Dale and Merc.
They had reached what resembled two overturned canoes. No, not canoes. They were the landing pontoons of an overturned seaplane. The plane was moving slower than the raft. It seemed to be turning in small circles of its own. The raft would pass the plane, but not close enough for the men to jump. They looked exhausted. Neither looked capable of the swim, or of even clinging to the pontoons for much longer.
Claire hunted around in the water at her feet. She found the safety rope. She clipped one end to the raft, coiled the rest in her hand, and then hurled the rope toward Dale as they drew even.
Her throw was good. Dale snatched the rope from the air and hooked his end onto something below the water.
Claire started pulling, but Dale called out, 'Don't pull. The plane is turning. It will pull us in by itself.'
He was right. The turning plane wrapped the rope around itself, pulling them all together.
Ethan entered the core chamber.
The chamber was five meters across. A perfect cube. Open archways stood on either side.
Heart thumping, he held up the fluorescent lamp. Stone carvings covered every inch of the walls. His shaking hand made the intricate carvings squirm in the lantern light. At first glance, he couldn't read any of them. He inferred no sense from the clamoring hieroglyphs. The pictograms shouted at his eyes, jostling to be read first, but their order looked all askew.
Ethan studied one area more closely, blocking out everything except one small section of wall.
Wait — there are two stories here. One interwoven within the other. One much older than the other.
The hieroglyphs were crowded together. They looked garbled because there were too many. Twice as many as there should be. Between the original hieroglyphs, a second story had been added.
Seeing the pattern, Ethan realized he could read them. What’s more, they were the answers he was searching for.
It was amazing. It was all here. He had the answers. He knew why the Plaza was built. He knew the purpose of the Gallery. He knew why such great effort had been made to keep the site hidden!
Most importantly of all, he understood why the wave of human sacrifices had started here. In a way, this small chamber was the reason. Ethan felt lightheaded. He'd been holding his breath. He'd forgotten to keep breathing. This was all and more than he’d hoped to find.
A disturbingly familiar sound distracted his thoughts.
Oh, no. Not again. I must have miscounted. The Gallery has one more move to make.
The Gallery’s barriers were shifting again. Ethan prepared himself for whatever happened.
Sunlight.
He saw distant sunlight in both directions. East and west. The Gallery stood wide open. The final transformation had opened all the barriers. A long, unbroken tunnel now stretched between the east and west entrances. The core chamber stood in the very center.
It's finished. The Gallery has run its course.
A huge silhouette cut into the sunlight to the east. Alarm surged through Ethan — a chameleon! — but he saw two smaller silhouettes break from the larger one. The shapes were human, one larger than the other, and Ethan recognized them at once. Fontana and Randerson had pushed the gold into the open tunnel.
Ethan heard Randerson shout, 'Spader!'
Ethan called back. 'He's here. This way!'
The men reached Ethan in seconds, leaving the gold twenty meters up the tunnel. Ethan felt amazed to discover they were so close this entire time. With all the barriers open, the Gallery felt smaller.
Randerson helped Spader to his feet, wincing at Spader's neck wound. Spader was coming to his senses, but unbalanced and groggy.
Fontana looked back toward the gold. 'Where's Gordon?'
'He didn't make it,' answered Ethan. 'Rourke shot him.'
'Where's Rourke?' hissed Randerson.
'He's dead too.' Ethan said. 'Crushed by a barrier.'
'LOOK!' yelled Fontana, pointing up the east tunnel.
Ethan spun to look.
Water.
Torrents of water came surging through the east entrance. In an instant, Ethan knew what Rourke had done. Somehow, he'd sabotaged the silt wall. The wall held back the only body of water large enough to cause a flood. The silt lake contained enough water to completely inundate the Plaza. Ethan saw jumbled shapes start blocking the east entrance. The entire site was washing down on top of them.
'We need to go,' cried Randerson. 'Come on!'
'You go,' yelled Ethan. 'I'll be right behind you!'
'Forget about it,' countered Randerson. 'We need to get out of here. This whole place is going under.'
Ethan shouted back, pointing at Spader, 'I'm coming. Get him out of here!'
Fontana grabbed Spader's other arm. Half-dragging Spader between them, he and Randerson dashed toward the still unaffected west entrance.
Ethan knew his chances of escape were short lived. Water was encircling the Gallery. This entire place might go under, but he wasn't leaving without his prize. He glanced down the tunnel, calculating his odds. The flood waters were tossing a motorbike down the tunnel. Ethan glimpsed a wheel disappearing in the frothy wave.
There still might be time.
He started snapping pictures with Spader’s camera. Standing dead center in the chamber, he turned the camera a few degrees after every shot, ensuring his pictures overlapped. After four pictures, only halfway through, he glanced with alarm toward the terrifying spectacle roaring toward him. The rolling mess of debris and white water approached at breathtaking speed. Ethan took three more pictures and then sprinted, jerking the camera's lanyard over his head. He glimpsed the water bowling over Rourke's trolley. The trolley surged sideways for a second and was swallowed.
Foam engulfed Ethan's abandoned fluorescent lamp behind him.
Bare seconds later, the leading wave smacked Ethan's calves. Water swept into his legs. His head went under. His shoulder slammed into the floor. His face broke the foam long enough to suck down one breath. He glimpsed the west exit disappearing.
Encircling water now flowed in both Gallery entrances, flooding the Gallery twice as quickly. In seconds, Ethan found his head swept along just inches from the ceiling. The current still carried him west. Perhaps it would carry him outside if he could avoid drowning.
Two chambers short of being swept from the Gallery, Ethan's last pocket of air disappeared. He pushed himself off from the ceiling, swimming through the nearest archway toward the grey light.
Just one chamber to go.
Now he was swimming against the current. And the current was getting stronger. Realizing he had just one chance, Ethan stroked madly for the light. As the current peaked, his hands found the exit archway. He yanked himself through and into the light, kicking off the archway toward the surface. His face breached. He gulped air. Current slammed his body up against the Gallery wall.
Oh, thank God, I made it. I swam out of there.
Ethan checked he still had the camera. A voice called out from above, 'Here. He's here!'
Fontana grabbed Ethan's hair. 'Quick, before the current takes him again.'
Randerson reached down from the Gallery roof. The rising water level was just two feet short of topping the structure. 'Ethan, give me your hand.'
Helped up, Ethan saw Spader finding his feet on the Gallery roof. A wet bandage encircled Spader's neck. The men had just gained the roof themselves.
'Will you look at that…,' breathed Fontana.
Standing on the edge, Ethan took in Fontana's meaning.
Water cascaded down the Plaza’s eastern tiers like Niagara Falls. That side of the Plaza was completely decimated. Everything had washed into the bottom tier. Half of the middle tier lay underwater. Ethan could barely identity the debris as once belonging to his camp.