Gorgon

CHAPTER 32

HAWC lieutenant Ben Rogers stood with arms folded cradling his rifle. The smell of drying slime from the drained lake thickened the air; soon it would become so dominating that he knew it would overpower his sense of smell, making it useless. As a HAWC, he relied on every sense, every limb, every angle and sharp edge of his body in both defense and attack. Nothing was ever left idle — his life depended on it.

He turned to the two Greeks. Both were looking at him, but turned away sullenly when he caught them. They spoke softly to each other, obviously still pissed about getting a job that left them standing at the bottom of a stinking cave, and smoking, always smoking.

Rogers looked up at the steel walkways and steps leading back to the cave entrance. He guessed he must be about ten stories down. The lighting had been strategically placed to give a theatrical effect and highlight the more impressive structures. For tourists, the lighting would be an excellent feature. For a Special Forces soldier, it created too many shadows.

He walked a few paces into the center of the dry pool, between where the Greeks loitered and where Alex and the team had disappeared into the wall. He looked again at the two men — both seemed tough and capable, but they were amateurs. They’d be fine against other amateurs, but against professionals he doubted they’d last twenty seconds. He sucked in a deep breath and turned away again. There came a sound from high overhead and he froze. The Greeks didn’t notice, continuing to laugh and talk loudly as if they were in a local bar.

‘Shut up,’ Rogers ordered, and backed up a step.

Both men looked from him to each other, and hiked their shoulders, comically mouthing, What?

Rogers held up a finger close to his lips.

The Greeks, sensing his unease, drew weapons. The sound came again, still high overhead, and then one of the lights went out. In quick succession the sound came again and again, and more lights winked out, the darkness marching down toward them.

Rogers put a finger to the small comms stud in his ear. ‘Boss, we got company.’

He got nothing but a hiss of static — too much rock between them.

Gun up, he slowly moved one hand to his helmet, pulled down the visor, and switched on the image reproduction technology. As a HAWC, he had faced death dozens of times — and he was still standing. He liked to think he didn’t know fear any more, but now, as he waited to see if Magera’s image came up on his visor screen, something cold and dreadful crept up his spine.

He sucked in a breath, calming himself. The final lights went out. The Greeks started to whisper. One lit a cigarette, and kept the lighter on, holding up the flame. The other cursed, slapped at it, and turned on a flashlight instead.

Rogers’ visor remained black. He willed the image to appear so he had a target.

He heard Andronus grunt and, out the corner of his eye, saw him disappear. He turned in time to see Petro’s head explode in a mass of red and white bone fragments.

Rogers quickly pushed up the visor and brought down his night-vision scope — but it was too late.

Borshov put his foot on the HAWC’s chest and ripped off his helmet. The man’s eyes were open and his face was calm. Both his shoulders and legs had taken bullets — full incapacitation. The American’s expression of resignation told Borshov he already knew he was finished.

The big Russian shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t torture you.’ He grinned. ‘Only because I don’t have time.’ He grabbed the HAWC on each side of the head, his fingers digging into the flesh, and dragged him up so he could stare into his face. ‘This is for my men in Turgutlu.’

Rogers smiled. ‘You’re already dead, asshole — you just don’t know it.’

Borshov snorted. ‘But not before you, I think.’

He pressed. There was a soft whine as the electronics and hydraulics of the MECH suit came into play. Rogers’ teeth ground together and his eyes showed determination for a second or two, before they bulged with excruciating pain. Borshov pushed harder, the super-alloy pistons responding to his brain’s commands immediately. There was a crack, then a wet crushing sound that echoed around the cave. Rogers’ head collapsed in the big Russian’s hands.

‘Ha!’ Borshov let go, and flicked his hands to remove blood and brain matter, then wiped his fingers on the American’s armor suit. ‘One by one, all little HAWCs fly back to hell.’

He motioned to his men. Like wraiths, the black-clad Spetsnaz moved lightly across the drained pool toward the newly opened cave — ghosts on their way down to Hades.

‘This smells like crap,’ Franks said.

She’d taken the lead, and Alex could see she was trying to breathe through her mouth.

‘I smell oil,’ he said. ‘Perhaps some methane mixed in; we’re certainly deep enough.’

He stopped to wait for Matt and Rebecca. They were still fifty paces back, studying the mosaic frescos that covered the walls of the cave. The tiles were perfectly preserved and vividly colored, and probably looked the same as they had over 5000 years ago. Matt and Rebecca were like children let loose in a toy store.

Sam caught up to Alex. ‘Might be methane, might not. It’s getting too hot for explosive gases.’

‘Well, we’ll know soon enough,’ Alex said. ‘Keep an eye on our Greek friend. We don’t want him slipping away if anything unexpected happens.’

‘You got it, boss.’

Alex whistled, and waved Matt and Rebecca forward. Matt waved back, and they both picked up their pace, but their eyes still darted around, trying to take in everything around them. Occasionally, Rebecca ran her hand along the walls, as if feeling the texture of the stone.

The mosaics were amazingly detailed, and painstakingly put together. Some of the chips were so tiny they were little more than grains, giving the characters a lifelike effect. In the fresco next to Alex, men and women, their hair in the long, thick curling Minoan style, kneeled in front of four huge beings, holding up urns, cloth, and jewelry. The figures were clothed, but not in the same style as the Minoans, and their hair was alive with movement. Behind them was a gigantic white ball — possibly a representation of the moon or sun, Alex thought.

Matt and Rebecca caught up, and turned their lights onto the image. Matt leaned in closer to examine the figures.

‘There were three Gorgons of legend — Stheno, Euryale, and the most famous, Medusa. There have been stories of Gorgon-like creatures dating back thousands of years, though — from right here, on to Russia, Japan, and across Europe. Other than Medusa, who was killed by Perseus, all of them simply vanished from history.’ He moved his light to a different angle. ‘There was never any reference to a fourth Gorgon. Seems Magera is an anomaly — a myth within a myth.’

‘A myth that’s still alive,’ Alex said.

Matt stepped back. ‘We don’t know that — or not alive as we know it, anyway.’

‘We don’t even know if it’s the only one,’ Alex said, and shook his head. ‘I don’t even want to think about that possibility.’

‘There’s so much about the Minoans that’s a mystery,’ Matt said. ‘They were technological leaders of the world, so why did they disappear?’ He looked again at the white sphere. ‘And what’s that? They supposedly lived down here, in the underworld — no astral bodies down here.’

‘Maybe that’s not what it is.’ Rebecca fished in her pocket, and pulled out a small flashlight with a thick blue end. ‘Let me try something. Turn off your lights, people.’

Matt looked at Alex, and shrugged. Everyone switched off their torches, plunging the cave into total darkness. Rebecca switched on her new flashlight — and the wall glowed blue.

‘Wow — UV right?’ Matt asked.

‘Yep.’ Rebecca moved the beam around: the entire area shone like a neon light.

‘Is this a common effect?’ Alex asked.

Rebecca shook her head, her face glowing blue in the reflected light. ‘Not usually. Fluorescence in rocks occurs when there are a number of activators present — impurities within the mineral, crystal structural defects, organic impurities, or what I suspect: the result of significant gamma radiation.’

‘Gamma?’ Alex asked. ‘Down here?’

She nodded. ‘Occurs all around us, but at insignificant quantities. Of course there’s much more outside the Earth’s atmospheric shell. Natural sources of gamma rays on Earth include gamma decay from naturally occurring radioisotopes, radium and so on, and secondary radiation from atmospheric interactions with cosmic ray particles.’ She turned to them. ‘Or residue after a nuclear explosion, significant impact from space, or leakage from some sort of reactor.’

‘Impact from space? Reactor?’ Matt’s eyebrows went up. ‘So my space helmet theory wasn’t so crazy, huh?’

She shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. You’ve got to admit, it’s weird.’

‘So far everything down here is weird,’ Matt said, and flicked his light back on. ‘Well, I’m now moving my theory to the definite-maybe list.’ He wiped his brow. ‘Phew, it’s gotta be over 100 degrees down here. We must be near some sort of volcanic activity.’

‘Boss!’ It was Franks. She was out of sight, several hundred feet ahead, scouting. ‘Check this out.’

Alex turned to Matt and Rebecca. ‘Stay close, no lagging behind now.’

He jogged to meet Franks, rounding the bend. ‘Whoa!’ He eased back — the cave ended at a sheer drop-off. To their left, stairs were cut into the stone, leading down to the floor about 200 feet below. Franks stood out to the side, looking over the edge.

She pointed. ‘Now we know where the heat’s coming from.’

There were pools of black oil, some burning, obviously pure enough to ignite from the deeper volcanic vents from the heart of the earth. The roof of the cavern was way out of sight, probably the reason they hadn’t been overwhelmed by the build-up of gases.

Sam appeared behind them, and Alex held him back. ‘Not too close, big guy. Your weight could cause the edge to crumble.’

They all fanned out, staying back from the drop-off.

‘Wow, and wow.’ Matt shook his head, his mouth hanging open. ‘You do know what this is, don’t you?’

‘Hades,’ Rebecca said slowly.

He chuckled. ‘Hey, thanks for spoiling my dramatic finish.’ He stepped forward to peer over the edge. ‘Could this be any more perfect? An underground space of fire, heat, and … a village.’

The single broad street of paved tiles, their rich red patina perfectly preserved, was lined with small flat-topped single-story houses, each about ten feet square. On the other side of the village, the ground fell away into an even deeper chasm of darkness. On the surface of the street, scattered in between the buildings, something glittered.

Alex concentrated his vision. ‘Gold … gold coins.’

‘Huh?’ Tony reached for Franks’ scope.

‘Piss off,’ she said, nudging him away, and he teetered near the edge for a moment.

Sam pointed across the pit. ‘What the hell is that? Sure ain’t Minoan.’

On the far side, embedded in the cliff wall, was an enormous ball-like structure. Steps led up to it, and a platform, or perhaps an altar, had been constructed at its edge.

‘Just like in the mosaic,’ Rebecca whispered.

Matt held his arms wide. ‘And the stars shall fall and the gods will ride them to Earth.’

Rebecca’s grin nearly split her face. ‘I agree. Aristotle wrote that over 2300 years ago. He was said to have had insights into the future, and now I see why.’ She started for the steps. ‘We need to get over there to examine it.’

Alex pulled her back. ‘Not yet. Looks like there might be some of Magera’s handiwork down there.’

Behind the village was a forest of stalagmites, rising up in rows, and between them, in their hundreds, were magnificently detailed statues. Alex knew now that they were people. Everything down in the village — the figures, the walls of the houses, and the stalagmites — were covered in strange growths that looked like bulbous coral.

He looked at the steps, then tried a couple with his own weight. ‘They seem solid, but watch your step,’ he told Rebecca. ‘The light is poor, and it’ll make the shadows deceptive.’ He waved his HAWCs over. ‘Take us down, Franks. Greek, you’re next, then you, Thompson, then me, Rebecca, Matt, and Jackson. You bring up the rear, Sam.’

Alex pushed his rifle up over his shoulder. ‘Okay, let’s …’ He froze, staring down into the village. Something had moved down there — fast.

He replayed the split-second glimpse of the thing over in his mind. He had an impression of a long body, multiple legs, and a coat that seemed to shimmer, not fur or hair, maybe some kind of bony plating.

The HAWCs and two SAS men shouldered their guns, training them around the interior of the cavern.

Jackson nudged Thompson. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’

Thompson shrugged. ‘Hunter probably hears something we can’t. So we pay attention.’

Jackson snorted. ‘Freak.’

Sam edged closer to Alex, who still stood frozen, like he’d become part of the stone around them.

‘What you got, boss?’

‘Movement — end of the street — fast. I just caught it out of the corner of my eye.’

Silence hung as the seconds stretched. No one moved, or even seemed to breathe.

‘My legs hurt,’ Tony whispered, but it was loud enough to create an echo.

Alex shook his head. ‘Nothing now.’

His senses still screamed at him — something was there, but what? We’ll know soon enough, he thought.

‘We’re at alert level one, people.’ He pointed to Casey Franks. ‘Take us down to hell, Lieutenant.’

Borshov’s two remaining Spetsnaz slid through the hole Alex had broken in the flowstone wall. They scouted the area, then quickly formed up as Borshov followed them.

The giant Russian stood with his head turned slightly, his one good eye moving quickly over the adorned walls and mosaic floor tiles. He didn’t bother appreciating the aesthetics of the artisan’s work, instead focusing on the footprints, their direction and probable speed.

One of his Spetsnaz kneeled to examine the tracks.

‘How many?’ Borshov asked quietly.

The man stood. ‘Eight.’ He pointed to some large, deep prints. ‘One big, very big. Must be carrying something heavy.’

Borshov grunted. ‘Like me.’

He circled his finger and the three moved silently down the tunnel.