Crown of Serpents (43 page)

She heard shouts behind her. She had no time to contemplate how all of this junk had made itself into this cave. She looked around and found she had no choice but to head left, down river. She paralleled the strong torrent of water along the debris-strewn bank until the river dead-ended and disappeared under another cave wall. There, a built-up dam of waterlogged wood and litter formed a mound pushed up against the wall. Rae noticed several more skeletons, some dismembered, but definitely human. One was even in an advanced stage of decomposition and still partially clothed. Could these be some of the countless missing drowning victims from Seneca Lake?

Shouting came from the cave ledge entrance behind her.

Rae needed to move, or die. She had to cross the river. It was her only escape. The mound of wood and bones seemed like it was stable, in fact there looked to be a rickety narrow wooden footbridge underneath holding everything up. She held her breath and lumbered across, crunching bone and branches under foot until she reached the far side. She stole a glance back up toward the rock ledge where she had entered. Approaching flashlight beams lit the entrance. Then something unusual caught her eye. A small black object the size of a racquetball was tossed through the light. It bounced once with a metal clang, giving Rae the only clue she needed.

She flattened herself behind a limestone hump and covered her head as the grenade exploded in an ear-shattering blast. Hot deadly shrapnel zipped off the walls and sprayed the water. A BB-sized piece of hot metal lodged in her left forearm. She grunted in pain. One of her helmet lights shattered. Her ears rang. The cave filled with gray smoke.

Kenny Rousseau and Mr. George jumped down off the ledge and plunged into the smoke. They blindly sprayed the area with shotgun and submachine gun fire. Nero and Stanton climbed in right behind them. Nero produced his Glock pistol and joined in with the wild firing squad. Beams of white light, amid Stanton’s flaming torch, bounced in every direction as they advanced through the swirling smoke and crash of exploding gun barrels.

Rae remained flat as the spray of lead tore up the rocks all around her. When the firing ceased she heard the sounds of weapons reloading. Time to leave. With just one helmet beam now guiding her every step she got up and ran for her life.

Rousseau and George both saw the flash of light through the smoke — about fifteen yards away, off to their left. Fumbling to reload their weapons as they pursued the light source, they never saw nor heard the river of water obscured in smoke directly in front of them. Their next steps sent them tumbling over a large piece of driftwood and face first into the cold rushing current. With muffled shouts their heads went under. Their bodies were caught by a strong undertow. In an instant, their still-glowing helmet lights traveled toward the mound of debris and disappeared under the cavern wall.

Same time. Approaching the river.

Jake’s pounding heart felt like it leapt in his throat as he heard what was definitely a grenade exploding. He watched as several helmet beams disappeared down into a hole, followed by a womanly figure holding a burning torch. The gunfire then started again, in heavy volumes. It was a classic urban combat tactic of clearing a room. Toss in a grenade, enter immediately after it detonates, then sweep the room with non-discriminating fire. Basically, fire first and ask questions later.

Jake flicked on his rifle flashlight and made the best possible time he could on the treacherous cavern path. Would he be too late? Again?

He finally came to the lit opening where gray wispy smoke trailed. He turned off his light. Flickering reflections of orange and red flames met his eyes about five feet down as he peered over a rock ledge. Without the slightest hesitation he jumped down — his rifle poised to fire.

River chamber.

As the grenade and gun smoke dissipated, a hoarse blood-curdling scream of pure rage shot from Nero’s mouth. He had watched his two bodyguards simply vanish in the river that emerged before his eyes. From across the stream, somewhere in the darkness, he saw the faint glow of light and heard the rising laughter of a woman. He walked forward through debris and litter and stood at the edge of the river looking both ways. Anne Stanton approached him from behind and tried to speak. Nero silenced her.

Boots hit the floor behind them.

They spun around to face Jake Tununda’s M4 assault rifle.

“YOU!” roared Nero. He shook with demented fury.

“Good to see you too,” winked Jake. “Drop the weapon in the water or
die
right
now
!”

Nero’s jaw muscles pulsed. His face turned red.

Jake took two steps closer. “Do it
now
!”

With grinding teeth, Nero flung his Glock into the dark water. “How did you get here?” he asked in a low, fury-etched voice.

“I’ll ask the questions,” replied Jake. “Where’s Rae Hart?”

“She’s across the river,” pointed Stanton. “Somewhere over by those rocks at the far end of the cavern. You can barely see her light.”

“RAE! It’s Jake Tununda. Are you okay? You can come out.”

Jake heard female laughter from the darkness. Or was it crying? He cocked his head, confused.

“Rae, it’s me Jake!” he yelled again.

“Die Nero!” Rae screamed. She fired off a round. The bullet struck Stanton’s torch, knocking it out of her hand. Stanton squealed. Jake ducked instinctively, losing his aim on Nero for a split second.

Nero seized the distraction and plunged headfirst into the river. Underwater, he switched off his helmet lights and disappeared into the blackness. Jake leveled his rifle, flicked on his rail light beam and fired several bursts where he saw Nero go in. Nothing. Then he turned and aimed his rifle at the blonde haired woman behind him. Her eyes grew large. She threw her hands up in surrender.

“Don’t you move an inch,” he ordered. The woman merely nodded. Jake spun back around and followed the river in the direction of its current. He waited for a head to pop up. As he ran, he unexpectedly dodged debris scattered about until finally slipping on a dead lake trout clipped with an orange tag. His legs split, feeling like he pulled his groin, but he kept upright keeping his focus on the river in case Nero surfaced. Nothing. He approached a wood and bone-filled pile against the cavern wall. The river disappeared underneath, sucking downward. Nero was nowhere to be seen. Jake hustled back to the woman, her hands still in the air.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s Kenny Rousseau?”

“He fell in the water too.”

“Are there others?”

She nodded her head again. “Yes. Another man, Mr. George. He fell in with Rousseau. They both just disappeared in front of our eyes. They didn’t see the river in the smoke.”

“Who are you?” Jake spat, anger in his eyes.

“Anne Stanton. I’m the director of Nero’s collection,” she replied. She trembled with fear. “I’m actually on your side. Please don’t kill me, sir. Please.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose momentarily. “Why is Rae Hart down here? Why are you trying to kill her?”

“I’m not trying to kill her,” pleaded Stanton, her chin quivering in panic. “I’m unarmed. Nero and his men kidnapped her back when the Depot’s airfield control tower blew up. They forced her to come down here. I had no choice but to go along too.”

“What? The control tower blew— What are you talking about?”

“I, I’m sorry. There’s so much to explain.”

“Shut up and lay face down, arms and legs spread apart.” Stanton immediately complied. Jake knelt down over her, pressing a knee into her back to keep her pinned down. He switched off her two helmet lamps then killed his own rifle rail light again. The only source of illumination was the burning torch on the ground, a good ways away. He patted her down and found no weapons.

“Rae!” Jake shouted again. “It’s Jake. For real. Nero’s gone. Do not shoot! It’s me.”

Rae fired off another round from her Glock. The slug smacked a rock near the torch. Jake saw the flash of the muzzle this time, marking her location just twenty feet away across the river.

“God dammit Rae! It’s me, Jake. Stop shooting!” His voice boomed this time.

“Jake?” shouted Rae, in a confused tone.

“Yes! It’s safe. I’m here to help you.”

“How do I know you’re not working for Nero? How can I trust you? You’ve held back on me this whole time.”

“The truth is I’m working for a Seneca clan mother who heads a secret Iroquois society,” he shouted. “We’re called the White Deer Society. Nero is our sworn enemy. I’m trying to stop him from getting an important crown that we protect.” Stanton squirmed underneath him. He pressed his knee harder in her back. “The crown is down here in these caves somewhere,” he continued. “Okay? That’s the truth. Now please come out.”

Jake saw a flicker of light pierce the darkness, then a white beam turn his way. “Where is Nero?”

“He and his men fell in the river and disappeared. I’m here with this Stanton woman.”

“Okay! I’m coming back over,” Rae yelled.

Jake sighed.

Stanton grunted, trying to shift her body under Jake’s weight. “We’ve got to talk.”

“Oh, I’m sure we do,” replied Jake. “I was warned about you. Let’s just wait until Rae gets over here.”

Same time. Waterfalls chamber.

Alex Nero’s biggest gamble paid off — he was still alive. Banged up, but still breathing, as were his men Kenny Rousseau and Mr. George. They had fished him out of a deep pool of swirling water after he too rode the underground river and small waterfalls beneath the cavern wall. They pulled him up onto the limestone bank of a small cave. The cave was dimly lit by one of their hand-held flashlights propped against the wall.

Nero coughed and looked up with a smile. “I knew it,” he rasped. He rolled over on his back, his chest heaving. Besides some abrasions on his arms and legs, a bloody slice on his cheek was his most serious wound. If not for his helmet staying on during his risk-all underwater escape from Tununda, he would have probably died from a rocky head bashing.

Rousseau unstrapped Nero’s dented helmet, the dual lights completely shattered. His and George’s were also in similar shape, already discarded up on the bank.

“Lucky roll of the dice,” Nero gasped. Wet strands of his long gray hair stuck to his bruised face. He looked up at the stream of white water that shot him out from the top of the rock wall.

“Got that right,” said the crooked-nosed Mr. George. He held his arm and limped up on the bank to grab the flashlight.

Nero looked about the cave. Broken branches, weeds, and garbage were strewn about. Ancient horizontal water lines marked flood levels on the limestone walls. “You lose any gear?”

Rousseau grunted and wiped away the wet hair plastered flat against his forehead. The wound from the gauntlet had opened up again. Blood trickled down across his brows. “George lost his Uzi and I lost my shotgun. I still have my Beretta and a hunting knife.” He produced the six-inch dagger in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other. “And we have our backpacks, two working flashlights, extra batteries, and food. That’s it.”

“My pistol’s gone too,” replied Nero. He sat up, shedding his backpack and pushed back his wet hair. “Any grenades left?” he asked, wiping away blood from the gash on his cheek.

“We’ve got three,” said Mr. George.

“I take it that bitch is still alive or you wouldn’t be here,” asked Rousseau. He helped his boss stand up. “We heard gunfire up through that passage after we got out of the water.” He pointed back toward the waterfall at an opening leading upward.

“Hart’s still alive,” Nero said. “And that Army freak Tununda came outta nowhere — armed with an assault rifle. He probably wasted Stanton. Doesn’t matter though, she’s expendable.”

“So, we’ve got three grenades and one pistol,” Mr. George remarked. “Tununda’s got a rifle and the bitch has her Glock.”

“But we’re in the lead,” said Rousseau. “Let’s get moving.”

“Wait a second,” remarked Nero. “You could hear gunfire you said?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Give me a grenade,” ordered Nero. “And follow me. We’ve got unfinished business.”

36

River chamber.

R
AE STEPPED ACROSS the debris footbridge, her Glock lowered in front of her. Her shirt sleeve was pushed up, forearm dripping with blood from the shrapnel wound. She pulled off her helmet and let it drop at her feet. She looked a wreck. Her face was battered and dirty with several cuts. Her long hair was snarled with sweat and mud, her clothes wet and grimy.

Jake met her near the burning torch. In the flickering light Jake gazed into her weary eyes. She collapsed into his strong arms and buried her head in his shoulder. He hugged her tightly.

As they pulled apart he looked down at her arm, inspecting the severity of the wound. He told her it was minor, that he would bandage her up. She laughed. Then out of the blue he leaned in and kissed her. She responded initially by pulling away, but his lips were soft, wet, and simply felt good. She gave in, yearning for more.

Pressing her mouth tight against his, a low pleasurable moaned escaped from her throat. She held the back of his neck with her fingers. He threw his arms around her waist, shoving her up against the cave wall. Their kiss was deep, breathless, and long. Finally, it was Rae who broke the lock.

“Wow,” she whispered, catching her breath.

“Tell me about it,” said Jake, clearing his throat. “Ahh, okay then. Well then, um, shall we get back to business? We’ve got find out where this river empties out. We have to see if Nero and his boys are alive.”

“Lead the way soldier!”

“Wait, where’s that Stanton woman?” Jake asked.

He and Rae looked all around.

“There,” pointed Rae, back across the river, in the same general area where she had just been hiding. A faint light beam reflected off the bullet-ridden limestone walls. Jake raised his rifle and peered down the scope. Her illuminated helmet appeared in the crosshairs of his M4 scope.