“Thanks for clearing the way through so quickly. My partner and I,” she indicated Kinimaka, “need to get down there. Fast.”
“We just started the charge, little lady,” the rugged faced officer told her stiffly. “You jus’ jump on in wherever you feel comfortable.”
Hayden checked her Glock and extra ammo as Kinimaka pushed his way to the front of the assault team. More than one soldier bounced off him, almost sent sprawling, but the Hawaiian’s face brooked no argument. They stepped into the tunnel, instantly finding themselves under fire. A dozen soldiers crept ahead of them, moving in formation, bombarding a merc defense and pinning it down.
Hayden saw a sliver of an opportunity. “Go!” She slapped Kinimaka’s broad shoulder, sending him off like a sprinter out of the traps. Shooting hard, they cleared the merc defense in seconds and raced down the passage beyond. A newly formed long slope brought them to the chamber where Cook’s ‘Gates of Hell’ resided.
Kinimaka gulped air. “Shit.”
“Just go.” Hayden dashed past him, knowing he would follow her into any kind of hell, and passed under the old archway, using her flashlight to light the smooth rocky path before them. A scuffle of feet behind betrayed the presence of at least one enemy soldier. Kinimaka slowed, but Hayden wrenched him along.
“No time. Just run!”
Bullets slammed into the rock walls. Hayden ducked her head and tore through the dark. Together they hurdled the eternal threat of Wrath, skipping over the inactive fire vents and threaded the needle through Greed, taking the trident paths at full sprint. Their pursuers at first struggled to keep up, probably surprised by their actions, but soon figured out their intentions of running all the way to Odin’s chair.
Bullets impacted around them as they sped through Lust, shattering the outrageous statues, shredding the priceless, inventive paintings, but not slowing them down. They ran hard through the chaos, covered in dirt, rock and lead fragments, heads down, clattering across the temporary bridge that had been erected over Envy’s sulfurous lake, capering on all fours over the belly of the statue of Gluttony, and even rolling part way down the passage that once held the enormous stone spheres.
Bruised, battered and determined, they came at last to the great cavern where the zip-line had once led over to the S-ledge that ended at Odin’s chair. A new incongruous, blue metal bridge had been built across the great chasm. Hayden and Kinimaka leaped onto it and dashed across its length, sending it swaying, but avoiding grabbing the side rails which would only slow them down. Hayden fired over her shoulder as their pursuers – only two men – burst out of a tunnel. They dived to the ground, giving Hayden and her partner scant seconds to jump off the other end.
At last, they panted their way along the final hurdle. Odin’s chair came into view.
And finally Hayden stopped, face stricken with horror. “Oh no, we’re too late.”
A man stood upright on Odin’s throne, arms held straight above his head, face turned up to the roof that soared high above and the skies and heavens beyond.
Was the ground starting to shake?
****
Drake smashed against the side of the pit, its slope slowing his fall but not enough. His gun disappeared into the bottomless pit. Still he tumbled, and the nightmarish shape of Zanko fell after him, roaring with bloodlust. Then Drake slammed against a man-made platform, a few planks of scaffolding erected by the Russians, and groaned as his descent was abruptly stopped. Pain lanced through his spine, his ribs. But he had no time to assess any injuries.
Zanko crashed down beside him and totally destroyed the platform. Wood splintered and metal poles tumbled away. Drake fell again, clawing at the sides of the pit, but finding no grip in the squelchy mush that hung there. A hard-packed mud outcropping slowed him enough to get a grip, but his feet flailed over pitch blackness. He hauled hard, steadying his legs and rising up. Darkness surrounded him.
After all this, they had lost the fucking sword!
He looked up, seeing Mai at the top of the pit, struggling with someone—
—falling backwards, Mai put her hands behind her head and body-flipped herself straight back to her feet, surprising Razin as he aimed his pistol at her head. A side-kick relieved him of the weapon, but not before it discharged, the bullet almost taking Yorgi’s head off.
“We came back here,” Razin spat at her. “To avenge Zoya’s murder. Where else could you go? This is where it all began.”
Mai wasn’t in any mood to chat. She struck hard at the older man, but he surprised her by skipping back and side-stepping into space.
What was she doing? The Mai Kitano of old, even the Mai of a few weeks ago, would never have let that happen.
She was compromised. She took a breath and tried to clear her mind.
“You came back to Babylon? Just to avenge her. Why would you do that?”
Razin swallowed. “Zoya was my wife.”
Mai opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What was she supposed to say to that? It would be disrespectful to deride the man, despite his flaws. She wasn’t Alicia Myles.
Then Razin’s hand emerged from behind his back. Yorgi screamed a warning, “Another gun!” Mai turned her body to minimize the target and dove at him. Her hands hit the dirt, bent and sprung her body into flight, legs aimed for Razin’s head.
The blow snapped his neck instantly, snuffing out the spark of his life, but not before the gun discharged a single shot, passing millimeters before her torso.
Patterson screamed and slumped as the shot smashed through him, falling and tumbling over the edge of the pit of Babylon, following his dreams down.
Drake could only watch in horror as the body plummeted past. As the professor fell, the flashlight he held fell with him, its beam picking out a flickering kaleidoscope of jagged rock, trailing vines, black mud and—
—the sword!
Drake caught its glint about ten feet above him. The point had wedged into the side of the pit. Quickly, he sank his hands into the sides of the pit and grabbed hold, tested his weight and pulled.
The hand that grabbed his ankle was straight from the stuff of nightmare. It was the monster reaching out from under the bed, the beast crawling up from the pit. It was Zanko, covered in filth.
“Little man,” he breathed. “We have a score to settle.”
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
Drake knew his only advantage was in maintaining the higher position. Without thought, he relinquished his grip on the side of the pit and stomped down at Zanko’s arm. The Russian had anticipated the move and twisted slightly. Drake’s stamp grazed down the Russian’s arm, serving only to unbalance him. He fell and twisted to his side. Zanko’s other arm came out of nowhere, a hammer blow to Drake’s chest. With the air forced out of him, he could only pant as Zanko hauled himself up.
But Drake recovered quickly. He threw a sod of earth at the Russian’s face and let loose a salvo of punches at the immense torso, working around every pressure point he knew. When the monster came up hard, arms flailing, Drake stepped away and threw one of the hardest punches of his life at Zanko’s face.
The Russian’s nose burst, blood splattering across his cheeks, chin and eyes. Blinded, he made a lunge for the side of the pit to steady himself. Drake leaned back and brought his knee up, kicking out at the man’s ribs. The blow would have sent a grizzly over the edge, but Zanko only grunted, half-turned, and raised his arms. With consummate care he took a sniff of an armpit.
“For you.” He inhaled loudly, then roared at the top of his voice, face turning redder than the blood that coated it. “For Zoya!”
He charged at Drake, meaning to take them both off the outcrop and down into the pit. Drake saw no place to go. As he stared into the eyes of the onrushing madman he realized that this really was the end.
****
Alicia and the Bitchin’ Motherfucking Hellslayers hit the Singen tomb with everything they had. Burdened with the suspicious package containing the two swords, b
ut then happily finding an array of advanced armament awaiting them, they joined up with the local German forces and beset the third tomb with unstoppable force.
The passage that descended into the bowels of the Earth had been greatly enlarged during the last few months and several tributaries added. To their credit, the German special forces’ commander sent units down every pathway – as ploys and back up to the main force that pounded down the main artery. Alicia moved at the head of the pack, all fired up for battle, aware of the time limit that Karin had passed along to her, but unaware of how the rest of the SPEAR team were doing.
All she knew was that everyone she loved and cared for was now in harm’s way, battling a mystery madmen to keep control of their planet.
Men fell before her, bullets winging them or smashing into their vests, with the occasional head shot, picked off by the cowardly mercs who crouched at the head of the corridor. Alicia and her crew fired relentlessly, pulverizing the rock walls around the tomb’s arched entry, creating a mist of fragmented rock and spent bullets that helped cover their assault. Lomas, Ribeye and Laid-back Lex ran at her side, handling the advanced weaponry with ease. Ribeye, she knew, was ex-special forces, but as for the others, she had no idea where they had learned their skills.
Best not to ask, Lomas had told her.
Not a problem. Alicia had enough skeletons of her own not to question other people’s. The only time she drew the line was after the terrifying recent realization that her new biker nickname – Taz – was also a video game character. A sprite. Every biker, on pain of castration or decapitation, had promised never to reveal it to any member of the SPEAR team – especially Mai Kitano. Now, worries cast aside, she leapt over the body of a fallen German soldier and rolled into the chamber, recognizing it from the last time she was here – the high, encircling walls of niches that held the most evil gods, the central ring of statues that had been built to accept the nine parts of Odin.
Now no longer needed since someone had found a failsafe, another way to activate the damn device.
And, horrifyingly, she could see strange pale glows emanating from the niches themselves. Were the god parts shining? The latent energy in this place powering them up?
She fired hard, blasting one of the statues to pieces and also the merc who hid behind it. The other entryways belched out German troops. The bikers filled the void behind her. Men fell to their knees and let loose lethal volleys, bullets crisscrossed the tomb of the gods in a hellfire hail of death. Screams punctuated the center of it all, rising on wings made of agonizing pain and murder, all gladly accepted by the tomb’s crumbling, long dead occupants.
Then Alicia’s mouth literally fell open.
At the heart of everything, like a dynamo at the core, stood Russell Cayman; naked, bloody, with his arms striking frantically at the air.
Real hell blasted her world to shreds.
****
Drake threw himself lengthways. Zanko hollered and clawed helplessly for him, but nothing could stop the juggernaut. His feet struck Drake’s ribs, firing cannonballs of agony into his spine, and he flew headlong out into the center of the pit. Drake turned his head as the monster somehow managed to arrest his fall, hands like digger buckets clamping hold of the pit wall.
Drake stood quickly. Zanko hung helplessly in front of him, too far away to make it back to safety, too heavy to climb up to the top of the pit.
Drake didn’t gloat. He needed that sword. He examined the walls above as best he could, pinpointed the sword, and took hold of a rock.
Zanko’s voice drifted out of the dark. “Why did you kill her?”
Drake paused, startlingly aware that this man knew nothing of true values, of morals, nor did he possess much of a conscience, but also aware that it wasn’t entirely the Russian’s fault. “It comes back to the trafficking ring,” he said softly. “You don’t mess with the innocent, with their families, their kids. You don’t kill another man’s wife and expect to live.”
When Zanko failed to answer, Drake took a step up, then another. The rock and earth muddle held well, despite being hidden behind a layer of pure muck. He was about to take another careful step when the question he had once asked Yorgi stole back into his brain. He wiped his hands and felt his desperate need get the better of him.
“Have you ever heard of an operative called Coyote?”
At first there was no answer. Then Zanko’s resolute voice broke the silence. “Little man, you are worthy adversary. Perhaps one of only few I have encountered. You did well in the prison courtyard, so I will give you this. Coyote is a shadow, a whisper, a ghost invented to scare big bad guys like me. They say she comes with the wind and leaves with your head, silent, swift, unstoppable. She will kill you before you can blink and take your eyes before you see her. Coyote?” A harsh bark. “She is a demon of legend made flesh.”
“Who says all that?”
“Zoya. They met. Once. It is said that if this Coyote respects you, she will only take your life.”
Drake shifted. “Only?”
“But if she dislikes you or if you’ve done something very bad, she will go further . . .”
Drake licked his lips. The darkness hung heavy around him. “What do you mean – further?”
“She subjects you to the Devil’s Cut.”
“The Devil’s Cut?”
“So they say.”
With that, there was the faintest rustle and then the sound of something huge chasing shifting shadows down into the everlasting dark. Drake took one look, sighed, and fixed his eyes upward.
To the sword.
Take the Great Sword into the Pit.
His hand closed over the hilt. Well, here he was.
What next?
He looked up. Mai was staring down at him.
“Look out. The sky’s falling down!”
Drake remembered the old Dinorock tune. “This is no time for—”
Then he recoiled as a lightning storm collapsed on him.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
Hayden ran like the wind, noticing the chasm ahead, gauging its width and leaping across without hesitation. A tall man, who looked to be in his early fifties, stood above her, laughing as he paced around the black granite throne of Odin, finally spotting her and bellowing out a command.
“Kill her. She is too late anyway. The Shadow Elite will soon once again control fate itself!”
A man stepped into view beneath the throne, aiming a pistol. Hayden flinched, totally exposed, but then a Glock cracked behind her head and the man’s pistol flew out of his hand, struck dead-on by a bullet. Kinimaka had fired first, seemingly his last shot as the next one clicked on an empty chamber. Hayden ran at their attacker as a knife appeared in his other hand. She body-swerved as he lashed out and dug her stiffened fingers into his larynx.
He choked, but didn’t go down. He thrashed at her again. She caught the wrist and broke it, but the man was tough and he was trained. He too stepped in and delivered a blow to her abdomen that doubled her over. She went down to one knee. She sensed an elbow being raised above her in preparation for the final blow that would break her neck.
“Hey! Look up!”
The scream made her look sideways in time to see the spinning blade of the sword arcing toward her. The man above hesitated, half-backing off, and that was his downfall. Hayden caught the sword’s hilt and spun in a single calculated move, feeling the blade slice through the gristle of his neck.
Kinimaka made for the ladder that led to Odin’s throne.
Hayden started to follow, but at that moment she felt the onset of something huge beginning to build all around her. The sudden crackle of unseen energy made the air smell of static electricity, like ozone created by thunderclouds. When she looked up she saw a bolt of lightning strike the rock near Odin’s chair.
Crap, what had Akerman said about the doomsday device being a weapon that could harness the elements?
It was already too late.
****
The man in the suit had seen Dahl’s intent, but didn’t bat an eyelid, just continued to glare up at the roof of the volcano toward the starlit skies beyond. In his right hand he held what looked to be a long, thick bone. Could it be one of the gods’?
“We are joined,” Dahl heard him say, and then gawped.
A squall began to gust inside the mountain, whipping through the man’s jacket. The very air crackled. The bedrock began to tremble and shake. Lightning bolts struck before his eyes, fizzling and flickering, charging the air with electricity, swarming around the man’s body and shooting off up into the air and, beyond that, into the skies.
The storm to end all storms was coming.
****
Alicia ran straight at Russell Cayman, but then a storm of elements erupted around him and a discharge of energy flung her back. Was this earth energy? The vortex was erupting, the failsafes and conditions of the gods met at last.
“Are you crazy?” she screamed at Cayman. “You’ve switched on the fucking doomsday device.”
Cayman’s face was bathed in sweat and glory, and starkly lit by lightning. He clasped a giant skull in one hand, undoubtedly the head of Kali. Alicia saw bright energy bolts shooting through the eye and mouth sockets.
Cayman’s terrible visage turned upon her. “Now,” he said. “Now I have come home.”
The flickering tree of lightning climbed higher and higher, gusts of wind scoured the chamber. Alicia scrambled on her knees, for once helpless to do anything about it. The niches above trembled and quivered before her eyes, starting to shake in the throes of an impending earthquake.
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