Excavation (25 page)

Henry tensed, not knowing what to expect.

Suddenly a section of the granite wall slowly dropped
away, sinking into the floor. Bright light blazed from within, its effect almost blinding after the dimness of the dark hallways. With a groan, the section dropped fully away.

As the glare faded, Henry stared openmouthed.

Joan gasped beside him.

Ahead lay a large chamber, the size of a small warehouse. Starkly white and shining with stainless steel, it was an extensive state-of-the-art laboratory. Beyond the windows and vacuum-sealed glass doors, a legion of figures, dressed in sterile suits, labored at various stations. Muffled by the glass walls, the strains of Beethoven floated out from the laboratory.

Henry glanced back to the Incan stonework labyrinth, then back to the technologically advanced laboratory. “Okay, you've got my attention.”

 

The expected attack never came. A full hour had passed by the time Sam stepped away from the large bonfire, rifle held tight to his shoulder. The dark necropolis rose to shadowed heights all around them. Firelight splashed across the nearest tombs, but most of the city of the dead was shrouded by an inky blackness. Only the towering gold statue at the center of town reflected the flames, a blazing pillar of brightness in the midnight cavern.

Nothing moved out there.

“Maybe they left,” Norman whispered.

Sam disagreed. “They're still out there.”

“It's the flames,” Maggie finally said, her voice sharp but quiet, drawing the men's eyes momentarily from the tense vigil of the necropolis. “They tried to destroy the first campfire, hurling that big rock. But it was only chance that lit the stack of other mummies by accident. If the fire had failed us completely, we'd all be bloody dead.”

“What do you mean?” Norman asked.

“They fear the flames,” Sam said, realizing Maggie was right. He looked at her with renewed respect. “That's what's
holding them back.”

She nodded. “From the lack of pigment on the one we saw, it's clearly not a creature of sunlight. Most likely a cave dweller.”

“But what
was
it?” Ralph asked.

“I don't know,” Maggie snapped. The tension was making everyone edgy. She pulled Denal to her side. The boy's eyes were huge with fear, both real and superstitious. “But whatever it was, it was no spirit. No
mallaqui
. It was flesh an' blood. I don't know…maybe it's some type of bald gorilla or something.”

Ralph shook his head, repositioning his own rifle slightly. Sam could guess the large man's arm was getting as tired as his own. “There are no large apes reported on the South American continent.”

“But many parts of the Andes still remain unexplored,” Maggie countered. “Like this place.”

“But it looked almost human,” Norman said.

Sam would not have used that term to describe the misshapen and bent-backed creature that had been caught in the flashlight's beam. He again pictured the beastly face armed with razored teeth. Definitely not human.

Maggie persisted. “All across the world, people report seeing strange hidden creatures in highland haunts—the Sasquatch of the Sierras, the Yeti of the Himalayas.”

Ralph snorted. “Great. And we've discovered the abominable snowmen of the Andes.”

The camp grew quiet again, the pressure of their situation discouraging any further talk. Total silence fell, except for the occasional pop or crackle from the fire. After a while, Sam began to hope Norman's first statement was true. Maybe the strange creatures had left.

Then, from deep in the cavern, a sharp bark erupted, followed by a guttural grunting from all around.

Everyone tensed. Sam fingered the trigger of his Winchester.

“The natives are growing restless,” Norman whispered.

The coarse calls and gibbering escalated, echoing throughout the cavern. It sounded like hundreds of the creatures surrounded them.

Sam's eyes tried to pierce the darkness. “Fire or not, they may be gathering courage to attack.”

“What should we do?” Norman asked.

“Two options,” Sam answered. “One, we hole up in one of the tombs. Light a huge bonfire near the entrance and wait them out. Hold them off if they attack.” Sam jiggled his pocket. “I've got maybe a dozen shells. And Ralph has around thirty.”

Maggie glanced to the narrow entrance of one of the neighboring tombs. From her pinched expression, it was clear she did not care for that idea. “We'd be trapped in there. We could be swamped with no means of escape. And I'm afraid their fear of the firelight may wane.”

“And what if the fire goes out?” Norman asked. “If we run out of mummies while holed up in there, who's going to go wandering out for more?”

Sam nodded at their concerns. “Exactly, not a great choice. So there is also option number two: We try to find that way out. We use Norman's light meter to guide us. We go armed and bearing torches. If flames scare them, then wielding burning brands may hold them off—at least long enough to get our asses out of here.”

Ralph stood with his head cocked, listening to the growing howls. “Whatever we decide, we'd better hurry.”

“Like I said before, they're growing more confident because we aren't doing anything,” Maggie said. “But if we began moving, taking the fire with us, that ought to spook them again. Also maybe this cavern is their home. If it's a territorial thing, by moving, showing them that we're leaving, they may not attack.”

“That's a lot of maybes,” Ralph countered.

Maggie shrugged. “I'd rather keep movin' than pin ourselves down. I don't think it's wise to stay in one spot too
long. I vote for leaving.”

“Me too,” Denal quickly added, his voice small and scared.

Norman nodded. “We've overstayed our welcome here.”

Sam eyed Ralph.

The large ex-football player shrugged. “Let's break camp.”

“I'm for that.” It heartened Sam to hear a unanimous decision, but he prayed it was the correct one. “Ralph and I need our arms free with the rifles. Everyone else grab a torch.”

As the beasts shrieked and screeched, Ralph and Sam maintained a watch on the black necropolis. The others hurriedly worked at constructing torches. Another mummy was dragged from a nearby tomb, and its limbs were broken off, one each for Denal, Maggie, and Norman.

Norman stepped back, brandishing a thin mummified leg. “I've heard of pulling someone's leg, but this is ridiculous.” His face shone with sweat from exertion and tension. The photographer crossed to the bonfire and lit the foot in the flames. “Something tells me I'm going to Hell for this.” He glanced around the necropolis. “But then again, maybe I'm already there.”

Ignoring his nervous chatter, Maggie and Denal followed his example. Soon each held aloft a flaming limb.

“I've got a spare torch just in case,” Maggie said, pointing her thumb to the broken arm protruding from under the straps of her shoulder bag. “We can collect more on the way as we need them.”

“If worse comes to worst,” Norman said, “I also have a strobe flash on my camera as a last resort.”

“Then let's head out,” Sam said. “I'll take the lead. Norman's with me. We'll need his meter to guide us. Maggie, can you manage both your torch and the flashlight?”

She nodded.

“Then you follow us with Denal. Ralph will guard our rear. We'll cut through town first. We know there's no exit
behind us…so our best bet is to move forward.” Sam stared at the others. No one voiced any objections to his plan. “Let's go.”

The team set off. The avenues between the necropolis's tombs were wide enough for them to cluster together. Norman walked to one side of Sam, reading his meter, shielding the unit from the torchlight with his body. Maggie marched on Sam's other side, her flashlight pointed forward. Denal kept to Maggie's hip. Only Ralph did as Sam had instructed earlier. He hung back and watched their rear.

As they tackled the maze of streets, heading toward the distant wall of the cavern, Maggie's earlier assessment proved only somewhat valid. The cacophony of howls did die down. The creatures were clearly shaken by the shifting firelight—but unfortunately not as completely as they had hoped. Cries and grunts still echoed around them, and even worse, the calls sounded closer.

Suddenly a huge blast of rifle fire exploded behind them. Sam spun around, heart in his throat, his Winchester ready at his shoulder. Ralph stood a couple yards back, the barrel of his rifle smoking.

“Damn!” Sam yelled, his ears still ringing from the blast. “Did you see something?”

Ralph shook his head and scowled at the shadowed necropolis. “Just a warning shot. If the fire didn't completely scare 'em, I thought the rifle might get their attention.”

“Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Maggie exclaimed. “Warn us before you do that again.”

Ralph glanced back, his face growing sheepish. “Sorry. I just needed to do something. Those cries were crawling up my spine.”

Norman picked himself up from the stony floor where he had ducked. “Do that again, and you're gonna owe me a new pair of undershorts.”

Denal still stood by Maggie. “Listen,” he said. “It quiet now.”

With the ringing in his ears fading, Sam realized the boy
was right. If nothing else, Ralph's rash act had subdued the howling. The cavern grew deathly still.

“Maybe that scared them away,” Norman said hopefully, dusting off the seat of his pants.

“Don't count on it,” Sam said. “Let's go.”

The team continued into the maze of avenues and streets. Whoever had laid out the necropolis hadn't been much of a municipal planner, Sam decided. There was not a straight thoroughfare to be found, and many of the streets ended blindly. Their progress, as Sam judged by their proximity to the central golden statue, was slow, a snail's creep, requiring plenty of backtracking and stops to consult the light meter.

“We're gonna get ourselves lost in here,” Norman complained at one point, hunched over the meter, cupping its aperture against the torchlight.

“There's got to be a way out,” Sam argued.

The group grew more and more nervous—not because of any howling or signs of the creatures, but because the quiet had begun to chafe nerves. Without any clue to the beasts' whereabouts, every shifting shadow or scrape of rock made Sam twitch. Though no one said anything, they all knew the creatures were still out there, some primeval instinct that warned of hidden predators. The feeling of eyes staring at them, the sense of something breathing in the darkness.

As they continued, the silence pressed heavier. No one spoke anymore; even Norman's complaints died away. Sam glanced to the heights around them, wishing the howling would start again. Anything was better than this damnable quiet.

A growled scream sounded from overhead. Maggie stabbed her light to the roof of a neighboring tomb. Pale faces stared back at them. Huge black eyes reflected the light; lips pulled back in a keening cry, slashing teeth exposed.

“Back!” Sam screamed, shoving Denal and Maggie behind him.

Then the beasts leaped, heaving over the roof's edge
toward them.

Ralph's rifle blasted. One of the misshapen creatures twisted in midair. Blood plumed out from its wounded neck. It spun and crashed to the stone floor, rolling and howling.

Sam herded the others back, retreating down the street. He sighted down the Winchester's long barrel. One of the creatures rose up from where it crouched on the street. Sam got his first good look at one of the beasts. It was as pale and hairless as the one spotted earlier, but this one was skinnier, emaciated. Each rib could be seen through the stretched skin. Even its limbs were just long bone and pale sinew, almost stretched like taffy. But it was its face that gave Sam pause. It was slightly muzzled like a bear, with teeth that seemed all fangs. Clearly a carnivore. But even more disconcerting were the huge black eyes. Sam sensed a rudimentary intelligence in its gaze: curiosity mixed with fury. A lethal combination.

But Sam recognized caution, too. The emaciated creature glanced back at its wounded companion, still writhing on the ground. When it turned around, its black eyes had narrowed into wary slits.

It hissed at Sam. Then in a flash of long pale limbs, it vanished down a side street, moving too fast for the eye to follow. Sam could not even shift his rifle sight in time. It was a blurred white ghost.

Damn, it moved fast.

Other of its brethren roiled from every opening, crawling from black windows, creeping from narrow doorways. As they moved, Sam noted subtle differences among them. Some were smaller, dwarfish models of the one he had just studied. Others were thicker-bodied. Some even bore what looked like vestigial wings sprouting from where the scapulas would be on a human. The only clear constants among them were the penetrating, hungry black eyes and the translucent skin.

“Sam…on your left!” Maggie called.

He spun. One creature, a squat brute bearing a huge brick
above its head, raced toward them atop bowlegged limbs.

Sam had a heartbeat to aim. Instinct from years of pheasant and duck hunting served him well now. He sighted his target and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the beast square in the chest; the force of the collision stopped the creature's rush. It tripped to one knee, skidding slightly. Blood, black as oil against white skin, spilled down its bare chest. The stone brick toppled from its fingers, followed quickly by the bulk of the beast.

Another rifle shot drew his attention back to the right. By now, Ralph stood a few paces away. Sam saw another beast crumple to the floor. Ralph backed, waving an arm. “Keep going!”

A scream warned Sam again, but not from Maggie's throat this time. One of the bent-backed creatures, a female with pendulous breasts flat as pancakes, howled a ululating cry of attack. In her pale hands was a raised club.