Beneath the Dark Ice (34 page)

Matt and Aimee were on the ground where Alex had dropped them. He stood immobile, half turned away from them, looking back the way they had come. Even his breathing was imperceptible. Aimee thought he looked like a statue; hewn from dirt and blood and iron. As she watched, one of the wounds on his back stopped bleeding and started to knit over. A thought flashed briefly through her mind—he’s not human—and was gone just as quickly.

They didn’t need their torches as light now shone through the opening, and as the tunnels weren’t filled with boiling steam or water Alex made a decision: back to the doorway—pronto.

It was still filled with ice. However, now it was like being in shallow water as the sunlight reflected down onto the remaining ice layer, perhaps for the first time in more than 10,000 years, giving them a view over the Aztlan court of almost crystal clarity. The ceremonial courtyard was filled
with beautiful murals and intricate stone carvings made from polished granite. The colours, the finish on the stone, and all the fine detail had been preserved perfectly.

Matt and Aimee pressed themselves up against the ice and stared at the vista before them—at what was perhaps the cradle of all human civilisation. Almost hypnotised by the wondrous sights, their reverie was quickly interrupted by a deafening shriek from the tunnels behind them.

Alex had to act quickly; he only had minutes before the ice started to refreeze—though by the sound of the creature’s advance he’d be lucky to have half that time. He stepped closer to the wall and looked upwards. The doorway was six feet high and he could see that the ice looked to be about two feet over and above this. He needed to dig a hole wide enough for them to get through and up at an angle of about forty-five degrees. If he started at the top of the doorway, that was only about three and half feet of ice—four max. He stepped back and reached to his hip; nothing. He had nothing left on him he could use.

“Can we help?” Aimee asked. She looked at him standing there in thought. Alex turned around and looked at her, and then over her shoulder at the cave floor and smiled. “Yes, you can. You and Matt can take cover.”

Alex walked over to the wall where several large pieces of the black granite had been dislodged. Alex knew that the granite the Aztlans used was as hard and tough as steel; it was the best tool he could find. He lifted a piece the size of a fruit crate and walked back to the doorway. When he got within ten feet he lifted it above his head. The stone must have weighed in excess of 700 pounds. Alex charged.

Using the force built up from his momentum, he launched the stone up at an angle at the ice doorway. It struck the top of the ice with an explosive crash. Vein-like cracks appeared right throughout the ice door and the impact mark he had made was a frosted crater. About twenty
pounds worth of ice was dislodged; Alex brushed away some of the looser ice and had a quick look at the job at hand. Making a mental recalibration he picked up the rock again and walked back to his starting position.

Matt had moved behind him and was determined to help, perhaps trying to keep busy so he didn’t have to think about Monica. He had found a stone about one tenth the size of Alex’s but found he had trouble lifting it above his knees. He saw Aimee looking at him and remarked, “I think I’ll stick to doing the thinking.”

Good idea
, Aimee mouthed back. She appreciated his attempt at humour, but his voice didn’t sound right and his face looked slack.

Alex walked back a few paces, looked towards the doorway then charged. This time Alex aimed the large stone into the hole he had previously created. The granite boulder shattered in two and half the stone stayed embedded in the ice. Alex pulled it out and used a shard of stone like a shovel to clear away the loose ice debris. The hole was now two feet in diameter and intruded into the ice a little more than that. The impacts had created numerous faults in the once dense blue ice and each one made the next throw more effective. The beautiful vista of Aztlan was now gone as the ice doorway was a craze of shattered and splintered ice.

An unearthly howl came from beneath their feet. It was so close they could feel as well as hear it. Matt and Aimee forgot about Alex’s instruction to stay clear and inched closer to him. Alex was looking down at the tunnel floor with his head slightly turned.

“OK, nearly there. Another couple should do it.” Alex still wasn’t even breathing hard; he walked back down the tunnel to select another stone. This time he selected one a little bigger than a football. He hefted it in one hand, then took another run at the ice door. In a long arm throw any
football coach would have been proud of, he launched the stone at the hole with even more of an upward angle. It left Alex’s arm so fast Aimee and Matt could barely see it travel through the air. It struck the upper centre of the ice hole like a cannonball. On this launch it didn’t bounce back or become lodged in the ice; it punched its way through and let a streaming ray of white sunshine into the tunnel, followed by a gush of warm water.

Aimee watched the muscles in Alex’s back ripple as he let loose the stone. She realised that all the wounds on his back had ceased to bleed and most now were even starting to knit. Who was he? What was he? Why did he call himself the “Arcadian?” She knew from school that Arcadia was the legendary birthplace of one of Zeus’s sons. But it didn’t make sense. Ever since she had watched him defeat the giant Russian and then, by himself, shift stones that must have weighed tons, she had questions. Aimee knew about stress-related adrenaline bursts that gave normal men short but explosive strength to perform superhuman acts. But those capabilities disappeared immediately after the act or stress event was removed. But this man, Alex Hunter, could summon those strengths and extra abilities at will.

He must be some sort of military experiment, she thought. Aimee drew in a cold draught of fresh air and smiled. As a spotlight of real sunlight hit the tunnel floor, she realised it didn’t matter. It was enough for her to know he was special. He had risked his life for all of them, dozens of times. He had saved them.

Lieutenant O’Riordan was the first to spot the dark debris appear out on the ice.

The three helicopters hovered over the almost circular bowl-shaped hole in the ice. Just under forty feet across at
the top, it widened at the bottom to a belly of approximately fifty feet. This was due to the heat effect of the thermite being concentrated downwards and sideways the further it sank into the ice. The edges were glass smooth as if the hole had been polished by a thousand jewellers, and now that the surface snow was removed the outline of the city could be seen under the ice. The only blemish was a football-sized piece of dark rock and its exit crater towards one side of the ice hole.

The helicopters landed back from the edge and immediately disgorged men carrying an array of climbing equipment. Drop winches were pinned to the upper ice lip and the men quickly rappelled down into the crater.

Water was just starting to run down the sides of the large bowl and the air at the bottom was balmy and very humid. It wouldn’t be like that for long; the bottom of the pit would fast fill with warm water and once that cooled to slush it would block the hole. From then it would set like stone.

O’Riordan and his men charged towards the hole with ice axes and a single portable pneumatic jackhammer.

The initial flush of water never abated and quickly became a torrent as the melted ice poured through the hole Alex had opened. The good news was that the liquid was still warm and it was smoothing and ever so slightly widening the edges of the hole. The light flooding down into the tunnel suddenly darkened as objects could be seen moving around on top of their prison and then came the sweetest sound they could ever have heard—another human voice.

“Captain Hunter? Lieutenant O’Riordan at your service.” O’Riordan lay down on the ice and extended his arm into the hole. Alex could just reach the hand and he grasped it firmly.

“Glad to see you, O’Riordan. It’s getting a bit boring down here, mind if we come up?”

As Alex finished speaking a petrifying screech sounded from all around him. It finished with a grinding squeal as though rocks were being moved and pulverised under their feet.

“What the hell was that?” O’Riordan’s face, peering down into the hole, had paled and he quickly withdrew his arm.

“Just a little motivation, Lieutenant. We need to leave, right now.”

“You got it, sir,” O’Riordan said and asked Alex to stay back a few feet from the hole while they widened it. They only had a few more minutes before everything started to re-ice. Alex gave the OK and called for one thing—the biggest gun they had.

The most powerful ordnance they had on hand was an army-issue M16 assault rifle. Primitive compared to what the HAWCs used as standard operating equipment, but better than throwing large rocks, which was all Alex had left.

Alex grabbed the weapon and stepped back from the ice hole. The sound of the jackhammer was not loud, just a grinding pump followed by chunks of ice coming through the hole. He ran down the tunnel; he knew their pursuer would not have given up and he could sense its presence all around him. The smell of ammonia was strong but not overpowering, meaning the creature was near, perhaps just behind one of the walls. Alex knelt on the ground and put his hand flat to the cold stone surface; he could feel the vibrations. Below the freezing blocks he could now hear the liquid sliding sound as if a river of flesh was moving quickly along just below them. He could sense a massive gathering of strength.

Alex picked up the rifle and sprinted back to the ice door. They were about to be ambushed.

The creature could sense them just ahead and above. It compressed its boneless body into a long elongated pipe and moved along the large drainage tunnels, gently widening the old stone walls as it went. It was being driven
mad by hunger as the pumping of the jackhammer gave off vibrations similar to a creature in distress, and that meant easy prey. It would get below them and launch its final attack.

“We’ve got company.” Alex ran back to Matt and Aimee just as the jackhammer stopped and a rope dropped through the hole. The water had stopped flowing and was now solidifying into an icy sludge. The new hole itself was large enough for a body to be pulled through. Alex grabbed Aimee and lifted her towards the opening.

“Aimee, go.”

Aimee turned around and quickly kissed Alex on the side of his mouth and then said, “Don’t you dare be long.” With that she grabbed the rope and disappeared up through the hole as if by a conjuror’s rope trick. In a few seconds the rope came back down and Matt wasted no time in grabbing hold; he turned briefly and gave Alex the thumbs-up and he too disappeared up through the hole. Matt looked older. Alex remembered when he first saw Matt and how young he seemed. Now he looked hollow, weary with loss. Alex turned back into the darkness. Monica, Tank, Johnson; all of them gone. He felt little sorrow. As a HAWC he was trained to ignore physical and emotional trauma. But he was still human; there should have been more. What else was changing inside him?

Alex shook his head to clear his mind and opened his senses to the underground. He could feel the enormous malicious presence lurking nearby. He could sense hunger, strength, anger and an eons-old intelligence. This was not a creature that deserved to roam the earth today; it was a thing of myths and nightmares—a creature of darkness and brutality.

The rope dropped back down. Alex seized it as the ground shook beneath his feet.

It was a tight squeeze and Alex was thankful the water had smoothed the edges and made them slippery—though his tolerance of pain was much greater than an ordinary person’s, he didn’t relish the idea of being dragged over iron-hard jagged ice with a naked upper body. It took four men to haul Alex out of the ice hole. The glare from the light on the ice and snow brought tears of irritation to his eyes but the air was cool and clear even with the faint odour of thermite. As well as Lieutenant O’Riordan and the other soldiers who pulled him out, there were six other military men on the ice loosely cradling either ice axes or M16s. Aimee and Matt stood off to the side, covered in army-issue blankets. They had refused to be winched back to the surface until Alex was out and safe.

The ice was thickening up again now, and was already another few feet higher than when the rescue team had started to widen Alex’s hole. The mist of humidity had dropped to the ice; the refreeze had begun.

O’Riordan walked quickly up to Alex and shook his hand. “Good to see you, sir. Incoming transmission for you.” O’Riordan handed Alex his radio.