The Bone Labyrinth

by James Rollins

  The old tribesman held a stretched bow, balancing an arrow on his thumb.

  It seemed she was not the only one seeking revenge.

  Kwan lifted his assault rife with his free arm, but before he could fire, a sharp twang sounded from the right. An arrow pierced his wrist, knocking loose his weapon. Before he could recover it, his body was slammed forward, impaled from behind by a long spear. Blood coughed from his lips.

  As Kwan splashed face-first into the water, Shu Wei toppled to the side.

  Hands grabbed her from behind, lifted her to her feet, and held her there.

  She could have tried to fight, but her waterlogged gear weighed her down and her left leg throbbed in pain.

  Instead she stood firm, ready to accept death.

  The old tribesman remained at the door, his bowstring tautly drawn.

  She stared defiantly back at him as he let his arrow fly.

  2:43 A.M.

  Gray raced down the long hall inscribed with ancient languages. Huge cracks had split the rows of script. Ahead, an entire section of the floor had broken and shifted askew. As he fled with the others across this shattered landscape, the ground continued to tremor, warning that the worst was yet to come.

  I don’t want to be here when that happens.

  He pictured the city crumbling away into a watery grave.

  He slowed to help Lena, noting she had begun to falter. Seichan tried to assist Roland, but he shook her hand loose.

  “I can make it,” he gasped out.

  The only ones who seemed unfazed by the long, desperate sprint were the clutch of warriors behind them. If anything, the natives appeared to be holding back, making sure Gray and the others made it to safety. Especially Jembe, who danced back and forth through them like an excited puppy, but fear shone brightly in his eyes.

  Finally the group reached the flight of stairs that led down to the city’s flooded entrance. Without slowing, they flew down the spiral stairs. Gray ran a palm along the outer wall to keep his balance.

  Suddenly the steps became dangerously slippery, coated with wet moss. His fingertips found the same on the walls. He realized the flooding here must have receded, as the surrounding water table drained into the city’s lower levels.

  Gray began to slow, wary of the slick and treacherous footing.

  Then a huge boom shook the stairs, accompanied by a mighty cracking of rock. Fist-size stones came bouncing and careening down from the upper levels, along with an occasional boulder the size of a pumpkin.

  It was all coming down.

  Forgoing caution, Gray ran faster, doing his best to avoid being hit from behind by the larger rocks. The group finally piled the rest of the way down and reached where the stairs vanished underwater.

  “Everyone stay together!” he hollered. “Help your neighbor if needed!”

  He sent Lena ahead, then Roland.

  Jembe pushed Seichan from behind, shoving both palms on her rump. “Go!”

  Gray didn’t argue with the boy and grabbed Seichan’s hand. Together they dove into the water and swam down the last turns of the spiral and along a straight tunnel.

  Lena and Roland kicked ahead of them, fighting to get free.

  Finally they all reached the short flight of stairs that led up to the exit tunnel. They surfaced one after the other, gasping for air. Earlier, the narrow passageway had been flooded almost to the roof. Now the waters splashed around their calves. Exhausted, they marched single file along the final stretch and back to the river pool.

  Night breezes, cool and clean, greeted them. The skies shone brightly with a full moon and the wide luminous band of the Milky Way. They crossed the pool and crawled onto the opposite bank.

  Gray noted the black boots sticking out from behind a bush, likely the guard who had been left with Chakikui. Seichan removed her pistol and kept it handy, ready in case any of the commandos should make it out.

  Gray appreciated her caution, though he doubted they had to worry. He watched the natives file out and join them.

  Jembe sat down heavily next to him.

  “Where’s your elder?” Gray asked. “Where’s Chakikui?”

  Jembe stared toward the mouth of the tunnel. Gray realized the old man must still be down there. He sat up straighter, but Jembe patted Gray’s knee.

  “Chakikui is old.”

  Gray glanced at the boy, believing his words were a callous dismissal.

  Instead, Jembe added. “He is wise. He knows many ways out.”

  Roland overheard this. “The natives who brought Father Crespi those myriad artifacts claimed there were many ways into those tunnels full of treasures.”

  Gray hoped they were both right.

  He owed that old man for his life . . . for all their lives.

  Lena sat with her arms around her shins, looking little relieved by their narrow escape. Her eyes remained haunted. He could guess her concern.

  She was safe—but her sister was not.

  25

  May 1, 1:05 P.M. CST

  Beijing, China

  Maria crouched in the bed of the truck as it raced through the fiery level of the subterranean complex. She clutched a wet handkerchief over her mouth and nose, soaked from a soldier’s canteen. It helped filter the smoke, but the heat still seared as the vehicle careened wildly around corners. She slid back and forth across the truck bed, hugging tightly to Baako and holding a cloth over his muzzle.

  He whimpered and shivered.

  Kowalski dropped on his other side and embraced them both under one large arm. “I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured Baako, bracing his legs to keep them somewhat steady. “It won’t be much longer.”

  She hoped he was telling the truth. Her eyes stung, and her lungs burned with every breath. Still, at least the heat would hold any of the hybrid gorillas at bay. Unfortunately, from the periodic loud bellows, the pack was nearby.

  Maybe not on this level, but certainly the next.

  As she stared up, she tried to picture bright sunshine, fresh air, cool breezes. Through the smoke overhead, something large wafted past, riding the overheated thermals, a bird from the zoo trying to escape the inferno into which it had been accidentally swept. She never saw exactly what it was before it vanished, but she hoped it made it free.

  I hope we all do.

  Through the small window in the back of the cab, she heard Kimberly shout to the driver, “We’ll never make it to the next ramp!”

  Maria clutched harder to Baako, despairing.

  “But there’s a staircase up ahead,” the woman continued. “Stop there. We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.”

  The news both relieved and terrified her. She glanced around at the stoic faces of the soldiers. They all looked equally grim.

  The truck raced another thirty yards and skidded to a hard stop.

  “Off-load!” Monk shouted. “Make for the stairs!”

  Kowalski helped her out of the bed, groaning and favoring his left side, but still keeping a firm hold on her. Baako leaped lithely beside them. Once everyone was out, they headed in a tight group to the smoky entrance to the stairwell. A slight breeze blew up from below, chasing some of the smoke away. By the time they reached the bottom step, the air felt almost cool.

  Monk flicked on a flashlight, muffling its beam with his other hand.

  “Stay behind me,” Kowalski ordered her.

  Monk led the way, flanked by his team and trailed by Kimberly.

  Maria kept hold of Baako’s hand, keeping him at her side. At some point his bandage had dislodged, exposing the bleeding laceration atop his scalp. Worry for him remained a constant ache in her chest.

  As they headed off, Maria recognized some of the landmarks here. They were not far from the vivisection lab. A booming crash made her jump and turn. Far down a dark hall, a smoldering fire glowed menacingly back at her, revealing that a section of the floor above had burned through and collapsed into this level.

  “It’s all starting to come
down,” Kimberly warned.

  They set a faster pace, eschewing caution for speed.

  After several panicked turns, Baako suddenly clutched her hand and drew her to a stop. Only now, past the pounding of her heart, did she hear a familiar bleating and hooting. Baako tugged her toward a nearby door. She wanted to rush on, but she knew what Baako wanted. With his free hand, he grasped the handle. Already unlocked, the door opened.

  “What are you doing?” Kowalski asked, waving for the others to halt.

  Baako ducked inside. She had no choice but to follow, drawing everyone with her. Inside was a waist-high row of stainless steel cages. Most were empty, but three of them held young chimpanzees, no more than two years old; a fourth held an older female with gray fur and sagging breasts, likely a breeding female for the lab. The chimp reached an arm through the cage bars toward Maria.

  “We have to keep going,” Kimberly warned.

  Instead, Baako crossed to one of the cages and rattled it. He turned and chained a string of signs together.

  [Open . . . go . . . together]

  “No,” Maria said. She pointed to herself, to Kowalski. “We must go.”

  Baako looked forlorn, likely picturing his own confinement in the pens earlier. He continued to clutch the bars. A chimp, no more than a year old, reached up and grasped one of his fingers.

  “Oh, fuck it,” Kowalski said. He started undoing the complicated latches. “Baako’s not going anywhere without them.”

  Maria joined him.

  Kowalski growled at the others. “Help us.”

  Soon all the cages were open. Kowalski carried one chimp in the crook of his arm. Baako held an older one by the hand. The female hurried to the youngest and clutched the infant to her chest.

  Monk stared at them, shook his head, and headed back to the door. One of the soldiers stood guard and waved them to stop. He retreated inside and drew the door closed, holding them all in place. He lifted a finger to his lips.

  They all froze.

  Something massive thundered down the hall. Maria felt the ground shake, picturing one of the hybrid gorillas. Then it swept past and away. They waited ten full breaths before the soldier risked peeking out. Somewhere in the distance a series of loud screams burst forth, accompanied by fresh gunfire and a roar full of blood and fury.

  The soldier glanced back at them. “All clear . . . for now.”

  They piled out of the kennel room and headed away from the ruckus behind them. The telltale musk of the hybrid’s passage still hung in the air. As the hall turned, the next passageway proved to be a long straight shot, lined by a few sealed labs. Maria realized that if Baako hadn’t diverted them into the kennel, the group might have been caught out in the open by the rampaging hybrid.

  Kowalski must have realized the same and patted Baako on the shoulder.

  They hurried down the length of the hall, slowing only once they neared the far end. Kimberly leaned to Monk, but her words carried back to Maria.

  “The loading bay should be around the next corner. It’s sure to be guarded by Chang’s men.”

  Monk turned and signaled his team. They secured the butts of their rifles more solidly to their shoulders.

  Kowalski tried to pass her his small chimp, grimacing at those small arms tightened around his throat. She helped him, freeing the frightened creature and nestling it against her chest. She also reached out and took the older female’s hand, drawing her close.

  Kowalski signed to Baako.

  [Fast]

  Baako grunted and drew his young chimp up onto his back, where it balanced with its thin arms hugging the gorilla’s neck. Baako modified Kowalski’s last sign.

  [Very fast]

  “You got it.” Kowalski lifted a shotgun that Monk had handed him earlier.

  Monk glanced back to Baako with a small grin. “That son of yours is a chip off the old block.”

  The words were meant to be good-natured jibe, but Kowalski seemed to take them at face value.

  “Yeah, he’s a good kid.” Kowalski pointed his shotgun forward. “Let’s do this.”

  1:22 P.M.

  Monk headed around the corner, leading the others. A short hallway dumped into the larger, cavernous loading bay area. He kept everyone close to one wall, trying to stay out of sight for as long as possible. His ears strained for any sign of the enemy, but all he heard were the echoing groans, sharper explosions, and sonorous crashes of the imploding complex behind him.

  Ahead, all was quiet, but his nose picked out the traces of a fetid musk through the persistent reek of smoke.

  It set his teeth on edge.

  He finally reached the threshold of the loading bay and studied the rows of towering racks. Several had toppled over, spreading outward like a cascade of dominoes before coming to a stop, dumping their contents into heaps of broken crates, scattered barrels, and crushed boxes.

  Monk had a filtered view of the exit on the far side, where light shone into the space. The giant doors of the dock—which had been closed before—now stood halfway open, likely cranked up enough to facilitate a fast evacuation. Lamps from the Underground City’s roadways glowed outside.

  Still not spotting any activity, Monk took a deep breath and moved out into the loading area, skirting between the dark rows, sticking to the shadows as best he could. As he edged past a pile of tumbled cardboard boxes, the view fully opened.

  Oh, crap . . .

  Uniformed bodies lay everywhere, torn, ripped, and trampled. Blood slicked the floor and sprayed the walls. Weapons lay spent, a few still smoking and steaming in the pools. Some had limbs gripping them, but no bodies.

  In the center of the carnage, a large furry mound lay sprawled facedown. Half its skull had been blown away, likely from the impact of a rocket-propelled grenade. Monk searched and spotted the long black tube of a launcher, abandoned near the crank for the loading doors.

  “So much for Chang’s reinforcements,” Kimberly whispered at his side.

  Monk hoped the lieutenant colonel was among the dead, but he had a more immediate concern. Beyond the door, the parking lot had emptied out. The frantic evacuees must have commandeered anything with wheels and fled. The only remaining vehicle was a large blue dump truck.

  He turned to Kimberly, who also was staring at the massive loader. “We need the keys.”

  Likely the only reason the truck was still here was that the keys were with the driver. Monk recalled Sergeant Chin pistol-whipping the man shortly after their team entered. They had rolled his unconscious body behind a pile of wooden pallets.

  But was he still here?

  Monk squinted and spotted a pair of boots.

  He sighed with relief. “On my mark, I’ll go for the keys. You get everyone aboard that truck.”

  She nodded.

  He glanced to the others to make sure they all understood, then hissed a recommendation. “Haul ass.”

  He turned and sprinted out into the open. He aimed for the stack of pallets as the rest of the team rushed headlong toward the open bay doors. Monk came close to falling several times, his boots slipping on the blood-slick concrete.

  A splintering crash drew his attention back around.

  Sliding on his boots, he looked over his shoulder.

  A massive shape bulldozed through a mountain of crates and boxes, scattering them and toppling more of the towering racks as it burst out of its hiding place. It leaped the last of the obstructions and landed heavily on its back legs and one forearm. It hunched for a breath, exposing the saddle of silver fur across its back. Then it heaved high and let loose an ear-shattering roar. One fist pounded its chest, sounding like thunder.

  Holy sh—

  Monk scrabbled away from it. “Keep going for the truck!”

  He twisted around and ran for the driver’s body. He heard the beast crash back down to all fours. He felt the ground shaking underfoot as it pursued him, drawn by his shout. The pools of blood trembled all around.

  Monk dove at the
last moment, flying through the air. As he landed, a massive fist slammed down atop the stack of pallets, smashing through them with an explosion of broken wood.

  Monk reached out, snatched the ankle of the driver, and rolled away from that savage blow. He crouched over the body as splinters peppered him, expecting to feel the beast’s other fist flatten him to the floor.

  Instead, a booming shout rose from near the loading bay doors. “Hey, asshole! We’re not finished yet!”

  1:26 P.M.

  Kowalski watched the giant silverback wheel toward him, likely recognizing his voice, remembering its former adversary—or meal, as the case may be.

  He hauled the length of the rocket launcher to his shoulder.

  Now I feel properly dressed.

  A moment ago, as the beast thundered toward Monk, Kowalski had split from the others and sprinted to the RPG launcher abandoned near the exit, snatching up two grenade rounds from the floor nearby.

  He had quickly loaded one and now pointed the weapon’s muzzle at the silverback as it swung to face him. Still, he waited until Monk finished pawing at the body under him. Finally his partner leaped to his feet and dashed toward the smaller side door.

  The silverback dropped to one arm, glaring over at Kowalski, its breath heaving from the bellows of its lungs. From the shine of those dark eyes, the beast definitely knew him.

  Kowalski centered his aim.

  Hard to miss this shot.

  With Monk clear, Kowalski fired, the explosion deafening. A trail of smoke spiraled away from the tube and sailed toward the silverback. But the beast rolled to the side at the last second, clearly recognizing the weapon’s threat from the demise of the dead beast on the floor. This one clearly learned from past mistakes.

  Missing its target, the grenade struck the far wall and detonated with a flash of fire, blowing away a chunk of concrete.

  The silverback continued its defensive roll and ended back on all fours, ignoring the spray of concrete shards pelting its back.

  Kowalski didn’t have time to reload, so he turned tail and did what Monk had instructed them to do.