Operation Syria

by William Meikle

  Everybody assented and Banks led the way into the dark opening.

  *

  The passageway narrowed quickly inside the entrance, so much so that after a dozen steps they had to move single file, although Kim would not let go of her grip on Maggie’s hand. Maggie led her, like mother leading child, forward in the gloom, following the light of Bank’s gun light ahead. After ten more paces, they came to a flight of worn stone steps, leading steeply downward. Banks stopped them again and they grouped tight in single file at the top of the stairwell.

  “Bugger. I’d hoped to be going up into the city, not down into the hill. If anybody sees a passageway that feels fresher, shout. And if this one goes down too far, or if there are spiders ahead of us, be prepared to turn back fast. This is no place to make a stand.”

  Without another word, he led them down.

  Maggie had to take care with her footing, for although the gun lights illuminated the way ahead, she could barely see her ankles in the dark when she looked down. Fortunately, the steps were dry and worn enough by feet over the centuries that her feet naturally found the grooves and ruts that made descending simpler. She tripped at one point and put a hand out to steady herself, surprised to find the rock cool, cold to the touch.

  The going was of necessity slower now, for they were all taking care despite the relatively easy going; none of them wanted to take a tumble down into the black depths. The only sound was the pad of their feet on stone and their breathing. The whole descent took on an air of anticipation, Maggie’s fight or flight response kicking in hard at the thought of what might be waiting ahead for them. If there had been any sudden loud sound, she might well have screamed; she certainly felt ready for it.

  But Banks’ fears of going too far down into the hill proved unfounded as they only went down twenty steps before the passageway opened out again into another chamber. Given the echoes raised ahead of her, Maggie guessed that this one was of similar size to the one at the top of the stairs. Banks waved his light around and once again Kim gasped loudly.

  This was a natural chamber, or rather, it had been at one time. The squad’s gun lights showed her enough to see that it had been worked into a long alleyway with evenly spaced eight feet tall cells hewn into the rock. Each cell was guarded by twin, intricately carved, pillars and each, at least the ones not covered liberally in spider web, contained hefty primitive double-stacked sarcophagi, four to a cell. They weren’t close enough to make out detail but even from the bottom of the steps, Maggie could tell that these were Roman period pieces, of similar age to the mosaic they’d found on the floor in their dig. More than that, they looked like they had lain here undisturbed since being put in place, with only the spiders for company.

  “Do you see this?” Kim whispered, as if unsure whether she was awake or dreaming.

  “I see it,” Maggie replied. “I’m not sure I believe it.”

  Banks called for quiet. He had his gun light pointed straight ahead down the center of the room, trying to penetrate the darkness. From what Maggie could see, the rows of cells continued away into the distance in a long alley. Banks motioned that Davies should keep an eye left and for Brock to cover the right, then led them, slowly, forward.

  *

  The breeze was stronger here, cooler too, and Maggie felt it brush hair against her ears. She hardly noticed, for after a few steps she remembered she had her camera. She took as many pictures of the cells and sarcophagi as the wavering gun lights would allow to her, trying different levels of zoom. She knew the light was too dim to do the scene justice and that many of her attempts would be out of focus or too dark to be of any use.

  But I have to at least try.

  Around half of the cells had their entrances covered with the thick gray mats of web she was starting to come to hate but none of the stone coffins looked to have been disturbed in any way. Maggie couldn’t help but wonder what marvels they were walking past so blithely, what wonders had lay hidden in the stone all these long centuries. A find like this, undisturbed, was unprecedented, and in normal circumstances would mean years of meticulous work in her immediate future.

  But these aren’t normal circumstances.

  She knew there was no chance of convincing Banks to stop to let her and Kim investigate. His priorities were to get them out and home and they were priorities she agreed with for the most part. All she could do for now was record as much as was possible with the camera and hope against hope to be able to return. Her vow to make that return trip was only strengthened.

  “We should…” Kim started but Maggie stopped her.

  “I know. But first we have to survive long enough to get home and tell somebody.” She held up the camera. “At least we’ll have this to show them.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “It’ll have to be,” she said.

  *

  The alley of cells ran for a hundred paces, heading straight north. As they approached the far end, they noted that all of the openings were covered in web. Maggie also saw that Banks had become even more still and alert ahead of them and decided it was time to stop taking pictures and paying more attention to her own immediate safety. She stowed the camera back inside her shirt, felt Kim take her hand again and, concentrating only on the gun light ahead of them, stepped forward behind the three soldiers.

  The alley led to another doorway at the far end and more steps, leading upward this time, a short run of six that brought them up into another chamber with three doorways off, to the north, east, and west. This room was empty save for a single four-foot-tall sculpture in the center, done in white marble of a naked man wearing only a peaked cap, standing tall and wielding a spear that was pointed down at the body of a large dead bull. It looked to be complete, with no cracks, no chips, no bits of anatomy missing from man or bull. Maggie knew that any museum in the world would pay a king’s ransom to have it among their exhibits.

  “It’s Mithras,” Kim whispered. “God, that’s beautiful. There’s one in Paris that I’ve seen but this is in much better condition.”

  “Who’s Mithras when he’s at home?” Wiggins said behind them.

  “An eastern sun god the Romans, the soldiers in particular, took for their own. Statues to him have been found in forts and temples all over the empire. Men like you have been worshipping him for millennia.”

  Wiggins laughed.

  “Honey, there are no other men like me.”

  Banks hushed their chat again and looked to Kim.

  “You’ve seen maps of this place. Maggie tells me there’s an exit leading above ground in the synagogue. Any clue how we’d get there from here?”

  Kim looked thoughtful, as if calculating directions and distances in her head.

  “We must be under it if I’ve got it clear in my head,” she said, then pointed at the rightmost entrance. “That way is my best guess. If I’m right, it goes up toward the square and the old synagogue is at the western end.”

  Banks looked to the north passage.

  “The wind is coming that way though and I was inclined to follow it. But anything that gets us out will be good by me at this point. Davies, lead the way and look sharp.”

  *

  A narrow, winding corridor led upward at a gentle slope from the Mithras room and after only a few minutes brought them into another, much smaller, room. The walls were rough-hewn and solid and it felt tight and cramped when all eight of them were inside. At first, it looked like a dead end. Then Banks spoke.

  “Kill your lights,” he said. The soldiers all obeyed and Maggie realized she could see their faces. Banks pointed upward and they all raised their heads, to look up what might at one time have been a chimney. Dim light came from a hole open to the sky five yards above them.

  “Just as well it’s not yet full dusk or we might never have noticed,” Banks said. “Who fancies a climb?”

  - 19 -

  Banks was tempted to try the climb himself but as the officer in charge, he had a duty to all o
f them, not just to himself, and he was relieved when Wilkins, the smaller of the privates, spoke up.

  “I’ll give it a go, sir,” the lad said, passing his rifle to Davies. “I always liked a good clamber.”

  They had to boost Wilkins up onto Davies’ and Brock’s shoulders before he could reach up into the chimney and when the lad pulled himself up, it was a tight squeeze. His body now blocked out most of the aperture at the top, so Hynd switched on his gun light and tried to give the younger man some light for the climb. Wilkins put a foot on the surface ahead of him, his other foot on the wall behind, and then began to shuffle himself upward in a classic narrow space climb.

  It was slow going and Banks knew how much strain the lad was putting on his ankles with every move. About halfway up, Wilkins paused to catch his breath.

  “It’s going to be tight,” he called down, “but I should get up there okay.”

  Banks was already thinking it wasn’t a great idea, for if Wilkins, the slightest of them, found it tight, the broader lads like Brock and Wiggins would have no chance of making it. He was about to call Wilkins back when the lad started climbing again, making better time now. Banks let him continue.

  At least he’ll get us some intel as to where the fuck we are.

  Wilkins reached the top some minutes later.

  “Nearly there,” he called down.

  “Don’t do anything daft, lad,” Banks called up. “But see if you can get some pointers as to where we are.”

  They heard a scrape as Wilkins pushed himself up.

  “There’s a big market square here. We’re in the south-west corner by the look of it and…oh fuck.” There was more scrambling above and Wilkins dropped down the chimney, far faster than he had gone up. “Spiders, sir,” he said as he landed, unsteady on his feet beside them. “It’s infested. Fucking hundreds of them and at least a dozen of yon huge buggers the size of cars.

  “That settles that then,” Banks said. “We go back to the room with the statue and try north.”

  Kim spoke up.

  “If we’re in the southwest corner of the square, we must be close to the synagogue.”

  Banks smiled grimly.

  “And if the square is infested with spiders, there’s not much point in going that way or even looking for that exit. We don’t have the ammo for a prolonged firefight, so it’s best if we sneak along unnoticed for now. If we manage to maintain a track north, we’ll hit the outer wall at some point. You said that’s how the Persians got in?”

  Kim nodded.

  “But that was many centuries ago.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If the way is blocked and we need an explosion, I’ll get Wiggins to fart.”

  He looked up the chimney. It was already appreciably darker up there. Dusk was coming on fast.

  *

  When they arrived back at the Mithras statue, Banks took the lead again and led them north, feeling the cool breeze on his face. It gave him hope that he was doing the right thing, although the lack of a backup escape route had him worried; if they met the spiders in these enclosed corridors, they’d be able to hold them off for a few minutes, then it would be all over. The need for a clear escape was uppermost in his mind and he walked ahead as fast as he could while allowing the others to keep up at his back.

  The corridor here was worked stone rather than rough rock and that too gave him hope that they might be emerging into a different area of tunneling that might yield better exit points.

  He had his rifle in one hand and one of the gas canisters in the other. Having seen the carnage fire could wreak on the spiders and their webs, he had more confidence in that than he had in bullets, although he knew he’d need precious seconds to open the valve and get a lighter to it. The rifle was his backup for that contingency and he kept the light pointing straight ahead as he went quickly along the corridor.

  It wasn’t long before he came up hard against another dead end, although this one wasn’t even a room; the corridor simply came to an end at a stone wall with only a small square opening covered in an iron grate at eye height ahead of him. It was a little more than a foot square.

  The others came up close at his back as he shone his light through the grate. It showed another, large, chamber beyond and the breeze was strong at his face as he peered through.

  He dropped his rifle to his side on its strap, pocketed the gas canister, and put both hands on the iron bars of the grate, pulling with all his strength. It moved, only slightly but enough to give him hope.

  “Back up, give me room,” he said as the others crowded around him. “Sarge, Brock, watch our backs. Wiggo, get up here and give me a hand. We’re going through here, one way or another.”

  It took several minutes of hard graft but finally the grate began to slide out of its moorings and one last hard tug broke it free completely. They dropped it to the floor at their feet, where it clanged and echoed, ringing like a loud bell in the enclosed space.

  Something answered in reply, the rat-a-tat chatter of spiders calling out in unison from somewhere behind them.

  *

  “Right, Wiggo, you’re up first. Get your arse through there and cover us, we’ve got trouble inbound,” Banks said. “Davies, follow him through, then Maggie and Kim. The rest of you watch that corridor. They won’t be able to come all at once, there’s not enough room. That’s all we’ve got going for us.”

  Wiggins went first through the new hole, scrambling head first, pulling his rear end through with half an inch to spare.

  “Good,” Banks said. “If your lardy arse gets through there, the rest of us will have no trouble.”

  Davies went through fluidly and athletically in comparison to Wiggins’ scrambling, as did Kim after him. Banks was thinking they were going to get away safely when the sarge spoke at his back.

  “We’ve got incoming, Cap,” Hynd said. “Fifteen yards and closing.”

  Banks boosted Maggie up and through the hole before turning to look down the corridor. Several sets of red eyes reflected back from the gloom. He retrieved the gas canister from one pocket, his lighter from another, and stepped forward between the other men and the spiders.

  “Wilkins, get through to the other side. Sarge, Brock, cover me.”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Cap,” Hynd said.

  “Buying us time,” he said and walked forward towards the spiders.

  *

  He smelled them before he got a good look at them, the acrid and bitter odor stinging in his nostrils. Four sets of red compound eyes looked back at him as he closed the distance. For every two steps forward he took, they took one toward him and soon there were only a few paces between him and the spiders. Moving slowly, he opened the valve on the gas. The spiders chattered at that but didn’t react until he flicked on the lighter, the click-clack of the Zippo too loud, like gunfire in the corridor. It elicited another rat-a-tat response.

  One of the spiders proved to be bolder than the others and scuttled quickly forward. Banks stepped up to meet it, applied the flame to the escaping gas, and sent a wash of fire over the thing’s head, which took light immediately. The beast, already burning hard, tried to flee backward. Banks stepped in closer, feeling heat singe his eyebrows and tighten the skin at his cheeks as he sent more flame washing, over the thing’s back this time. It continued to flee from the fire, running directly into the other spiders, which also burned.

  Banks dropped the canister as the gas exhausted itself, swung his rifle into his hands, and sent bursts of three shots each into the bodies, which collapsed in ash and flame. The corridor at this end filled fast with acrid smoke, the stench even worse than previously, but the job was done; none of the spiders moved and fire was eating them fast, leaving little but oily ash in its wake.

  He turned to head back to the others. Wilkins was most of the way through the hole, with Hynd waiting to go next. Brock had Banks covered, his gun light showing the way back to safety. He had only got halfway back to them when he
saw from Brock’s face that they’d got trouble.

  Then he heard it, a louder clacking than ever. He looked over his shoulder to see a huge spider scuttle over the burning embers of the others and barrel down the corridor at speed, coming straight for him. It was so large its body touched each wall and its eyes looked like a small throbbing mass of fiery eggs, fixed directly on him.

  It came so fast he wasn’t going to have time to turn, aim, and shoot, and he knew he was blocking Brock’s line of sight. He took the only option open to him. He rolled forward, turning and dropping to the floor, his weapon raised, as the spider loomed over him. He put three shots into its belly before it fell on him, knocking all breath out of his body. His ears rang as three more shots followed—Brock, he guessed—then three more as Hynd joined in. He felt wet, gore running over him from the holes in the beast, which now felt a dead weight above him.

  Then the weight was gone and Brock and Hynd stood over him, having rolled the dead thing away.

  “Do me a favor, Cap,” Hynd said, helping him to his feet. “Save the heroics for when the colonel can see them. They don’t do my auld ticker any good.”

  Hynd helped him back to the hole in the wall and boosted him up.

  “Get through there before you do yourself, or us, any more mischief…sir.”

  He went headfirst, halfway through when he heard Brock call out from behind.

  “Here they come again.”

  *

  Banks squirmed through the hole, helped by Wiggins pulling from the other side, then immediately stood and turned, aiming his rifle through the gap, adding his light to Brock and Hynd’s. It reflected off half a dozen compound eyes at the far end of the corridor. The loud rat-a-tat clacking meant there were more spiders piled up further back in the darkness.