The Genesis Plague

41

‘For the love of God!’ Crawford yelled. ‘Someone tell me what the hell just happened in there!’

The combat engineer held up her hands. ‘Everything’s clear here,’ she said, pointing to the PackBot’s remote display.

‘Damn it all,’ Crawford growled, crouching to confirm her observation. Sure enough, the bot’s feed remained unchanged. The cave was clear, the bone piles undisturbed.

‘Sounded to me like it came from the other side of the tunnel,’ Meat yelled over from the cave entrance.

Jason folded his arms and said nothing. He was tiring of Crawford’s whipsaw moods.

‘All right,’ Crawford said. ‘Let’s back that lawnmower up and send it down the other passage.’

The engineer went back to the controls, spun the bot 180 degrees, and guided it out from the cave. It took less than three minutes for it to backtrack through the winding passage.

‘Here she comes,’ Meat called over. ‘I can see the light.’

The engineer saw light spilling in on the screen’s left side, indicating the spot where the entry tunnel joined the passage. She kept it moving straight.

‘Yeah, there she is,’ Meat said, peering to the end of the entry tunnel. The bot came in and out of view before disappearing to the left. He kept reeling in the slack fibre-optic cable.

‘Keep in on night vision,’ Crawford instructed the engineer.

‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

The bot roved through the tight, rocky walls that glowed dull green in night vision. There wasn’t much to see, but then the audio began to detect activity.

‘Wait,’ Jason said. ‘Hear that?’

The engineer brought the bot to a stop. The sounds became more pronounced.

They all listened intently. It was a voice.

‘Someone’s definitely in there,’ she said, adjusting the audio level. ‘Sounds like he’s …’ She tried to decipher the singsong chant.

‘He’s praying,’ Hazo said to them. ‘He’s reciting the Maghrib. The Muslim prayer that follows sunset,’ he specified.

‘Well, it’s a little late for that,’ Crawford said. ‘Let him pray all he wants. He’s gonna need it.’

‘Let’s get visual confirmation,’ Jason suggested. ‘See what we’ve got. Use gas to root him out, if necessary.’

Crawford nodded. ‘You heard the man, private,’ he said to the engineer. ‘Forward march.’

As the engineer advanced the bot again, a bright white light flashed from the bend in the passage.

Then came a startled scream, presumably from the same man who’d been praying.

‘Now what?’ Crawford grumbled. ‘Where’s that light coming from?’

‘Don’t know, sir,’ she said.

By the time the bot rounded the bend, the mysterious light had gone away. And the audio had picked up the distinct echoing of fast footfalls.

‘He’s running,’ the engineer said. ‘Should we release some gas?’

‘Not yet, keep moving. And for Christ’s sake, speed it up.’

On the monitor, the bot accelerated. A few metres ahead, it began sharply rising and falling over heavy debris strewn about the tunnel floor. Dense dust began swirling around the camera lens.

‘It’s a real mess in there,’ the engineer reported.

But Crawford was tuned into the audio feed — the footsteps. They were close now. Very close. ‘Keep moving.’

Then the audio picked up the sound of the man again. He was coughing.

‘Forget the gas … Seems the dust will do the job for us,’ Crawford said, leaning closer to the screen.

‘How’s the air quality in there?’ Jason asked.

The engineer peeked at the sensor readouts. ‘Nothing toxic. But he’s going to suffocate himself with all that dust.’

The footsteps abruptly stopped.

The coughing intensified.

Then the camera detected movement up ahead.

‘I think we should stop there and shine some light,’ Jason said. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’

Crawford told the engineer to do it.

When the floodlight went on, a figure sharpened onscreen, three metres from the camera. It was a man huddled in a fetal position beneath a pile of rubble that completely blocked the narrow passage from floor to ceiling. He was using his headscarf to shield his mouth and nose from the dust.

‘Looks like he’s not going anywhere,’ Crawford said. ‘Is he armed?’

The engineer zoomed in on the bloody hands, down along the body. ‘Doesn’t appear to be armed, sir.’

‘Good.’ Crawford stood and called over to a pair of marines posted near the cave entrance. ‘Holt … Ramirez … Put your respirators on, get in there and pull him out!’