The Mayan Legacy (A Simon Gray Thriller Book 1)

by Edward G. Talbot

  Both men looked up as a wave of tension flooded their brains. Humans were nearby, and the two protos could read their intentions as if splashed in neon across the sky.

  They had come to destroy.

  Gonzales and Merveen moved to the door at a jog. That few hour window was now ten minutes. Maybe less if the Americans had brought small vehicles. The protos had placed a couple of traps in the tunnel, but they wouldn't hold back a trained force for long. Any major deterrent like explosives would have risked a collapse.

  By focusing his mind, Gonzales could send an emotion to the other protos which would signal them to meet in the central chamber. But from there, they wouldn't make it to the long tunnel to Akahim in less than quarter of an hour.

  Gonzales sensed a different concern on Merveen's mind and shifted his attention to his friend.

  “What is it?”

  “Ronin, what about the prisoners?”

  “That is a good question.” Gonzales had forgotten about Balaga and Hitchcock. The big scientist had gotten off a shot at Merveen and missed. Shortly thereafter, several other protos had arrived to subdue him. The two outsiders remained in the room, and Gonzales pondered what to do.

  “Let them go. Take them to the tunnel, aim your guns at them and tell them to run towards the surface. With luck, their unexpected appearance will slow down the incoming team and buy us some time. Get a couple of the others to help you, then meet in the central chamber.”

  Merveen's face couldn't hide his skepticism. “That seems like a long shot.”

  “Maybe, but it's a chance.”

  “OK, but what if the big one resists again?”

  Gonzales' face crinkled in distaste, but he didn't hesitate with his answer.

  “Kill them.”

  “They said what?”

  Andrea's response to Crowder had left no doubt about her disdain. The marine had explained the directive from Braxton and Richards the previous evening, eliciting shaking heads and groans.

  “You heard me. We have until tomorrow morning at oh-nine-hundred local time and then we better be outta here unless we want to be on the receiving end of the bunker-busters.”

  “What about the virus?”

  Simon had kept his voice matter-of-fact, but inside he'd felt the same frustration as Andrea.

  “I asked him that. He said that there has been some success with giving infected individuals a high fever; it seems to kill the virus. The only reason we're getting until the morning is because that's when the CDC expects to know for sure whether the induced fevers are doing the job.

  “It is what it is. We're gonna go in right after dawn. We need as much time as possible to plan this thing out if we want to increase our chance of success. That gives us only ninety minutes to go in and get the job done. Don't know if it's enough, but it's the best balance I can come up with.

  “Number one objective is to get whatever information we can about the virus, in case the CDC is wrong. That means bringing some people out with us, but also interrogating people while we're down there to see if they have a lab or other information we can use right on site. Number two is to rescue Ms. Riccio's assistant, Joe Balaga. He may be dead, but we don't know. Number three is not a high priority, bring out the Englishman, Hitchcock. We may have to subdue him first.

  “Any questions?”

  That was twelve hours earlier. Now they raced down the dark tunnel into the protos' system of caves. Ten marines along with Simon, Andrea and Riccio, all wearing Kevlar vests. They'd debated bringing Jaime, but decided that the risk of his telepathic connection somehow interfering with the operation was too great. He remained on the shore with the other three marines.

  Crowder led the way with two other marines, Simon and Andrea right behind him. As the only one without military training, Riccio remained in the middle. With thirteen people and a full complement of lights, the tunnel didn't seem particularly ominous, but Simon could imagine the terror Riccio had felt trying to escape in utter darkness by herself.

  They moved at a brisk walk, with Crowder's headlamp illuminating the area for twenty or thirty yards in front of them. The unit weighed less than a pound, yet provided over ten thousand lumens, drew almost fifty watts, and could run for twenty-four hours before needing a recharge. Simon had asked about its power source and received a two word answer.

  “It's classified.”

  Simon didn't know what to expect down here. Riccio hadn't seen much and Cortez hadn't been there since he was seven years old. The real wild card was the fact that the protos would know they were coming and sense some of their intentions. Plus, they could communicate without speaking. None of the marines had trained for anything like this scenario.

  A shout from somewhere in front of them shattered the calm; eleven weapons reacted by pointing in the general direction of the tunnel ahead. Even the marines in back had their weapons at the ready, but would not fire without a clear shot beyond the others.

  “It's Joe!”

  Riccio bolted past the marines towards a figure rolling on the ground. She kneeled and put her hand on his shoulder. The tall researcher lay on his side with his hands covering his eyes. Crowder motioned his palm towards the floor and the others lowered their weapons. Then he and Simon went towards Balaga.

  “Our lights must have blinded him. Is that right, Mr. Balaga?”

  Balaga removed his hands from his eyes and blinked several times. Then he looked up at Simon and nodded. His voice still hinted at the pain. “Yeah. What the hell kind of light is that?”

  Simon and Crowder both said it at the same time. “It's classified.”

  Riccio laughed and Balaga looked confused. She stood up and reached her hand out to him.

  “Never mind, Joe, an inside joke. Are you okay aside from the eyes? And what the hell are you doing here, did you escape?”

  He got to his feet and did a double-take at the sight of all the soldiers.

  “Yeah, I'm fine. They released me about five minutes ago. I have no idea why. Now it's your turn to answer a question. Where did you find these guys?”

  Simon felt himself liking the big man. He could see two huge bruises on the side of Balaga's face, along with at least one oozing gash. Those had to hurt, yet he'd said he was fine. And despite a surprise release, a pitch black walk through the tunnel, and the blinding light, he was alert enough to ask about the situation.

  Simon said, “I can answer that. We were searching for this entrance when Gabby escaped. I think you heard about the virus. We need to find out if they have any information we can use to stop it.”

  Simon could sense that Crowder wanted to say something so he stopped. Crowder offered his hand to Balaga and the researcher shook it.

  “Riccio told us what you did. My hat's off to you. Normally, I'd send you back to the surface with one of my men, but given all the unknowns, I'd be willing to have you come with us. No guarantees about surviving, though.”

  Balaga chuckled.

  “Jeez, how can I refuse an offer like that? Yeah, sure, if I can help, I'm on-board.”

  “Good. How much further is it to the first cross-tunnel?”

  Balaga scratched his chin. “I don't have a watch, but it wasn't long. Coulda been anywhere from a couple minutes to five or six. I wasn't running, either, not without being able to see.”

  “That's great information. Anything else we should know?”

  Riccio spoke before Balaga could answer. “And what happened to Hitchcock?”

  Balaga's eyes narrowed. “They came to let us go. They said there had been a change of plans and we needed to leave as soon as possible. The three guys seemed on edge, and normally the protos are the most relaxed people I've seen.”

  Simon interrupted. “They're not people.”

  “Point taken. Anyway, they were uptight and I don't know why, but something unexpected must have happened. Hitchcock begged them to let him stay. The bastard actually got down on his knees and started pulling down on the guy's shirt.

&
nbsp; “That's when the guy took out a gun. I was already at the door, and when I saw the gun I stopped. Then the proto said I should leave if I didn't want to get shot, too. I ran, but I heard the shot a few seconds later.”

  Silence met this last remark. Then Crowder cleared his throat and turned to the group behind him.

  “Okay marines, probably less than five minutes. They know we're coming and we basically know squat. Some of us are probably gonna die. What do we say to that?”

  Everyone except Riccio and Balaga gave the appropriate answer before they continued down the tunnel.

  “Ooh-rah!”

  As the other protos appeared in the chamber, the Leadership Council members informed them of the need to head for the Akahim tunnel as soon as possible. Gonzales stood on a small elevated stage and repeated these instructions every twenty or thirty seconds. The telepathic ability allowed him to convey distress, which would draw the others to the chamber, but it did not allow him to send out specific instructions.

  There simply wasn't time to wait for everyone to assemble and then leave as a group. In fact, the only hope lay in the word spreading to head for the exit instead of coming here first. Already he could sense that happening, but he could also sense the marines getting closer.

  Merveen came into the room and approached the stage. Gonzales jumped off it to meet him.

  “The prisoners?”

  “Balaga left with no resistance. But Hitchcock …”

  Merveen bowed his head and Gonzales knew what he would say. “I had to shoot him.”

  “You did what you had to do. I need to you get to Akahim now and help lead people out. Use the upper tunnel and run to get ahead of them. Everything happened so fast I was unable to send anyone else, and the Council members are still here giving instructions.”

  “I will.”

  Merveen left the room at a jog. Gonzales stepped back up onto the stage and looked out at the protos in the chamber. Most were now leaving instead of coming in, and he hoped they'd achieved a critical mass to get everyone headed towards the tunnel.

  He reached his mind out towards each of the leadership council members, who made their way to the stage upon receiving the message.

  “The Americans will be here in a few minutes.”

  Heads nodded and he continued. “We need to summon our soldiers.”

  The word he used in the proto language didn't mean soldier exactly, but they all used it to describe about thirty male protos who had trained to use a variety of different weapons. Once a year, they took two weeks of refresher training, but none had experienced actual combat. They would now protect the retreat.

  The protos' special mental abilities allowed them to sense the feelings of groups of individuals, but the ability to focus attention to influence the feelings of another only worked on one at a time. So it proved easier for Gonzales to use his voice now. He called out over the crowd.

  “Soldiers, assemble on the stage.”

  In less than ninety seconds, all the soldiers had gathered around the Council members. They already held weapons, Micro Uzi submachine guns from a storeroom outside the chamber. Not only did their small size make them better for enclosed fighting deep in the earth, but the closed bolt design of the Micro Uzi was prone to fewer problems than the full-sized version. The protos accepted the trade-off of reduced muzzle velocity and a potentially hotter weapon.

  Gonzales, who had spent some time among the human military, recognized the limitations of thirty men with modest weapons training. He needed to level the playing field, but his idea would have one major drawback for the soldiers.

  Their almost certain death.

  With the fate of his society at stake, he didn't hesitate.

  “Guys, we need a diversion. They must not follow us to Akahim, so your task is to lead them in another direction. The supply tunnel is what I'm thinking, and set up an ambush from the cover near the fork.”

  He sensed a mixture of fear and resolve, exactly what soldiers everywhere felt. They'd get the job done, and they'd be remembered afterwards as heroes.

  “Ten of you will come with me to Akahim. Then I need half a dozen to stay here, and the rest go set up in the tunnel. You guys staying behind need to be in two groups of three, one group by each of the two west exits. When the marines come in, scramble out of here and head for the fork. With any luck, almost all of them will follow you.”

  He could tell everyone understood both the plan and its implications. One of the soldiers said, “This may be a dumb question, but how will we meet up with you?”

  Gonzales breathed in and out through his nose. A direct question, one that deserved a direct answer.

  “I won't lie. There are only two ways. One is that you escape out the supply tunnel and find a way to meet us in Guatemala. The other is simpler. You kill all the marines and follow us to Akahim.”

  The questioner closed his eyes and then opened them and nodded slightly. Gonzales felt guilt gnawing in his stomach and looked away, out at the dwindling crowd. No more than a hundred left in the chamber, and none coming in. The marines were close though, two or three minutes away.

  He pushed away his doubts and looked back at the soldiers. A human leader would have said a few motivational words about the importance of the mission, but he didn't need to. He opened his mind and felt them join in a gesture of inclusion and compassion. Without words, ten soldiers separated themselves into a group. The rest turned and headed for the west wall of the cavern.

  Gonzales called out to the handful of remaining protos.

  “All of you, we need to leave. Now.”

  He jumped off the stage and crossed the massive chamber to an exit near the northeast corner, the ten soldiers following him. In the intervening thirty seconds, all but the soldiers had left the room. Before leaving, he looked back and felt a sense of emptiness and loss. He wouldn't be returning.

  He saw the six remaining soldiers, clustered in two groups. Tears welled in his eyes and he didn't try to stop them or wipe them away. The human concept of God flitted into his mind, and part of him wished that he believed, just so he would have some comfort.

  The soldiers would die to save him and the others. He'd make sure they didn't sacrifice for nothing.

  “How 'bout this one?”

  Andrea motioned to yet another door with her MP5. The equivalent of an entire city lay down here, but they'd seen no signs that could help direct them. No street names, no “house” numbers, nothing. Simon figured that the protos' mental ability rendered such information unnecessary. That and the fact that no strangers ever needed directions.

  So they'd split into three groups. Crowder had brought handheld radios, similar to old-fashioned walkie-talkies, because the modern satellite and other types of communications wouldn't work this far underground. These units featured encryption and voice-activated headsets, allowing secure hands-free talk among the groups.

  From listening to the chatter, Simon estimated they'd tried three dozen tunnels and a hundred doors. Every door was painted white, with black hinges and handle. The hinges attached directly to the rock, and the contractor in Simon found himself wondering exactly how they did it.

  He shook off the thought; he needed to focus. Even Jaime knew very little about the layout, just that the protos used some sort of central chamber for large gatherings. Jaime provided one other useful piece of intelligence on the subject, the suggestion that the protos would likely head for a long escape tunnel towards the northeast of the cave system. Simon had agreed with Crowder's directive to move towards the center first, hoping to find someone before betting everything on the one tunnel.

  So far, they'd seen no one. Simon considered the possibility that it was too late. But they had to keep trying.

  Simon and Andrea's group included three marines, led by a Captain Gregory. With brown skin and features speaking to his Native American descent, the Captain exuded a sense of confidence in the way he moved. The night before Simon had watched the man doing som
e exercises similar to yoga, one of which involved balancing his entire inverted body on one forearm.

  Gregory nodded at Andrea and she nudged the door open. A light shone out, and Simon squinted as his eyes adjusted. He could see a huge room, at least a hundred meters across. The light came from some sort of mirrors mounted close to the ceiling, which had to be forty meters high.

  He caught a movement in his peripheral vision and grabbed Andrea's shoulder to stop her from going in.

  “Wait! I saw something.”

  Gregory said, “So did I. I think we need to—”

  The sound of machine gun fire vibrated in their ears, and they pulled back from the door. Simon could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

  “I didn't see any cover in there near the door, did you?”

  Andrea wrinkled her brow.

  “I think I did, just off to the left, but I'm not positive.”

  Gregory looked at the other two marines.

  “I need a volunteer.”

  Before any of them could move, Andrea slipped through the doorway, firing a burst from her MP5 as she did. Simon held his breath, expecting to hear a scream, but none came. Then he heard her voice above the metallic sounds of weapons fire.

  “There's a big rock five meters to the left. On three, come in firing. One. Two.”

  “Three!”

  Simon and the marines went through the door and sprinted to the left. They fired across the room, but Simon knew at that distance, they'd have to get very lucky. He could sense that the protos were not aiming high enough; their bullets fell short.

  They reached the rock, which provided enough cover for them to stand nearly upright. Andrea had positioned her gun on top of it and was firing steadily. They could hear the sound of Uzis, but nothing struck the rock. These guys just weren't very good.

  Then the firing stopped from the other side. Simon peeked above the rock and two groups of figures disappeared out two different doors.

  “They're leaving.”

  Andrea grabbed her gun and started around the rock.

  “We can't let 'em get away.”