The very first alley they took was a dead end. They returned to the junction where Banks put a vertical line down through the horizontal one.
“And that means it’s an instant no-go down that one.”
Before they moved on, Wiggo gathered his own supply of pebbles and gravel.
“Just in case we get split up, Cap. I’ll make the marks too so you’ll ken where I’ve been and where not to go.”
“We’ve got a plan, then. Let’s hope we can stay out of the beastie’s way long enough to put it to work.”
Out in the arena, the crowd roared louder.
Banks realized something else; if they crouched down by a foot and kept close to the walls, then the watchers would not be able to see them and the crowd noise could do nothing to alert the beast to their movements.
Banks and Wiggins were bent over as they went right at the next chance they got.
They passed one left turn but kept going right. Two sharp turns later, they were back at the place where Banks had scored the wall. He led them back inside, tried the left they’d bypassed the first time through, and almost immediately came to a dead end. They quickly backed out to the first junction where Banks put a vertical line through the horizontal one.
“This is good news,” he said, trying to convince himself more than anything. “We’ve ruled out this passageway completely. That’s two down. The more of these we do, the better.”
Outside and above them, the crowd let out their biggest cheer yet. The roar from the raptor that came in reply was too close for comfort.
“It’s just across there, in the next lane,” Wiggins said softly, pointing to the wall of stone to their left.
Banks led them up the alley and went right again at the next junction, scoring a vertical line on the wall as they passed through. He judged they must be somewhere near the labyrinth’s center based on the quick look he’d had from on top of the wall. His theory was confirmed a minute later as they arrived in a circular, open-roofed chamber. There were three other exits, equally spaced around the walls.
“Straight ahead,” Banks said. “We’ve been going right so far, let’s not start deviating from the plan just yet.”
Wiggins stepped away from the entrance and into the chamber before Banks could stop him… and immediately came into the sight of the crowd in the arena. A yell of pure delight from a thousand voices in unison rang around them. Then the crowd clapped, two beats then three. Somewhere to the left, the raptor roared.
“Across there then back against the wall, Wiggo. They know where we are now. And my guess is they’ve just told the beastie’s rider our location. We’ve got thirty seconds to get the fuck out of here.”
They crossed the chamber at a full-out run into the alley directly opposite, Banks slowing just long enough to leave another horizontal gouge on the wall. They’d made maybe thirty yards in when another bellow from the crowd rang out and the raptor’s roar came from behind them; the beast was at the central chamber and on their trail.
Wiggins had got the idea now, leading and heading right, marking the walls as they went. The roar of the raptor faded behind them then got louder again; the rider had taken a wrong turn then corrected it. Banks wondered if the youth on the back of the raptor was smart enough to see their markings on the walls and recognize them for what they were then pushed the thought away; now was no time for second-guessing. He followed Wiggins, both of them running flat-out, clinging close to the right-hand wall.
They came to a tunnel a minute later, the only enclosed area they’d come across so far. The far end was only dimly visible thirty, maybe forty yards ahead. Wiggins headed in but Banks shouted him back, slowing to a walk.
“Careful, Wiggo,” he said. “Just because we haven’t seen any booby traps yet doesn’t mean there aren’t any. My gut’s telling me this isn’t all it seems.”
He was proved right seconds later. At the limit of being able to see as the shadows gathered, they almost stumbled into a staked pit on the floor. A six-inch-wide ledge led around the right side of it, the only way they were going to be able to cross what appeared to be a five-yard wide gap.
Wiggins went first, back to the wall, palms spread on the stone, sidling along the ledge as fast as he could manage. Banks waited until the corporal was at the halfway point then started after him. He’d got as far as putting a foot on the ledge when a shadow moved behind him. He turned as an animal roar filled the tunnel.
The beast had found them.
“Faster, Wiggo,” he said and trusting to luck and balance took the narrow ledge at a half-run, hoping that momentum would carry him across before he fell. Wiggins made the far side safely but Banks started to lose balance when he was still some way short. Evil barbed spikes seemed to look up at him expectantly.
He threw his body forward in a dive as if going off the side of a swimming pool, felt his elbows graze the lip on the far side, then his upper body landed with the crash that shook him from sternum to backbone. His lower body failed to join the top half in getting across and as soon as he landed, he started to slide backwards. Wiggins grabbed his arms and heaved before gravity took over, hauling them both to safety. But the action had overbalanced the corporal who fell onto his backside in the dirt.
Behind them, the raptor, seeing its prey defenseless on the ground, let out another roar that filled the tunnel. Banks got himself turned around and looked back to see the beast, with the rider crouched low on its back, coming at a run towards them.
It reached the rim of the pit of stakes and launched into the air, feet first like a long jumper, talons reaching for Banks’ face.
- 16 -
Hynd followed Wilkins off to the right just inside the canopy. Neither of them spoke. The roars and cheers from the far side of the gate were even clearer here and every so often, he heard an animal roar punctuate the sound from the crowd. The second time that happened there was an answering roar, not from across the gate but from the jungle at Hynd’s back, reminding him, as if it were needed, that they were not alone here in the crater. He hoped Davies had enough sense to keep the WHO group hidden in safety.
Then there was no time for thinking. Wilkins reached a tall tree at the edge of the canopy butted up against the rim wall of the crater. Hynd looked up and saw that the climb was even easier than he’d hoped for. The bark was heavily ridged, like crocodile hide, and there were branches aplenty for handholds. Without waiting for an order, Wilkins went up it at a brisk pace. Hynd followed more sedately, taking care to compensate for the swinging rifle slung across his back.
As he climbed, he saw that they were completely hidden from sight of the gate.
This might just work.
Halfway up, with Wilkins already waiting for him on a sturdy branch higher up, Hynd heard a rustle in the branches below. He made sure he had a firm footing, swung his rifle ’round, and had taken it all in one seamless movement.
The black-haired doctor was ten feet below him and climbing steadily. The man looked up, saw Hynd staring at him, and grinned.
“I told you,” he said softly. “I can help.”
This was no place for an argument and they had no time for one in any case.
“Just don’t blame me if you get yourself killed. Follow me up. I’ll kick your arse when it’s all over if we’re both still here.”
As soon as Hynd reached Wilkins’ position, the young private inched out along the branch he had been sat on, legs locked at the ankles around the branch, arms pulling him forward. He stripped smaller branches off as he went, smoothing the way for Hynd when it was his turn. The further out Wilkins went, the more the branch drooped. Hynd looked down. The lad still had five feet to go before he would be able to drop and the landing zone looked too small to Hynd’s eye. His confidence was waning by the second.