Subterranean (46 page)

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Authors: James Rollins

BOOK: Subterranean
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Ben glanced down at the black pit below him. He scrambled hand over hand across the bridge, but the jostling of the rope made his progress jerky and slow.

He wasn't going to make it.

And as the rope went limp in his grip, he realized for once in his life he was right.

THIRTY-THREE

L
INDA REALIZED TWO THINGS AS SHE CROUCHED IN THE
semi-demolished latrine. First, there was no way that she and Khalid could complete all the explosive charges before Jason's time ran out. With only twenty minutes left, they still had three more charges to set. Second, she had also come to realize that Khalid had never intended to free Jason anyway.

She stared at the cold figure of Khalid as he peered out the broken door of the building. The stench of pine disinfectant was thick in the narrow space. Since the gunfire began, he had made no move to complete the charges; instead, he sought the nearest shelter and decided to lay low.

She slid next to Khalid. “Jason's timer is running out.”

He nodded. “I know, but the gunfire is between us and the boy. A small pocket of resistance obviously withstood the initial onslaught. And whatever they're shooting at, I'd just as soon avoid.”

Right, you bastard, she thought. A convenient excuse. The asshole never planned to return for Jason. By now, she had recognized a pattern to Khalid's charges. He was circling the camp, setting charges at the base of the largest colonnades that ran from floor to ceiling. He meant to blow up a majority of them and bring the roof down. Drop the volcano on top of the caverns.

She also noted that his route was circuitous, ending near the elevator. He obviously meant to complete the series of charges, then hop on the elevator and escape. Leaving Jason to be a human bomb.

Of course, the gunfire had put a crimp in his fine-tuned plans.

Suddenly a roar of rage erupted from across the base. One of those creatures. It sounded pissed. She noticed Khalid flinch with each roar. These things seemed to unnerve him in more ways than simple fear. Even now, he mumbled something low in Arabic. It sounded like a prayer.

Even though she enjoyed seeing the icy Khalid finally shaken up, it had left him paralyzed, afraid to leave this hiding place. And time was running out.

“We need to get going,” Linda said firmly.

Khalid whirled on her, his eyes dark.

Before he could curse her, she spoke up. “The gunfire is heading this way, Khalid. Listen.” She pointed out the door. “Whatever they're firing at is being driven this way. Toward us.”

He clenched his fists, not in anger, but with fear and frustration. “We need to keep moving.” Fear cracked his normally steady voice.

“Then let's go!”

A loud snap echoed across the gorge as Tiny Tim rammed loose the mooring of the rope bridge. As Ben began to plummet, he tightened his grip on the limp rope. He prayed Nob'cobi had the remaining mooring securely rigged. Wincing, he watched the far wall race toward him. This was going to hurt, but he had to hold his grip. If the collision should jar him loose from the rope, he would be nothing more than a messy splat on the floor of the gorge.

He twisted around to catch the brunt of the collision with his legs, but it was little use. When he hit, it felt like he had jumped off a ten-story building. His left hip smashed into the wall, almost blinding him with pain, but he ignored it, concentrating on one thing: keeping his grip on the rope, willing his ten fingers to clench tight. He bounced off the wall and swung back. This time his legs did bear the brunt of the impact, and he came to a stop, hanging fifteen feet from the lip of the gorge.

Across the chasm, Tiny Tim bellowed its rage at him. It stalked back and forth by the damaged bridge, searching for a way across.

Ben squinted at its piercing cries of rage. “Shut the fuck up!” he screamed back at it.

Tiny Tim tensed at his outburst and crouched low just across the gorge. Ben knew it could see him. For a moment, he thought the
crak'an
might suicidally leap at him, but instead it hissed a final time and darted back into the maze of buildings. Good riddance.

Sighing in relief, Ben hung there, resting. He could feel blood running down the inside of his pants leg as he clutched the rope. He needed to finish the climb before he weakened any further.

Twisting a leg in the rope, he risked freeing a hand to snap the rope into the rappelling harness around his waist. With a modicum of a safety net now, he made a steady ascent to the lip.

Once there, Nob'cobi helped him over the edge. Ben rolled to his back on the hard floor, his breathing raspy. The hunter fingered Ben's blood-soaked trousers leg. He said something in his guttural language, his voice sounding concerned.

“It's just a gash. I'll live.” He pushed himself up. “By the way, mate, thanks for the rescue. I was sure we were gonna be monster chow.”

Nob'cobi wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“Oh, never mind.” Ben tried to stand, but his injured hip protested. It wasn't broken, but it still hurt like hell. Hopping, he headed away from the gorge. “C'mon. We still need to get to that safe.”

Nob'cobi followed, but after a few yards, he grabbed Ben's arm and pointed to the droplets of blood from his gash that dripped as he walked.

“I told you it's nothing. Blakely has a first-aid kit in his office.” Ben turned to leave, but the little hunter persisted, pulling him back. He pantomimed sniffing at the bloody trail, then imitated a far approximation of a
crak'an
's throaty growl.

“You think I'm leaving a trail?” Ben studied the line of droplets. “You're right. I guest it's best if we don't leave such an obvious invitation.”

Ben stripped out of his bloody trousers and wrung them out. Standing in his shorts, he examined his wound. A jagged slash across his upper thigh. It would leave an ugly scar but nothing worse. Frowning, he used the last dregs of his canteen to wash the wound then secured a handkerchief around his upper thigh to stanch the flow of blood.

“There,” Ben said, slipping back into his trousers. “Are you happy?”

The hunter had that bored look on his face again, apparently content.

“Fine. Let's go.” Ben led the way, sneaking from shadow to shadow. He had enough of those stinking
crak'an
and didn't want to run into any others.

The way was clear. Within five minutes, he found himself at the door to Blakely's office. The glass door to the administration office was smashed, but otherwise the concrete-block building was intact. Stepping gingerly across the threshold, careful of the glass, Ben entered the reception area. Something large had trashed the room. A thick yellow substance reeking of ammonia smeared the walls.

“Looks like some bloody alley cat sprayed the place,” Ben muttered as he examined the wreckage of desk and files. Pushing through the debris, he reached the undamaged metal door that led to the offices. He tried the knob. Locked.

“Goddamn it!” He struck the door, bruising his fist. He rattled the doorknob.

A voice called from behind the door, “Hello! Is someone out there?”

By god, someone was alive! He pounded on the door. “Open up. It's Ben Brust from the exploration team.”

A pause, then meekly, “Is it safe?”

“For the moment. Now open up.”

He heard the deadbolt releasing. The door pulled open from within. A small blond woman with straggly hair stood before him. A smart business suit was in shambles on her thin form.

“Sandy?” Ben recognized Blakely's secretary. “Are you all right?”

She ran to him and hugged him. “Thank god you're here!”

Nob'cobi stepped up to Ben and mumbled something, pointing back out the door.

Sandy stared at the small naked hunter, her eyes wide, her fingers digging into Ben's arm. She gave a small whimper and backed away.

Ben waved Nob'cobi outside so as not to scare her any further. He pushed Sandy down the hallway toward Blakely's office.

Once inside, he crossed to the safe where Blakely stored the diamond figurine, the
ohna
idol of the
mimi'swee
. He didn't know the combination, but there were enough blasting caps and explosives on the base that it shouldn't be hard to open. Harry knew where those supplies were and how to use them. So where was Harry now?

Sandy huddled on a sofa. “What . . . what was that . . . creature?”

“He's a friend. One of the cliff dwellers.”

“How . . . I mean . . . when . . . ?”

He sat down next to her. “It's a long story, but trust me, he's a friend. He won't harm you.”

She hugged her arms around her chest and shivered.

“How did you get left behind?” he asked. “Why didn't you evacuate with the others?”

She stared at him as if he were crazy. “There was no evacuation. They attacked so suddenly. There was no time. Everyone's dead.”

“What? But what about reinforcements from above?”

“We lost radio communications almost immediately. On the day following the attack, I heard the elevator motor and took a chance and ran to look.” Her face paled as she related the story.

“The elevator was packed with soldiers. But they didn't know.” She turned to him, her eyes tearing up. “
They didn't know
. The noise drew those creatures. Scores of them. When the elevator opened, the men were overwhelmed, torn to pieces.” She placed her face in her hands. “Since then, no one's tried to come down.”

Ben nodded. “With McMurdo on the backass side of the world, it's no wonder. It'll probably take them at least a week to stage a full-scale assault. Until then we're on our own.”

Sandy's sobbing worsened.

He patted her hand. “We'll make it until then.”

With her voice full of tears, she said, “They all ran out. I was all alone. I couldn't do anything.”

“What about Blakely?”

She shook her head. “The last time I saw him, he was running out of here with that boy Jason.”

Ben's heart skipped a beat. “Do you know if they made it to safety?”

“I don't know what happened. I locked myself in here. But the screaming . . . the screaming went on for days. Then nothing. Nothing at all. That was the worst. The silence.” She looked up at him, shaking. “I thought I was the last one left.”

“Well, you're not.” He stood up. What was he going to tell Ashley? He paced the floor and glanced at his watch. Fourteen hours had elapsed. He still had to blow the safe and return to the
mimi'swee
village. That didn't leave him room to thoroughly search the entire base with those beasts around. He stopped in front of the safe and clenched his fist. Where in bloody hell was Harry? He turned to Sandy. “I don't suppose you happen to know the combination to Blakely's safe?”

She nodded and told him.

Finally, maybe his luck was turning. He twirled the dial as she instructed and swung open the heavy door. For a moment he didn't think it was in there, until he realized the statue had been wrapped in brown paper and twine. He picked it up and ripped the paper off, holding it up to the filtered light. Ben ran a finger across the statue's thick belly. Hopefully, she would bring him luck.

Just then Nob'cobi came rushing in, a panicked look on his face.

Somehow Ben knew his luck had just run short again.

Tears of frustration ran down Jason's face. He still couldn't believe it. At first he had thought he had imagined it, but the accent was clear. Ben! He had heard him talking to someone, followed by a loud knocking. From only a little distance away! He couldn't make out the words clearly, but it had to be Ben. Jason had tried to call to him, but the gag stifled all but a soft moan that barely reached his own ears.

Finally, he had heard a door slam shut, followed by silence. He strained to listen for any evidence that Ben was still around. Nothing. He must have gone into the building.

Jason struggled with his bonds. If only he could free a hand and pull the gag off. He had to find some way to call to Ben when he exited the building. If he should fail . . . He glanced at the LED readout on his belt. The number 11 glowed on the screen, and as he watched, it dissolved into the number 10.

He needed help . . . fast. He struggled again with the ropes, but it was no use. He slumped against the restraints. He needed another plan.

As he hung from the pillar, an idea suddenly struck him. Maybe . . .

He shifted his hips. If he could reach his left hand to his jacket pocket . . . He squeezed his eyes closed as he stretched and contorted his body, straining in his bonds. He felt his fingers close on the familiar plastic box. Careful not to drop it, he struggled to free it from his pocket, but it caught in the fabric. He stopped and took a deep breath. Don't rush! With more concentration, he slowly worked it free of his jacket, sighing in relief. It had been the only thing that Khalid had let him keep from his gym bag.

He prayed the batteries still worked as he flipped on his Nintendo Game Boy. A familiar jingle bounced from the toy. He twisted the volume control to its highest. The music was not particularly loud, but with luck, the oddity of the sound would attract Ben when he left the building.

He waited. Please, Ben, hurry. What if the batteries should die out too soon? What if he was wrong and Ben had already left? What if the timer on his belt reached zero before Ben heard him? His mind spun with awful misgivings.

But one worry he had not considered until he saw the black snout angle around the corner to his right. What if the noise attracted something other than Ben? Jason watched as it hissed softly at him, its nostrils flaring open and closed. He thumbed off his Nintendo and froze. The creature stalked fully into view. Bloody wounds oozed from its belly and neck, but it seemed unaffected by the injuries as it slowly slunk in his direction.

THIRTY-FOUR

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