scraaaape-tic-tic-tic
He jumped, turned to the right where the sound had come from, but nothing was there. Weird echoes in the limited space, maybe. Did the sound emanate from up ahead? He crept forward, moving the beam of light slowly left and right, left and right. The shadows seemed to press forward, like the darkness itself tried to embrace him.
scraaaape-tic-tic-tic
Quieter this time, further away. He stalked on, the thick soles of his boots quiet as he stepped as lightly as possible. He reached a slow bend in the passage and began to move around it, wondering how far he should go. There was a radio set back by the elevator, linked by cables to the base, as no signal from a transmitter could penetrate this much rock. He should go back and report.
scraaaape-tic-tic-tic
Forward and to his left. His light showed nothing but rock. Hair-thin veins of soft green striped the walls. He moved forward again, just a pace or two.
scraaaape-tic-tic-tic
scraaaape-tic-tic-tic
He stopped, heart hammering. The sounds had come almost simultaneously, from either side. An echo, or were there two now? Two what? He stood motionless, holding even his breath, ears straining to hear anything but the gentle drips of ancient water. Nothing. He allowed himself a small, silent breath. For more than a minute he stood frozen, listening hard. No more sound, nothing moved. He took longer, deeper breaths, determined to calm himself. He slowly moved his head, let his light play over the walls, up to the curving ceiling of the large passage. Nothing to see but gray stone, shadows, patches of soft green fungus like lightning in freeze-frame here and there.
Two more minutes and not another sound except the pulse in his ears. Whatever it might have been, it was gone. Or perhaps there hadn’t been anything and he’d imagined the whole thing. Echoes of his own restless feet perhaps. He turned back to the mouth of the passage leading to the door and screamed. His bladder emptied at the sight before him, his groin quickly warm and wet. The last image in his mind before pain flooded his nerves was his fiancée waving, a tear in her eye at the airport when he’d left for Cape Town.
9
Slater entered the large elevator leading to the caverns with a weight of foreboding in her gut. She had slept fitfully, bugged by any number of anxieties. Worry about Aston and the complicated feelings that circled her mind like vultures. Worry about the job itself, what it might mean, where it might lead. Worry also about the key players. Not just people like Sol Griffin, who was in charge on the ground. He seemed unrealistically upbeat all the time and that discomforted her. But the others, out of sight. Arthur Greene chief among them, the man behind all of this. What did he really want? A new source of green energy was an admirable goal, but was that all of it? And why not be here to see it happen? Perhaps he was old, infirm, agoraphobic. Although being claustrophobic would be more likely to keep him away from this gig. Being down in those caverns and tunnels was oppressive. Anyway, there could be a hundred different explanations. But no matter how she thought about it, she had a bad feeling about the whole endeavor.
Then over breakfast this morning, she had spotted another thing. The entire team acted excited, keen to get to work, all eating fast and talking faster. Except for Sam Aston. He looked pensive, troubled. He watched the rest of the team with a suspicious eye, like he tried to fathom something just beyond his grasp. Like he felt exactly as she did. On a couple of occasions they caught each other’s eye and while there was still ice between them, a new kind of knowing existed too. She still retained a fury at the asshole for what he’d done, but she realized as well that perhaps he was the only genuine ally she could rely on. And it seemed he recognized that about her, too.
They stood near each other in the elevator as it rattled its seemingly endless descent, but they didn’t speak. Aston had a large canvas kit bag over one shoulder, packed full. She had some extra handheld lighting to set up clearer shots, but nothing else. The scientists all carried all kinds of extra kit, and Sol and the security detail carried supplies for a potentially long stint. Though she couldn’t imagine staying under for more than twenty or thirty hours, there seemed to be no reason not to return to the surface regularly. How far did Sol think they might travel underground?
Chatter on the way down was muted, but the excitement remained. When they reached the first cavern, that had been so mind-blowing on the first encounter, they all streamed directly through without a second glance, heading for the impossible door. Dig O’Donnell stood to one side, taking close looks at the stones of its frame, taking more photographs of the carvings on them, double-checking in a notebook and a couple of textbooks he had in his pack. Meanwhile, the others waited restlessly for the guard to push the door open and let them through.
It was a different guard to the day before, Slater noted. Besides Terry Reid and his two henchfolk, Gates and Tate, Slater had seen at least a dozen other base security and hospitality staff around, so she assumed the guard posts changed often. A person would want to be rotated out of standing in a cave all day on their own, after all.
Slater held back Jeff and Marla, set them to recording as the team milled by the door. “Stay by the door here, get everyone passing through, then tail them. Try to get the scale of the place, yeah?”
Jeff nodded. “You got it.” He shifted to one side, Marla moving on his back left like a shadow. For all his infuriating habits, Slater had to admit that Jeff was good at his job. He had an eye for direction, and producer’s knack for the best attention-grab.
The crew all moved along the passageway, leaving only Dig still examining the door and Reid and Tate waiting to bring up the rear. Reid gave a curt smile, gestured Slater forward. She figured the guy had decided to always be at the back, but then again, perhaps that was exactly his job. Although she couldn’t help feeling like a cow being herded to the slaughter. She needed to shake off the black mood that hung on her like a heavy cloak.
A short way along the passage to the next cavern, a discoloration on the smooth wall caught her eye. She moved closer, crouched to see better. Along with regular flashlights, they’d all been issued LED lamps mounted on headbands and she wasn’t wearing hers yet. But she pulled it from her jacket pocket and flicked it on. The patch on the wall was exactly what she’d thought it was. Red. She touched a shaking finger to it, and her fingertip came away wet with blood. It had to be blood. And why was it still wet? She assumed the temperature, humidity, and generally slick surface would have something to do with that, but even so, it had to be fairly fresh. Her mind flickered back to the change of security guard by the door, suddenly now a potentially far more sinister turn of events.
She glanced back. Dig was still examining the door, and Reid and Tate stood back, patient. The other guard, Gates, with his dull eyes, broad stubbled jaw, and generic football jock body shape, had gone ahead with Sol Griffin, leading the party onwards. Aston, leaning into the weight of the bag on his shoulder, had paused and stood looking back at her.
“Sam!” Slater’s voice was a hiss, a forced whisper. She gestured for him to come over. He frowned, clearly wondering what she was up to, but apparently saw the urgency in her eyes and his expression changed. Immediately she saw the friend from Lake Kaarme, and something in her was beyond grateful for that.