Crota

by Goingback, Owl

  “You’re not going to believe this, but we just discovered a lost city.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m as serious as a heart attack,” Lloyd said. “I’m standing right here looking at it. Real old. I’d say at least a thousand years...maybe more. Listen, don’t get upset if you can’t get hold of me. I’m going to have a look around and I’m about out of cable, so I’ll be off the air for a while.”

  “Right,” Hays said. “Let me know what you find.”

  “You got it.” Lloyd switched off the phone and set it on the ground. He unwrapped a lightstick, bent and shook it and set the glowing cylinder next to the phone to mark the spot.

  Turning away from Lloyd, Steven approached an archway of black stone that marked an entrance to the city. Carved upon the arch were pictographs of strange symbols and animals. “Beautiful...simply beautiful,” he said, tracing one of the symbols with his fingers. “What a find. A discovery such as this...unexplored, unexploited. It’s a miracle. A dream...the dream of scientists everywhere.”

  He wheeled on Lloyd. “We must go back! We must go back right now! We’ve got to report this, to inform the proper authorities. A find of this magnitude will take years, decades, to unravel its mystery. Even then we may only scratch the surface. This isn’t a page in history; it’s the whole book! It’s bigger than the discovery of Troy, bigger than King Tutankhamen’s tomb!”

  “I agree,” Lloyd said. “But we can’t go back.”

  “Can’t go back! Why?”

  “Because we’re down here to do a job. We still have a bear to find.”

  “There’s no chance of coming across a bear down here,” Steven argued. “We’ve gone too far...too deep. A bear wouldn’t come this deep.”

  “That may be,” Lloyd nodded, “but I’m still going to check it out while we’re here. If you want, we can split up and search. It’ll take forever if we don’t.”

  “Yes, I suppose we can do that,” Steven said, looking up at the arch. He wasn’t paying attention to what Lloyd was saying, his mind occupied instead on the historical treasure before him.

  Lloyd turned to the others. “All right, listen up. We’re going to split into pairs. Mitchell, you’ve got Brown. Ferguson, you’re with me. Murphy, I want you to stay with the professor. You guys go slow and keep your eyes and ears open. Any trouble, you get on the radio. Understood? It’d also be a good idea to drop a lightstick every so often to mark your trail. It wouldn’t be hard to get turned around in this place. Another thing--no souvenirs!”

  “Aw, come on, Lloyd,” Brown whined.

  “I mean it! I’ll bust any man I catch trying to sneak something out. If you come across an artifact, leave it alone. Where something is found is often more important to an archaeologist than the object itself. Ain’t that right, Professor?”

  Steven turned around. “Oh, absolutely. Lloyd’s right. If you find something that looks important, please leave it alone. Just touching it might cause it to break or crumble. Some truly magnificent finds have been ruined that way. I promise you, if it’s at all possible, each of you will end up with a little something for your efforts.”

  “What if there’s nothing here?” Deputy Mitchell asked.

  “Then the publicity alone will be souvenir enough,” Steven said. “Gentlemen, you may not realize it, but you’re about to become famous.”

  The statement brought a healthy round of smiles from the men.

  “All right, ladies, let’s get our asses in gear,” Lloyd said.

  They moved out.

  Chapter 16

  Deputy Wayne Brown was almost a foot shorter than his partner, Sergeant Eric Mitchell. The sergeant walked with a wide, loping gait that made Wayne struggle to keep up. After splitting up from Lloyd and the others, they turned left from the main avenue at the first side street they came to. Passing several unadorned, single-story block buildings and an empty reservoir that must have once held water from an underground stream, they reached a carved stairway leading up to the second level.

  The steps emptied onto a rectangular courtyard measuring approximately twenty feet by ten. The courtyard was flanked by three singular block units similar to those on the lower level. Each building had a separate doorway opening onto the courtyard.

  Sergeant Mitchell paused to look around. “Wayne, what do you think this used to be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A patio, maybe,” Wayne replied, happy for the brief rest. He pulled a pack of gum from his shirt pocket, offering a stick to the sergeant.

  Eric accepted the piece of gum. He kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot. “This sure will be something when they’re finished.”

  “What do you mean?” Wayne asked, popping a stick of gum into his mouth and throwing the paper on the ground.

  “Well, after the scientists get done excavating everything, they’ll probably string lights across the ceiling like they did at Meramec Caverns. You ever been to Meramec Caverns? A hell of a tourist trap. This will probably be even bigger when they’re through.”

  Wayne nodded. “It’ll put Disney World to shame, that’s for sure.”

  Eric looked around. “Somebody’s going to make a pretty penny off of it.”

  “Somebody’s going to make millions.” Wayne glanced up at the cavern’s ceiling.

  “Damn shame it won’t be us.”

  A thought suddenly hit Wayne. “Who said it can’t be?”

  Eric looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  Wayne stepped closer, lowering his voice. “As far as I know, nobody owns the property Devil’s Boot sits on. Now, for the sake of argument, let’s say someone went and purchased that particular piece of real estate. Then that someone would also have title to the only known entrance to the tunnels. The way I see it, the man who owns the entrance to the tunnels owns all this as well.”

  Eric smiled. “You know, I never looked at it like that.”

  “That’s why you’re only a sergeant.”

  “So who do we see about purchasing the Boot?” Eric asked.

  “The best place to start would be the record section of the courthouse. We’re going to have to act fast before word spreads about the discovery. How are you set for cash?”

  “I’ve got a couple of thousand stashed away,” Eric said.

  “Good. Between the two of us, we should have enough to purchase the property. Like I said, we’ve got to jump on it before someone else decides to do the same thing.”

  “Or before the government steps in and claims it.”

  “But if they claim it, they’ll still have to buy it from us, for a hell of a lot more money than we paid for it.”

  “True,” Eric said. “I take it we have a deal then?”

  “We most definitely do.” Wayne grinned and shook Eric’s hand.

  “So what do we do in the meantime?” Eric asked.

  “Try to find a bear, I guess,” Wayne said.

  “Hell, Wayne, there ain’t no bear.”

  “Lloyd thinks there is.”

  “Maybe so, but if you ask me no bear is going to come this deep underground. I think Lloyd just wanted to have a look around before we went back. We ought to do the same. Maybe we’ll find a souvenir or two. I mean, we’ve got a right to look the place over before we buy it, don’t we?”

  “We sure do,” Wayne said.

  Their lights casting eerie, dancing shadows before them, they crossed the courtyard to the first of the three block buildings. Peering through a doorway, they were greeted by an empty room, its floor littered with potsherds, stone chips and mollusk shells. Three symbols were scratched just above the doorway. Wayne guessed that the symbols were letters of an unknown alphabet. Perhaps it was the name of the former occupant.

  “Not exactly the Ritz, is it?” Eric said. Removing his pocketknife, he kneeled and began to scrape at a section of the wall near the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” Wayne inquired, peering over the sergeant’s shoulder.

&nb
sp; Pieces of hardened clay flaked away as Eric dug and chipped at the wall. The knife blade penetrated a couple of inches before hitting solid rock. Apparently satisfied, Eric closed the knife and stood back up.

  “I was curious if the buildings were adobe or stone. They’re stone, but whoever made them covered the walls with mud, probably as insulation.”

  “A lot of work went into this place,” Wayne commented. “Must have taken years to build.”

  “Yeah,” Eric nodded. “I wonder what they were scared of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t see anyone going to all the trouble of building a city underground unless it’s for protection. That’s why the cliff dwellers in Arizona and New Mexico built their pueblos in such hard-to-get-at locations--for protection against their enemies.”

  “How’d you get so damn smart all of a sudden?” Wayne asked.

  “My old lady subscribes to National Geographic.”

  The second room they explored was a carbon copy of the first, with the exception of a square opening in the floor near the back wall. Shining their lights down into the opening, they discovered an even larger room than the one they were in. Unlike the other rooms, the walls of this basement room were decorated with vividly colored murals of lavishly dressed men and women.

  “I’ll be damned. A kiva,” Eric said.

  “A what?”

  “A room used for religious ceremonies.”

  “Oh.”

  Two of the murals depicted scenes of battle between tan-skinned warriors. The third, however, showed a scene from everyday life. In the painting, women with flowing dresses carried great earthenware jugs down a narrow street, while naked children played what appeared to be a ball game.

  In the center of the farthest wall, forming a central focal point for the murals, was a painting of a striking young woman whose beckoning arms were entwined with a pair of deadly looking serpents. Though she was by all means beautiful, her eyes were cold, cruel. Wayne figured she must have been some important leader, or a goddess perhaps, for she wore a spiked crown of gold and was depicted riding atop a monstrous two-headed turtle.

  A massive altar of stone, appearing to be carved from a solid piece of ebony rock, stood in front of the painting of the turtle woman. Several large earthenware jugs flanked each side of the altar, while a doorway was just visible in the wall behind it.

  “Man, I’ve got to get down there!” Eric said, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

  Wayne nodded. “There must have been a ladder once, but it probably rotted away. We can use the ropes.”

  While Wayne unwound his climbing rope Eric drove a bolt into the floor. He fastened one end of the rope to it with a spring-gate carabiner and dropped the rest down through the opening.

  Descending to the lower chamber, they discovered an additional exit on the opposite side of the room from the altar. Unlike the square doorway behind the altar, the second opening appeared to be a natural formation in the rock.

  Eric shone his flashlight into the opening. “Looks like another tunnel.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time to explore it later,” Wayne said. “First let’s have a look in those jugs.”

  Reaching the altar, Wayne had to rise on his tiptoes to peer over the rim of the first clay jug. He was hoping for gold or jewels, but the jug only contained an inch or so of dust.

  “Nuts, it’s empty.”

  “This one too,” Eric said, checking one of the other jugs. “Maybe they held water.”

  “Or the blood of sacrificed victims,” Wayne replied.

  Eric aimed his flashlight at the altar. “You really think they sacrificed people down here?”

  Wayne shrugged. “The Mayans and Aztecs used to do it all the time. Why else would you have a stone altar this size?”

  Eric looked up at the wall. The light on his helmet danced over the painting of the serpent woman. “You could be right. She doesn’t exactly look like the Virgin Mary.”

  “Virgin eater would be more like it.”

  Eric turned away from the altar. “I’m gonna leave the rest of the jugs for you. I want to have a look in the tunnel.”

  “Okay, go ahead. Just don’t wander too far.”

  “Got ya.”

  Wayne watched Eric start down the tunnel, then turned back to the task of examining the earthenware jugs. He was dismayed to find that the rest of the jugs were as empty as the first. Perhaps, he thought, they were only storage vessels for water. Whatever they were, he’d love to have a pair sitting in his living room.

  Finished with the jugs, he decided to take a closer look at the stone altar. No bloodstains; maybe it was just a table after all. But he doubted it. It was much too elaborate to be anything other than an altar of some kind. Zigzag lines carved in the table’s top ran at right angles to each other, forming a maze around a creature that looked something like a frog...a four-legged frog with tits.

  Kneeling down, he tried to figure out how the top was joined to the two slabs forming the legs. He failed to find any separation between the sections, further convincing him that the altar was carved from a single block of stone.

  This must have taken years to make.

  He stood back up as Eric reentered the room.

  “Nothing down that way but tunnel,” Eric stated matter of factly. “Any luck with the jugs?”

  “No. They’re empty.”

  “Listen, I...”

  Eric stopped. Wayne started to ask what was wrong, but then he heard it too. A strange crackling, like the sound of wool sweaters being pulled hot from a dryer.

  “What the hell is that?” Eric asked.

  “Damned if I know,” Wayne said. The hairs on his arms stood up and the air was pungent with the smell of ozone.

  “Shit, Wayne, I don’t like this.”

  “Me neither.”

  Wayne started to suggest that they leave when he spotted something moving in the tunnel behind Eric. A pair of funny yellow lights, like the headlights of an approaching automobile.

  The lights came closer, grew in size.

  Wayne opened his mouth to yell a warning to his partner when something exploded into the room. Sergeant Eric Mitchell never knew what hit him.

  God Almighty!

  The light of Eric’s carbide helmet lamp winked out as his head disappeared into the gaping jaws of the Crota. There was the crunch of bones, followed by the sound of brains splattering on the floor, as the monster bit off the sergeant’s head just above his eyebrows.

  Eric’s eyes were wide, bulging, staring. Blood poured from his nose and streamed down his face. His mouth moved, but no words came out; his body spasmed and jerked. Before he could fall dead to the floor, the Crota flung him against the far wall like a child casting aside a rag doll.

  His brain sending out a million messages at once, Wayne’s legs finally got the signal they needed to get moving. With a howl of terror, he turned and ran for the opening under the turtle woman. The Crota roared and gave chase.

  My God...My God...My God. What is it? What the fuck is that thing?

  The lights of Wayne’s helmet and flashlight bounced madly off the walls as he raced down the narrow passageway. His heart pounded like a jackhammer, his breath came in short, painful gasps. Unless he could get back into the open he was a dead man. There was no hope of anyone coming to his rescue if he remained in the subterranean passageway. No sense calling for help on the radio. How could they find him if he didn’t even know where he was? From behind him came sounds of pursuit.

  The passageway took a sudden turn to the left. Wayne missed the turn and smashed into a wall, dropped his shotgun, spun off and kept running. The Crota gained on him.

  Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Keep running.

  He shrieked as the floor suddenly changed into a flight of descending steps. He couldn’t stop in time. Head over heels he tumbled, his body bouncing off the stone steps.

  He came to rest at the bottom of the steps, his back presse
d tightly against a cold stone wall, his left leg bent painfully beneath him. He had lost his flashlight in the tumble. His helmet too. In the total darkness surrounding him all was silent. All was still.

  Wayne gritted his teeth as he slowly unfolded his left leg. His knee was badly wrenched, but the bone wasn’t broken. Pulling his revolver, he waited to be attacked. Time passed. His breathing slowed. Nothing happened. Had the monster given up the chase?

  Where is it? Where did it go?

  He grabbed two lightsticks from his pack. Removing their foil wrapping, he bent both sticks and shook them. A green glow instantly lit the corridor around him.

  He was alone. The creature was nowhere in sight. Wayne let out a sigh of relief.

  I must have lost it. Maybe it ran past me when I fell. Maybe it gave up and turned back...

  Maybe it went back to the room to finish eating Eric.

  Wayne tried to call for help on the portable radio, but it had been damaged in the fall. Like it or not, he was on his own.

  He had no idea where the tunnel led, but he couldn’t--dared not--go back the way he came. Then again, if he continued on, he ran the risk of becoming hopelessly lost in what could be an elaborate tunnel system. But he had no choice. Using the wall for support, he slowly got to his feet.

  Keeping one of the lightsticks to light his way, he dropped the other one on the floor to mark his trail. His knee screamed in pain and threatened to buckle beneath his weight as he took a careful step forward. Wayne ignored the pain. He could make it--had to make it. He had to find his way out before that thing came back looking for him.

  He shuffled along for about twenty minutes, dropping a half-dozen lightsticks in the process. Exhausted, the throbbing in his knee almost unbearable, he decided to stop and rest for a moment. If he didn’t, he would surely pass out.

  Leaning against the wall, Wayne looked back down the passageway. The corridor was long and straight, and he could still see the eerie green glow from three of the lightsticks he’d dropped. As he stood there looking, the farthest lightstick flickered and went out.

  What the hell?

  A prickle of fear danced from his temples to his testicles. “It just went out, that’s all. Damn thing was probably defective. A dud.”