“You need to calm the fuck down,” Robbie whispered back, darting a look through the crack in the wall. There were five lamps in the big room, spaced out in a rough circle. Shadows pooled between them, the lights casting a yellow pall over the intricate carvings that covered the walls, extending to the domed ceiling fifteen feet overhead. The lieutenant had a laptop propped on the big rock in the middle of the room, Pruitt looking over Barr’s shoulder at whatever was on the screen.
“Didn’t you hear what they were saying?” Gaines asked. “It’s some kind of prophecy about the end of the world. If the captain says whatever the words are, something’s going to happen.”
“Don’t even start.”
Gaines pointed up the tunnel. “The experts are fucking running, man.”
The four had already made it most of the way up the slope, the lights dwindling quickly. Seeing the dimly lit figures recede made Robbie feel really shitty, like he was on a sinking ship watching the last lifeboat sail away. Like he’d cut the line himself.
Pussy. You’re scared because of some woo-woo college professors and fucking Gaines?
“Robbie!” Lieutenant Barr called from inside the chamber, his voice echoing, sounds overlapping. “Bring one of those lanterns in here!”
Robbie grabbed one of the lamps, shaking his head firmly at Gaines, who looked poised to bolt. He mouthed the word no and then turned sideways and sidled into the chamber.
The captain looked up and pointed to the south side of the room. “Put it over there, about five feet from the wall. In front of that big divot.”
“Yes, sir.” Robbie hurried to comply, trying not to look at any of the drawings Gaines had talked about and failing totally. They weren’t obvious within the long lines of glyphs and pictograms etched into the reddish tan stone, but they were there, leaning in at the corners, reaching up through cracks in the steep walls. No two were alike, but none of them made sense — long shapes that were more negative space than actual lines, the bodies defined by limbs that curled like tentacles or ended in hooks. Jagged teeth depicted mouths too big for narrow bodies. Holes had been gouged that might have been eyes, blank and misshapen. The creatures were mostly fluid, like octopi or amoebas, but there were several with insectile legs sticking off. In short, they were disturbing AF.
Robbie put the lamp on the floor in front of the divot — a roughly chiseled depression as big as a backyard pool, surrounded by extending rings of etched symbols. Who the fuck had carved that shit out? What kind of lunatics had carried ladders a mile into a black tunnel to decorate a room? Did they even have ladders back then?
He turned to the captain, who nodded. “Good. No one else comes in. You boys keep us locked up tight. This won’t take long, then you can walk out with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Robbie said, and hurried back to the crack, glancing sidelong at the room’s single feature, a rectangular rock about four feet high, three wide, and slanted at the top. Symbols were etched all over it, dots and lines and curves like waves. The captain looked like he was getting ready to make a speech to the big divot, Barr’s laptop open on the stone. The lieu was messing with his phone close by, holding it up as if to film.
Robbie squeezed back through the crack, stepping back into the tunnel just in time to see the tiny lights far ahead disappear west.
Gaines leaned in, talking fast. “We should get out of here, man, I’ve seen this fucking movie and it doesn’t turn out good for anybody. Let’s just go. We can catch up to the guys and—”
“And what?” Robbie whispered. “Go tell Sarge we got scared? Captain says no one else gets in and we’re on watch, this is our job. We’re going to stand here and do our fucking jobs.”
“But what if it’s true, what if—”
“Seriously, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to clock you,” Robbie said. “You’re as crazy as they are, getting riled up over King Tut’s curse or whatever. This isn’t a fucking movie—”
Barr was talking, and Robbie shut up so he could hear. Gaines cocked his head toward the crack, his eyes too big behind his smudgy glasses.
“…was very specific, but obviously the phonetics are a crap shoot,” the lieutenant said. “There are alternates for every sound, these are just ranked by probability.”
“What’s this part?” Pruitt asked.
“Let’s see… ah-nee-suh ay-yah ook, c’thy oth sai nah-ee oh kuh.”
The k sounds were thick, like Barr was clearing his throat. The captain repeated the nonsense several times, smoothing the syllables into words. “Anisaiauk, c’thioth sinaio’k.”
They went through the process a couple of times, the captain apparently pointing at words, Barr sounding them out, Pruitt repeating them. The language sounded primitive and weird… And were the shadows in the cave growing? No, of course not. Although, if the generator went out suddenly, Robbie thought he might shit himself.
Gaines was making little groaning, anxious panting noises, like he was about to hurl. Robbie stared straight ahead, getting more and more irritated with Gaines because now he had a bad feeling, and it was Gaines’ fault, and being annoyed was infinitely better than the deep dread that was sitting in his guts like a rotten meal.
“All right, let’s do this,” Pruitt said, finally.
“Recording at 0304.”
The captain started to speak, his voice clear and calm, powering through the foreign language. Gaines had taken a few steps back from the crack and seemed to be trying not to hyperventilate as the ugly sounds of the ancient words whispered up the dead corridor.
A hoarse cry echoed through the tunnels.
For a second Robbie thought horrible things, but the shout turned into words, stop, you have to stop! Safar. Running footsteps filled the tunnel, the man’s hysterical cries getting louder, Washington shouting after him to halt or he was going to fire.
Goddamn, the Arab lost his shit! Had he gotten hold of a weapon? Robbie raised his M4, gaze straining at the dark, his heart pounding. The captain’s voice was getting louder, too, belting out the words like he’d been born speaking them.
“Sethiu’k’atas, esa naiu’shu t’na’k, aiu hath iutho—”
“Captain Pruitt!” Gaines shouted at the crack, voice high and desperate. “Sirs, we might have a situation, maybe you should stop now!”
The captain raised his voice to shout over Gaines, the words thundering, too loud, like a bullhorn had suddenly come into play. Safar was still coming, still yelling, but his shouts were lost beneath the captain’s booming incantation.
Safar ran into the top of the tunnel, a smudge of shadow barreling down the slope, no flashlight but clear enough to make out. Robbie trained for center mass—
— and a beam swept into the tunnel behind the running professor.
Fuck!
“Washington, get back!” Robbie called, but the soldier was gaining on the Arab, had slung his rifle and was going in for a tackle.
“Anaiu thi’k’thi lu esa—” The Captain’s words were impossibly louder.
“Stop him!” Safar shrieked, close enough that Robbie could make out the black hole of his open mouth and then Washington dove and they both crashed to the tunnel floor. Safar flailed and kicked, punching wildly.
Robbie ran toward them, their struggle drowned out by the captain’s recitation. Gaines ran at Robbie’s side, deathly pale, his M4 hugged to his chest.
Washington was on top of Safar, delivering a beat down, spitting curses. Safar had stopped fighting back, only tried to cover his head, shouting weakly, incoherently.