MisStaked (40 page)

"I'd appreciate it if you kept an eye on Stud and Luna for me. You know, if anything should go wrong,” Breathred said in a hushed whisper.

Brogan gave Breathred a look of concern. “Are you expecting trouble?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this. It's nothing I can put a finger on, but I'd feel better knowing you're watching out for them."

"Don't worry, Kid. I got the same feeling. If it gets hairy, I'll get ‘em clear. You have my word on it."

"That's all I needed to hear.” Breathred smiled, in spite of his doubts.

Brogan slapped him on the back. “You know, for an addle-brained dweeb you're okay. Now, get on down there."

Breathred didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or an insult, but Brogan was right. Daylight was slowly slipping away. With the overcast sky, it was almost non-existent. Shrugging, Breathred made for the two doctors, who were waiting for him just inside the doorway. Seeing him coming, they switched on their halogen flashlights and ducked into the darkness. Taking a last look over his shoulder at Brogan, he joined them.

Brogan held his breath. He'd been dreading this moment. Once they were inside, they were on their own. All his warnings were for nothing. He had been around scientists enough to know they were absent-minded at best, and hardheaded by nature. Left to their own devices, they'd be in their till the end of time.

With nothing left to do but worry, the man headed back to camp. Brogan hadn't walked twenty feet, when he heard the unmistakable sound of stone grinding on stone. His head whipped around in time to see the door sliding back into place, locking Breathred and the others inside the dusty tomb.

Damn it all to hell! He should have seen this coming and left someone on the outside to make sure the door stayed open. Second-guessing himself wasn't the answer. What was done was done. The sentiment didn't change the truth. He had failed them. It was his job to keep them safe. Instead of protecting them, he'd just given them to whatever was in that hole served up on a silver platter.

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Okay, you've made it into the fiend's den. What you going to do now?

Luna lost all semblance of self-control when Brogan finished telling them about the tomb. It was all Stud could do to keep her from running from the tent. Not for the first time, Stud found himself being a rock when all he wanted to do was fall apart. Being a highly evolved chimpanzee was tough work. Keeping his emotions in check, he held the sobbing girl while Brogan went on to give the rest of the team orders.

"I want all non-essential personnel packed and ready to move out in an hour's time,” Brogan finished, as Luna regained a little hold on her composure.

"You can't be serious!” she shouted, amid a storm of sobs. “I'm not leaving here without Breathred."

"Damn straight,” Stud added.

"That's why you're essential personal,” Brogan told them. “If I thought either of you would leave, it would be different. Since you won't, I'm leaving you in charge while I get the rest started back down to the base camp. I promised Breathred I'd get you two out of here, but dammit I need somebody I can trust to watch things until he got back. Unfortunately, you two bozos are it."

"So, we can stay?” Luna sobbed.

"Yes. Along with Doctor Easily, if she'll stay, I want the two of you to keep track of the tomb. I checked. The video feed seems to be working, but the audio isn't."

"The snow's let up. The rest of the team can find their way down on their own. Why do you have to go?” Stud asked. “It's not that I hate the thought of being left on our own, but let's face it you're the only chance Breathred has of getting out of that tomb alive."

"Dontcha think I know that? But unless I got a rocket launcher stashed up my ass, I can't open the flipping door. Since I don't, we need something more than picks and shovels.” Brogan grinned, wickedly. “I've got some C-4 in my truck. If a bad case of high explosives won't open the door, nothing will."

"How long do you think you'll be?” Luna asked.

"I should be back sometime tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Tomorrow won't help them, if something happens between now and then,” Dr. Easily interjected.

"No, it doesn't. But I can't think of anything that will, if we don't get the tomb door open.” Brogan said, throwing his pack over his shoulder.

"And if we don't get it open?” Stud asked.

"Then, we're screwed."

Breathred watched as Dr. Grayson played her flashlight over the picture-filled wall. Behind him, Truehart continued to bang on the stone door, like he'd been doing ever since the thing had slammed shut. It was growing quite annoying, but Breathred didn't say anything. If it made Truehart happy, he could live with the noise, but the Englishman's profanity was really getting raunchy. Half of it Breathred couldn't understand, and what he did was not fit for human hearing.

Breathred let his head fall to his chest as he flicked the camcorder's power switch between on and off. He finally decided to leave it on. There was always a chance the feed might help the others find a way to get them out.

They had been trapped in here for about a half an hour. It may have been longer, but he didn't know for sure. Breathred couldn't really judge time. His watch didn't work all too well. They tended to do that, when you got them from a Burger King promotion.

Despite the fact the door had been open for a day or so, the air was starting to taste a bit on the stale side. He guessed it was Truehart's exertions depleting the air. If the man didn't stop soon, they'd be out of breathable air in no time. He was too tired to fight with the man over it, though. Edmund would run out of steam soon enough. Breathred would just let him tire himself out. If it didn't happen soon, he could always try a sleeper hold on him. It always worked for Captain Blamo.

Sitting there was getting him nowhere. Breathred looked up and took in the tomb for the first time. Flashing the camcorder across the room, made him realize he had been mistaken. This wasn't the tomb. It must be an antechamber, or corridor, that led down to the tomb. The similarities to Egyptian tomb construction were not lost on him. He pulled out his own flashlight, letting the extra light play across the walls.

The corridor, as he decided to call it, was about six feet by what looked to be forty feet in length. The walls on either side of the stairs were painted with rows of pictographs. Breathred walked slowly down the flight of steps. The pictographs were a hodge-podge of different cultures. Some looked like stylized Egyptian hieroglyphics while others looked to be from Babylonia. Stranger still, he detected some that resembled Japanese and Greek symbols. If he didn't know this place had been sealed for thousands of years, Breathred would have thought the paintings fakes.

He glanced up when Truehart's banging stopped. Seconds later, agitated footsteps came toward him. Breathred fell back as Truehart rudely pushed past him. The animosity was boiling off the man in waves that could have killed, if they had been able. Breathred held his place against the wall and let Dr. Grayson handle the man. Anything he said would have just set Truehart off, anyway.

"Are you through?” Dr. Grayson asked, not even bothering to look up from the door at the bottom of the steps.

"Yes,” Truehart snapped.

"Good, all of your ranting and banging around was driving me mad."

"If the two of you had bothered to assist me, perhaps we would be out of this hole."

Dr. Grayson ran her hand over the second door. “It would not have helped any. If I'm right, the only way out lies behind this door, in the tomb itself."

"How can you be so sure?” Truehart mocked.

"I can't, but it stands to reason the door closed for a definite purpose."

"Yes, to trap us inside."

"Partly, but I believe also in the past the natives entered the tomb and left sacrifices and alms to the Mother,” she said looking up.

She then pointed down. More than a dozen plates littered the floor. Bones of small animals, and in some cases, pieces of larger bones lay upon the plates. Truehart looked up from them to see a smug look on Grayson's face.

"See, they must have had a way to exit, if the door closed on them as it did on us."

He kicked the plates into the door. “These may be left over from the time of the original entombment."

"No, they appear to be from different periods. If you look, the level of development in the pieces seems to deteriorate in a strange manner. The plates on top look crude compared to those at the bottom of the pile. I'm sure with carbon dating we'd see the newer pieces aren't as refined as the older ones,” she stated.

"That doesn't make sense. If your hypothesis is true, we're looking at a total reversal of established doctrine."

"Then, that's what we're looking at. This is evidence illustrating this culture was in a decline. As to it not making sense, it would if you factored in the fact the level diminished because the Mother was not around to lead the later generations,” Breathred said, as he joined the conversation.

"Poppycock! This is all speculation. Without getting that door open a fanciful guess is all it'll ever be."

"I thought you were more concerned with the other door, Truehart,” Breathred couldn't resist saying.

"Let's just say that proving the two of you wrong is of more importance at the moment."

"Then, you'll help us?” Dr. Grayson asked.

"Of course. Never let it be said a Truehart wasn't a man of action."

"Breathred, can you decipher the symbols and see if they're of any help?” She indicated the row of pictographs on the door with her flashlight.

Breathred didn't say a word. He simply brought his own light to bear on the door, adding the camcorder so a visual record would flash back to the other team members. Like the door outside, the symbols were of Babylonian origin. The dim light did little to help him, but after a while, he was able to make a passable translation. Doubt stopped him from blurting out what he read. Breathred had been a goofball for so long it was hard to remember he could be something more. The past few days might have erased a lot of his fears, but that fear of failure still refused to budge.

Giving the door a soft pat, he rose to his feet. He had the translation. No one else in this room could have done it. That had to count for something. Maybe, it counted for everything. “I've got it."

"Well, are you going to tell us?” Truehart huffed.

For a second Breathred felt the power of the words he was about to say course through him. It passed as suddenly as it came up. He coughed softy into his hand before he began to speak. “The Mother of the Dark slumbers in the void, awaiting the coming of the righteous one. He will wake her with a touch. A kiss in the darkness to once again bring the glorious light of her being into the world."

"Is that all, Breathred?” Dr. Grayson asked, feeling he was holding something back.

"No ma'am. It goes on to say, ‘Beware her children. In them are born the seeds of destruction. They will seek out the Mother, and through her bring about the end of all things. Seek the warrior pure. Only he may defeat them.’”

"Breathred, what does that mean?” Dr. Grayson asked.

"It means if we get out of this tomb, we may very well unleash a plague upon the Earth so destructive it would have given Pandora pause,” Breathred said, his voice cold and distant.

"Excuse me, but
bullshit
. You can't be seriously considering this is anything more than a myth.” Truehart sneered at them.

"The proof is inside that door, Truehart. Whether you choose to believe it or not, something beyond your feeble grip on reality exists. Your brother had the same problem, and look at what it did to him,” Breathred bellowed, tired of the man's tirades.

"How dare you mention my brother!” Truehart screamed. “You aren't fit to breathe air while he lies dead. I don't care what you or the authorities say. You had something to do with his death, and it's high time I found out the truth."

"I don't know the truth anymore. Can't you see that? Whatever happened in the Shrine is gone, if it was ever there in the first place. Don't you think I want to know what happened? I wake up with the tips of memories burning in my mind. I want it all to end. Even if it drives me insane, it would be better than this emptiness,” Breathred cried, slapping the sides of his head.

"You're fecking lying!"

Before Breathred could move, Truehart slammed his fist into his face. Breathred staggered back into the door. Blood poured from Breathred's ruptured nose and mouth. He lifted his head only to have another blow strike the side of his head. His head rang with the sound of crushed muscle and bone. He let his body slide down the rough surface of the door. Breathred didn't have to open his eyes to know Truehart was waiting for him to get back up.

He couldn't. It wasn't because he was coward. The simple truth was, he couldn't fight back. Getting up meant he would have to confront the man on a physical level. Edmund was just letting his bottled up emotions over his brother's death take over. Breathred couldn't blame him. So, he lay there.

Dr. Grayson jerked him back. “Edmund that is enough. I don't know what's going on with you two, but this is the end of it. You can settle this when we get out of here, but until then we will work as a team. It isn't a suggestion. It isn't even an order. What it is, is a stone-cold fact."

Breathred eased his bloody face up, so he could see the confrontation. When he did, his lips caressed the cold stone. The touch surprised him. He looked over to see a pair of painted-on eyes staring back at him. As his own eyes focused a little more, he saw a whole face was painted on the wall. Amid the arguing, an idea came to him.

He hopped around until he faced the door. The face on the door was in the exact spot someone would be if they were kneeling. Breathred brushed some of the loose dirt away with his hand. His quick cleaning revealed the face of a beautiful woman. A pair of lips was pursed, as if awaiting a lover's kiss. The door's inscription had mentioned a kiss.