The Crypts of Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Bell UH-1 Iroquois is a military helicopter powered by a single, turbo-shaft engine with a two-bladed main and tail rotor. For all purposes beyond transportation, however, it has become antiquated in the war arena.

Leviticus and his team hovered over the given coordinates in one Iroquois; the bricks of Semtex inside the second chopper, waiting.

Leviticus was the first to lead the way by rappelling down to the rocky terrain. Isaiah and Nehemiah followed with Micah and Job behind them. Dust and sand blew everywhere from the rotor wash of the blades, the visibility along the ground exceptionally poor. Once Leviticus and his team detached themselves from their lines, the bricks were carefully lowered from the second chopper, and removed from their umbilical ties. Once the job was complete the choppers veered off to the east where the rosy streamers of morning light were beginning to appear.

Once the dust settled, they found themselves at the base of a sandy rise that was a constant height which ran an equal length of one-half kilometer on all four sides.

“What is this place?” asked Job.

“It’s our target,” answered Leviticus. “That’s all you need to know.”

When they climbed and stood at the edge of the hillock, they could see something of magnitude. The flat landing consisting of rock and dirt was perfectly square, the footage of what lay beneath perhaps in the tens of millions of square feet.

“This is going to be a massive job,” Isaiah commented.

Leviticus was wearing light clothing but already sweat blotches were beginning to stain his back and underarms. It was going to be a hot day and the sun had yet to crest the horizon.

“We have enough bricks to set along the perimeter to do the damage once the charges are evenly spaced. But I want several bricks in the center with additional charges fanning out so that they go off in domino progression from the center point to the perimeter. By the time we get through with this implosion, I want to see nothing but a huge crater,” said Leviticus. And then to Nehemiah: “How long do you think it’ll take?”

Nehemiah gave a quick perusal, looking in one direction and then the other. “This place looks much larger than it did from the chopper.”

“How long?”

“I have to walk the perimeter and take a few measurements for equal spacing. I’d say with something of this size, maybe ten to twelve hours.”

“Start walking the perimeter,” said Leviticus. “Hopefully we can start mapping out the charge placements by the time the sun rises. I can already tell that it’s going to be a hot one.”

Nehemiah looked skyward and wiped off the beads of sweat popping on his brow with a sweep of his forearm. “Yeah,” he said. “You got that right.” And then he began to ready the site for the implosion.

The earth stopped shaking. And behind the walls, unseen weights and balances stopped moving.

Everyone standing in front the mausoleum entrance was able to breathe normally.

Alyssa, however, dared not move from the tile she was standing on.

Savage moved beside her and grabbed her gingerly by the arm. “Are you all right?”

“What happened?”

“You did it. The doorway to the mausoleum opened.”

Once she opened her eyes she saw that the door was indeed open. The entrance to the lower lever was granted — the riddle was solved correctly.

“You were spot on with the answer,” he told her softly.

Only then did she let out a sigh of relief.

But it was only short-lived as the earth began to tremble once more.

“Now what?” he asked.

Alyssa looked around. “It’s not the walls,” she told him. “It’s not the temple.”

The vibrations grew.

Then in a voice that was beyond a whisper: “It’s something else… And it’s coming this way.”

The Megalania Prisca was at a full sprint, its weight coming down hard against the floor with every stride. It had maneuvered through the hallways with its olfactory senses serving as its guide. Its quarry was so close it could smell the salt of their sweat, could sense the chemicals of their fear squeezing through the pores of their flesh.

With ravenous hunger, it pressed forward, bounding along the corridors in great strides, its massive body caroming off the walls.

Even through its poor vision, it saw a halo of light pour into the hallway up ahead.

And then in a call of premature victory, it bellowed a cry that was deep and guttural, its frill flaring out around its head as it went for the kill.

“What in the bloody ‘ell was that?” asked Aussie, raising his weapon.

Within an instant, the lizard entered the chamber, screaming, its mouth wide enough to show a pink gullet against the glow of the lantern. In reaction it swung its paw in a wide arc, its talon catching nothing but open air, the light a source as wispy as fog.

Then it got on its hind legs, its head nearly touching the ceiling, screaming.

Aussie and Butcher Boy moved forward with their weapons poised to kill and pulled the triggers.

Bullets pocked the creature’s underbelly but still it came forward, taking one step, and then another, the light no longer a shield. And then it got on all fours and disappeared to another part of the chamber.

Aussie and Butcher Boy lost their visual of it. It was that fast.

“Where in the bloody ‘ell is it?” cried Aussie, surveying his surroundings with the mouth of the weapon upward and forward.

It cried out again. But this time it sounded like it was coming from all points of the room, the cry so guttural the air vibrated.

“Get to the level below!” hollered Butcher Boy.

Hall didn’t hesitate. He was the first one in the doorway, his movement prompting another cry from the beast and galvanizing it from one of the surrounding pools of darkness.

The smell of cordite filled the air as the soldiers set off a second volley of gunfire. The creature was moving so fast the bullets strafed the wall in its wake, chipping the black silica, the creature there and then gone.

“That thing is too bloody quick!”

When Aussie’s weapon went dry he released the clip and reseated another in fluid and practiced motion, then set off another hail of gunshots, screaming out with a warrior’s pride.

“You want some? Huh? YOU WANT SOME?”

The Megalania Prisca leapt from shadow to shadow, from one pool of darkness to the other, using it as camouflage until the muzzle flashes gave it away.

Behind Aussie and Butcher Boy, Alyssa escorted Harika to the doorway who, in turn, was escorted by John Savage.

The number of the creature’s quarry was lessening.

In unmanageable rage, the creature entered the circle of light with its frill in full blown expansion and opened its mouth wide; taking peppering shots that drew blood. With a quick and fluid motion, the creature pivoted on all fours and swung its tail at the source of the gunshots, at Aussie and Butcher Boy.

In a blinding arc, its tail came across, missed the soldiers who ducked at the last moment, and decimated the upper half of the mausoleum, chunks and pieces exploding with the force of great impact, the top of the shrine gone.

“Bloody ‘ell!” yelled Aussie. From their kneeling positions, they set off several more rounds. Blood coursed from bullet wounds in the creature’s hide but it appeared unfazed by the impacts.

“I’m running low!” cried Butcher Boy.

“You’re not the only one!”

The creature came around again with its tail. This time it smashed the mausoleum until there was nothing left of it but a jagged foundation of black silica.

“Get to the doorway!” yelled Butcher Boy but his voice was barely audible above the gunfire.

Aussie, maintaining his visual, began to backpedal toward the door, his finger on the trigger, firing.

Butcher Boy did the same.

Another swing of the Megalania Prisca’s tail, swift and blinding, a kill strike if the soldiers did not get up and move back from their position.

Aussie got to the hole first, shifted his weapon behind him, and jumped in.

With Butcher Boy still firing, the creature advanced with every step an attempt to snatch him up with its gripping jaws.

Just as the Prisca snapped its mouth shut, with its fetid breath so close that Butcher Boy could smell it, he disappeared down the hole.

The creature circled around what was left of the mausoleum’s foundation, snapping at the access hole and raking the floor with its raptor-like talon, drawing grooves along the black silica. In rage it tried to fit its head into the hole, summarily failed, then raised its head and screamed in such fury that it carried throughout the temple and sent other Prisca’s running off to safer niches.

Having sustained some damage, its olfactory senses informed it that its injuries were quite minimal, and it was capable of moving on.

Using its frill to locate its prey, it understood the fact that they were now in the level beneath it. The Megalania Prisca then took several sniffs at the access hole, reared its head once again, then bounded off to find an opening large enough to allow it access to the lower level.

“What the bloody ‘ell,” said Aussie, trying to catch his breath. “That wasn’t the same thing that killed Carroll, was it?”

“The very same,” answered Alyssa. “It was the alpha.”

“How much bigger do these things get?” asked Butcher Boy.

“Actually, that Megalania Prisca is an oddity. It sometimes happens in evolution,” she said. “Things like this often remind us that nature isn’t always perfect by throwing in a quirk.”

“A bloody quirk? Is that what you want to call it?” He looked at his weapon. And then he tossed it aside. “No more bloody ammo,” he said defeated.

“But you got more, right?” Hall sounded desperate.

“If I ‘ad more, then I wouldn’t ‘ave tossed my weapon aside, now would I?”

“What are we going to do?” Hall began to pace back and forth, raking his fingers through his hair.

Butcher Boy ejected his clip and counted the bullets; only five left. He reseated the clip by slapping it into place. “Running low,” was all he said and then he reached behind and removed Savage’s Glock. He handed it to Aussie.

“And what am I gonna do with this bloody peashooter? It won’t even tickle its hide.”

“You plan to fight on with your bare hands?”

Aussie patted his sheath, his KA-BAR combat knife. “You know what, mate? I like me knife, because it never runs dry,” he said.

“Yeah, but for it to be effective you have to get up close and personal. Are you willing to do that?”

“I’m willing to do whatever it bloody takes to stay alive,” he answered.

Butcher Boy looked at the opening they descended from. “It’s quiet up there,” he said.

Savage moved beside him. “You think it’s looking for another way down?”

“I know it is,” he answered. “With this place coming alive the way it does, I’m sure there are accesses all over. And that thing knows it, too.”

“Then we need to get moving.”

“I agree.”

At the bottom of the stairwell where they had gathered was a narrow hallway that led to the edge of a forty-five degree incline, a fairly steep slope with no steps, just an even plane downward.

Alyssa held her lamp up and forward. “I can’t see the bottom.”

“You know it has to lead somewhere,” said Hall.

Harika, as always, stood silent but she was different since the loss of Eser. She was so detached that she had to be prodded to move in a certain direction. Alyssa was afraid that Butcher Boy would label her as a liability and leave her behind.

She pulled Harika close, the two joining at the hip.

Butcher Boy then issued an order to Savage with the point of his weapon directed to the bottom of the incline. “Anytime, Mr. Savage.”

Savage took point with his lantern held out in front of him.

The slope was not made of black silica, but some type of composite that was black and without a shine, something closer to a non-porous stone that held an uncannily smoothness to it.

The walls were made of the same composite, something that appeared much stronger than silica. Each wall had tracks in it that angled with the course of the floor’s incline the entire length of the chamber and a meter above the floor.

“You see the walls?” asked Savage.

“I see them,” Butcher Boy answered.

“There’s a track on both sides. What do you think they belong to?”

“Just watch what you’re doing and let’s not find out.”

They moved down the incline with their lamps casting the bare minimum of light, the bottom nowhere in sight.

How deep does this thing go? Savage wondered.

Finally, at the edge of light cast from his lamp was a gateway of some type.

“What’s this?” asked Hall.

Savage squint his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he said, pressing on. But something was ahead.

As soon as they got within range they saw a grand gateway with three doorways. Above each doorway sat a magnificent carving of one of the three kings: The King of Truth, the King of Lies, and the King of Wisdom. Each appeared the same in shape and manner, old men that were bearded, their faces betraying nothing: truth, lie and wisdom a single concept.

Beneath the arch of the middle gate was another series of archaic script.

“Now what?” asked Hall, clearly annoyed by the symbols.

Everyone gathered close.

“It’s another riddle,” said Alyssa.

“What is it with these bloody riddles?”

“They’re there to test a person’s wisdom, fortitude and courage, culling those who are not worthy by dispensing them with tripwires, granting privilege to those who do possess them the opportunity to pass into the Chamber of the Primaries.”

Savage held the lamp high. On the middle gate was a bonelike dial. None of the other gates had such an instrument. “So what do we do?”

She read the scripture as best she could by piecing together numerous symbols.

“Turn the circle for the Kings of Self; the sands begin to flow; should you solve the riddle before time runs low, the way to the Primaries shall you go. Choose your gate wisely, the Light you shall see; choose your gate poorly, forever darkness it will be.”

“What the bloody ‘ell does that mean?”

“It doesn’t make much sense,” she said, rereading the lines. “’Should you solve… the riddle… before time runs low.’” For the moment the line was vague. What was plain, however, was ‘Choose your gate wisely, the Light you shall see; choose your gate poorly, forever darkness it will be.’ Obviously it was a reference to one of the three gateways. Choose the right one, then it grants the way to the Primaries. Choose the wrong one, then death — forever darkness it will be.

“Should you solve—”And then it hit home: “It’s a riddle within a riddle,” she said. “Look for another riddle. Look for more writing!”

Everyone scattered with the exception of Harika, who stood idle. They went back and forth with their lamps and found nothing.

Savage shrugged. “I can’t find a thing.”

Alyssa chewed softly on her lower. “The answer’s right in front of us. I know it.”

“Well, figure something out, Ms. Moore,” said Hall. “We certainly cannot go back. And it doesn’t appear that we can force our way through this gate.”

“We can’t rush this,” she returned. “The given clue says we must choose wisely, which means we have only one chance at this.”

“And if we don’t choose wisely?”

“Then forever darkness it will be. Obviously, a deadly surprise waits behind the two doorways that are incorrect.”

“When you say ’deadly surprise,’ do you mean certain death?”

“According to the indications written on this stone, yes. We have to pick the right door.”

She examined the writing once again. Turn the circle for the Kings of Self; the sands begin to flow; should you solve the riddle before time runs low, then the way to the Primaries shall you go. Choose your gate wisely, the Light you shall see; choose your gate poorly, forever darkness it will be.”

The Kings of Self were right in front of them.

…Turn the circle…

Turn the circle? She looked at the bone dial. Obviously it was there to serve a purpose. With a trembling hand she grabbed it.

“Careful, Ms. Moore.”

Slowly, she turned the dial in a clockwise direction; the bone handle grinding against the stone wall it was mounted on. After she made a full revolution, she stood back.

Nothing happened as everyone looked about, expecting the place to reshape itself.

But then it came in the form of tiny cracks and fissures that stretched across the slate the first riddle was etched on, until the slab fell away, revealing a second riddle underneath.

“There it is!” Savage pointed. “The second rid—”

Suddenly the earth began to shake. The walls were beginning to move.

…Turn the circle for the Kings of Self; the sands begin to flow…

The dial was a tripwire. Once activated, then the balances and weights begin to alter and change their surroundings. The sand was the force and weight pushing walls into place, but also the measure of time like an hour glass. Once the sand had completed its task, then what?

The temple trembled as Alyssa read the new riddle.

“Do hurry, Ms. Moore,” egged Hall. “Who knows what it is that is about to befall us.”

It read: I am right, never wrong, and everyone that’s alive has me. What am I?

“Ms. Moore!”

“Shutup, Hall! You’re not helping!”

The earth continued to shake.

Time was running low.

…I am right, never wrong, and everyone that’s alive has me. What am I?…

I am… right. She turned and looked up at the Sculptured King sitting on the right throne: The King of Truth. He never lies.

Her mind began to fog over.

…Everyone alive has me…

…What am I?…

“Ms. Moore!”

And then the shaking stopped. Silence reigned, which was even more terrifying.

After a moment, there was a slight rumble as a ceiling panel at the chamber’s top entry pulled back. From the ceiling something long slid down the vertical tracks of both walls and extended across the room like an axle, from wall to wall, and settled into the tracks that followed the downward angle of the incline. Slowly, and since the incline was at 45 degrees, the axle began to roll downward, picking up speed with every turn, the crystal blades attached to the axle turning with the deadly spin of a tiller, to chop and dice.

Death spanning from wall to wall was rolling right at them with nowhere for them to go.

“Ms. Moore!”

She turned. The axle was picking up speed. The blades could no longer be seen because they were now moving in blinding revolutions.

She looked at the riddle. Her heart felt heavy in her throat. “I am right, never wrong, and everyone that’s alive has me. What am I?”

Nobody noticed Harika turn and begin to take the incline, one slow step at a time.

“Is that the riddle?” asked Savage.

“Yes!”

“A right side!” he yelled. “Everyone alive has a right side!”

They all looked at the right doorway — at the King of Truth, who never lies.

“Everyone, get to the right gateway!”

The axle was rolling very quickly and spinning madly.

Harika’s mind registered something, but her detachment was so great that it left her sense of awareness somewhat crippled.

The doorway beneath the King of Truth opened and everyone ducked inside. When Alyssa realized that Harika was not beside her, she turned to see her standing in the direct path of the ancient tiller.

“Harika!” She wanted to run to her, to pull her back to safety, but Savage held her back.

“It’s too late,” he told her sorrowfully. “I’m sorry.”

Harika turned on the incline, smiled, and then waved to her. Alyssa didn’t know whether she was waving to acknowledge that she heard her, or if she was simply waving goodbye.

The axle hit so fast, the blades so hard, pieces of body and tissue and blood and gore were diced until there was nothing left of Harika that was larger than a few centimeters.

Alyssa screamed as Savage pulled her inside the doorway.

A moment later the axle hit the gateway, stopping its momentum.

They had passed the trial of another riddle.