Ancient Enemy (17 page)

There were seven of them up there. At least that I could see. All hanging at various heights that made it nearly impossible to tell whether it was because of how tall they were or to what portion of the uneven ceiling they were tethered. There were deer and elk antlers, the horns of domestic and bighorn sheep, and even an antelope. I couldn’t tell their sexes from this vantage point, only that their faces were red and engorged with the blood settling with gravity.

They were suspended from the stalactite-riddled roof by what almost looked like sleeping bags. No, more like the funnel traps I’d seen in the previous caverns, or maybe like cocoons or chrysalises. They were made of rawhide of some kind, though. The stretched skin of what could have been deer or bison, or even bear for all I knew. The fur was still on the inside, with the occupants, whose arms were folded across their chests. I could see why the Anasazi had depicted them as sarcophagus-men. That was exactly how they looked now, like dead people hanging in funereal bundles.

I shifted to my right and rose ever so slightly to get a better look at my adversaries. Their mouths hung open wide enough that I could see their long canines on both the upper and lower jaws. Their eyes twitched beneath the straps of skin where their eyelids appeared to be on the verge of growing together. The wheezing noises they made sounded hollow thanks to their sinuses and large nostrils.

I had no idea how quickly they could drop out of their…whatever those cocoon things were, or even how they were held inside. I had to believe that the moment I fired the first shot, they would rain down upon me. At best, I could maybe hit another one before they were on the ground, and maybe a third before the element of surprise was gone. There was no way I could hold my own against four of them in such close quarters. The rifle was a long-range weapon and a liability in close-quarters combat, where it was useless as anything other than a club. I know a little about fighting. I mean, you can’t walk off of a reservation and into a town like Cortez without running the risk of crossing locals with generations’ worth of prejudices all bottled up and ready to explode, but I wouldn’t have a chance in hell against those kinds of odds.

My only real option was to take as many of them as I could before they got their wits about them again and get out of this cavern as quickly as possible. I could use the rifle to pin them down in here while I retreated through the tunnel. If I could fall back as far as the ledges I’d descended from the surface, then I could use that same narrowing where I’d initially anticipated an ambush against them. If I didn’t make it that far, though, I was going to die down here.

I probably would anyway.

As long as I took at least four of them with me, I figured I had even odds of the traps I’d rigged at the trailer taking care of the rest. At least I hoped that would be the case.

I needed to eliminate the most dangerous of them first, while they were still unaware of my presence. Shooting them while they slept seemed cowardly, but this wasn’t a fair fight. This was about survival. Period. Maybe killing their leader or alpha male or whatever would buy me a few more seconds in the resulting confusion.

Two of them were larger than the others. They appeared broader and heavier inside their rawhide cocoons, anyway. One had a five-point rack from a bull elk that had to weigh a good fifty pounds by itself. Even with a neck as thick as a tree trunk, sleeping like this was undoubtedly the only time when his spine was allowed to decompress. The other had the horns of a bighorn sheep. They were curled and so massive they rested against his shoulders, even hanging upside down.

If I had to guess, my money was on the one with the elk antlers being the alpha male. If I was right about getting two quick and clean shots, then I had to take them both. The others looked every bit as ferocious, though. I feared I was merely choosing the manner of my death.

I stepped back and raised the rifle. Aligned it with the temple of the man with the elk antlers. Slid my finger onto the trigger. Gently. Glanced over at the one with the ram’s horns.

Whoomph-whoomph-whoomph
.

The moment I pulled the trigger, I would swing the gun to my left and have a clean shot right at the center of its face. If it dropped at all, I would still hit it squarely in the neck or the chest. Either way, it wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

My palms were slick with sweat and my hands trembled so badly I had to take several slow, deep breaths.

Whoomph-whoomph-whoomph
.

I tightened my finger, pulling the trigger into the sweet spot—

Crap
.

I wouldn’t get far without my flashlight. Not when they knew this place far better than I did and could move without their sense of sight. I’d be an idiot to believe I’d have the time or the presence of mind to grab it from the ground in my panic to get out of this cavern.

I lowered the rifle. Hurried to where I’d left the light. Tucked it into the front pouch of my hoodie. It shined out and to my right, making the cavern appear to lean in that direction. Again, I picked the perfect location and aligned the barrel with the temple of the one I believed to be the alpha male. Mentally rehearsed quickly pivoting to my left and taking the shot to the face of the second male. Marked the opening to the tunnel and prepared for the mad dash between the stalagmites. If I slid into the tunnel and flopped over onto my stomach, I could easily hit one more and continue firing behind me as I scooted backward into the larger cavern.

I wouldn’t get a second chance at this.

Whoomph-whoomph-whoomph
.

I tightened my grip with my left hand. Steadied my aim. Squeezed the trigger until it would take only the slightest application of pressure to do the job.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

Its eyes flicked from one side to the other beneath its lids. Back and forth. Its upper lip twitched. Nostrils flared. Its shoulders rose as it drew a deep inhalation and I saw what I had mistaken for fur on the inside of the hide was actually hair and the rawhide I’d believed to have come from a forest animal was stitched from human—

It sniffed.

Its mouth closed with a snap.

Its eyes ceased their restless movement.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

It turned to face me and struck at the air in front of me with its sharp teeth.

The darkness came to life behind it with the sound of tearing flesh.

TWENTY-SIX

I pulled the trigger and shot it through the right eye. The report was deafening. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine. Warmth spattered my face as I spun to the left. Tasted blood in my mouth.

The dark shape of the first one writhed as it streaked across my peripheral vision toward the ground. The spent casing launched from the breech.

I fired again the moment I saw the face between the ram’s horns. Its head snapped backward and blood exploded from its forehead. I caught just a glimpse of its bare chest as it flopped from a cocoon adorned with a tribal tattoo.

And then I was running.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

I lunged for the opening and struck one of the stalagmites with my leg. Went down hard on my side.

Bodies plummeted from the ceiling. Shrill cries I could hear even over the ringing. Silhouetted forms rose to a crouch, low to the ground.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

I rolled onto my belly and smothered the light beneath me. Scooted in reverse. I could barely see the outlines of the creatures running toward me.

Squeezed the trigger.

Again.

Again.

I thought I saw one of them go down, but I couldn’t be sure.

My feet found open air and before I knew it I was falling. I struck the ground on my heels. My butt. A crack on the back of my head and white sparks exploded in my vision. The darkness swelled on a tide of unconsciousness, pulling me under. And then the pain chased it back into the depths.

I heard shouting over the ringing in my ears and only vaguely recognized the voice as my own.

A hunched shape darkened the opening of the tunnel, high up on the wall. I fired up at it from my back. The bullet ricocheted with a spark from the wall several feet away from it, but close enough to force it to duck back into the tunnel.

The flashlight had fallen from my pocket when I hit the ground. I grabbed it and tried to shine it at the hole while I sighted it down the barrel of the rifle. Fired wildly. This arrangement wasn’t going to work.

I shot again and prayed I’d hit close to the mouth of the tunnel. Rolled over. Onto my chest. Popped up to my knees, facing the opposite direction. Ran faster than I ever had in my life.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

The report from the rifle had to be affecting them even worse than me. They had to be disoriented to some degree and surely couldn’t hear the sound of my running footsteps over the ringing.

The flashlight beam swung in front of me. Side to side. Glimpses of smooth rock to either side. Swatches of the wall toward which I raced.

An opening.

I barreled through it, saw a twinkle of brass ahead of me in the darkness, and knew I was headed in the right direction. Blew past it. Followed the swinging light. My frantic breath echoed inside my skull.

Tried to think.

Two of them dead. Without a doubt. Possibly a third. Four, maybe five still back there.

The ringing diminished by the second. I heard the clapping of my footsteps, and, beneath them, the clamor of others.

They were coming.

I pushed myself even harder.

I wasn’t going to make it.

A reflection from a brass casing. Ahead and to my left. Then it was gone. My heart nearly stopped. It reappeared in the swinging light. Closer. Dead ahead.

The footsteps behind me grew louder.

I wasn’t going to make it.

If I stopped and turned around, tried to get off a shot, they’d be all over me. My only hope was to outrun them.

I lost track of the bullet on the ground. Prayed my course held true. Glimpsed the wall ahead of me. Then the ground. The wall again. A toe trail full of shadows. Leading upward. The footsteps behind me. Louder still. A stampede of bare feet I could feel through the ground.

The wall again. The ledge. Maybe eight feet up.

I couldn’t risk slowing down.

The low-lying roof of the cavern. The narrow, crescent-shaped passage to the surface.

I raised the rifle in my right hand. Got one final look at the ledge before I held up the flashlight in my left. Threw them both upward as I leapt. Heard the clatter of the rifle striking stone. Felt the impact of the flowstone against my chest. Grabbed for the ledge. My hands slipped from the smooth rock, but I managed to brace my right elbow on the ledge. Caught a toehold with my left foot. Scrambled up and over the silhouetted ledge toward where the flashlight rested against the sheer face of the next steppe.

Pain in my right leg.

I went down hard on my right knee. Felt a hand tighten around my ankle. Claws beneath my skin. I cried out and jerked at my leg. Fell flat on my face. Grabbed the rifle. Rolled onto my back. Sighted straight down my extended legs toward where the antlers of a deer rose above the ledge. Fired the moment its head cleared the stone. Its mouth crumpled inward in a spatter of blood and the pressure on my ankle abated. The claws dragged along the bones toward my feet before they disengaged.

Another one was already coming over the ledge as I attempted to push off with my bleeding leg. I saw a blur of antelope horns and muscular shoulders, pushing upward to raise its surprisingly feminine torso. I fired again. A string of blood unraveled from the woman’s left breast. I saw the fear and pain register on her face before I squeezed the trigger again and it disappeared into a cloud of red.

Brass casings tinkled to the blood-drenched rock as her body toppled out of sight.

How many was that? Four? Five? I didn’t know. Couldn’t think. I had to assume there were three left. How many times had I fired? How many bullets were left?

I scooted backward until I ran into the bare stone and grabbed the flashlight. Shined it toward the ledge and the small gap through which they would have to crawl.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

My jeans were torn and sopping with blood. The lacerations on my ankle were so deep that the edges had puckered and pulled away from each other. The blood welling from between them was a deep crimson. I was grateful for the adrenaline that spared me the pain, but it would only last for so much longer.

I drew my knees to my chest. Braced the rifle.

Waited.

Whoomphwhoomphwhoomph
.

Listened for any sound to betray how many of them were still down there.