The Crypts of Eden

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Megalania Prisca.

In the millions of years of its existence, it had evolved little, relying on its olfactory senses and its advanced system of neurotransmission. One asset was its capability to process smells from great distances.

Within the dark warrens and dark recesses, the smell of blood and copper permeated the air, causing the reptiles to tumble and writhe over one another in a state of agitated hunger, the scent of blood always the sign of a wounded animal.

From their stone perches, from hidden alcoves and darkened nooks, they scurried to the source of the smell, honing in by the sudden need to feed, driven by the spill of so much blood.

Carroll’s eyes had lost their luster as blood dripped abundantly to the floor, a pool spreading like black tar in the feeble lighting around his feet.

“We got to leave him,” said Butcher Boy, backing away.

“And what?” asked Aussie, genuinely angry. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere!”

“We can’t stay here,” he responded, pointing to the blood pool. “They’ll be coming.”

All of a sudden, it clicked with Aussie. They weren’t alone. They’d never be alone. And then he concurred, rubbing the back of Carroll’s head with his hand. “Sorry, mate. I gotta leave you like this. But we’ll be dining together in Hell for sure, you and I.”

“Check for ammo.”

Aussie did, coming up with clips and ammo but not much. “We’re running a bit skinny,” he said, holding up a clip. “I don’t know how many of those things are out there, but we may not be able to hold up against them for too long should they make a run at us.”

Butcher Boy expressed himself with a concern that was beyond mild. “Let’s hope that’s not the case,” he said. When he turned, he noted those standing by the Circle of Rings. No one moved. No one dared.

…And then there were seven…

Butcher Boy stood his ground, not wanting to venture the same course he took to get to Carroll. “Ms. Moore?” She was looking at him, taking for granted that her silence was answer enough. “Ms. Moore, have you figured out the riddle of the rings?” She looked at the numbers on the final circle. “Ms. Moore, we haven’t much time!”

I’m looking!

What is the final—

“Ms. Moore!”

— sequence?

And then it clicked like an epiphany, a sudden realization.

She quickly maneuvered onto her hands and knees and grabbed the dowel situated with the numerical sequence 1113213211.

“Do you have it, Ms. Moore? Do you have the right one? I don’t think I’m inclined to go through this again should you make a mistake,” said Hall.

“I see a pattern,” she told him. “After the first ring, each ring describes the following ring as follows: 1 is read off as "one 1" or 11; 11 is read off as "two 1s" or 21; 21 is read off as "one 2, then one 1” or 1211; 1211 is read off as "one 1, then one 2, then two 1’s” or 111221; 111221 is read off as "three 1s, then two 2s, then one 1" or 312211; and so on. This is the only numerical value that fits.”

She began to push the dowel, causing the ring to move forward in a clockwise direction.

“I hope you’re correct, Ms. Moore.”

“It can’t be any worse than your guess,” she told Hall adamantly.

The ring moved smoothly. And when the numbers reached the alignment point with the other numerical sequences, she punched the dowel home. The pin went all the way in, locking the wheel. Alyssa smiled. She had found the right combination.

But her smile disappeared as quickly as it came when the world around them began to shudder with another rendition of moving walls and floors.

Some waited close by, sensing their prey, whereas others were drawn to the scent of blood like vultures to carrion.

Their numbers were amassing; those in distant locations now joining with those who held close to their quarry, causing ire between them. Though they had no concept of statistical value, their olfactory senses told them there wasn’t enough meat to go around.

Lizards tangled with their needlelike teeth tearing at the hides of others, opening wounds. Others fell back and gave them a wide berth.

In the end, however, brute savageness gave way to a hunter’s patience. And then the earth moved. After a while, when everything was once again quiet, when the earth was once again still, they moved toward the light with glacial slowness.

Nothing was going to stop them.

Even though the earth stopped moving, everyone remained on edge, wondering if Alyssa Moore had initiated another series of calamities waiting to take the lives of more victims.

Just as Obsidian Hall was about to make a rude comment, the floor began to vibrate as hidden weights and balances began to move. Suddenly, the crystal rings began to drop downward, starting with the center circle. Then the surrounding rings began to drop one by one. Where there had once been a spectacular display of crystal rings, was now a gaping hole in the middle of the chamber’s floor that led to unfathomable darkness.

“You did it,” said Savage.

The smell of blood was so thick in the air it galvanized Butcher Boy and Aussie to grab their gear and head for the hole. Since the riddle was solved, both men assumed that the trips had been reset, the danger was gone. So with lack of prudence they urged everyone into the passage to the chambers below.

“Will you be able to close this behind us?” Butcher Boy asked Alyssa with urgency.

“I doubt it. At least not right away. There’re probably more riddles that have to be solved in order to alter the balances and weights to reset this room.”

Butcher Boy chewed on his lower lip. And then he looked toward the opening at the far end of the room. Savage did the same. And Alyssa came to a conclusion: Their barometers were up.

Which meant that something wicked was coming their way.