In the year of the incarnation of the Son of God 1296, I set to stone this final prayer. The curse was set upon me when I first arrived and caused me great suffering, but I arose like Lazarus from a deadly slumber. I do not understand what bedevilment has befallen me, but I was preserved, marked in some strange manner, feverish bright of skin. For such succor, I ministered to those few who survived the great pestilence. But now a strange compunction has come over me. The waters below already begin to boil with the fires from Hell. I know it is to my death that I am driven. With great effort I did convince and oversee the construction of this seal. And I go with only one prayer on my lips. More than my own soul’s salvation, I pray this door to be forever sealed with the Lord’s Cross. Let only one strong in the spirit of the Lord dare open it.
Vigor touched the carved signature at the bottom.
Friar Antonio Agreer.
Seichan spoke behind him. “So after Marco left, they exposed the friar to the disease, but rather than dying, he survived. Like the woman below.”
“Maybe the other glowing pagans who offered the cure to Marco’s party could tell Friar Agreer would survive. That is why they picked him. But the date, 1296. He lived here for three years. The same time span Susan described between eruptions.” Vigor glanced behind him. “She was right.”
Seichan waved to the door. “There’s more writing under the name.”
Vigor nodded. “A quote from the Bible, book of Matthew, chapter twenty-eight, concerning the resurrection of Jesus from his tomb.” Vigor read the quote aloud. “‘Behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from the sky, and came and rolled away the stone from the door, and sat on it.’”
“That’s a lot of help.”
It was.
Vigor stared up at the crucifix carved into a bronze medallion above the door. He said a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.
Before he could finish, he felt the ground shake under his knees. A great crash of rock echoed behind him, sounding as if the cavern had collapsed.
Seichan retreated, taking the light, off to investigate. “Stay here!”
Darkness descended, chilling him. Though he could no longer read the words, they blazed in his mind.
Behold, there was a great earthquake…
Gray knelt over Lisa as the resounding shock rattled through the cavern. Kowalski sheltered her other side. One of the stalactites broke away from the roof and plunged into the pool’s depth. From where it had broken off, a scatter of deep cracks radiated outward, spanning the limestone roof.
Susan crouched halfway down the spar of rock as it thrust out into the glowing lake. All around the waters trembled with vibrations, sloshing back and forth. The stirring churned up more acidic wash, choking the air.
Rich with the Judas Strain.
Smaller concussions struck above, pounding like cannonballs against the roof of the cavern.
“What’s happening?” Lisa yelled.
“Nasser’s bomb,” he gasped out, ears ringing.
Earlier, Gray had examined the foundation pillars of the Bayon. He had found the columns riddled with fissures and cracks, pressure fractures from old age and from periodic shifts in the earth. Gray imagined that the concussion of the double-strength bomb had widened the fissures even more. And then the wash of acid — splashing outward and flowing into all those cracks — had dissolved the hearts out of the pylons.
“One of the foundation pillars must have collapsed,” he said. “Taking down a section of the temple with it.”
Gray stared up.
The tumbling of stone blocks had stopped — but for how long? He swung around to Susan. She stood up, slowly, warily. She glanced back, plainly wanting to return to shore. But instead, she turned and continued onward.
Past her shoulders the twin beams of sunlight glowed even brighter as the noon hour struck, the full face of the sun baking down atop the ruins.
“Will it hold long enough?” Lisa asked, staring out at Susan.
“It’ll have to.”
Gray had no doubt that if another foundation pillar collapsed, the temple’s weight would flatten this limestone bubble like a pancake. He pulled Lisa to her feet. They couldn’t stay. Even if the pillars held, the lake was near to erupting.
The entire pool now glowed, from shore to shore. Where the twin beams of sunlight struck, the waters had begun to bubble, gasping out more toxin into the air, more of the Judas Strain.
They had to leave.
Down the spur of rock, Susan reached its end and sat down, hugging one knee. She kept her back to them, perhaps fearful if she saw them she would lose her nerve and come running back. She looked so alone, so frightened.
A racking cough shook through Gray. His lungs burned. He could taste the caustic toxin on his tongue. They could wait no longer.
Lisa knew it, too. Her eyes were bloodshot, weeping heavily from both the sting of the air and from the fear for her friend.
Susan had no choice. Neither did they.
They headed toward the distant archway. A flickering light halfway ahead revealed Seichan running back. Alone. Where was Vigor?
Another crack of rock blasted above.
Gray cringed, fearing another avalanche.
The reality was worse.
The stone plug shattered out of the rooftop, raining down chunks of the block. Sunlight blazed down. A large slab bearing a corner of an upturned lip splashed leadenly into the water, swamping Susan. More pieces struck like depth charges.
Triumphant voices echoed from above.
Gray heard Nasser’s voice call out. “They have to be down there!”
But Nasser wasn’t the worst danger at the moment.
The full face of the sun blazed unfiltered upon the lake, combusting the pool. Already primed, close to critical mass, the bubbling became an instant boil, erupting in vast expulsions, coughing up gouts of gas and water.
The pool was blowing.
They’d never make it to the stairs.
Gray backpedaled, dragging Kowalski and Lisa with him a few steps. He yelled at Seichan. “Drop flat! Now!”
He obeyed his own advice, waving Lisa and Kowalski down. Gray grabbed the abandoned tarp they’d used to transport Susan. He dragged it over all three of them, trying to trap as much air as possible.
“Pin your edges close to the stone!” he ordered the others.
Beyond the tarp he heard the crackles of boiling water, furious, hissing angry — then a deep sonorous whoop, as if the entire lake had jumped a foot then dropped. Water washed his ankles, then swept away.
The air under the tarp turned to liquid fire.
The three of them huddled, gasping, coughing, choking.
“Susan,” Lisa finally croaked out.
Susan screamed.
She didn’t cry with mere lungs, or the flutter of vocal cords. She howled out of the core of her being.
She could not escape the agony. Her mind, still attuned by sunlight, continued its detailed recording of every sensation. Forbidden from oblivion, her being scribed every detaiclass="underline" the sear of her lungs, the fire in her eyes, the flaying of her skin. She burned from the inside out, propelling her cry to the heavens.
But was there anyone to hear?
As she expelled all of herself upward, she finally found her release.
She fell back to the stone.
Her heart clenched one last time, squeezing out the last of her.
Then nothing.
“What about Susan?” Lisa gasped.
Gray risked a peek from under a flap of tarp, craning back toward the rocky spar. The lake still boiled, burning under the fiery sun. The air above the lake shimmered with an oily miasma.