Excavation (43 page)

She lowered her rifle, wheezing between clenched teeth. The five beasts she had slain so far were at least keeping the throng momentarily occupied.

Something touched her shoulder. She butted the rifle's stock at it.

“Whoa!” Sam yelled in her ear. “Hold on! It's me!” He gripped her shoulder more firmly.

Maggie licked her dry lips, shaking slightly. “What are we going to do?” she moaned. The beasts still had them boxed in the center of the plaza and were not backing down. She had made no headway in blasting a path to freedom. For every creature she shot down, more would leap and scramble to fill the gap.

Sam released his grip. “I've been counting. You have only one more round left.”

Maggie glanced at the rifle. “Jesus!” She raised the weapon. Her last shot had better be good. She forced her hands not to tremble.

Sam pushed her gun down. “Let me try.”

“With what?” she hissed at him.

He raised his gold knife. “Remember the creatures at the necropolis?”

“Sam, you're gonna have to let them come damn close,” she argued, pulling the rifle free of his grip.

“Maybe not.” Sam stepped in front of her. Taking off his Stetson, he lifted the gold dagger high and waved his hat with his other hand. He screamed a raw bellow of challenge.

Hundreds of eyes lifted from their meals and growled back at Sam.

The Texan replaced his hat, leaving only the dagger held in an upthrust fist. The growls from the massed throats died down as gazes flicked to the gold knife. A trickle of whimpering sounded to one side. Sam seemed to have heard it, too. He swung toward the noise, the weak spot in the throng. He waved his dagger with long sweeping motions, repeating his bellow of anger.

The wall of pale forms began to pull back from him, breaking apart.

“Stick to my back,” Sam whispered at Maggie and Denal.

Maggie waved the naked boy ahead, then covered their rear with the Winchester.
One bullet
, she kept reminding herself.

Sam began a slow approach toward the throng, brandishing his dagger, jabbing, swiping, growling.

With bleating cries, several of the beasts galloped out of his path. The standoff broke down. More and more of the beasts fled, dragging off the bloody chunks they had managed to scavenge.

“I think it's working,” Sam said.

Suddenly, something lunged at Sam. Vestigial wings beat on its back, identifying it as one of the hunters. Sam stumbled back, tripping over Denal.

Maggie danced away, keeping her feet and swinging her rifle.

But she was too slow.

Sam fell atop the boy as the creature leaped atop them. Denal screamed in terror. Sam shoved his only weapon up.
The dagger
. The screeching beast impaled itself on the blade. It seemed a small weapon compared to the hooked claws and shredding fangs of the attacker—but the effect was anything but small.

The tiny wings of the beast seemed suddenly to work. The creature appeared to fly straight up off Sam's blade, squealing a noise that made even Maggie cringe. It rolled to the stones of the plaza and lay belly up. Small flames could be seen lancing from between the clawed fingers that clutched its wounded abdomen.

Around them, the pale throng froze and became silent, eyes wide, unblinking.

The flames spread from the beast's belly. Like a wildfire in dry grass, the blaze blew through the creature. It arched and writhed; jaws stretched wide in a silent scream of agony. Flames shot out of its throat, flickering like some fiery tongue, and then its head was consumed. The creature's bulk collapsed to the stone, dead. Flames still danced along its blackened form, a sick pyre.

Sam and Denal were already on their feet. “Let's go,” Sam said.

The Texan threatened again with his dagger, but this time, there was no challenge. The remaining beasts in his path cleared out. Huddled in a tight group, they crossed toward the exit. All three held their breath.

Maggie stared at the smoldering form of the attacker.
Spontaneous combustion
. She tried to add this piece to the growing puzzle. She shook her head. Now was not the time.

She turned her attention forward.

Sam continued to threaten the few beasts who still hovered at the edges of their path. An especially large monster, all muscle and bone, still glared from one side. Its eyes were narrowed with wary hatred. Of all the creatures there, this one appeared well fed. It hunched on one knuckled fist, like some silverback gorilla, but naked and pale. Maggie recognized
it as one of the rare “leaders” of the pack. She noticed it lacked any external genitalia.
Like Pachacutec's body
, she realized.

One of Maggie's eyes twitched as a horrible realization began to dawn. She was so shocked that she failed to notice what the hulking beast held in its other clawed fist. “Sam!”

The creature swung his arm and threw a boulder the size of a ripe pumpkin at the Texan. Sam glanced over but could not move in time. The chunk of granite struck Sam's fist. The dagger flew from his grip. It landed in the middle of a clutch of the beasts.

The giant stone-thrower roared in triumph, raising on its legs and striking its barreled chest with one of its gnarled fists. Its triumphant bellow was echoed by others all across the plaza. Without the dagger, they had no defense now.

Maggie raised her rifle toward the howling gorilla. “Shut up, asshole!” She pulled the trigger, and the monster fell backward, crashing to the stones. Its legs tremored in death throes for a breath, then grew still.

As the echoes of her rifle blast died down, silence returned to the plaza. No one moved. With the death of the leader, the pack was momentarily cowed.

Finally, Maggie hissed, “Sam, that was my last shell.”

“Then I'd say we've overstayed our welcome here.”

As if hearing him, the creatures began to creep slowly toward them again.

The Texan turned to Denal. “How fast can you run?”

“Just watch me!” Denal flew down the empty street ahead.

Sam and Maggie took off after the boy, racing together through the fouled village.

Angry screeches and hungry howls erupted behind them. The chase was on. With the prey on the run, the pack abandoned their wariness. Bloodlust overcame fear. Scouts ran along neighboring streets, white blurs between homes, tracking them. Behind them, hunters gave chase, howling their challenge.

Maggie struggled to keep up with Sam, fighting to get the Winchester over her shoulder.

“Leave it,” Sam yelled back.

“But—?”

Sam slowed and grabbed the rifle from her. He whipped it over his head and threw it behind them. The prized Winchester clattered and skittered across the rock. “I'd rather save you, than a damned rusted rifle.”

Unburdened and strangely energized by Sam's words, Maggie increased her pace. They ran side by side, matching stride. Soon they were out of the village and onto the jungle path. Trees and whipping branches strove to slow them down, but they pushed onward, scratched and bloodied.

Denal was a few meters ahead of them, leaping and running naked through the woods.

“Make for the tunnel!” Sam called ahead.

“What tunnel?” Denal called back, almost tripping.

Maggie realized Denal had no memory of getting here. She yelled. “Just stick to the trail, Denal. It leads right to it!”

The boy increased his stride. Sam and Maggie struggled to follow. Behind them, they could hear the snap of branches and the yipping barks of the hunters.

Gasping, neither tried to speak any longer. Maggie's vision narrowed to a pinpoint and, as she ran, her legs spasmed and cramped. She began to slow.

Sam's arm was suddenly under her, pulling her along.

“No…Sam…go on.” But she was too weak even to fight him.

“Like hell I will.” He hauled her with him. The chase seemed endless. Maggie did not remember the trail being this long.

Then finally sunlight returned. The jungle fell behind them. Ahead, the black eye of the tunnel lay only a handful of meters ahead. Denal was already there, hovering at the entrance.

Sam half carried her up the short slope to the entrance. “Get inside!” he called to the boy.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. Pale forms burst through the jungle foliage, ripping away clinging vines. Some loped on two legs, some ran on all fours.

“Get inside! Now, Denal!”

“I…I can't!” the boy whined.

Maggie swung forward. Denal still crouched by the entrance. He would take a step toward the shadowed interior, then back away.

Sam and Maggie joined him. The Texan pushed her toward the tunnel. “Go!”

Maggie stumbled into the entrance, her vision so dimmed that the gloom of the tunnel was blinding. She twisted around to see Sam pull Denal into his arms.

The boy screeched like a butchered pig as Sam leaped into the tunnel beside her. Denal writhed and contorted in the man's arms.

“What's wrong with him?” Maggie asked, as she and Sam limped deeper down the throat of the tunnel.

Denal's back arched in a tremored convulsion. “I think he's having a seizure,” Sam said, holding the boy tight.

Behind them, the screeches of the beasts echoed up the passage. Maggie glanced over her shoulder. The beasts piled up at the entrance, twisted forms limned in the sunlight. But none entered. None dared pursue their escaping prey into the tunnel. “They won't come in here,” Maggie muttered. She frowned as she swung around.
Like Denal
, she added silently.

Sam finally fell to his knees, exhausted, legs trembling. He laid Denal down. The boy's eyes were rolled white, and a frothing saliva clung to his lips. He gurgled and choked.

“I don't understand what's the matter with him,” Sam said.

Maggie glanced back to the writhing mass of beasts at the tunnel's opening. She slowly shook her head.

Finally, Denal coughed loudly. His body relaxed. Maggie reached toward the boy, thinking he was expiring. But when she touched him, Denal's eyes rolled back. He stared at her,
then sat up quickly, like coming out of a bad dream. “
Que paso
?” he asked in Spanish.

“I had to drag you inside,” Sam said. “What was wrong?”

Denal's brows pinched together as he struggled back to English. “It would not let me come inside.”

“What wouldn't?”

Denal pressed a finger against his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I don't know.”

Maggie suspected the answer. “It was the temple.”

Sam glanced over the boy's head at her. “What?”

Maggie stood. “Let's get out of here.”

Sam helped the boy up. They followed her as she slowly trudged back toward the distant exit. Ahead, the two torches that framed the golden alcove, the Incan's Temple of the Sun, could be seen flickering from their notches in the wall.

As Maggie drew abreast of the cave, she slowed and stopped, studying the golden altar and the webbed mass of golden filaments above it.

Sam drew up to her, but his eyes were still cautiously watching their backtrail for any renewed sign of pursuit. He mumbled as he joined her, “If that was Incan Heaven back there, I hate to see their idea of Hell.”

Maggie nodded toward the golden temple. “I think it's right here.”

Denal hung back, keeping as far from the shining room as possible.

Sam stepped beside her. “I know. It's hard to believe the Incas would feed their children to those monsters.”

“No, Sam. You don't understand. Those monsters
are
their children.” Maggie turned toward Sam. She ignored his incredulous look. She needed to voice her theory aloud. “They told us the temple takes their children, turns them into gods, and sends them to
janan pacha
.” Maggie pointed back toward where the last of the beasts still cavorted and whined at the entrance. “Those are the missing children.”

“How…why…?”

Maggie touched Sam's shoulder. “As I tried to tell you before, I saw Pachacutec without his king's robes. His body was hairless, pale, with no genitalia. His body looked just like one of those beasts. Like that big creature I shot. One of the pack's leaders.”

Sam's brows bunched; his eyes shone with disbelief. He glanced to the temple. “You're saying that thing actually grew him a new body?”

“As well as it was able. As Sapa Inca or king, it gave him the body of a pack leader.”

“But that's impossible.”

Maggie frowned. “As impossible as Norman's healed knee?” she asked. “Or his repaired eyesight? Or his ability to suddenly communicate with the Incas? Think about it, Sam!” She nodded to the temple. “This thing is some biological regenerator. It's kept the Incas alive for hundreds of years…it grew their leader a new body. But why? Why does it do that?”

Sam shook his head.

Maggie pointed once again toward the beastly caldera. “That's the price for eternal life here. The children! It takes their offspring and…and I don't know…maybe experiments with them. Who knows? But whatever the purpose, the temple is using the Incas' children as biologic fodder. The villagers are no more than cattle in a reproductive experiment.”

“But what about Denal?” Sam asked.

She glanced to the boy. He was unchanged…mostly. She remembered his reluctance to enter the tunnel. “I think the temple needs more malleable material, earlier genetic cells, like from newborns. Denal was too old. So it did to him like it does to all its experiments. Once finished, it instilled some mental imperative to cross to the next caldera and implanted phobic blocks on returning. You saw Denal's inability to enter here, just like the creatures'. I suspect those beasts we found at the necropolis two days ago had migrated from the caldera through other tunnels, perhaps looking for
another way out, and became trapped down there. I think the beasts are allowed to go anywhere
except
into the villagers' valley. That is forbidden.”