Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 37

Aimee and Casey knelt at the rim of a hole in the cave floor. There was a warm breeze lifting from the impenetrably dark depths that smelled of salt, moisture, and rotting vegetation. Aimee lay down and closed her eyes, straining to hear anything that might indicate movement. After a moment she sat back. There was nothing and no hint of the acrid scent that usually heralded the stink of the creatures’ approach.

“It’s a chute.” Aimee got to one knee. “And probably the quickest way down.”

“Well, that’s where the signal is coming from, so…” Casey pulled out a glow stick, bent it, and let it drop. The flaring yellow stick sailed down into the darkness, bouncing a few times against rocky outcrops before disappearing around some sort of bend.

“Not too bad, and it’s rough. Plenty of handholds.” She stood and looked around the cave, pointing to a stalagmite rising from the cave floor. “Going to have to tie off just the same.”

Hagel looked from the stalagmite to the hole. “Means we’ll use the rope up — no one to untie it. One-time deal.”

“Open to alternate suggestions,” Dawkins said from the rear.

“Yeah, like not use the rope, and we just scale down.” He glanced at Aimee, and then over his shoulder to the non-HAWCs, his eyes alighting on the slender Soong. “You’ll be fine.”

“You know what? One of us falls and dies, no problem.” Casey’s eyes were level. “One of us falls and breaks a leg, well now, that’s a disadvantage I don’t want to have to deal with. Unless it’s you.” The scar on her cheek made it hard to tell whether her expression was just her permanent sneer, or something more hopeful.

Aimee felt that Casey was digging in, simply because she was pissed off. “I don’t need to tell you guys how to manage risk. We’ve each got rope, but no pitons, cams, or rope locks. So as far as climbing or caving is concerned, the rope is all we got. We need it,” Aimee said. “Long way to go yet — down, and then, hopefully, back up.”

“Okay.” Casey grunted. “We use the rope for non-climbers. I’ll go first, and secure the rope. Have a little look-see down there.” She pointed to the huge form of Rinofsky. “Rhino, you’re last and on gear recovery.”

“Got it, boss.”

Casey turned to Vince Blake. “Tie off your rope, Lieutenant.”

Blake crossed to the stalagmite, and looped his rope, carrying back the loops of soft cord and dropping it down into the hole. It only reached about two thirds of the way.

“Good enough,” Casey said. “I’ll go down this length and, if need be, use my own rope. Hopefully, the rock will be broken up enough that we don’t need it.”

“Good luck,” Aimee said.

The stocky HAWC snorted. “You bet. Break a leg, huh?” She grin-sneered at Aimee, and then her eyes slid to Hagel. She winked. The man looked back at her, deadpan.

Casey pushed her rifle up over her shoulder, and then pulled a flashlight — its handle split in half and opened into a loop that she pulled over her forehead. She then looped the rope around her groin and ass, turned, and stepped back, dropping down quickly, the rope zizzing between her gloved hands, one up and one down.

The group crowded around the hole, watching as Casey hopped her way down. At about fifty feet, the rope slackened as she obviously had stepped onto something or reached the end of her rope.

Her beam of light illuminated the cave as she continued down. After another few minutes the light went out or disappeared around a bend.

Seconds passed, a minute, then more.

Aimee got down on her belly again. “Okay down there?”

They waited. Silence. The rope stayed slack.

“Yo, boss.” Rhino leaned out.

A bobbing light, far down appeared. “All good.” Casey’s voice repeated ever softer in an echo. “Plenty of ledges on the way down. Comin’ back up.”

The rope began to jerk, and in another few moments Casey was hefting herself over the side of the hole. She sucked in a single deep breath, and rolled her shoulders.

Aimee shook her head. That climb would have near totaled her, but the female HAWC barely broke a sweat.

“Steep to begin with, and no handholds. But then it breaks up and gets a lot rougher — lots of boulders and jutting ledges, before it bends slightly and the angle eases off. More a scramble over loose debris then.” Casey wiped her gloved hands together, dislodging some wet cave-slime. “It’s damper, and looks like it keeps going and going, all the way down.” She grinned at Aimee. “Maybe to that underground sea of yours, huh?”

Casey stepped back from the edge, and stared off into the tunnels behind the group for a moment. She snapped back. “Okay, people, form up. Let’s get this party started.”

Hank Rinofsky stood back and watched the team descend. Rhino kept one hand on the rope, just monitoring its tension. He continually turned his head, using his scope now to switch between thermal, night vision, and then back to light intense as he checked for anything above the grunts and heavy breathing of the team as they vanished into the chute.

When it came his turn, Rhino hovered at the lip for a few moments, contemplating his own descent. First he needed to untie and retrieve the rope. He laid his hand on the soft but extremely strong cord. From away in the darkness, there came a tiny sound from the cave they had just left. He paused, reaching up to switch his scope back to infrared, and then thermal — there was nothing.

“Hey, little tattoo guy, that you?” His voice was soft, but still carried in the dark silence. He squinted, trying to remember the word for hello that Blake had taught him. “Nín hǎo?”

He waited, but there was nothing but a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. “Nín hǎo?” This time softer, and again he listened for a response.

His hand went quickly to the rope. He knew he was skilled enough to climb down without it, and Franks wanted all the gear recovered. He picked up the knot, and then froze — there was a wet sliding noise and then a soft thumping, like something bouncing.

He pulled his huge weapon from over his shoulder. Come on, you motherfucker, he thought, as he braced huge legs.

The bouncing continued, and when it started to slow, it then sounded like it was being kicked along, sped up again to bounce some more. He waited, the grip on his gun so hard his knuckles were probably bone-white under his armored gloves. From out of the dark cave they’d just exited, came what he at first took to be a football. It ricocheted off the walls to bounce several more times, and then it rolled wetly to a stop.

Big Hank Rinofsky stared, open-mouthed. It was a human head, slightly flattened and the stump of neck ragged. In the few seconds he stared, time seemed to elongate — he took in every detail: the blood, the Asian features twisted in horror and pain, and on one side of the neck a dragon tattoo, with the reds, greens, and yellows still flaring hotly beneath the blood.

Little tattoo guy, that you? his mind yelled. Rhino snapped into action, raising his weapon and firing into the cave. His laser pulse cut into the dark, but hit nothing but stone. There was the smell of hot plasma in the air, and Rhino shut it off. He held his position. He could hear or see nothing, but every sense in his body screamed at him to run.

“Fuck this, I’m seeing things.” He left the rope tied off, and grabbed it, dropping down into the chute, jumping and bouncing down to the first landing fifty feet below. He quickly unhooked himself, and spun, pointing his gun back up the pipe, using the barrel-mounted light to scan its edges.

He stepped back a pace, and was about to turn away, when beside him, the rope wriggled, and then started to be pulled up. He watched it, his mouth open for a few more seconds.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Rhino backed up, his gun ready. The massive HAWC was scared of no man, but this… this was something far different. He turned, almost sprinting, as he retreated over the tumbled boulders to catch up to the group.