the Source (2008) (27 page)

Chapter
63.

'I can't believe you helped him, Ross,' hissed Sister Chantal, as Bazin led them back to the others. 'I warned you against going up the tunnel. I warned you against telling the Superior General what you'd seen. And you ignored me. How could you be so stupid?'

Ross said nothing.

Sister Chantal couldn't remember feeling such dejection. Over the long years she had experienced many black moments but she had always reminded herself of her vow to Father Orlando and told herself to be patient. When she had learnt of Lauren's critical condition, she had believed that the garden could cure her. But this time the enemy wasn't time, impatience or disappointment: it was the same implacable foe that had destroyed Father Orlando. To make it worse, her ally had proved himself weak and spineless. 'I can't believe you begged him on your knees. He was never going to let you save Lauren because he can't let you leave. Don't you understand that?'

When they reached the tarpaulin, Hackett and Zeb were lying at one end of the enclosure, gagged. Bazin pushed Ross and Sister Chantal to the other end, laid them on the ground and tied their ankles.

Sister Chantal waited for Bazin to leave. 'I warned you against going up the tunnel, Ross, because it is dangerous. Father Orlando told me so. He saw things.'

'I know,' whispered Ross.

'Then why did you tell Torino--'

'That it was safe? That I got close enough to touch whatever's up there and saw nothing dangerous? Because I don't trust the Superior General any more than you do.'

'You lied?'

'Of course. The only way we're going to get out of here with what we came for is on our own. And anything that distracts them up that tunnel can only help us.'

A slow smile creased her lips. 'Perhaps you're not as stupid as I feared.'

Ross looked back at Bazin who was standing by the stack of weapons, talking to two of the soldiers. After some discussion they selected a shotgun, two Heckler & Koch submachine-guns and a flame-thrower, then walked back to the forbidden caves.

They're going up the tunnel, thought Ross.

As he watched them, he noticed the yellow parcels he had seen the soldiers unpacking earlier. Most were now distributed in strategic piles around the garden. He wondered what they were, and why they were there. He glanced at Zeb and Hackett lying at the other end of the enclosure. They were staring at him. He wanted to tell them what had happened but feared raising his voice and being overheard by the remaining guard. 'I still don't understand why Torino's so dismissive of the garden and so focused on the source,' he whispered to Sister Chantal. 'I thought the whole point from a religious angle was that this was the Garden of God.'

'He wants the miracles because the Church can exploit them. But the garden and its creatures raise too many doubts and questions about Genesis and evolution. Religion isn't like science. Science may thrive on doubt but religion demands unquestioning faith.'

'Whatever their faith, wouldn't most believers want to make up their own minds about the truth, however controversial?' said Ross. 'Like you told Torino, if you really believe in something nothing's going to challenge your faith, only your understanding of it. Science is constantly adapting its understanding of the natural world, based on new evidence.'

She shook her head. 'Torino and those who wield power in Rome would rather ignore evidence than modify their beliefs. Never forget, the pope is infallible, God's envoy on Earth. He can't be wrong.'

Bazin and the other men were almost at the caves. The smaller soldier was carrying the flame-thrower over his shoulder, the pack of fuel strapped to his back. Ross glanced at the stack of weapons and the second flame-thrower. At that moment something Zeb had said last night, about the pharmaceutical industry, entered his head, and a connection between that and the yellow parcels fired in his brain.

Shit.

He was now pretty sure what they were and why Torino had brought them here. 'We've got to get free,' he said.

'I know that.' Sister Chantal raised her bound wrists. 'But how?'

He opened his hands. In his right palm was a thin shard of crystal rock he had picked up off the cave floor while kneeling before Torino. 'It's small but sharp. I can't reach my plastic tie, but I could cut yours.'

She smiled as a shadow loomed over them. Bazin had returned with one of the soldiers. 'Gag them,' he said. Ross closed his hands but didn't struggle as Bazin placed an oily rag over his mouth and knotted it at the back of his head.

Bazin stepped away and pointed at them in turn, muttering under his breath, first at Hackett, then Zeb and Sister Chantal. Ross wondered why he was counting them. Then Bazin's finger skipped Ross, went back to Hackett and counted the other three again. Something hard and cold formed in Ross's stomach. Bazin wasn't counting them. He was selecting one.

His finger settled on Hackett, who glanced questioningly at Ross. 'Bring him, Weber,' he said to the soldier. As they cut Hackett's ankle ties and pulled him to his feet, Bazin turned to Ross. 'Just in case anything unpleasant's waiting for us up the tunnel the good doctor will lead the way. Father General wanted you to lead us, Ross, but since you saved my life I excluded you from the count. Consider my debt settled.' He smiled. 'Don't worry about him,' he said, over his shoulder. 'As you said, there should be no danger.'

Ross strained against his gag. It was one thing to let his heavily armed enemies walk into a trap. It was something else to allow an unarmed friend to do the same. But Bazin was oblivious of his stifled pleas as he led Hackett to the forbidden caves. When Ross craned his neck to keep them in view, he saw Zeb silently willing him to tell her their friend would be safe. That there was no danger.

Moments later, an eerie sound issued from the forbidden caves. Ross knew it was the nymphs singing, warning Torino and his men away from the tunnel. Then the sound changed. The nymphs were no longer singing. They were screaming.

Chapter
64.

In the antechamber Feldwebel Fleischer handed Torino a steel helmet and helped him strap on a Kevlar vest. The Jesuit was so excited his hands trembled on the helmet buckle. He pointed to Hackett, who was gagged and had his wrists tied. All of the men were wearing sunglasses to protect their eyes against the dazzlingly bright light up the tunnel. 'He goes at the front, yes?'

'Yes,' said Bazin, 'then Weber with the flame-thrower. You and I follow, with Feldwebel Fleischer taking up the rear.'

Fleischer shook his head. 'These are my men and the Superior General is under my protection. I'll stay by his side. You take up the rear.'

Bazin eyeballed him, then shrugged. 'As you wish.'

Fleischer handed a two-way radio to the other soldier. 'Gerber, wait down here. If we need you I'll call.'

Torino frowned. 'Have you briefed him on what to do if we don't return? If I don't return?'

The soldier checked the radio. 'Everything's prepared, Father General. I know what to do.'

'Where's Petersen? Watching the prisoners?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Let's go.'

As they approached the tunnel, the singing started - a disquieting, sinister chant that emanated from the dark recesses of the cave. Then the nymphs emerged from the shadows and blocked the entrance. Torino counted ten. The soldiers stopped, unnerved by the startling creatures.

'Push them back,' said Torino. 'Get them out of the way.'

Bazin shouted and waved his shotgun at a nymph with blood-red flowers entwined in its hair-like fronds. It ignored him and continued to chant. Bazin stepped back and turned to Weber. 'Use the flame-thrower.'

Weber raised the nozzle, flicked the igniter and pressed the trigger. Fiery liquid jetted towards the nymphs. They screamed and fled back into the shadows. Their cries echoed through the caves and Torino smiled at how quickly they had retreated. Controlling the garden and its creatures wouldn't be difficult. He would soon fashion this place so that it brought only glory to Rome - and what glory it would be! He tapped Weber's shoulder.

Weber prodded Hackett with the hot nozzle of the flamethrower. 'Go.'

They walked slowly up the path and with each step the light grew more dazzling, the glare intensified by the gilded crystal that encrusted the tunnel. Torino could only guess at what lay ahead but was convinced that it had nothing to do with Kelly's dry theories on creation and evolution. Father Orlando's radix, his Tree of Life and Death, would offer no proof of any scientific hypothesis, only proof of God's presence on earth, a physical manifestation of His divine majesty and power. Like Moses witnessing the burning bush, Torino was convinced that he, too, would soon glimpse the face of God.

Suddenly Weber stopped.

Peering past him, to the path ahead, Torino saw a waterfall. Beside it, the path widened into a small chamber, then rough steps led to the top of the waterfall where the path widened again, forming another chamber before continuing onwards.

'Why have we stopped?'

'He won't move,' said Weber, gesturing to Hackett.

'Make him,' said Torino. Hackett turned, sweat pouring down his face, eyes darting meaningfully to the top of the waterfall. 'Let him speak.'

Weber pulled off the gag.

'I saw something moving,' Hackett panted.

Torino narrowed his eyes. 'Where?'

'In those holes up there.'

Torino peered up to the chamber on the next level. He could see the holes and a network of tunnels but nothing else. 'Can anyone else see anything?'

'No.'

Torino heard a click as Weber undid the safety on the flamethrower. The others raised their weapons. 'Go on.'

Hackett shook his head. 'No.'

Weber released a jet of flame. 'Go.'

Hackett jumped and shuffled forward, blinking against the sweat that poured down his face.

Hackett stared at the black holes, every muscle in his body alert and trembling. He was sure he'd seen something moving within those dark spaces, something from his nightmares. A stab of anger penetrated his numbing fear. It would be so unfair to die in this remote place just as he had found his lost city. It incensed him that he might never enjoy the glory of his discovery or benefit from its gold.

He shuffled up the path to the top of the waterfall and saw that, as well as the holes in the walls, countless fissures led to a maze of dark passages. Straining to see beyond the blinding light into the blackness, he walked faster, wanting instinctively to get beyond the holes. He broke into a jog, then began to run up the path.

'Slow down,' hissed Weber.

Hackett ignored him. The soldier's flames could make him move but they couldn't make him stop. It felt good to release the adrenalin rushing through his body, and for a moment he dared to believe that he had imagined the glimpsed shapes in the dark.

Then Weber screamed.

Hackett should have kept running. But, despite his terror, he was a doctor and turned instinctively to help. When he looked back, he froze, unable to process what he was seeing. The black holes seemed to be moving, telescoping out of the walls. It was only when he saw Weber collapse on the path screaming, blood pouring from perfectly circular wounds in his thigh and shoulder, that Hackett realized black, worm-like creatures were twisting out of the rock, circular rows of teeth protruding from their jaws, biting into Weber's flesh then recoiling into their lairs. He stared openmouthed, registering the myriad holes that riddled the walls.

Was there one of those things in every hole?

'The flame-thrower. Use the flame-thrower.' Bazin's shout, from further down the tunnel, galvanized Hackett into action. He rushed to Weber and knelt behind his bleeding body. Shielded by the fuel tanks strapped to Weber's back, he took the flame-thrower nozzle from Weber's limp hand and pressed the igniter.

Fire suddenly enveloped the creatures and another, louder, scream echoed in the tunnel. Different from Weber's, inhuman, it seemed to come from deep within the rock. The sound of rapid machine-gun fire intensified the shrieks as Hackett kept pressing the flame-thrower igniter.

Suddenly, a worm-like creature thicker than Hackett's thigh spiralled through the flames and tore into Weber's protective vest, pushing the soldier on to Hackett, pinning him down but also protecting him. Other dark shapes rifled towards them, taking chunks out of Weber. Then something hit Hackett's left shoulder. Such was his shock that he felt no pain until he saw that a neat circular chunk had been taken out of his flesh, exposing muscle and bone. His shirt was soaked with blood - he had never seen so much. The pain came now, running through him like fire. He tried to move his left arm but the agony was excruciating. Using his other arm, he pulled Weber's body closer to him and, with detached horror, realized the soldier's right buttock had gone. He pushed himself flat against the sharp crystal path as one of the creatures smashed through Weber's elbow, breaking bones, trying to reach him. Weber was still alive but they kept coming, devouring him piece by piece.

'Help me,' the soldier screamed, above frantic gunfire, but Hackett could barely help himself. One of the twisting creatures came straight at Weber's face, directly in front of Hackett's own, its baleful red eyes staring right at him. Its tubular body was made up of dusty, interlocking armoured plates. As it struck, it opened its mouth wide, exposing circular rows of protruding teeth, breath reeking of decay and rotting flesh.

Weber tried to scream, but when the creature bit into his face and recoiled back to its lair it took his tongue with it. The next took his cheek and left eye. Hackett tried to curl up into the foetal position as one of the creatures ripped into his right calf muscle. The agony seared through him.

Then he felt rough hands dragging Weber off him and pulling them both away from the monsters. The attack had lasted just seconds but they had been the longest of Hackett's life. All he could think about as he crawled, bleeding, to safety was the last thing Weber must have seen before the creatures drilled into his face.