The Crypts of Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Savage was silent, Alyssa was sobbing, Hall was pacing, and Butcher Boy and Aussie were catching their breath.

And then there were five.

As Alyssa began to collect her wits, as Obsidian Hall roamed back and forth complaining and raking his fingers through his hair, while John Savage remained stoically quiet, Butcher Boy and Aussie got to their feet. Aussie had his knife and Savage’s Glock. And Butcher Boy had his assault weapon and what was left of his ammo.

Now dust laden and dirty, they looked like a rag-tag unit fatigued beyond imagination.

“Up, people,” said Butcher Boy. “Ms. Moore, you said we have now earned the right to move forward to the Chamber of the Primaries?”

“That’s what the scripture said.”

“Does that mean that there are no more tricks waiting for us up ahead?”

“I can’t guarantee that,” she said, wiping away the grime from her tear-smudged cheeks.

“Then we take our chances.” He pointed his weapon at Savage. “Point, Mr. Savage. You have now moved up the list as being the most expendable. You should feel good about yourself.”

“I’m very proud,” he said sarcastically.

“Move.”

The incline did not end at the gateway. It continued on for another three hundred feet before flattening out to an even landing.

With his lamp held high, John Savage led the way to the Chamber of the Primaries.

The apex predator was frustrated. Its quarry was on the level below. And the walls seemed to be in a constant shift. Apertures that were once at one location were there no longer.

With unprecedented speed and agility it moved through old warrens and new, searching.

And stopped at a setting where the scent was strongest on the level. The whiff of its prey was marginal; the floor between them acting as a buffer, but the scent was still there.

It circled the area of the floor, trying to establish the exact point of its prey beneath it. With its frill in full expansion and its olfactory senses in full play, the Prisca was able to pinpoint an exact location. After circling a few more times, it raised its tail and brought it down against the floor. The full impact of its log-like tail created a star-point crack against the floor, a breach. And then it followed through with another devastating blow, the crack now growing into fissures that started to race across the floor.

Another blow of its mighty tail — up, then down, the floor shaking, the cracks growing deeper, longer, the black silica starting to give. As it continued to pound its way through, the beast roared its guttural cry of triumph as the floor gave way to shards and chunks that looked like lumps of black coal. The hide on its tail was becoming red and raw from the continuous strikes, the flesh giving way to open wounds.

But this was an alpha predator that was not going to be denied or turned away.

This time it would feed. So again… and again… and again, the Prisca’s tail came down against the floor.

“How are we moving along?” asked Leviticus.

Nehemiah offered a shrug and a harrumph. The sun was blazingly hot, which hampered the team’s actions somewhat. “We’re moving,” he said. “But not as fast as I hoped. It’s too hot.”

Leviticus looked along the horizon and watched it shimmer as a battery of heat rose from the earth. “We still have plenty of time until nightfall,” he said. “The optimum thing is to be safe. Make sure everyone has plenty of water.” Nehemiah nodded. “So what do we have so far?”

Nehemiah pointed to the middle of the squared structure. “We have charges set up at the middle point, situated to go off first. We have other charges branching out from that point and working toward the perimeter. These will be the second volley to go off. The perimeter charges will be last. Right now, the perimeter is all that’s left to load. But it’s going to take time given the size of it.”

“How much longer?”

Nehemiah looked skyward as if the answer was written against the blue canopy. “Six, maybe seven hours,” he finally said. “We should have this baby done with by dusk.”

Leviticus looked at his watch. “I’ll have the choppers here just after sunset, then.”

Nehemiah shot him a thumbs-up. “Works for me.” And he walked away.

Leviticus glimpsed the length of the shimmering horizon: Seven hours.