As Philippe leaned forward, Zane used the knife to saw through the cuffs.
“Oh no,” Philippe said, his body flinching.
“What?” Zane asked, thinking he’d accidentally cut Philippe’s wrist.
“Something is coming out of the tunnel.”
“What is it?”
Philippe mumbled something Zane couldn’t quite understand.
“What did you say?
“Rephaim,” Philippe’s voice was barely a whisper.
Zane had no idea what the pastor was talking about, so he turned his attention back to sawing through the plastic restraints. Seconds later the cuffs fell free.
Leaning forward, he whispered, “Okay get ready. I’m going to pull you behind the crate, which is likely going to draw the attention of our friend. When I pull you back I’m going to toss you the knife and then take care of him.”
“And what do I do?”
“You cut that rope and then run back to the elevator. I'll join you as soon as I can.”
“Here we go,” Zane said, grabbing Philippe by the arm and pulling him around the corner of the crate.
“Hey!” a voice shouted. The beam of the flashlight turned in their direction, and a shot rang out, splintering the wood just above the operative’s head.
Zane tossed the knife to Philippe, stepped out into the open, and raised his gun.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The loss of blood was taking its toll on Markus VanGelder’s body. His head was spinning, and he barely had enough strength to strike the keyboard positioned in his lap. Lines of glistening sweat streamed down his forehead, which required him to reach up periodically and wipe with a wet sleeve. He knew his life was coming to an end, but he pressed on.
What normally would have taken the physicist about five minutes had taken perhaps fifteen or twenty. His mind was in the process of shutting down, and his cognitive skills were fading by the second.
Summoning all of his remaining mental capacity, the physicist managed to click through the final screens. When he entered the command to shut the system down, a box appeared, warning him that turning off the system completely, without a gradual slowing, could result in irreversible damage to the equipment and the endangerment of lives.
At the bottom of the box was a sentence blinking in red: WOULD YOU LIKE TO OVERRIDE?
Markus VanGelder wiped the sweat from his forehead one last time. He drew in a deep breath and raised his finger in the air.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
After stepping out from behind the crate, Zane took in the scene in an instant. Marrese’s disciple was standing about twenty or thirty yards away, trying to hold his flashlight with one hand and shoot the pistol with the other. It wasn’t a recipe for success, but any man with a loaded gun, even a crazed loon, was dangerous.
The disciple fired another shot. Zane used his index finger to activate the laser sight and instantly a red dot appeared on the floor near the shooter. He directed it upwards until it finally rested on the man’s chest. Target acquired, he squeezed the trigger. There was a loud spit and the man fell backwards, the flashlight flying out of his hand and spinning across the floor.
When it came to a stop, the cone of light illuminated the mouth of the tunnel. Marrese was there, kneeling on the floor and rocking back and forth in some sort of spiritual trance. It was now obvious he was making his final descent into full-blown madness.
Then, as Zane’s eyes moved upwards, he saw something that froze his blood. Hovering over the priest, just outside of the light, was the dark outline of what could only be described as a giant. Its twenty-foot frame was like that of a man, although the shape of its head was not even remotely human.
The operative watched as the creature leaned over, grabbed the priest, and lifted him into the air.
“It’s me,” Marrese screamed in a pleading voice. “I’m the one who called you. I’m the one you’re here for.” But the creature either couldn’t understand or didn’t care, and he violently flung the priest’s body against the wall, the impact making a sickening thud.
As Zane stared at the scene, transfixed, the giant’s head turned abruptly in his direction. It made a deep guttural noise and began to move in his direction.
The operative raised his gun and fired twice before turning and sprinting back down the dark aisle that ran through the crates. A few seconds later, he heard the thud of footsteps turn the corner in pursuit. Despite its size, the giant was chasing after him with frightening speed.
When Zane reached the end of the aisle, he began to weave back and forth through the crates that were scattered across the floor, figuring that the creature was too large to pass through some of the openings. As he did, he tried to move generally in the direction of the elevators.
A minute later, out of breath, he came to a halt. Something didn’t feel right and he needed get his bearings. As he looked around, he noticed that the cylindrical detector was on his left. Using that as a point of reference, he turned and looked toward the corner where the elevator should be. Only it wasn’t there. Instead there were only large stacks of boxes. Somehow he had gotten off track. Somehow he was now lost.
As he tried to figure out which direction to take, Zane heard the soft thud of footsteps nearby.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
As Vangelder prepared to shut down the collider, his thoughts drifted back to his daughter in Holland. He could see her in his mind’s eye, the beautiful blond hair tied up in a ponytail. The Dutchman smiled as he also remembered her thick, black-framed glasses. They touched a tender place in his heart because it was the myopia she’d inherited from him that made them necessary.
A tear ran out of his eye and mingled with the sweat that ran down his cheek. The little girl was the pride of his life, and she would be safe. There would be no hit men dispatched to kill her, and she’d grow up to be the fine woman he always knew she’d be. That thought gave him some semblance of peace as he prepared to deal with his own mortality.
After wiping the tear with a wet sleeve, he looked back down at the blinking button on the screen. Drawing a deep breath, he pressed the key.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Zane could no longer hear the sound of footsteps he’d heard only moments before. Had it been a figment of his imagination or was the creature approaching silently now? On one or two occasions, he thought he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, only to turn and realize nothing was there.
He checked his magazine and saw that it held only two more rounds. He discarded it and clicked a fresh one into place. His only hope was to wait for the creature to show itself and then perhaps bring it down with a head shot. Its sheer size likely meant that a hit anywhere else would only serve to send it into a fit of rage.
There was a forklift to his left, so he moved up against the side and crouched down. A minute later he heard a soft shuffling sound not far away. Turning, he saw movement between two crates directly in front of him. Soon the image sharpened and he could see a large mass moving in his direction. The predator had found its prey.
The stench of rotting flesh was now suffocating, and the giant seemed to be speaking in some sort of strange tongue that was a mixture of language and clicks. It was like nothing the operative had ever heard.
Strangely, as soon as the creature stepped out into the open, it stopped. At first Zane thought it might not see him, but then he could see that it was crouching and readying itself to spring.
Zane moved away from the forklift to get a better angle. His body completely exposed, he was either going to kill or be killed. He lifted his gun, and a red dot appeared on the creature’s immense chest. He moved it upwards until it rested in the center of the head.