Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2)

by Robert Storey

  They reached another intersection. Susan hesitated, and Jason and Trish took the lead, but the collapse was on them. The entrance to the tunnel crumbled. Susan covered her head with her hands, but Hilt was there again, leaping forward to hold up the massive load. Trish dragged Susan onwards and Sarah crawled beneath the Darklight officer as his left leg buckled under the weight, forcing him down onto one knee.

  Sarah grabbed his arm. ‘Come on!’

  His helmet’s mask retracted. ‘Go,’ he said, grimacing in effort, ‘keep Susan safe.’

  Sarah looked back at the tsunami of rock seconds away.

  ‘GO!’ he roared.

  Sarah scrambled to her feet and ran.

  The ground beneath Hilt gave way and the Darklight leader was carried into the depths in a cloud of dust as thousands of tons of rock came crashing down.

  The rumbling continued and Sarah sped through twists and turns after her friends. A large crack appeared in the ground, its black maw splitting the ground in two and lancing down the tunnel through which they ran. Sarah found herself with nowhere to go. With a scream she fell into turmoil, to be joined soon after by Trish, Jason and Susan. With a jarring thud, Sarah slammed into a slope and was swept down in a sea of debris. Down and down she slid, into the black. Surrounded by chunks of tumbling stone, she was washed along on a wave without water. Gradually her descent slowed and the noise from above petered out to distant tremors. The labyrinth had ended and they’d escaped its final death throws by the skin of their teeth.

  Standing up, Sarah sidestepped some smaller rocks, which bounced past, and looked for her friends.

  Trish came clambering over the boulders, her injured arm cradled against her chest. ‘Where’s Jason?’

  Sarah shook her head and searched for him with her visor.

  ‘Jason!’ Trish called out.

  A slew of stone and dirt trickled down to the left and the small form of Susan appeared, the mute woman stumbling towards them before stopping close by.

  Trish cupped her hands to her mouth. ‘JASON!’

  ‘Over here!’ he said, his voice coming from the right.

  Sarah and Trish worked their way over to find Jason lying on his back. He turned his head and looked up at them.

  ‘Stop messing around,’ Trish said, ‘we need to keep moving.’

  Jason pointed at his leg. ‘That might be a bit of a problem.’

  Sarah looked down to see Jason’s leg trapped beneath a large piece of masonry.

  ‘I can’t feel my foot,’ he said.

  Trish moved round to the other side of the obstruction and Sarah followed to where Jason’s foot was twisted back at an abnormal angle.

  ‘How bad is it?’ he said.

  ‘Not good.’ Sarah crouched down to see if they could free him.

  ‘Can we move it?’ Trish said.

  Sarah thought they could, but she wasn’t sure and she didn’t want to make things worse. She stood up. ‘I don’t know. You take a look.’

  Trish bent down and felt around with her hand. ‘If we can lever it from the other side it should roll off without doing any more damage.’

  Sarah nodded and after a couple of minutes of struggle they managed to remove the block of stone from Jason’s leg.

  He looked down at his injury. ‘That doesn’t look good.’

  ‘It might not be that bad,’ Trish said.

  ‘Not that bad!’ He gestured at his foot. ‘It’s pointing the wrong way!’

  ‘Can we twist it back?’ Trish asked Sarah.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She looked at Jason. ‘Do you want us to try?’

  He nodded and dropped his head back to the ground. ‘I can’t go anywhere with it like that. Do it.’

  Sarah looked at Trish and saw her incapacitated arm left the job up to her. However, as she considered the task she realised she could do more harm than good, especially if her track record on poor decision-making was anything to go by. As she delayed, her doubts continued to mount and she shook her head. ‘No, I can’t do it, I might make it worse.’

  ‘How can you make it worse?’ Jason said. ‘Look at it!’

  Sarah glanced at Trish for support.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she said, indicating her injury.

  Left with little option and despite her own anxiety, Sarah bent down and grasped Jason’s ankle with one hand and his foot with the other.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, feeling queasy, ‘I’m going to move it on three, all right?’

  Jason nodded, unable to watch.

  ‘One,’ Sarah said and wrenched his foot round.

  Jason screamed in agony.

  Sarah felt resistance and twisted harder.

  Jason screamed again. ‘Stop! Fucking stop!!’

  ‘Just a bit more!’ Sarah gave the foot one last push and let go. ‘There,’ she said, turning to him, ‘all done.’

  ‘I think he’s fainted.’ Trish leant down to listen to his breathing, and straightened when she was satisfied he still lived. She then dug something out of her pocket, which she passed to her friend.

  Sarah looked down at the Anakim pendant, glinting in the palm of her hand under the glare of her helmet’s torches. It was as if the artefact didn’t want to leave her, like it had a mind of its own. She ran a finger over its surface. She was tempted to launch it into the dark, to get rid of its curse once and for all, but she knew, despite its ability to attract disaster, it also represented the only way out of the black hole that had become her life.

  Sarah looked up as Susan shuffled closer.

  The woman, gaunt and filthy, gazed down at Jason with scared eyes.

  ‘Its okay, Susan,’ Trish said, ‘he should be better when he wakes.’

  Susan didn’t reply; she just stood there, staring at Jason and scratching frenetically at her wrist with sharp, broken nails.

  An ugly red rash had developed on the woman’s skin due to the OCD-like habit and Trish grasped the girl’s hand to stop her.

  Susan tensed at the contact and frowned.

  Trish let her go. ‘It must be the stress of being down here, in the dark – alone.’

  ‘Except she wasn’t alone, was she?’ Sarah said.

  ‘Perhaps that’s why she doesn’t speak,’ – Trish’s expression turned to pity – ‘she must have been terrified half to death, the poor thing.’

  Sarah reached out to stroke Susan’s hair. She felt for her, Trish was right; the poor woman must have suffered horribly, but her thoughts couldn’t help but stray to the vision of Riley being held at gunpoint by the Terra Force colonel. Just before the carnage had begun, she’d glimpsed the Deep Reach team leader rolling away to safety. That he lived should have brought her joy, but she knew he was forever lost to her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was there to help the Special Forces track her passage through Sanctuary. After all, she thought, he taught me all I know about traversing this hidden realm; she touched the pendant in her hand, well … nearly all.

  That Riley knew her as the colonel had declared – a thief, a terrorist and a murderer – was also yet another nail in the coffin of their union. Not only had she betrayed his trust by stealing his multifunction card, he must have thought her responsible for the death of his friend and colleague, Cora, who’d died when touching the orb. For who else could she have killed, or been accused of killing? No one as far as she knew. He must hate me. The idea repulsed and dismayed her in equal measure. But such fascinations were for the past. She was stuck in the present and everything that entailed.

  Sarah turned her attention back to Jason.

  What with Trish’s arm, his foot and this strange woman, they weren’t just down the creek without a paddle, but down it without the whole damn boat. Couple that with the creature in the dark and its attraction to Susan, and it might not be long until they encountered the light again. And this time they wouldn’t have the mysterious Darklight to protect them.

  As Sarah’s fears grew and doubts strengthened, the newest member of their comp
any remained oblivious in silent vigil. Susan stared without blinking into the dark, watching … waiting. The fingers on her hand twitched and a few seconds later the scratching began again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shouts and cries for help rang throughout the chamber as the massed ranks of Terra Force worked together to free those trapped beneath the mounds of fallen rock. Fortunately for most, the blast resulting from the Darklight missile attack had been deflected by the high escarpment on which they’d been positioned and as such, casualties had been limited to hundreds instead of thousands. But as the excavations continued, the death toll rose and along with it hope faded that any more would be found alive.

  Amongst the floodlights and armoured soldiers, the teams from Sanctuary’s Exploration Division assisted their Sancturian brethren in the search for survivors.

  Deep Reach team leader Riley Orton struggled with a large rock before being helped by his colleague, the bearded Jefferson Church.

  ‘There’s someone under here,’ Jefferson said, rolling the boulder aside with a crash.

  Dust hung in the air and Riley increased the intensity of his effort as more of the man’s armour was revealed.

  ‘Can you hear me?!’ Riley said, heaving off another piece of rubble.

  A pair of glowing green eyes glittered to life in the dark and a powerful hand grasped Riley’s shoulder.

  ‘I can hear you, boy,’ said a gravelly voice.

  Riley stepped back as Colonel Samson rose from his tomb of stone. Dust and dirt cascaded down from his broad shoulders and the SFSD leader removed his helmet and breathed deep.

  The colonel flexed his arms and cracked his neck before focusing his cold eyes on Jefferson and then on Riley.

  ‘How many casualties?’ Samson said.

  Riley glared at him.

  ‘You want vengeance?’ Samson moved closer to him. ‘You want me to apologise for putting a gun to your head?’

  The memory of being moments from death flashed into Riley’s mind and his hands clenched in fury.

  Jefferson pulled him away. ‘Perhaps a thank you for saving your life is what he wants.’

  Samson laughed. ‘No, I think he wants to ram a knife through my eye, isn’t that so, Orton?’

  An image of doing just that and more swamped Riley’s mind.

  ‘Sir,’ a commando said, approaching, ‘we thought you were dead.’

  ‘No such luck,’ Jefferson muttered under his breath.

  ‘Report,’ Samson said, and moved down from the pile of fallen rock.

  ‘Over one hundred and twenty fatalities and rising, and double that number have injuries that prevent them from continuing.’

  Samson rubbed a hand over his stubble. ‘Morgan?

  Riley tensed at the name.

  ‘No sign of her, Colonel,’ the soldier said, ‘or Darklight. It’s possible they escaped the fallout, but we won’t know for sure till we get down there.’

  ‘S.I.L.V.E.R.?’

  ‘We’ve seen no sign of them since …’

  ‘Since they turned traitor and ran,’ Samson told him.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  An officer arrived on the scene and handed Samson a canister of water.

  The colonel drank deeply and then wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. ‘Send the order out; S.I.L.V.E.R. operatives are to be shot on sight. Finding the woman is priority. Get them ready, we move out in twenty.’

  ‘But, sir,’ the officer said, ‘we need to keep looking for survivors, and the wounded—’

  ‘Can fend for themselves until we get back,’ Samson said. ‘The search is over, ready the men – now.’

  The commando saluted and disappeared back into the mayhem.

  Samson gave Riley a contemptuous look and walked away without another word.

  ‘We should have left him buried,’ Jefferson said, watching him go.

  Riley couldn’t have agreed more as his teammate patted him on the shoulder and left him to his own devices.

  Like a moth to a flame, Riley’s thoughts returned to Sarah and he moved away to the newly created cliff edge and stared out into the darkness, where he hoped the woman everyone sought still lived. He removed a photo from his coveralls and gazed into the blue eyes of the person who’d stolen so much more than precious artefacts. How can I help you, Sarah? he thought. Should I help you? Where are you going? Do you even want my help? He recalled how he’d felt when he’d seen her again from afar; elated, anxious, angry. Even when the gun had been put to his head, he’d kept her in his sights. Is there a way to slow Samson down, he wondered, and S.I.L.V.E.R., too? Shall I buy you time, Sarah, is that what you need?

  The sound of someone approaching failed to wrest Riley from his deliberations and they stopped by his side, the loose rock crunching underfoot. ‘She’s pretty,’ said a familiar voice.

  Riley looked round to see SED facility commander Dresden Locke staring out into the abyss beyond.

  The veteran explorer sighed. ‘Some men do stupid things for pretty.’

  ‘And some men are just stupid,’ Riley said.

  Locke laughed. ‘You’re not wrong. But pretty isn’t always beautiful, pretty can be twisted, mean and rotten to the core.’

  ‘You think Sarah has a black heart?’

  ‘No, but some women are just … conflicted. And you have to ask the question.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Is she worth it?’ Locke turned to face him. ‘Is she worth your life, your soul?’

  Riley tucked the photo back into a pocket. ‘The decision’s out of my hands, she saw to that.’

  ‘And yet you can’t let her go.’

  Riley didn’t know what to say. He’d never been in such a position before, torn between equal forces. He stared down at his hands, his eyes drifting out of focus.

  ‘He won’t stop,’ Locke said. ‘Samson, he won’t stop until he has her.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And he won’t care if she, or any one of us, dies in his quest to get his hands on those artefacts.’

  ‘No, he won’t.’

  ‘Then if we want to stay alive, and if you want to make sure she stays alive, we need to make sure we find her first.’

  Riley looked up. ‘We?’

  Locke pointed and Riley turned round to see his twenty strong Deep Reach team, Alpha Six, geared up and ready for the off. At their head Jefferson held up his climbing equipment and grinned.

  Riley’s mind jumped into overdrive. ‘They’ll be right on our heels.’

  Locke nodded.

  ‘And if they catch up to us …’ Riley said.

  ‘They’ll be pissed.’

  Jefferson approached. ‘We’ll need to move fast.’

  ‘And for that …’ Locke said.

  Riley attached his kit. ‘We need the best explorers in Sanctuary.’

  The facility commander lowered his visor and smiled. ‘It’s time to show these yahoos how it’s really done.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Malcolm Joiner stood at the sweeping window of the SED’s command suite, an office usually frequented by the facility’s commander, Dresden Locke. The GMRC Intelligence Director held his hands clasped loosely at the small of his back as he gazed down to the shuttle bay below, which continued to bustle with frenzied activity. A deep rumbling announced the arrival of another air-shuttle, the discordant sound sending vibrations through the floor at his feet. Moments later the craft hove into view, cresting the lip of the giant oval shaft that disappeared into the depths beneath.

  Progress in the field had gone well; preliminary reports made by Colonel Samson’s force had been beyond expectations, but still a deep sense of unease had settled upon Joiner as the days and hours passed. The other teams who’d been following the longer route to the temple had reported they’d found Sarah Morgan’s trail, but it was as they’d feared, they were still many days behind.

  Since his confrontation with Committee member Selene Dubois, he’d been expecting to hear word f
rom an irate Samson on his command being usurped by Ophion and S.I.L.V.E.R., but the communication had never come. He was told later that the cabling connecting the SED substation to the colonel’s transmission hub must have been severed. He allowed himself a small smile. There were a number of possibilities to account for the cessation of signals from the lead expedition; however, it wouldn’t surprise him if Samson had taken measures to maintain command.

  The desktop intercom buzzed as an incoming video message from Sanctuary’s GMRC Command Complex appeared on the wall display. It was Grant Debden, his primary aide.

  Is he in my office? Joiner thought, glimpsing a stunning coastal resort in the background behind Debden which could have only come from a 3D wallscreen.

  Joiner frowned at his subordinate’s transgression and touched the screen to accept the call. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sir,’ Debden said, his eyes focusing on his director, ‘Ms. Dubois has requested an audience with you in Tower Central.’

  Joiner suppressed a grimace. ‘Did she say what it was about?’

  ‘Her office informed me a board of evaluation had been convened. They said if you’re to attend it will commence in five hours’ time.’

  ‘A board of evaluation,’ – Joiner felt his chest tighten – ‘you’re positive that’s what they said?’

  ‘Yes, sir, although I’m not sure what it’s about. Your review of directorate nominees isn’t due for another month and I have no other such instances in your diary.’

  Joiner knew exactly what it meant. The Committee had made his failures a priority. He’d been summoned for judgement. If you’re to attend, he thought with bitter resentment, they say it as if I can refuse. If the Committee called, you answered.

  ‘Shall I confirm your participation?’ Debden said.

  ‘Yes. Remind me when I need to leave.’

  ‘Of course, sir, I’ll arrange transport.’

  Joiner cut the transmission and sat down in his chair wondering what he could do to make things right with the Committee. Or is it as I feared, he wondered, have they purposefully manoeuvred me into an untenable position? It was the not knowing that drove him to distraction, and if there was one thing Joiner hated, it was being kept in the dark.