Cryptid Quest: A Supernatural Thriller (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 8)

by Anthony M. Strong

  Rory had heard the shots, too. He risked a furtive glance back over his shoulder. “Do you think it got him?”

  “Don’t know.” Decker steered the archaeologist back toward the riverbank. They needed to reach the pyramid, and the best way of doing that was to follow the weaving Amazonian tributary, since the lidar survey data clearly showed it was located directly upriver from their base camp. This was the only reason the anomalous structure had been so easily located by the film crew. Even though it was covered in thick jungle foliage, its position straddling the river and significant height meant the building wasn’t totally concealed beneath the dense rainforest tree canopy. It stood out on the imagery, even to an untrained eye.

  Decker pushed through the understory, hoping that his instincts were taking them in the right direction. Five minutes later, he was rewarded by the sound of rushing water, and soon they stepped out of the jungle onto the riverbank. He stopped and looked around, getting his bearings. They had emerged a good way upriver from their original location, where they first encountered the Cyclops. He looked back toward the trees, wondering if Garrett had successfully led the Cyclops away from them.

  Rory stood near the riverbank. He bent over, hands on knees, catching his breath. He looked sideways at Decker. “Are we safe now?”

  “Safer than we were fifteen minutes ago,” Decker said, still scanning the jungle for any sign of pursuit.

  “Do you think Garrett made it okay?” Rory asked.

  Decker was about to say that he hoped so, but before he could speak, they got their answer. From somewhere deep within the crowded jungle, came a shrill scream, quickly cut off.

  37

  “You think that was Garrett, or one of the others?” Rory asked, his voice trembling. “It didn’t sound like a woman, so at least we can rule Emma out.”

  “I don’t know who it was.” Decker’s heart sank. Whoever it was, they were likely dead. “Let’s keep moving.”

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t go back to base camp and fetch help?” Rory looked back in the direction from which they’d come, even as Decker started along the riverbank in the opposite direction. “The rest of the Ghost Team is there. They have guns.”

  “I’m sure,” Decker replied. “We agreed to meet Garrett at the pyramid. If he survived, he’ll be heading there. The others, too, probably. Besides, I bet those guns at base camp don’t work either.”

  “Speaking of guns, how could they all fail at once?” Rory asked, as they walked. “You think they were sabotaged?”

  “I can’t think of another explanation.” Decker hated to think that the guns were deliberately tampered with. That confirmed a member of their team was a double agent. But it made sense after the snake incident. Someone had been trying to slow them up, probably to delay them long enough for gunmen to arrive and make sure they never went anywhere again. “Right now, we need to worry about surviving and reuniting with any members of the team that are still alive. We can deal with the rest later.”

  “Who do you think the saboteur is?” Rory asked, hurrying to keep up with Decker, who was moving fast. “One of the production company people, maybe?”

  “I don’t think so.” Decker shook his head.

  “Then a member of the—”

  “Quiet!” Decker shushed Rory with a wave of his hand and came to a sudden halt.

  The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

  Something was moving off to their left, in the thickest part of the underbrush. He could hear rustling as it drew closer. His gaze swept across the landscape, looking for whatever made the noise. A moment later, a large Cayman came into view from behind a flowering bush and slipped effortlessly into the river with barely a ripple. It swam out a few feet and turned to observe them, beautifully concealed with only its eyes, snout, and the top of its back breaking the water’s surface.

  “Crap, that was close.” Rory took an instinctive step backwards. He observed the scaly beast with a wary eye. “If you hadn’t stopped us, we would have walked right into its path.”

  “We should be careful,” Decker said. “If that’s a female, she may have a nest around here. There could be eggs. If she thinks we’re a threat to them, she could attack.”

  “Great.” Rory looked at Decker. “Why couldn’t you have kept that to yourself?”

  “Just keeping us safe.” Decker led them past the spot where the Cayman had entered the water. He kept the animal in view, aware that it could strike quickly and without warning. But the Cayman showed no interest in going after them. Instead, it moved further out into the river with a lazy swoosh of its tail.

  Here, the bank curved as the river took a wide turn to the left. Decker was relieved to be out of the Cayman’s line of sight, but when they rounded the bend, he saw something that made him even more happy.

  Rising out of the jungle was a pyramid shaped building, its four slanted triangular faces draped in thick carpets of foliage that gave it the appearance of a straight sided mountain. It spanned the river from one bank to the other, with a huge dark tunnel running through the middle to allow the water’s passage. The opening reminded Decker of a submarine pen, with a wide base and a taller middle section that gave it the appearance of an upturned blocky letter T. He’d seen photos of such pens on the Internet after his experience on Habitat One with the sunken German U-boat had led him to browse the origin of the deadly Nazi vessel. But this was not meant for submarines. It was here thousands of years before such vessels even existed. So why did they build the pyramid over a tributary of the Amazon and put a steep walled tunnel through the middle of it? The answer, he was sure, lay somewhere deep within the bowels of the building. And he hoped they would find out. But in the meantime, they had a bigger issue.

  Something else was moving toward them in the jungle, and this time he was sure it wasn’t a Cayman.

  “What’s that?” Rory asked, looking around.

  “I don’t know,” Decker admitted. He pushed Rory forward. “Don’t stop.”

  “What if it’s Garrett or the others?” Rory asked. “They might be looking for us.”

  “Doubtful. Whatever is coming, it’s making too much noise,” Decker said. There was no way anyone in their group would be crashing through the understory in such a reckless fashion. Even if they were injured. “My guess is the Cyclops.”

  “Just great.” Rory quickened his step.

  Decker looked around frantically. “We’re too exposed out here. We have to get out of sight, and quickly.”

  “Hiding didn’t do us much good last time,” Rory said. “That Cyclops could smell us.”

  “Better than standing out here in the open,” Decker said. They were close to the pyramid now. The building loomed over them, blocking out the sun. Decker saw a stone path leading into the dark tunnel beneath. Up close, it looked even more like a submarine pen, with vertical stonewalls lining the riverbank flanked by wide walkways.

  Decker risked a glance back over his shoulder, just in time to see a familiar shape emerge from the trees on the bank behind them.

  The Cyclops.

  And this time it showed no interest in having a drink of water. There was only one thing on his mind. The two of them.

  “Hey, over here.”

  Decker was startled to hear a female voice calling out to them. He turned and saw a slim woman with a cascade of tumbling brown hair standing at the entrance to the tunnel. She waved her arms above her head and gestured frantically.

  “Hurry,” she shouted. “You don’t have much time.”

  And they didn’t.

  The Cyclops was already making its way toward them, loping along with an alarmingly fast gait. Its arms swung back and forth as it went. Its single eye fixed them with an unwavering stare.

  “I think we should do as she says,” Decker said quickly, pushing Rory toward the pyramid.

  The archaeologist needed no urging.

  Together they sprinted along the riverbank, while behind them the Cyclops thu
ndered along, its heavy footfalls audible over the sound of rushing water to their right.

  Decker didn’t dare glance back now. Any such move would only slow him down, and they needed every second they could get. His lungs burned and his leg muscles ached. He expected powerful hands to grip him from behind at any moment, lift him into the air, snap him like a twig. But miraculously, they reached the gaping black hole in the pyramid’s side and tumbled through into the gloomy interior.

  The mystery woman was waiting for them.

  No sooner had they reached her, than she turned and took off deeper into the tunnel, calling over her shoulder, “Follow me if you don’t want to die.”

  38

  They continued deeper into the tunnel with the mystery woman in the lead. Once they put some distance between themselves and the entrance through which they’d came, she slowed up and turned to face them. “This should be far enough. We’ll be safe now.”

  “How do you know that?” Rory asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

  “They don’t like to come in here,” the woman replied. She nodded back toward the entrance where the Cyclops stood, watching them but refusing to advance. “See?”

  Decker watched as the Cyclops paced back and forth, frustrated but obviously afraid to venture further. It glared at them and bellowed in anger; the sound echoing along the tunnel and repeating eerily.

  “How long will it wait out there?” He asked. The woman stood with folded arms. “They can be pretty single-minded. It will probably wander off by morning, though. If we’re lucky.”

  “The morning?” Rory’s face fell. “We can’t stay in here all night.”

  “Then leave,” the woman said. “Be my guest.”

  “Why can’t we just walk all the way through the tunnel to the other side?” Decker could see another entrance in the distance, weak light spilling in.

  “Because where there’s one of those things, there’s probably more. And they’re smart. They might not want to come in here, but I bet you there’s at least two of them waiting on the other side of the tunnel for us to do exactly what you just said.”

  “Come on,” the woman turned and started walking further into the tunnel.

  “Wait, you haven’t even told us who you are,” Decker said.

  The woman glanced backwards over her shoulder. “I’m Cassie Locke, one of the co-presenters on Cryptid Quest.”

  “John Decker. My colleague is Rory McCormick. We came here to find your team, rescue any survivors.”

  “And not a moment too soon. I was starting to lose hope of ever being rescued. I’m so happy to see you guys.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Oh, I’m going to mention it. You’re my hero’s.”

  “I wouldn’t speak too soon. We still have to get you back to base camp.”

  “Which won’t be happening for a while,” Cassie said. “In the meantime, we have to keep moving. It’s not safe here.”

  “I thought you said the Cyclops wouldn’t follow us inside here,” Decker said.

  “It won’t, probably. At least it hasn’t so far.” Cassie was approaching a large archway built into the side of the tunnel. “But there are other things out there. Creatures just as nasty as that one-eyed monstrosity, and some of them aren’t afraid of the pyramid. Believe me, I learned that the hard way.”

  “Like what?” Decker asked.

  “All sorts of things. I’ve only run into a few, but I’ve heard enough strange noises in the jungle to know there’s a whole lot of other terrifying beasts lurking out there.” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “You ever been chased by a Hydra?”

  Decker shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Well, I have. Damned near got me, too. Reared up out of the river while I was collecting water. Scared the life out of me.” Cassie looked back at them. “There will be plenty of time to talk about that stuff later. Right now, I’d rather get us to safety.”

  They were coming up on the archway. Decker noticed that the stone path they were now on turned at right angles and disappeared into this new tunnel. Flickering light spilled out onto the pathway, lighting up the entrance.

  Cassie reached the corner and turned back toward them. When Decker drew level with her, he stopped short.

  This new tunnel continued for about three-hundred feet before ending at a stone wall. There were torches lining the wall, their flames leaping high as they crackled and burned. But it was what sat in the middle of the tunnel that took Decker’s breath away.

  In front of them, sitting upright with its bow facing the rear wall in a waterless channel, was an immense ship of ancient design, a least a couple hundred feet long.

  Decker and Rory exchanged astonished glances.

  It was no wonder the tunnel resembled a U-boat pen, Decker realized, because it had been built for a similar purpose, albeit many centuries earlier. Unbelievable as it was, they were standing inside an ancient, covered dry dock complete with a sailing vessel that must be thousands of years old, and yet was in such good condition that it might have sailed here only yesterday.

  39

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rory said in an awed voice as he stared up at the ship in front of them. It sat upright in a deep dry dock, supported by thick wooden posts that braced the hull against the dock’s vertical sides. Two hefty wooden gates, sheaved in what looked like copper, stood closed across the dry dock’s entrance, holding the river water beyond at bay. Even after so many centuries, the mighty doors were still watertight. What looked like open pipes sat at intervals sticking out from the sides of the dock, no doubt part of the mechanism by which the sailors who brought the ship here pumped the water out, probably to work on the hull after a long sea journey. Or maybe because they knew they would be here awhile and didn’t want to subject the ship to any more water damage than necessary.

  Decker was momentarily dumbstruck.

  Rory, not so much. His eyes glinted with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. “It’s all so well preserved. Simply incredible.”

  “Isn’t it, though,” Cassie said, a slight smile lifting the edges of her mouth. “I was floored when I found it. Not that I had much time to stop and marvel right at that moment. I was also being chased by Typhon, or at least the creature from which the myth probably sprung.”

  “What’s a Typhon?” Decker asked.

  “A creature from Greek mythology,” Rory said. “The offspring of Titans—pre-Olympian gods. A serpentine winged creature with the upper body of a man. He was the father of Cerberus, the multi-headed dog that guarded the gates of Hades. Not a pleasant monster to encounter.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Cassie said. “It was the first creature we encountered here. Damned thing swooped down and took our producer, Evan Granger. Carried him off. I haven’t seen him since, so I assume he’s dead.”

  “There’s more of my production crew out there, but I haven’t seen them since the initial attack. I don’t know if I’m the only one left, or if anyone else survived.”

  “If anyone else is left, we’ll find them,” Rory said. He was still gazing up at the double masted galley in wide-eyed wonder. “I can’t believe this is here.”

  “Me either,” Cassie agreed. “I mean, a pre-Christian Mediterranean trireme in the middle of the Amazon jungle?”

  “Looks Greek,” Rory said, walking along the stone dock to the front of the ship and peering up at the still visible red and white painted eye that adorned the curved bow.

  “It’s not quite a true Greek design,” Cassie said. “For a start, there aren’t any openings for oars along the vessel’s sides. A classic trireme would have space for a hundred or more oarsmen. This one has none. It relies solely on sail power. I’m assuming that’s because it was ocean going and would have needed a smaller crew to ensure their supplies lasted over such a long journey.”

  “Not to mention the rigors of traversing such a large and dangerous body of water,” Ro
ry said. “Oars wouldn’t cut it and leaving all those open oar holes on the hull would be a recipe for disaster. One bad storm would flood the ship and cause her to sink.”

  “Exactly.” Cassie nodded her agreement. “But here’s the best part. There’s Egyptian influence on this boat, too. I found hieroglyphics carved into the beams on the inside. I suspect the ship was a joint venture between the two civilizations.”

  “Which must date it after the eighth century BC,” Rory said. “Somewhere around the rise of the Greek civilization at a point in history when the Egyptians were reaching the end of their run.”

  “I guess we know how the Cyclops arrived here,” Decker said. “It came on one of these ships.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Cassie said. “For all we know the Greeks and Egyptians came here to get the Cyclops, and transported them the other way, back to Europe and Africa.”

  “You think?” Decker asked.

  “It’s a theory I’ve been mulling. Maybe they were harvesting these things for some reason, capturing them in the Amazon, along with a host of other nasty creatures that shouldn’t exist,” Cassie said. She glanced around nervously and motioned toward a crude gangplank leading from the dock up to the ship’s deck. “Which is why we shouldn’t linger out here. Not all the monsters that inhabit this jungle are shy about venturing inside the pyramid. The ship is safe enough, though. At least so far.”

  “Have you explored inside the pyramid, yet?” Rory asked, as Cassie led them toward the gangplank.

  “No. There’s an archway at the far end of the dock that leads into the building proper, but I’ve been more concerned with staying alive than exploring. Besides, after what I’ve seen lurking out here, who knows what may be deeper inside the pyramid.”

  “How did you survive?” Decker asked.

  “It hasn’t been easy,” Cassie said. She started up the gangplank. “If it wasn’t for finding the ship, I’d probably be dead already. I was able to hide inside it, and the torches on the dock kept most of the critters away. I was able to light them with a box of matches from the emergency kit in my backpack. I was kind of surprised that they worked, to be honest. I figured the tar would be long since dried up. Guess I was lucky.”