“George.” Samuels’ voice, breathless and edgy, drifted out of the phone’s speaker. “Is that you?”
“Barney?” The voice was hard and firm. “What’s wrong?”
Hooper checked the information recorded on his phone. He wasn’t surprised to see the number belonged to George Kaiser, Secretary of Transportation.
“We have a problem,” Samuels replied. “Can we meet?”
“What kind of problem?”
“A Secret Service agent just accosted me at home.” Samuels paused. “He knows what we did.”
Chapter 38
My heart raced as I sprinted across the clearing, hot on the kid’s tracks. A steep hill, covered with soft soil, lay before me.
I raced up it, my feet slipping and sliding on loose dirt. The loud hissing noise continued in violent bursts, causing my entire body to cringe over and over again.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw the creature gallop through the gully. It rammed into a patch of dense thicket. Thrashing sounds filled the air as it cut through the dying vegetation.
It burst into the clearing. Its paws slipped on loose dirt and it slid in a half circle, kicking up tons of dirt in the process. I caught a glimpse of its rear.
And of its second head.
Did Simona’s people do this to you?
I squinted. But its teeth gnashed so rapidly, I couldn’t see anything more than a fuzzy blur.
Catching traction, the creature slid to a halt. Then it raced toward me, this time with its second head leading the way.
I sprinted to the top of the hill. The boy was about twenty feet in front of me. Beverly was on his heels and Graham trailed her, moving incredibly fast on his artificial leg. Picking up speed, I followed them over the hill and down the backside.
“Come on,” the kid shouted. “You’ve got to go faster.”
His speed and stamina, especially considering his emaciated appearance, amazed me. Digging deep, I quickened my pace.
Halfway down the hill, Graham lost his balance. He fell, shouting as his right side struck the ground. He tried to get back up, but his momentum was too strong. Abruptly, he began to careen down the hillside.
Hustling forward, I helped Beverly lift Graham to a standing position. His shirt was torn. Bloody scrape marks covered his stomach and right side.
“Over here,” the kid hissed quietly.
I propped Graham up on my shoulder. A wave of exhaustion swept over me. In the last couple of hours, I’d survived a helicopter crash. I’d fought the currents and raced sharks to shore. I’d climbed up boulders, hid from the Polynesian man, and dodged chemtrails. Now, I was being chased across hilly terrain by a two-headed killing machine.
My legs grew weary as I dragged Graham toward a tall rock outcropping. I felt logy, tired. I knew I couldn’t last much longer.
The kid stopped outside a small fissure. Hurriedly, he waved at us. “Pass him here,” he said.
I hauled Graham to the fissure. Multiple hands reached out. They grabbed Graham’s armpits and dragged him into the dark space. The kid hurried after him.
Beverly threw herself at the hole and wriggled through the fissure. As she scrambled into the blackness, the air hissed behind me. Whirling around, I stared at the hillside.
“Cy,” Beverly whispered. “Come on.”
A strong breeze swept over me as I slid into the fissure. A strange oily scent filled the air. The hot temperature warmed a few degrees. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry.
I crawled forward, my hands and knees banging against rock. The fissure widened and grew taller, eventually opening up to a small cave. I crawled into it. Reaching up, I felt the ceiling. It was about four feet off the ground.
The hissing grew louder. Twisting my neck, I noticed a giant shape on the other end of the fissure. An air of electricity surrounded it.
The creature pawed at the fissure. Then it lowered its head to the thin space. Its eyes, bright red, seemed to reach into the depths of my soul.
Swallowing hard, I held perfectly still. A few seconds passed.
Then the buzzing sounded again. It joined with the hissing, creating a discordant noise.
Rock crunched. Dirt and dust shot into the fissure, getting in my eyes and lungs.
My heart skipped a beat.
It’s breaking the rock. It’s coming in here.
Chapter 39
I reached for my pistol, but a tug on my arm gave me pause.
“It won’t work,” the kid whispered.
“How do you know?”
“Because we already tried.” The new voice was older, strained.
Peering deeper into the cave, I saw a man. He was in his mid-forties and skinny as a flagpole. A pair of green shorts and sport sandals constituted his clothing. Deep scratch marks, welts, and bruises covered his dark skin. Like the kid, he spoke with a Polynesian accent.
“And failed,” a woman piped up in a southern drawl. “Bullets don’t hurt the Grueler.”
The woman knelt next to the man. She was skinny and sported a pair of runner’s legs. Her skin, the color of milk chocolate, featured multiple abrasions and scrapes. Her attire consisted of leggings and a blouse, both heavily stained with mud.
Who were they? And why were they on Pagan?
The fissure vibrated. The sound of crunching rock forced my mind to focus. “Then what do we do?” I asked.
“Simple.” The woman spun around. “We hide.”
Her clothes rustled as she crawled to the cave’s far left corner. A crevice, smaller and tighter than the fissure, awaited her. Dipping her head, she entered it.
Grabbing Graham by the armpits, the man worked his way toward the crevice. The kid, clambering on all fours, hurried after them.
I arched an eyebrow at Beverly.
She shrugged. Then she hurried to the left corner.
Rising to a crouching position, I moved backward until I touched the rock wall. The creature’s dull, reddish eyes seemed to stare right through me.
I flinched as rock crunched at an even louder volume. The buzzing intensified. The walls began to tremble.
You killed Stevens. You deserve to die.
Drawing my pistol, I took careful aim at the red eyes. A hand tugged my arm. Glancing down, I saw the kid.
He patted my gun hand, pushing it toward my waist. Slowly, I holstered the gun and followed him to the crevice.
The crunching grew louder and more ferocious. It sounded like the creature was mere seconds away from breaking into the cave.
With a wave of his hand, the kid ducked into the thin space. I took one last look at the cave. Then I slid between the rocks and entered the crevice.
Almost immediately, I found myself on a downward slope. I crawled ahead, doing my best to ignore the tightening space.
The air tasted musty. I smelled old paint and dust. Sweat gushed from my pores in droves.
The crunching ceased. The air swished. Rustling noises sounded out. They quickly grew faint. Then they vanished.
Did it leave?
The crevice tightened and I banged my shoulders a couple of times against rock. Then it began to twist in a downward spiral. Staying low, I continued forward, occasionally banging my knees against the ground.
The crevice shifted a few more times. I climbed over rocks, around them, and under them.
As I rounded a corner, I saw a bright beam of light. It swept from side to side, revealing a large area.
I crawled into the space. Tentatively, I stood up and looked around. I stood in a large tube, maybe eight feet in diameter. The walls were made of concrete, which crumbled in multiple places. For a brief moment, I forgot about Simona Wolcott and Eco-Trek, Milt Stevens, and the creature. I even forgot about the reliquary.