and were relentlessly advancing from every direction. Before he could even begin to think about a way of hastily quitting the tomb, he espied movement on his own person. An enormous black scorpion had emerged from a nearby cavity and made its way stealthily onto his trouser leg. He could just make out its shiny carapace and the curl of its venomous tail as it scuttled along his thigh, moving higher in search of a place to plant its sting. Then he felt something tickling the back of his hand.
He flicked his eyes downward and saw a second multi-appendaged creature meticulously working its way toward the glowing lens of the MagLite. The scorpion’s pincer feet were lightly gripping the skin of his hand, securing itself with each step forward.
Kismet’s familiarity with the scuttling crab-like creature was limited. The only thing he was certain about was that he didn’t want them crawling all over him. He knew that not all members of the animal kingdom relied upon sight to stalk and locate prey. Some used sound, smell or even the ability to detect changes in body temperature. He did not even know if the stings of this particular species would prove fatal, but only that he didn’t want to find out.
There was another tickle in his hair and he barely restrained himself from reaching up to scratch the sudden itch. It occurred to him that the scorpions might have been drawn to motion, in which case the heaving of his chest as he fought to control the adrenaline coursing through his veins was like a brass band announcing his presence. He carefully sucked in another deep breath, holding it so that no movement would betray him. His heart continued to pound against the walls of his chest cavity, but slowed in response to his cautious breathing. The scorpion continued meandering along his scalp and onto his forehead.
In spite of the chill in the subterranean air, Kismet could feel perspiration leak from his pores, pooling wherever the scorpion gripped his skin. The creature stopped abruptly as if curious about this subtle change in its environment, or perhaps sensitive to the pheromones of panic that his body was pumping out in each drop of sweat. Its tail curled and flexed slowly over his left eye, and despite a furious impulse to blink, Kismet remained motionless. The scorpion on his hand meanwhile settled near the end of the flashlight, drawn to the unfamiliar warmth and light, but at the same time tentative in its approach, while the one on his leg continued its journey seemingly unaware of the living body upon which it traveled.
His foot twitched as the urge to flee overcame his intentional paralysis. The nearest arachnid paused as it detected the movement then quickly reversed, intent upon confronting this new prey. With surprising speed, it darted along the seam of his pant leg and gripped the sole of his boot with its front pinchers. Even through the thick leather, Kismet could feel the repeated thrusts of the stinger against his foot. Acting on an impulse, he brought his feet together in an abrupt, violent motion, to grind the creature beneath his heel. There was a satisfying crunch as the black exoskeleton was crushed, ending the attack.
He felt the grip of the scorpion on his face tighten as it detected the movement at his opposite extremity. Its tail stiffened and extended defensively, ready to strike if threatened by the fate that had befallen its brother. Kismet wiggled his foot again, trying to draw the creature away from his unprotected skin, but its reaction was slow and methodical. The poisonous tail gradually relaxed, curling back over its body, and the scorpion took a step onto his cheek.
Kismet’s lungs were burning with a breath held for too long, but he dared not even let it out in a subtle exhalation. The menacing arachnid would surely detect the movement and plant its sting on his exposed face. He felt his throat tightening with the urge to exhale and draw a fresh breath, but he willed the impulse away and continued moving his foot to draw the creature away. The scorpion responded, moving from his cheek onto his throat and over the flap of his collar. Kismet slowly exhaled in relief as the pincher claws at last broke contact with his unprotected skin.
He could not see Marie beside him and heard no sound to indicate whether she was similarly overrun by the scaly denizens of the ossuary. He took her silence as a good sign, but if she was not currently plagued, it would only be a matter of time before she too felt the pinch of scorpion appendages on her skin or in her hair. When that happened, he had no doubt that she would erupt in a screaming fit that would bring them all down on her.
“Marie.” He let the words out in a low whisper through clenched teeth. “On the count of three, we’re going to get out of here as fast as we can, got it?”
There was a guttural affirmative. He could hear her better now, breathing rapidly, panicked.
“It doesn’t have to look pretty,” he continued. “We just have to move. Do you see where the stairs are? That’s as far as we have to go.”
“Got it.”
“Okay. Take a deep breath.” He took his own advice, filling his lungs with the odious atmosphere of the crypt, then exhaled half of it. “One…two…three!”
On the final number, he threw the MagLite with a snap of the wrist. The scorpion on his hand had no time to attack, but was flung away as the flashlight arced through the air. There was a scattering of random rays into various nooks of the chamber as the light rattled down onto the mesh of skeletons. Upon landing, the heavy aluminum tube slipped into a crevice between the bones and continued its journey, noisily rattling through the layered remains and casting an eerie shadow show on the ceiling of the vast hall.
Kismet and Marie paid no attention to the MagLite’s final moments. They were already scrambling to avoid joining the ranks of the permanent occupants. Just as he had suggested, their hasty attempt to reach the staircase was not a study in graceful movement. The bones shifted and broke beneath them, dropping them deeper into the quagmire, but the impetus driving them granted a nearly superhuman strength. Much like a run through deep snow, Kismet’s legs scattered the remains with each step, hooking the interlaced bones with his feet and thrusting them out of the way as he plowed forward. Behind him, Marie was having similar success.
The sacrifice of the flashlight however had limited their ability to navigate by sight. The MagLite’s rays were indistinct behind the curtain of bone, forcing them to follow a path marked only in their memories. In the frenzy to escape, Kismet could only hope that they stayed on course. Then the sudden darkness yielded an almost insignificant bit of luck.
Their eyes were drawn to a slightly elevated point only a short distance away. In the back of his mind, Kismet recognized it as the Cyalume stick he had initially dropped into the stairwell. It had rolled down several steps before coming to rest near the base of the flight. Though its yellow light provided scant illumination, it shone like a beacon, guiding them to safety.