The Mayan Legacy (A Simon Gray Thriller Book 1)

by Edward G. Talbot

“Wait!” Gregory's voice stopped her.

  “It could be a trap. Head out there and you're exposed. I just told the other two groups where we are and one has an ETA under three minutes to get here. In the meantime, let's head around the perimeter where we can find cover every ten to twenty meters.”

  Andrea met Gregory's eyes, and Simon could see her impatience battling with her training. She motioned with her weapon for Gregory to take the lead.

  Simon took one more look across the chamber and memorized the position of the two doors where he'd seen the gunmen. He didn't want to get to the other side and lose track of where they needed to go. Then he followed the others along the wall at a jog.

  They reached the first door on the other side with no more sign of the protos. As they arrived, Gregory informed the other groups that they'd be giving chase. Andrea opened the door, pointed her weapon out and fired as she stepped out.

  A second later, the firing stopped.

  “All clear.”

  Simon left the room last and found himself in a single tunnel. At least they wouldn't have to guess which way to go. Andrea was already jogging twenty yards ahead, and Simon fell in line behind the marines.

  For several minutes, they continued with no cross-tunnels forcing them to make a choice. Then they came to a tunnel that came in at a sharp angle from the right. Taking the turn would have been about a one-hundred forty degree direction change, so Gregory decided they should keep going.

  Gunfire erupted forty-five seconds later.

  Andrea roared and almost dropped her weapon, and Gregory jumped to pull her back against the wall. The gunfire stopped.

  She gritted her teeth. “Fuck that hurts! I'm OK, just grazed my arm. These guys are either missing on purpose or they're terrible shots.”

  Simon wondered about it. Could they be missing on purpose? Could the protos be sacrificing these few to protect the escape of the rest?

  He looked down at his compass. They'd brought compasses instead of GPS devices, because even though certain types of rock could interfere with a compass, GPS would not work at all. This tunnel led due west, certainly a different direction than the long tunnel Jaime had mentioned. If this didn't pan out, they'd have little time to go anywhere else.

  “Gregory, I think Andrea might be onto something. This is too convenient, them firing on us for a minute and then bolting. I think they want us to follow 'em. They'd keep firing if their goal was just to kill us or escape.”

  Andrea still held a hand over the wound on her arm.

  “Maybe. Or maybe they're low on ammo. Maybe they know they're out-gunned and they're trying to stall us by firing short bursts and then hauling ass.”

  Gregory said, “Look, I hear both of you, but we've engaged the enemy and I see no other options that don't involve wandering blindly. The problem is, whoever takes the lead is a sitting duck.”

  As if to punctuate his words, they heard more gunfire, and they could see chunks of the rock exploding as the bullets struck.

  “Fuck this!”

  Andrea sprinted forward, firing the MP5. Above the sound of dueling weapons, Simon heard several cries of pain. She was gonna get herself killed, but she'd taken out one or two of 'em already.

  “Shit!”

  Gregory rushed after her, but obviously couldn't fire his weapon for fear of hitting her. Simon and the other two marines went after him, guns pointed down and to the side. He heard more shouts up ahead as they came to a fork in the tunnel. The ceiling rose from seven feet to more like twelve and he could see a ledge about eight feet off the ground near the beginning of each fork.

  And on each ledge, at least half a dozen gunmen.

  “Fall back!”

  His words disappeared as the real gunfire started.

  In the enclosed space of the tunnel, it sounded to Simon like a thousand bombs exploding in his head, though he knew it was probably only twenty men with guns. He backed up on instinct and pressed his back to the wall, knowing that five people could never hope to assault a position like that.

  The others weren't as lucky.

  He saw Andrea fall to the ground, and her body jumped as bullets continued to riddle what was now her corpse. Even in the dim light of the headlamps, he could see half of her skull missing, and he felt rage at his helplessness.

  Gregory tried to backtrack, but he bumped into one of the other marines who had taken a hit to the forehead. He stumbled with the contact, then his own body lurched as multiple bullets found a home in his right hip and his legs. He sprawled to the ground face first, arms spread like some nightmarish snow angel.

  Bullets continued to blanket the area.

  The final marine turned and moved towards Simon, but then he took multiple hits to the back. Despite the Kevlar, the force of the impacts caused him to trip, and he went down on his side only two yards away.

  Simon took a step towards him, and then retreated as the body continued to buck on the ground from more hits. The man was still alive, but he wouldn't be for long.

  This all happened in five seconds that seemed like an eternity. A cliché, but in his experience, combat was always like that. The decision about his next move didn't even require conscious thought. Dying would accomplish nothing, so he had only one option. He turned his back on the fork in the tunnel.

  Then he ran.

  In the other tunnel, Gonzales sensed the marines, but he had limited options for dealing with them. Already, he knew that most of his people had reached the vehicles, fully charged carts that could reach Akahim without difficulty. He and the ten soldiers formed the vanguard. The Americans could not be allowed to follow much further.

  His soldiers couldn't win a straight firefight. Even the ambush risked losing everything to an enemy with superior training. If it was settled with weapons alone, the protos would lose.

  There seemed only one choice. Reach the carts a couple of minutes ahead of the pursuers. Get three carts pointed in the right direction and send two of them and eight soldiers on their way. The two remaining soldiers would use their Uzis to disable the rest of the carts. He could think of no other method to accomplish this.

  The problem was, once they started firing, the marines would come running. Gonzales needed to be off with his two soldiers in the final cart a few seconds before the marines sighted them. He had no idea if they'd have enough time.

  He explained the details to the soldiers as they continued jogging. Heads nodded, and a moment later, the group accelerated almost as one. They needed to widen the gap.

  They had only minutes to do it.

  “Say again?”

  Simon had reached the chamber and heard Crowder's voice crackling in his headset.

  “We're following a small group of them. We saw them on our way to the chamber. They're jogging, but only about five miles an hour, so we're having no problem keeping up.”

  “How do I get there?”

  “We're headed northeast, that's about all I can tell you. Hold on a sec, the other group caught us a minute ago.”

  Simon heard muffled voices on the other end before Crowder returned.

  “Okay, we're about three minutes away from you. The other group just followed every tunnel that went the closest to northeast and they caught us. You're gonna have to sprint.”

  Simon started running across the chamber.

  “Okay, I'll see you soon. I gotta save my breath, but I need to tell you none of the others made it.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was a trap. The guys we were following set up an ambush. The only reason I made it is I got stuck behind everyone else.”

  “No chance they survived?”

  Crowder's voice allowed some emotion, but not much.

  Simon pictured the bullets and the bodies.

  “Sorry, Mike, I wish I could say yes, but no way. They're gone.”

  He heard a sigh on the other end.

  “Understood. Get your ass up here and we'll try not to lose anyone else.”

 
It didn't need a response. Simon reached a four way intersection, looked at his compass, and went straight. He increased his pace and his chest heaved. He knew he couldn't sustain it for long, but he caught his breath as he slowed to check the compass at every intersection. He reminded himself that Andrea had sacrificed herself to allow him to survive, and he'd be damned if the sacrifice would be in vain.

  Seven minutes later when he called Crowder, he knew he was spent.

  “What your situation?”

  “Still following. This tunnel hasn't changed since the last time you called. Same size, same flat grade. It's gotta be the long one Cortez told us about. Where are you?”

  “I don't know, but I could be getting close. Tell your flank not to shoot me.”

  “Will do.”

  A minute later, he reached them. Crowder motioned for the group to stop, six other marines plus Balaga and Riccio.

  Simon bent over with his hands on his knees, allowing the oxygen to return to his lungs. Still panting, he turned his head up to look at Crowder.

  “How close are we?”

  “We got a glimpse of 'em two minutes ago, just before you called.”

  Simon stood up, breath returning to normal. “With their abilities, they know you're here. You could be walking into an ambush. Just like me and Andrea did.”

  “We're short on time, but what happened?”

  Simon shook his head. “They were waiting. A narrow tunnel with ledges. At least a dozen men, or protos actually, opened fire. Andrea charged them and took out half of them before she went down. Everyone else followed her, and I only survived because I'm old and slow and couldn't keep up.”

  Crowder chuckled. “That means you're old enough to know better than to indulge in bullshit guilt about it. She was a good soldier, but you'll have time to mourn later.”

  Simon felt the rebuke, but he knew Crowder had a point. “Right, the task at hand. Do you think we need to take the initiative here and press hard?”

  “You want to risk running into an ambush at full speed?”

  Simon reminded himself again how reasonable an attitude Crowder maintained. Simon was a civilian, yet Crowder had engaged him and considered his suggestions in the middle of a dangerous pursuit. There was no easy choice here.

  “Good point. I just wanted to throw it out there.”

  “And I appreciate it. All of us are smarter than one of us.”

  He turned to the other marines.

  “Any other input on whether we get aggressive?”

  Six matching grins told the whole story. For men of action, a headlong rush always seemed more appealing than a tension-filled stalk. Crowder shook his head and couldn't hide his own smile.

  “OK, here's the deal. Randolph and Martinez, you stay in back with Simon and the civilians. I'll lead the others at full speed and you can do your best to follow. At the first sign of a threat, I'll open fire, but the rest of you hold off unless you see my hand signal. We'd like one alive, but first priority is to keep all of us alive, so we'll have to be flexible. Unless they've sped up, we should catch 'em within three minutes. Clear?”

  Six voices spoke as one. “Yes, Captain!” Crowder jogged to the front.

  “Then let's go.”

  Gonzales and the other protos hurried to prepare the carts. They were stored in a chamber that served as the final stop before the long tunnel to Akahim, a square room about thirty feet across with an eight foot ceiling.

  Sixteen carts remained; eight soldiers piled into two of them and drove away. Gonzales and the two remaining soldiers positioned a third cart near the northeast exit to the room. He stayed in the driver's seat as the two lifted their Uzis and fired at the tires and engines of the other thirteen vehicles.

  “Captain, we should have reached 'em by now. They musta picked up the pace.” Simon spoke through his headset to Crowder at the front of the pack. He and Riccio and Balaga had kept up speed behind all the marines, but using the headsets proved far easier than trying to yell.

  Crowder didn't slow as he answered.

  “You got that right. In some ways that makes me feel better about the possibility of an ambush.”

  Riccio answered before Simon could respond.

  “Or it means we're almost there.”

  The sound of gunfire burst through the space, cutting off Crowder's reply. The captain stopped on instinct, and several of the trailing marines stumbled into each other trying to match him.

  Simon's mind raced, searching for an explanation. He discarded theory after theory in a fraction of a second before accepting that he didn't know. He yelled into his headset.

  “I don't know what the hell is going on, but as long as they're firing, we know where they are. We need to get up there.”

  “I concur. Move out.”

  Crowder started running again. The smell of cordite, acrid and overpowering, swept through the tunnel. Simon saw him lift his weapon, and a second later he knew why. A hundred feet ahead, muzzle flashes highlighted a cloud of smoke.

  Crowder pulled the trigger an instant after the firing from ahead stopped. The smoke prevented Simon from seeing anything, and the sound of automatic fire filled his eardrums. Still, Crowder sprinted forward and fired, with the rest of them following.

  They arrived at the smoky area and Simon realized it was a large room. They saw dark objects through the haze. Simon and Crowder recognized their basic structure at the same time and both spoke into their headphones.

  “Golf carts?”

  “Look!”

  The shout came from Riccio, who pointed beyond the smoke. One of the carts was moving, heading into a tunnel at the other end of the room. Crowder swung his weapon towards the cart, and bullets tore into the back of it for a second before it disappeared.

  Crowder stopped firing

  Simon hurdled one of the wrecked carts and yelled into his headset, “I'm going after 'em.”

  Crowder's breathing was heavy as he answered.

  “Stanski, Briggs, go with him, we'll follow after we secure this room.”

  Simon heard the footsteps behind him, but focused his mind ahead. His headlamp revealed that the tunnel was lower and narrower than the one leading to the chamber. He could hear the sound of wheels rolling over the rock floor ahead of him.

  He quickened his pace, and wondered how long he could keep it up. He wasn't yet fifty, and he'd read about men who could run marathons at close to five minutes a mile at his age. At this moment, he didn't believe it. Another minute or two and he'd have to back off or risk passing out.

  He glimpsed movement ahead. Could he be catching them? He raised his MP5 and fired somewhere around a dozen shots. He heard a yell and tried to push the pace even more. He could hear his heart pounding inside his head as if it would explode.

  When he started getting dizzy a minute later, he slowed down. He tried bending over, but he couldn't take in enough oxygen, and he sagged against the wall. He wheezed and gasped, tasting the stale underground air. Even with the sounds of his breathing, he could tell the cart had pulled beyond reach.

  The two marines reached him, and one stopped while the other kept going.

  “You all right?”

  Simon nodded and got to his feet, still unsteady but no longer ready to fall. He spoke through shallow breaths.

  “Fine. They got away, you'll never catch 'em.”

  “I don't know, Briggs is quick. You were going pretty fast there for—”

  “For an old guy? It's okay, you can say it.”

  Crowder's voice came over the headset.

  “Simon, Briggs, Stanski, what's the status?”

  Stanski answered. “Simon got off some shots, but he says they're too fast. Briggs is still chasing.”

  “I hate to do this, but it's thirteen-twenty, and we need to be gone. If we don't get back to the boat by thirteen-forty-five, we won't be clear in time for the bombs.”

  They heard a voice answer the captain through heavy breaths. “Briggs here. Roger, that, I'm
turning around.”

  Simon wanted to protest, but he knew Crowder was right. They'd found nothing that would help cure the virus, and they hadn't stopped the protos from escaping. He hated to fail, but he'd read about the kind of damage the modern bunker-busters could do. Aside from the lack of hard radiation, they did more damage than a nuke. He didn't want to be underground when the Air Force dropped them.

  Stanski had already started jogging back towards the room. Simon settled for a fast walk, still recovering from his exertion. He answered Crowder in his headset.

  “Simon here, I'm on my way.”

  The race to the surface nearly destroyed Balaga. Riccio had told Simon about the big man's endurance during the days in the Amazon, but that was very different from a twenty minute hard run. Simon hung back, mixing words of support with hard exhortations. If they hadn't kept slowing to figure out what turn to take next, Balaga wouldn't have made it.

  All the way up the final tunnel, Crowder tried contacting the boat. He got through about a minute from the end. The men on shore reacted immediately, and by the time Simon emerged with Balaga, the boat lay a few feet from the rocky island. Crowder was already climbing the ladder from the river into the boat, and the others followed. Simon had to push Balaga up the ladder when they had waded the short distance. The big man collapsed onto the deck, gasping for air. Riccio knelt next to him, her hand on his forehead, not saying a word.

  “Let's go, cast off!”

  Crowder yelled to the marine at the helm as he moved towards the front. Moments later, Simon could feel the vibrations from the two screws churning the water. They needed to put several miles between themselves and the entrance to the caves, and fast; while they were moving with the current in a section of the river with a clear channel, they couldn't afford any wasted time.

  Simon leaned against the railing and watched Riccio tend to Balaga. He was sitting up now, and even managed a smile through pale lips. Simon felt a pang of jealousy at their closeness, more from a general sense of separation than from any real attraction to Riccio. He recognized that the end of a major operation can cause all sorts of unexpected emotions, and he knew that killing Cimil had changed him in some way. Knowing the cause didn't stop the feelings.