“It’s in there,” Butcher Boy confirmed. “And it’s watching us.”
They were in their element in the shadows, easily negotiating the dark warrens.
As they clung to the camouflage of shadows well beyond the fringe of light, their tongues — a supersensitive mechanism to compensate for poor sight and hearing — lashed in and out, intuiting a clear and present danger. There were many, some grouped together, having the presence of mind knowing that something was close and waiting, predator and prey. Their metabolism was quite slow and they had feasted on the prior expedition, so they were in the game not to feed, but to defend.
One beast slithered over another, the darkness moving. And then they withdrew seeking the marginal comfort of distance while determining the safety factor of the hunt. But they remained within the limits of striking range.
“What’s watching us?” Hall asked apprehensively.
“That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?” returned Butcher Boy.
Hall squinted his eyes as if to pierce a darkness that was blacker than black beyond the edge of light. Then: “Ms. Moore.”
She didn’t hear him, Hall’s hushed tone unable to carry to her location. So he called out to her in a louder, somewhat irritated manner, which prompted a severe look from Butcher Boy. “Ms. Moore.”
“Keep it down,” Butcher Boy whispered.
“Ms. Moore.” He finally caught her attention.
“What.”
“The thermal imager… Quickly.”
She noted Hall’s men standing in a straight line across the width of the corridor watching the darkness with laser-like intensity, their weapons raised. She didn’t hesitate. She went to her backpack, removed the thermal imager, turned it on, and joined Hall’s side, pointing the imager eye down the hallway. The screen lit up in colorful arrays of reds and yellows and blues. With red a heat signature and blue the color of cold vision, she was able to catch a flash of movement, that of blue, and then it was gone.
“See!” said Hall, pointing at the small screen in her hand.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Rewind it, then.”
She did. On the imager there was a hint of blue that moved quickly off screen, but not enough to determine if it was something alive, cold-blooded, or otherwise. She rewound it several times and she came up with the same answer each time. The image was inconclusive.
Hall’s team, nevertheless, continued to stand riveted, which made Alyssa uncomfortable.
“Ms. Moore.” Butcher Boy’s voice remained calm, the voice of someone exhibiting grace under pressure. “Despite the imager — there’s something out there. Either we abort the expedition right now, or we move on. Staying here only gives whatever it is time to maneuver around us.”
Alyssa looked into the darkness, then at the screen of the thermal imager. “But I don’t see anything.”
“We either abort the mission right now,” he stated firmly, “or we move on. It’s your call. But we can’t stay here.”
She wheeled slowly around and noted the signature looks on the faces of her team. John Savage maintained his relaxed, sad expression; Noah the look of concern, which was weighted by his need to know more despite the dangers involved; and the looks of senior archeologists Eser and Harika seemed to want both, knowledge and escape. In essence, they were the faces of people wanting direction, hoping that the decision made was the correct one.
She turned to Hall. There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted to move forward. “Can you protect us?” she asked.
Butcher Boy maintained his focus. “That’s what we were hired for.”
“Can… you… protect… us?” she asked determinedly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then give my team about an hour,” she told him. “We’ll be able to wrap things up by then… Just an hour and then we’ll move on. I promise.”
She could see Butcher Boy clench his teeth, the muscles in the back of his jaw moving. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally said. Let’s hope your decision is not an improper one.
For the next hour they maintained a skirmish line. But unfortunately for Alyssa, her decision had been the wrong one. They had waited too long.
Something from the darkness had finally come forward.
The creature’s cognitive recall had suggested that this quarry was a simple creature with little or no defense mechanism. Recently it had taken down similar game, its senses telling it that they offered no resistance, an easy kill that succumbed to their fate.
In the lower chamber, some of the bodies continued to putrefy, the meat becoming tender as it aged, rotting. These creatures would only add to the banquet, as the creatures waited for hunger to build.
It moved forward, slowly and carefully, its tongue lashing in and out, its mind processing information as to the best tactic to take in order to strike and kill. It was graceful and poetic in its movement, the sweep of its tail along the floor moving in balance with its upper body, the motion in itself like the gentle billowing of gossamer drapes moving with the course of a light breeze, back and forth, dreamily slow.
When it was within twenty feet of its prey, it hung back, looking for a moment to strike, choosing the weakest link as its victim, the one that would provide the least resistance the moment it clamped its jaws tight.
After choosing, after setting its sights, it geared itself to strike.
What was once slow was now blindingly fast, its movement providing a snippet of sight, the quarry then taken.
In the darkness, the creature set itself to spring forward with powerful legs.
Alyssa was wrapping things up by putting her electronic tablet in her backpack. To her left stood John Savage, who looked separated from his surroundings, his eyes glazed as if he was seeing through things rather than at them. “Everything all right?” she asked. It was then that she realized that he was focused on something beyond her, toward the fringe of light. He was looking into the same wall of darkness as Hall’s team.
“You know,” he said quietly, “we’re all born with a sixth sense. Did you know that? We simply lost it over time, allowing technology to become our instinct to lead us.” He never took his eyes off the darkness beyond the light. His manner caused Alyssa to take a brief look before turning back to him. “But when you’re in the military and trained to work in battle situations, that sixth sense — that instinct that’s in all of us — comes back in a heartbeat. It’s that little creature in all of us that tells us that danger is lurking, telling us that you need to be constantly alert…”
Although Alyssa was looking right at him, she did not see Savage reaching for his Glock, his hand tracing slowly along his backside, the tips of his fingers feeling the barrel, and then the grip.
“They were right,” he said.
“About what?”
He never tore his eyes away. His hand now gripped the weapon.
“About what?” she repeated.
“About there being something in the darkness.” He pulled the weapon free and pointed it. Alyssa, seeing the Glock, didn’t have time to scream as Savage pulled the trigger in rapid succession.
The creature had leapt as if from a springboard, the distance of twenty feet covered in a split moment, its jaws wide, serrated teeth showing, the maw of its pink gullet waiting.
And then bullet holes appeared in its hide like magic, Savage coming forward with his hand extended, firing off rounds.
Its jaws latched on to Red’s shoulder, the teeth wrenching and tearing before the creature was knocked back by the impact of the bullets. Hall’s team raised their weapons in unison and fired, the hallway lighting up in a strobe-light effect from the volley of muzzle flashes, the bullets ripping at the hide, sending chunks of flesh and matter into the background. The creature was highly disturbed, its fanned head twisting and turning in throes of agony, teeth gnashing at nothing but open space, then screeching and crying out, its tail flailing about wildly hoping to catch something its path, the power behind it capable of smashing bones clean.