He looked at the rope still nailed to the ledge and considered severing the line. That would eliminate any possibility that the others could escape and warn world authorities of what he intended. He pulled his knife from its sheath and ran the sharp edge over his finger, drawing beads of blood from the thin cut. He watched the blood drip into the water, a modern echo of a Maya bloodletting ritual. But if he were a true Maya, like his ancestors, he would have plunged the knife into the chests of his enemies and ripped out their beating hearts. He raised the knife, gazed at the taut line, then winced and turned away.
Not a true Maya. Not even a strong revolutionary.
He gathered his gear, loaded it onto his back, and trudged into the tunnel toward the next crawlway and the arduous climb to the surface.
Chapter Forty-seven
Megan clutched her head as Mark slammed the mask down. That was it, then. Jorge was burying them alive. They had no hope of liberation now. Even as she contemplated their horrible deaths by starvation, or by asphyxiation from carbon monoxide and hydrogen sulfide from the volcano, a distant wink of green reminded her of the other possibility—one that Ray had narrowly escaped.
“I think the bacteria is getting closer,” she said.
Mark swung around and regarded the great phalanx of columns, Kat lifted her head, and Ray and Pete shifted their gazes to the north.
“Dammit,” said Mark. “It’s true. What the hell are we going to do now? Kat needs more rest and so does Ray. We can’t attempt the sump yet.”
“Attempt the sump?” asked Megan. “You still want to attempt the sump when we’re short a rebreather?”
Mark met her gaze with a strange gleam in his eye. He was probably dead on his feet, but he was still determined to save them all. No doubt his training has come into play. The long hours as an intern had bred stamina, and the oath he’d sworn made failure unacceptable. But it was more than that. He looked like a general on a campaign, incapable of considering even the possibility of defeat.
“Yes, we’re going to swim through the sump even short a rebreather. We’ll go in pairs so we don’t put too much strain on the rope, and one of you will have to share with me.”
“I believe that should be me,” said Kat.
Mark shook his head and knelt beside her. “No, Kat. You’re not strong enough. Neither is Ray.”
“So who do you suggest should share with you?” asked Pete. “Me?”
“It would make sense. We’re the only ones who aren’t injured.”
“It might, except who is going to help the injured if we’re passing a mask back and forth?”
Megan sighed. There was no solution. Couldn’t they see that? Ray and Kat would need to be helped through the stream, if they could even make it at all. Who would assist them if not the two strongest people? The group was as trapped as they had been before. Unless someone stayed behind. And how could they sentence one person to death?
“You’re right,” said Mark, his shoulders sagging. “You should help Ray and I should be with Kat. Megan, do you think you’re strong enough to go on your own?”
She nodded, even though she didn’t exactly like the idea.
Mark scooped Kat up from the ground. Megan supported Ray, and they all headed for the crack in the wall, bringing their packs and rebreathers along. It was tedious just to wriggle through it again, with Kat moaning and pausing every few minutes, and Ray sluggish, although not complaining. They emerged from the gap and all except Pete collapsed at the verge of the sump. They stared at the boiling water and the thin line that fluttered in it.
“Okay,” said Mark, holding tight to Kat. His voice sounded strained, somewhat hoarse. “Pete and Ray should go first, then Megan. Kat and I will bring up the rear.”
Pete’s mouth twisted in a sour expression of distaste. Megan surmised he didn’t relish the position. “The water looks even more turbulent than when we were swept in here in the first place. I don’t think this is going to work, especially dragging an injured fellow through the current.”
Mark stared intently at Pete. “You don’t want to go first?”
“I don’t want to go at all.”
“What choice do we have?” asked Kat, eyeing him with disdain. He was acting like a coward and Megan didn’t blame Kat, but she knew that Pete had a point. He was probably edging toward the solution none of them wanted to consider—leaving the injured behind. One thing she was certain of: Pete was only interested in saving Pete, and the thought of abandoning an injured team member wasn’t abhorrent to him.
“I think we do have another choice,” he said. “There is one other exit.”
Everyone now turned to him with faces screwed up in confusion. “Which one do you mean?” asked Kat. “The one that’s tight as a garden hose, or the one that’s wallpapered with deadly organisms?”
“We could wear our drysuits, cover our faces. Maybe the creatures can’t penetrate neoprene. It’s a better risk than this.”
“Better risk?” Ray scoffed. “Merde. Did you see what one tiny speck of those things did to me? I’d rather face a tsunami than take my chances with them again.”
“Then you do that,” said Pete. “I’m not going with you.”
Mark gave his head a shake. “You’re not going with us?”
“No.”
“Well, then we’re not short a tank,” said Ray, not in the least bothered by Pete’s decision.
“But we are short a helper,” said Kat.
“I don’t accept this. Pete, we can’t just leave you here,” said Mark. He was still trying to save them all, even the most stubborn. But it looked as though Pete had made up his mind.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “You won’t.”
“Then who’s going to help Ray through the sump?”
Megan swallowed the huge lump in her throat. She wasn’t about to leave Ray behind, but was she up to the task of helping him again? They’d tumbled down a rock slope last time she’d tried. “I will,” she piped up, though the words came out as a croak.
Mark turned a clinical eye on her. “”Right,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “I think Ray’s getting stronger, so you just have to help pull him along. He can move the clamps. Sound okay, Ray?”
“Sure,” he said, beaming a smile at her. “Last time the organisms were moving in on us, she practically carried me up the breakdown slope. But I should be able to do most of this myself.”
Megan tried to return his smile, but her lips were so stiff they wouldn’t move. She didn’t want to be responsible for Ray in this deadly current—not because the thought of failure would probably kill her fragile ego, but because the price of failure would be almost too painful to contemplate. Ray had become more valuable in a few short hours than all her years of hard work and the archaeological treasure trove both above and within this cave. He was the cure for a sickness that had plagued her since university. What if she wasn’t strong enough for this? What if she lost the most precious thing in her life?
Ray shrugged himself into his drysuit and Mark strapped the rebreather to his body. Megan donned her own, but with shakier fingers. A cold sweat made the exercise even more difficult. As she shouldered the tank, she felt the twinge of rib pain and the nagging throb in her forehead return. When she looked up, Ray was grinning at her, but Pete locked eyes with an uncharacteristic aura of melancholy. This surprised her more than anything. It seemed like he was begging her to stay.
“Megan, I’m giving you my pack with copies of the maps we made of the cave,” said Kat. She slipped the pack over Megan’s shoulders. “Just in case we get separated.”
Megan shivered. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. But she gathered her courage, shuffled over to Ray, and clasped his hand. “Are you ready?”
“Sure thing.” He smiled, but she noted a flicker of his eyelashes.
They squatted on the ledge over the roaring water and clipped themselves onto the nylon guideline. Both had secured their masks, and Mark had donned
his own to monitor their progress over the intercom. Megan already felt the suction of the flow trying to drag her under.
“On three,” said Mark. They nodded, counted, and leaped into the froth. The current instantly seized them and tried to wrench them downstream. They both clung to the rope and secured their ascenders as quickly as possible. Now it would just be a matter of fighting the surging water along the hundred meters to the outcrop of rock where they’d entered. What a grave miscalculation that had been.
Megan pulled through the first meter, clamped and reached back for Ray. She grasped his hand and tugged him level, expending a great deal of energy just for that small move. Ray clamped behind her. They proceeded this way for the next ten meters, both gasping at the strain. Mark’s tinny voice scraped over the intercom as soon as they ducked under the rock ceiling of the sump. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” she managed to sputter. “Don’t make me talk.”
“All right,” said Mark. “Just let me know if you’re in trouble.”
“You’ll . . . be . . . the . . . first . . . to . . . hear me . . . scream.”
She clenched her jaw and soldiered on. The water drummed against her, reawakening the bruises she’d acquired when she’d smashed into the rocks only a few hours before. Hand over hand she sought the rope and wrestled with the current. It was amazing, but Ray seemed every bit as strong as she was, not faltering for a second in his drive through the water. After his near-fatal encounter with the organism, nothing was going to stop him from surviving, escaping, finally relishing life again.
They pulled through the current with heart and determination. When they reached the fork in the river, she knew that they’d make it. The stress on their bodies lessened with the elemental reduction of flow. Just ten more meters and they’d be out of the sump. Megan clamped onto the next length of line, then noticed the thready appearance of the nylon, as if it was fraying where the teeth of an ascender had bitten. Fatigue was now very real, though, dimming her vision and crowding her thoughts. She dragged the clip a few centimeters again, turned, and held out her hand to Ray. Ray pulled forward, clamped, and—
The rope broke.
The current punched Ray backward, ripping his hand from hers. Already out of reach, he grabbed for her hand, his arms outstretched, a look of astonishment and terror on his face. Then the river snatched him and devoured him instantly, like a hungry crocodile.
Megan hung on the last thread of rope, her hand splayed and empty, gazing at the heartless gush of water. She screamed.
Mark’s blood turned to ice at the shrill blast from his intercom; he knew instantly what had transpired. He dove to the ground and yelled at Pete to grab his ankles. Surprisingly, the man leaped at his command and seized his feet while Mark swung out over the river. First came the rope, its empty frayed end waving in the water and hurtling under the rock. But Ray wasn’t attached to it. He must have lost his grip when the rope had snapped. As Mark scanned, Ray’s body emerged, bobbing up and down. Mark would have to snatch Ray before the current thrust him underneath the rock again.
Ray flailed and kicked, desperately trying to fight the flow. As the swirling eddy washed him into this tiny alcove, he reached toward Mark, who was stretching as far as he could. Their hands nearly met, but the undertow caught Ray again and wrenched him beneath the water before Mark could snag his extended fingers.
“No!” Mark cried, pounding the liquid in frustration. He barely felt it as Pete hauled him back to the ledge, his mind agonizing over his failure to catch Ray. He slumped to the ground and shook his head, looked around for something to break and bash, but there were only the stalactites and he could hardly destroy those. Pete, though, didn’t restrain himself. He kicked loose a stalagmite and spent a good five minutes stomping it to splinters. Kat didn’t even protest. She was silent and shivering.
Mark knew that he should go and comfort her. After all, she and Ray had been friends for years, despite how jealous this always made him. He should stop Pete from continuing his rampage. But the person he needed to focus on was still screeching and keening over the radio.
“Megan,” he said, but his voice was broken and hollow. She could hardly hear him over her own cries. “Megan!” The wailing slowed and softened. “Listen to me, Megan. It wasn’t your fault. The rope broke. You can hardly be blamed for that. It was an accident. Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes.” A broken sob.
“You can’t give up now. You’re almost out of there. Don’t think about what happened. Focus on getting out. You can do it.”
There was a long pause and another broken sob.
“Megan?”
“I-I don’t think I can. I’m not strong enough.”
“Yes, you are, Megan. You made it this far. You can pull yourself out. I know you can. You’re strong, maybe stronger than any of us.”
“No, I’m not. I’m weak. I’ve always been weak. I should have been able to hold on. . . . I had him, then he slipped away. Why couldn’t I hold on?”
Mark squeezed his eyes shut. The pain in her voice was almost unbearable. He knew what it felt like to lose, to stand by helplessly and watch someone die—someone you cared about, someone who trusted you. He’d never been able to accept it, and he couldn’t accept letting Kat go, either. But he wasn’t about to lose Megan along with Ray.
“The rope snapped and the current was too strong for anyone to hold on,” he said. “This is not your fault. Now you have to keep going. For us, if no one else. You have to get to the surface and find help. It’s all up to you now.”
“I don’t think I can.” The sobbing resumed.
“You have to! Someone has to warn the authorities about Jorge. This isn’t even about us anymore. It’s about the world. Many people are going to die if you don’t get to the surface and stop him.”
The crying abated. He’d struck the right chord.
“It’s all up to me?” she asked plaintively. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough to be a hero.”
“You don’t have to be strong to be a hero, Megan. You just have to be determined. And compassionate.”
The PA fell silent. She was pondering, he hoped. She was gritting her teeth and digging in her heels. The next sound he heard was a grunt and a gasp. He expelled a huge sigh. She was climbing up the last leg of a grueling pitch. She’d found some inner strength.
Mark listened to the rasping, choking, sobbing struggle as Megan churned her way through the current. She was doing something he probably couldn’t have done had Kat been swept down the gullet of the sump. He would have let go and followed her. But Megan struggled on, until he heard a louder grunt and the sound of panting, as if she’d collapsed and was catching her breath.
“Megan, are you there? Are you out of the sump?”
“Y-yes,” she finally responded. “I-I’m out. But I don’t think I can go any farther.”
“You can and you will. First rest and regain your strength. Then you can start climbing. I know you can do it. We’re counting on you.”
Mark was surprised to feel a gentle hand on his arm. Kat had gotten up. Her eyes held fresh tears and another look, too. A look of resolve. “Let me talk to her,” she said, motioning for the mask.
Mark took it off and slipped it over her head. “Megan, listen to me,” Kat said. “Remember the maps are in your pack. You’ll have to follow them meticulously, but I think you paid enough attention on the way down that you should have no trouble. Just follow the trail, even the breadcrumbs that Pete left, and you should be fine. You have to do this, Megan. We won’t survive much longer if you don’t get help. And you can’t let Jorge release that organism anywhere in the populated world. It could mean a plague of astronomic proportions. You know the stakes. So you can’t fail, darling. We love you.”
Mark didn’t hear her reply, but by the brief smile that graced Kat’s lips, he knew she’d had some impact.
“Go, girl,” Kat said and removed the mask from her face. She took a deep breath, t
hen fell into Mark’s arms. “Do you think she’ll make it?”
He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her damp hair. “She has to.”
They were startled from each other’s arms by the sound of laughter. Frantic, lunatic laughter.
“Even if she does,” said Pete, “it’ll be too late for us.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Jorge slogged his way through the corkscrew tunnel, slithering and wriggling through the tight crawlway. He felt exhilarated at the prospect of succeeding. He had removed one of the most deadly organisms on the planet from its subterranean lair and finally had the power to threaten, cajole, and barter a better life for his people. At the same time he was physically exhausted and mentally dejected at what this prize had cost. He’d left a number of people buried alive. He shouldn’t give a damn about them, but somehow he couldn’t stop the niggling bites of conscience that ate away at his gray matter. The doctor wasn’t a bad man, wasn’t the self-serving highbrow he’d imagined. They’d actually had some interesting conversations, and perhaps he’d made some real headway in changing the opinion of one man. Maybe there were still some people with values other than wealth and power. But what could one man do against the greed of nations? There was only one way for a single man to be heard—by making a deafening and deadening statement.
It was that profound truth that prodded him to continue his climb. But it was not that same truth that had compelled him to pull the trigger on the doctor’s wife. It was the memory of the twisted and hacked body of his betrothed that had made him do it, the image of the bullet-ridden corpse of his sister. His thirst for revenge sprang from a source far beyond the raids conducted by the paramilitary. It went to the core of those responsible, those who had turned a blind eye.
Jorge plunged into the water of the second sump. This was a brisk brook, nothing near the torrent of the third sump. Bone-weary and chilled though he was, he accomplished the dive in no time. Before he dispensed with the mask, however, he flipped on the intercom just out of curiosity. He’d hardly be able to hear Mark through the dense rock layers from so far below anymore, but there was still the possibility that some of them had escaped the lower chamber and were following him. He listened for a minute. Nothing but white noise hissed over the PA. But just as he was about to turn it off, he heard a faint gasp and the distinct sound of breathing. He listened for another minute and heard a moan.
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