Robbie and Gaines straightened up and unslung their M4s. Someone spoke, a brisk, male response. Captain Pruitt? Another voice took up, deep and rasping. The Arab professor, Safar. He sounded even more agitated than Datlow.
The voices went back and forth, and there were footsteps, lots of them. Robbie held the M4 across his chest and stared up the tunnel’s throat, waiting for the visitors to come into view. The lights along the passage’s roof were dull and yellow, illuminating only a narrow trail in the deep darkness. The thin, glowing line stretched all the way to where the tunnel branched, nearly a quarter mile ahead of them. There were a couple of battery lamps at their feet, but they were small and didn’t keep the shadows from creeping.
Their helmet radios crackled, even as the first shafts of light swung into the tunnel from the west, tiny sparks floating in front of shadowy walking figures. Five, six people.
“This is Washington,” the voice in Robb’s ear crackled. “Captain Pruitt and Lieutenant Barr are with me an’ Young, and the professors. Uh, Dr. Datlow and Dr. Safar.”
“Copy,” Robbie said, looking at his watch. 0250. He wasn’t sorry that there were more people in the tunnels, but why so many? Why so late?
Gaines looked stricken. “They figured it out,” he breathed, covering the helmet’s mic. “Oh, this is bad, I’m telling you.”
“Shut up,” Robbie said. The woman was talking again, Robbie picking out a few words as the party approached. “…can’t… responsible… wait—”
Captain Pruitt said something Robbie didn’t catch. He was in the middle of the group; Robbie could tell by his height and the way he walked, a long stride, shoulders back, head up. The two profs were on either side of him, yammering away. Barr was carrying a laptop case, hurrying to keep up on his short legs. PFCs Washington and Young were on either end, the only ones wearing helmets, their M4s slung. As they got closer, Robbie could see that the captain wore his sidearm, a Sig P320.
The conversation got louder, but not much clearer.
“It says what will happen,” Safar said. “Please, you have to consider how long ago these things were written! How could they have known about specific wars, or space travel, or genetic engineering?”
“Another Nostradamus,” Pruitt said, dismissively. “Science fiction from the past.”
“If you don’t believe any of it, then why bother with this?” Datlow asked. “There’s so much to digest here, we should study this further. There’s no reason to do this now.”
“There’s no reason not to,” Pruitt said. “I said I would listen to you, but you’re both talking nonsense. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Then why go through with it?” Datlow asked again. She had sharp blue eyes and the thin lips of a maiden aunt. “You read the translation. It says that a man of war will secure the end by his ignorance. How can you just ignore such specificity?”
“Because my orders are to see if there’s anything to this, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Pruitt said. “You’re doctors, both of you. Honestly, I’m surprised at this… this reticence to debunk a prophecy in the simplest way possible. Your superstitions are not at all compatible with science. I’m not the one demonstrating ignorance here.”
The group reached Robbie and Gaines and salutes were exchanged. Washington and Young were antsy, shoulders up, jaws tight. Young was high-strung in general, but Declan Washington was usually as cool as shade. Robbie wondered what they’d heard, walking in.
“In other circumstances I would agree,” Datlow said. “But we translated the words in the very year the prophecy names, a prophecy thousands of years old. Do you understand how astronomically small the chance of that is?”
“That’s assuming we’ve got all of the numbers correct, and I’m not convinced of that,” Pruitt said.
“You’ve touched the stone,” Safar said. “You must have felt it. Its power.”
Pruitt looked at him with disdain. “Lieutenant Barr and I are going into the chamber now. Washington, Young, please escort the doctors back to camp.”
The relief on the guys’ faces was almost comical.
“Yes, sir,” Young said, nodding so rapidly that his helmet shifted.
“Doctors?” Washington said, and he gestured at the long ascent.
Lucky fuckers. Robbie didn’t like how this was sounding at all, and Gaines was dancing around like he had to pee, his mouth a pinched line.
“Captain, please,” Safar said. “Please, it costs nothing to wait another day, to talk about this!”
“This is a US military operation,” Pruitt said. “It costs a lot, actually, and we’ve all got other places to be.”
He nodded at Barr, who sidestepped into the chamber. A second later the lieutenant threw the switch that lit up the room, a metal clatter of sound. The tunnel’s lights dimmed slightly as the generator took on the additional load. The tunnel seemed to grow wider, like the dark had suddenly gained strength, readying itself to swallow them.
A yellow glow spilled from the crack. The captain turned and slid into the opening after the lieutenant, jacket scuffing against the dry rock.
“Doctors?” Washington repeated.
“We have to go,” Datlow said, her voice strangely inflectionless. “Now. We have to go now.” She turned and started walking quickly back up the slope. Young hurried to catch up, shooting an anxious look back at Washington.
“We can’t let him do this,” Safar called after her, and Robbie stepped in front of the crack, ready in case the Arab tried anything. He almost hoped that he would, that something would break the incredible tension that had gathered in the tunnel, thicker than the shadows. What was this crazy shit?
Datlow looked back at them, at Safar, and Robbie saw how scared she was, her eyes bright with it.
“They’ve got guns, Ahmed,” she said. “And he’s probably right. Undoubtedly. It’s — I need to call my daughter.”
She turned back toward the exit and broke into a jog, Young at her side.
“Let’s go.” Washington put his hand on Safar’s shoulder, trying to pull him away.
“You have to stop him,” Safar said, looking at Washington, then at Gaines and Robbie. His dark gaze was feverish and bleak. His nose hair quivered. “It’s the end of the world in there, don’t you understand? You can’t let him recite the inscription in that room. Please, please stop him before he—”
Washington yanked the babbling professor’s arm hard enough to back him up a step. “I said, let’s go. Don’t make me keep asking.”
“What is it?” Gaines asked, looking at Safar. “A curse? Another dimension?”
Safar’s miserable gaze had fixed on the crack in the wall. He didn’t answer.
“Ahmed!” Datlow’s shout echoed through the long tunnel. Washington yanked the Arab’s arm again and the man stumbled but didn’t look away from the crack. He’d started muttering under his breath, reciting a prayer or some shit.
Robbie pointed his rifle at Safar. Whatever else was going on, the Arab had been asked and then ordered to leave. He could get the fuck out of Robbie’s face, pronto.
Safar turned abruptly and started after Young and the woman, Washington on his heels, hurrying him along with a few more pushes. Within seconds, Safar started to run, too. The echo of boots on rock filled the corridor as all of them fled for the exit. In spite of the cold, Robbie prickled with sweat. The fuck was going on? Had everyone gone insane?
Gaines turned and looked at Robbie. His voice was a harsh whisper. “We need to get out of here.”