The Crypts of Eden

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The creature’s frill reacted by fanning out around its head, the tiny receptors in the flesh picking up vibrations and processing them within neurotransmitters inside its brain, thereby governing it by instinct.

It was alone. And it was hungry.

The behemoth moved within the shelter of darkness not too far from the fringe of light, its instinct telling it to destroy the device that cast the glow of illumination.

It moved closer, its massive tail moving in serpentine motion along the floor.

The light was getting closer.

…The passageway to the crystal wall was 20 meters away…

The light grew brighter.

The creature grew bolder.

…15 meters away…

Slowly it advanced, still on course.

The fringe of light was now spilling out the doorway and into the hall.

…10 meters…

Hunger consumed it, driving it by the instinctive need to feed.

…Five meters…

The lamp threw out a harsh radius of light.

It was at the door, its reptilian tongue moving in and out, picking up the scent of its prey. Very close.

Voices, whispers, noises — though the creature could not hear well, sounds were carried through the air and picked up by its highly advanced receptors. Its jaw distended slowly as gossamer strands of viscous saliva stretched between the upper and lower portions of its serrated teeth.

And then with the speed and agility of a great hunter residing at the top of the food chain, it attacked.

It came from the darkness so quickly everyone was caught off guard.

It cried out with a deep guttural sound, a noise from the back of its throat which erupted into an ear-shattering screech. It entered the room instinctively pawing at the light, failing in its quest, then turned and swung its tail, clipping two lamps and smashing them.

The light was gone and Carroll stood in darkness, stunned and slow to react.

Its tail came across with the speed of a bullwhip and caught Carroll across his abdomen, sending him in an impossibly long distance across the room, only to be stopped by the barrier of the Crystal Wall which shook mightily upon impact.

Carroll was still alive but coughing up blood.

Aussie and Butcher Boy moved forward, guns firing. The entire chamber lit up in strobe-light effect from the muzzle flashes. The creature screamed as bullets pelted its hide. They continued to advance, their MP-7’s going off, strafing, its hide decimated by the impacts.

But it fought on.

And then its tail came across once again in blinding speed, nearly clipping the soldiers, the tail cutting back once again, this time splitting the air with a whistling noise.

The firefight continued. Too many bullets were being expended.

And then the creature reared up on its hind legs. Aussie and Butcher Boy followed it as if they were watching the slow trajectory of a rocket, the creature growing to a bipedal height of fourteen feet. Holes appeared in its underside, its belly exposed, blood and guts erupted and filled the air with the scent of copper. In a final throe of agony, the creature succumbed by falling onto the black silica floor. Blood fanned out in a glistening black halo beneath it and spread across the floor. The soldiers stood winded over the creature as they attempted to catch their breath.

“This thing is much bigger than the other one,” said Butcher Boy. “Much bigger.”

“You know what’s got me worried, mate? It took a lot of ammo to bring that thing down. Pretty soon we’ll be running low, if we ain’t low already.” The big Australian used the toe-end of his boot to toy with the creature’s massive head. It lolled listlessly to one side. “It’s bloody dead all right.”

“Did you see what it did?” asked Butcher Boy.

“What?”

Alyssa moved beside them. “It went after the lamps,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“It knows how to take out our first line of defense, which is the light,” she added.

“Whatever these things are, they learn quickly.” And then: “How many lamps do we have left?”

Hall did a quick calculation. “We left two with Red, that thing took out two, so that leaves us with six.”

“Six bloody lamps. We’re getting low on ammo. It’s not looking too good, mates. Not good at all.”

And then it struck them: Carroll!

Carroll had struck the wall with such force Savage thought the man was dead on impact. When he bounced off the wall and hit the ground, he lay there for a long moment before getting onto his elbows and using them to crawl his way to nowhere in particular. Though feeble in his attempt, he at least knew enough to get away.

The world lit up around them. And horrendous screams filled the air, noises neither men had heard before or cared to hear again. As Carroll wormed his way toward Savage, the former Navy SEAL reached out and carefully pulled him close. “I got you, man.”

Just then Carroll coughed a splash of blood, not caring if he soiled Savage’s clothes. This isn’t good, Savage thought. The man was obviously broken inside. Carroll tried to sit up but couldn’t, so he rolled over, his face a mask of pain. Blood was spilling over at the corners of his mouth.

“I know this is going to hurt,” he said, “but you need to sit up or you’ll choke on your own blood.”

Carroll nodded. On the count of three, they managed to get him into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. What Carroll didn’t realize, however, was that Savage had deftly removed his combat knife from his sheath, and slipped it between his waistband and belt. Now he had two.

“You’re going to be all right,” he told him. Carroll’s answer was to spit out a glob of blood on the floor between them, and then wipe a hand across his mouth. “No, man, I’m busted up inside.” He winced, feeling the acid burn of white-hot pain fill his gut.

“How is he?” Butcher Boy looked winded, as was Aussie who stood behind him.

Savage shook his head: Not too good.

Carroll was perceptive, however. “I can do this,” he said, his words a mixture of pain and anger. “Just get me to my feet.”

Savage aided him to a standing position with the help of Butcher Boy and Aussie. Still, it was a struggle. He stood there clenching his teeth, sweating as he forced the pain down, a forearm across his abdomen. “My weapon,” he said through gritting teeth. “Where’s my MP-7?”

Aussie returned to the shadows with his weapon raised and his head on a swivel. He moved cautiously, grabbed Carroll’s weapon, and fell back with his weapon aimed at the inky shadows of the passageway.

When Aussie handed Carroll his weapon, the wounded merc nearly dropped it. Aussie caught it, and then offered it to Carroll once again.

Aussie and Butcher Boy shared a look of concern: He’s not going to make it.

In another intuitive moment, Carroll cried, “I can do this!”

“Sure you can, mate.” Aussie sounded genuinely despondent.

“And I don’t need anyone’s help, either,” he said, looking at Savage.

So Savage accepted the message, raised his hands in surrender, and backed away. “It’s your call, kid.”

“I ain’t a kid!”

Whatever.

Savage looked at Alyssa who was cradling the two young Turks in her arms. Oddly, he had never heard the Turks speak but they communicated by the way they looked at him, their imploring eyes calling out to the priest who wasn’t a priest, a man of god who worshipped a god not their own, but a savior nonetheless. They could see it in his eyes.

In his mind, Savage thought of one thing: I’m not a priest. But in their eyes it didn’t matter. They believed in him. Suddenly he was aware of the knife at the small of his back, and the knife at his ankle.

Not now. Not yet. The time isn’t right. Harika smiled, and then she nodded. It was a light smile, a tic of an emotion, but Savage saw it clearly.

Butcher Boy raised his hand and circled his finger. “Let’s move, people.” And then: “Ms. Moore, what direction?”

She released the young Turks, who stayed close. “Not far,” she said. “Two, maybe three hundred meters behind the Crystal Wall.”

“Then let’s haul ass, people. I want the Turks to take point.”

“No way,” said Alyssa. “I’ll take point.”

“I don’t think so,” he returned. “You’re too valuable an asset.”

“And they’re not?”

“Certain people are expendable,” he shot back. “They are. You’re not. They take point.” He raised the point of his weapon until it was leveled at Harika, and began tapping his finger against the trigger guard.

Alyssa huffed in clear exasperation.

“I’m glad that you see it my way. Turks to point. Aussie, I need you to bring up the rear, since those things are somehow behind us. I’ll stay close to the point guards.”

“Got you, mate.”

Butcher Boy walked past Hall, who appeared to be looking for instruction and looked confused when he didn’t get it, and made his way to Savage. “Talk to you for a moment.”

They headed away from the team. When Butcher Boy felt they were out of earshot he spoke to Savage in hushed tones. “From one soldier to another,” he said. “Keep an eye on Carroll.” The way he spoke, it sounded more like a question than a demand.

Savage considered this. “I won’t do it as a soldier,” he said. “But I’ll do it as a decent person.”

Their gaze met for a moment longer. “I don’t care who you do it as,” he responded, “just as long as you do it.”

“I’ll do it.”

He nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.” And then he walked off calling out directions, calling out orders, people responding in chop-chop fashion.

Savage hung back and perused the chamber. Shadows pooled everywhere and he could not determine if they were moving or if it was just a play of his mind. Obviously he was hoping for the latter.

“Savage!” It was Butcher Boy. “We’re waiting on you! Let’s move!”

Savage waved his hand. Coming! With the Turks leading the way, they headed for the Master Chamber.