Even in the chill gray darkness, their faces were easy to read. Madden and Gregory mirrored a kind of grim determination; Kelto was more a look of apprehension. B.C. was out-and-out scared.
Madden worked his bulk over the ledge and I could feel his weight snap up the line, then shiver into my hands. I took two steps back and dug in my heels to counterbalance his 260 or so pounds.
"Watch out for that old dry well," Kelto cautioned. "The boards laying over the top of it are almost rotted through."
Bingo, again!
If I hadn't had my hands full, I would have hugged the sullen little bastard.
"Jake, hold it!" I shouted.
Madden was suspended precariously over the yawning chasm with only his craggy face still peering back over the ledge at us.
"B.C., Kelto, somebody, kick the lid off that old dry well and see what's down there."
In less time than it takes to describe it, the trio had cleared away the dead leaves, pried the cover off and rammed the beam of Gregory's flashlight down the darkened hole. When the young officer looked up, his face was a death mask.
B.C. took one look, unable to put down the revolt in her stomach and looked away choking.
Madden somehow crawled back without my help, righted himself and joined me in peering down into the darkness. The ghostly yellow beam of light played down on the mutilated remains of Caleb Hall. He had been decapitated.
Just beyond him was the long sought opening, tunneling back away from the wall under anti toward the house.
Jake's shoulders slumped, and he sagged to his knees. My suspicions, unfortunately, had been confirmed. We were already too late. If this was Caleb's fate, there wasn't much reason to hold out hope for Bert Johnson.
"Looks like you found your damn access," Madden muttered.
I nodded and looked around the tiny group. At the moment I wasn't sure they had anything left to give. The young constable still hadn't regained his equilibrium. Even Kelto was shaken; perhaps long buried fears had finally resurfaced. B.C. had crumbled. Only Madden still maintained the look of grim determination. If I read him right, the discovery of Caleb Hall had reduced him to rage.
"What do we do now?" Gregory managed.
Madden had the presence of mind to shut off the flashlight, and the ugliness of the scene was temporarily lessened. "Yeah, Researcher, it's your move now."
I had my own emotions to contend with. The situation had already far outstripped my ability to both comprehend and deal with it. The cost, in terms of human life, for the true believers to carry out their satanic mission was staggering. Only one thing seemed clear. It had to be stopped — here and now. Somehow we had to find a way to make certain that Chambers Bay was the final stop on Sate's terrifying journey through time. If we didn't, it would only get worse from here on in.
"Look," Madden said, reading the situation, "I don't have any choice. I've got to go down there and do what I can to put an end to this nightmare. I'll understand if any of you want to back out now."
"You can't get it done by yourself," I heard myself say.
Kelto was pacing back and forth. He had already shouldered one of the backpacks. "I'm coming with you," he said, almost mechanically.
Gregory reached down and picked up the other backpack. There was no way of knowing if the young man had even considered that he might have had an option. He had already lived too long with the old adage that the "Mounties always get their man."
Brenda looked at me, her face etched with tears. She was shivering. "I don't want you to go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid of what will happen down there."
"We don't have any choice," Madden said stoically.
"I don't think I can go any farther," she finally admitted. She reached out, took my hand and squeezed it.
Madden looked away. "Let's go," he said gruffly.
PART 11
Madden went first, and Gregory followed. Kelto went next, and I brought up the rear. We worked our way past the mutilated remains of Caleb Hall, through the opening and descended into the tunnel. I was worried about B.C., but I thought she had a better chance of getting out of this mess than we did.
We hadn't traveled more than 30 feet when we came to a small vaulted cavern some 30 feet across. Two tunnels led out of it, and Madden paused just long enough to fish out his compass.
As usual, Kelto's deep-set brooding eyes revealed little of the storms that were raging in his tortured soul. Our eyes locked, and I had the feeling that I knew what he was feeling.
"This is what you've waited for, isn't it?" He nodded solemnly.
"What are we gonna find down there?" Madden asked.
"I only know what the troubled soul of Myron Bell revealed to me," Kelto whispered.
"More of them damn creatures?" Madden growled.
"Those creatures, as you call them, are all that remains of Korbac and his generals."
"They're what?" I exclaimed.
Madden and Gregory exchanged uneasy glances.
"I have already told you. It is the time of the equinoctial awakening. Sate will be among us at any time now."
"You mean there's something down here besides those damn things we've been shootin' full of holes?" Jake blustered.
"Those creatures and things you refer to are nothing more than Korbac's generals, the flesh-eaters. They, like their contrite leader, have gathered once again to make their appeal for release from atonement."
"Christ, how many of them are there?"
"Their number is legions. That is why I asked you not to become involved. As you have seen, every assault by nonbelievers only results in their proliferation."
"How's that possible?" Gregory asked numbly.
"They mate with those they do not destroy. Over the centuries they have multiplied."
"Holy shit," Madden muttered, "are you saying that nut and the Erickson woman, those three boys, those two girls from the commune have have evolved into those creatures now?"
"They have, and untold more like them. Now they are true believers; now they, like those they have mated with, must have Sate free them from their perpetual state of atonement."
Madden's troubled face was drawn and weary.
"What about Bell?" I protested. "If what you say is true, if he was an Emissary, why isn't he with Sate? Why is he sitting up there in some half-forgotten corner of the world reading the Bible?"
"Myron Bell is a soul in conflict, torn between two masters. Now he serves neither."
Little by little, the jigsaw pieces were coming together. Kelto's frequently confusing revelations had again peeled away one more shadow from the cloak of mystery that surrounded those who called themselves the true believers. Still, I had to decide just how much of it I was willing to accept.
Madden pushed himself away from the wall, turned and took several steps deeper into the cave.
As I started after him, I made a solemn commitment to myself. If I lived through this to write another journal, all, I repeat, all research was going to come from the pages of an encyclopedia. The days of "living it" were definitely over.
Gregory worked his way around Madden and took the lead. The walls of the dirt tunnel were caked with a putrid, greenish slime that bombarded the senses with an overpowering stench of mildew and rot. Huge gray rats, first disturbed by Gregory, had worked themselves into a frenzy by the time I sorted my way through their sordid little world. One, perched precariously on a narrow ledge at eye level, stared back defiantly as I passed. At the last minute I threw the beam of my flashlight in his angry red eyes to dissuade him from what I only guessed he might be thinking.