Subterranean (33 page)

He closed his eyes, placed his palms across his face, and prayed for the strength to succeed and for a sign that he was honorable in his mission. He prayed for five minutes, his heart beating in his ears. But still no sign appeared. Finally, he sat back with a sigh, placing his hands on his knees. Nothing.

Then, when he raised his eyes, he saw it. A plume of oily smoke curling out from an opening halfway up the wall of the cave. Khalid sat up straighter. “Doctor, was the camp burning? Was there lots of smoke?”

The doctor cleared his dry throat. “Yes, thick with smoke. Why?”

Khalid pointed to the far wall, a smile of delight on his features. “Look, over there! The smoke! It must be the way back up!” He continued to stare at the billowing smoke, like some cloudy finger of god.

*     *     *

Still holding Jason under one arm, Linda stared at the smoky tunnel opening. Emotions warred within her: relief at finding a way back up and dread for the events that might transpire. What would Khalid do? He couldn't let Blakely and Jason know his plans without killing them.

She turned to stare at Khalid. His expression as he stared up the cliff face was one of strange exaltation, his eyes wide, glassy. A shiver passed through her when those eyes met hers. He smiled at her. “It's almost finished,” he said.

She nodded. It had all happened too fast. She had expected days of searching before the way home was discovered, giving her plenty of time to formulate a plan, extra hours to decide if she should try to stop him or just save her skin and let him do what he wanted.

A tugging on her arm distracted her. She looked down at Jason. “Linda, what about my mom? Do you think she's okay?”

She squeezed the boy's shoulder as he stared up at her. She should lie, tell him everything would be just fine, but Jason was an astute kid. His eyes as he looked at her were dry and serious. He wanted an honest answer. “Jason, I truly don't know. But Ben and Major Michaelson are with her. She's in good hands.”

Jason nodded.

Khalid touched her shoulder, startling her. He gestured for her to follow him a few steps away, to talk in private. Her heart pounded in her throat as she followed.

He checked over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. “Listen, I want us to head out tonight.”

Her mouth dried. This was happening too fast, like a freight train racing toward a demolished trestle. “But Blakely shouldn't be moved so soon.”

Khalid didn't blink. “I wasn't planning on taking him. Or the boy.”

Her words were a whisper. “You promised me that you wouldn't kill anyone else if I stayed silent.”

“I'm not going to kill them. Just leave them.”

“Is that any different?”

He shrugged. “As I told you, if they find out about my plan, I would be forced to kill them. At least by leaving them, they have a chance to fend for themselves.”

Staring at Khalid, she pictured Jason starving to death and Blakely being devoured by a beast. How easily he condemned Blakely and Jason to a lingering death. Where was the heart in this monster? She swallowed. “I hate this.”

“We'll leave after the other two fall asleep,” Khalid whispered in her ear, like a lover passing secrets. “You won't have to face them.”

His words threatened to destroy her sanity. How could he so casually plan their deaths? Just stroll away from them in the night? How could . . .?

Then an idea formed in her mind.

She chewed on the idea, but there wasn't much time, and the risk was great. She bit her lower lip, unsure. She watched Jason grin at something Blakely said. She saw his eyes shine brightly in the fungal glow. Shining with young life, with so much of life yet to explore.

She closed her eyes, firming up her plans. She could do this. No, she
would
do this. “Okay, we'll leave tonight,” she said with resolve.

While Linda feigned sleep, Blakely and Jason slept, wrapped in spare blankets. Blakely snored, a whistling gurgle heard over even the rushing falls. But Linda's slitted eyes stayed focused on Khalid's profile, where he sat, half in his sleeping bag, leaning on a boulder. She waited. She watched his head slip down, then bob back up as sleep almost overtook him. Almost.

Linda had talked Khalid into resting a bit, pleading exhaustion herself. Just a nap of two hours, she had begged, enough to charge her batteries for the next leg of their journey. He agreed. She then secretly dissolved several of her prescription anti-anxiety tablets in Khalid's water and made sure he drank his fill. The strong mineral tang of the local water disguised the taste of the tablets. The pills wouldn't knock him out—they only had a mild sedative effect—but in these numbers, the medication should make him so drowsy he might accidentally fall asleep while standing guard. It was all she needed.

She saw his chin hit his chest again. This time his head stayed down.

With her heart pounding in her ears, she listened, tense in her sleeping bag, close enough to Khalid to recognize when his breathing deepened into a regular rhythm. She knew she did not have much time.

With agonizing slowness, she inched from her sleeping bag. Thankfully, the roar of the neighboring falls muffled her movements.

She slipped next to him and collected his lantern and helmet from a nearby rock. She had originally planned to snatch Khalid's pistol, but he had fallen asleep with it tucked in his sleeping bag. To try to get to it now was too risky.

So she resorted to a backup plan. She removed the batteries to his lantern and helmet. He may still have the gun, she thought, but let's see if he can travel blind.

Once finished, she turned her attention to the dozing doctor. Linda placed her hand over the doctor's lips, pressing hard when he jerked awake. She leaned over him and pressed a finger to her lips, indicating silence. Once he settled from his shock, she removed her hand and waved for him to follow . . . quietly. She led him off several yards.

Once far enough away, she pressed her lips to his ear, hoping the roar of the falls kept her words from reaching the sleeping figures. “We need to sneak away. Now. Can you travel?”

He squinted at her. “Yes, but why? What's going on?”

She gave him an abbreviated version of the events that led her to him. By the time she had finished, her voice was trembling.

Blakely's eyebrows had risen higher and higher as she told her story. “The asshole! I didn't think . . . Hell, it's my fault. I should have checked more thoroughly. Too damn naive. About everything!”

The doctor looked decades older than just a week ago. Sunken eyes, slumped shoulders, even his hair looked grayer. She placed a hand on his arm. “We need to get Jason and steal away now.”

He shook his head. “Why don't we just jump on him and wrestle the gun away? Or grab a big rock and clobber him.”

“He's a trained killer. A machine.” She could not keep the fear out of her voice. “We're no match for him. If he's attacked and only injured, then we're dead. It's safest if we just run. Try to get into the darkened tunnels, where without light, he can't follow.”

“What about the other hazards out there?” He pointed toward the far wall. “We won't survive long without a weapon.”

She hugged her arms around her body. “I know. But I'd rather take my chances on the unknown than with him.”

“Okay. But we travel light. Only canteens and rations.”

She nodded. “Let's get Jason.”

Jason panicked when he was shaken awake. He couldn't breathe! He struggled violently for several heartbeats until he realized his respiratory distress was due to Linda's hand clamped over his mouth.

She hushed him, her lips at his ear. “Quiet, Jason.”

He stopped struggling, but his heart still pounded, his head ached. What now? More monsters? He scooted up into a seated position and saw Blakely collecting the boxes of dry rations, creeping like a thief in the night, careful where he placed his feet.

Khalid slumped in his sleeping bag. Both Blakely and Linda kept glancing toward the snoring man. Jason turned to Linda with a question on his lips. She held a finger across her own. He didn't know why he had to be so darned quiet. The crashing waters were noisy enough. Still, he did as he was told and sat silently.

Within less than a minute, Linda and Blakely had piled three canteens, flashlights, and a bag of rations near him. Blakely showed Linda a wide-muzzled pistol he had found in the supplies from the boat. A flare gun, Jason noted.

Blakely crouched by him and whispered, “Listen, boy, we need to sneak away. Leave Khalid behind. We have to move fast. Do you think you can do that?”

He nodded, confused, but from Linda's pale face and nervous eyes, there was something to fear here. He eyed Khalid, hunched like an ogre.

Linda and Blakely quickly split up the small pile of supplies and waved him to follow. He stood and picked up his gym bag. Blakely eyed the bag and shook his head. “Leave it,” he mouthed to him.

No way! He could carry it. He wasn't a baby. He shook his head and clutched his bag tighter.

The doctor opened his mouth, but Linda touched Blakely's arm and silenced him. She waved for the two of them to follow her. Jason marched behind her, and Blakely followed.

No one spoke as they traveled, even when their abandoned camp was hidden by stalagmites and boulders. The silence pressed around Jason, more frightening than screaming monsters and firing guns. Every odd noise made him jump, every crunch of their steps seemed to holler across the cavern. Thankfully, a half hour later, when they finally reached the tumble of rocks and boulders that led up to the smoking tunnel, Linda spoke. “Look.” She pointed to the opening far above. “The smoke has thinned already. That'll make it easier for us to breathe.”

“Yes,” Blakely said, “but it may make it harder for us to trace the way back up.” His expression was grim as he eyed the climb.

“Can you manage?” Linda asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

Linda squeezed the doctor's shoulder, then turned to him. “Jason, what about you? Can you climb up these boulders?”

“Piece of cake,” he said with a squeak.

“Then we'd better hurry. I don't know how long the drugs will keep Khalid sleeping.”

*     *     *

Khalid dreamed he gripped his mother's robe as the black storm descended on her camp in the desert. He tried to warn her that the gale was coming, but she just continued to talk to the other robed figures, oblivious to the roaring of the approaching sand and winds. He tugged on her robe, trying to get her attention, but she shoved him aside with her hip. He raced to the tent's flap, peeking out at the seething maelstrom as it wiped away the horizon. He turned to the group of robed figures, his mother among them. He screamed at them, his voice a reed before the wind. This time they heard him and turned. He opened his mouth to repeat his warning when he saw the faces peering over the veils. Not faces! Skulls. Yellow, sand-scrubbed bone peering over black veils. Skeletal hands reached for him from folds in the robes. He backed away into the roaring storm, a scream clutched in his throat.

Facing the storm's attack, Khalid jerked awake, confused as the roar followed him from his dream. He cringed against the roar until he realized it was just the waterfall crashing nearby. Swallowing hard, almost imagining his throat was caked with sand, he pushed out of his sleeping bag. He reached for his canteen. It was gone. He bolted up.

In one scan of the empty sleeping bags, like so many discarded snakeskins, he realized he had been duped. Damn her. He raised the pistol as if expecting an attack. He peered around. No sign. He glanced toward the distant smoking tunnel, where only a whispery black trace still seeped from the opening. At least he knew where she had gone.

He kicked through the scattered debris, inventorying the remains. All the lanterns were gone. Batteries too. No light source.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarette lighter. He flicked it open. A flame burst upward. It would be a fire to light his path.

A smile of determination pressed his lips flat. He would teach her. Soon she'd know his wrath and beg his forgiveness.

He would be like the black storm of his dream. Merciless and unstoppable.

A
SHLEY TOOK A STEP BACK, WONDERING IF HER EARS
were playing tricks. How could this creature speak English? It had to be a coincidence, a common series of sounds that just happened to match an English word.

“
Death,
” the old silver-haired creature repeated, pointing his stick and shaking it at her as if trying to get her to understand. He then planted his staff and leaned heavily on it, a saddened set to his shoulders. “
Dobori dobi!
” he finally said in a tired voice.

At his words, a gasp arose from around her, igniting a scurry of commotion. The few curious onlookers who still thronged around her scrambled away, disappearing into cave openings, cloth flaps quickly drawn across entryways. Not a single face peeked around a corner.

Only a scattering of the small creatures remained—those armed with diamond spears. And even these warriors shifted their feet nervously.

Ben spoke up beside her. “Ash, we've got trouble.”

She glanced at him; his eyes were huge. “Ben?” she whispered, feeling exposed under the eyes of the creatures. “What do we do?”

“Hell if I know. You're the anthropologist.”

“Maybe we should—” Ashley was interrupted by a firm stamp of the old creature's staff on the rock, demanding their attention.

“
Dobori dobi!
” The creature boomed, pointing at Ben with a long crooked finger. Then he turned and hobbled away.

“Wait!” Ben called.

The creature turned to face him, but it took much effort. He was obviously exhausted, coughing raggedly and leaning heavily on his staff.