The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (42 page)

He closed his eyes and gulped. “Oh God.”

Maybe if I just wait, they’ll wear out.

The spikes continued slamming down unabated, the whip and clang echoing through that crawlspace like a recurring nightmare.

And then from nowhere, his torchlight began to flicker and then fade. He watched it with frightened eyes. “No, no no!” he screamed, just as the flame went out completely, dumping the tunnel into pitch, only the sound of the spikes slamming down and the astringent aroma of smoke swirling from the now unlit torch keeping him company.

The darkness was his worst ever enemy; it mocked him, told him he was doomed, the all-encompassing shadows waiting for his soul.

And still the spikes continued to fly down and up.
Whip-clang! Whip-clang! Whip-clang!
The whir of mechanics was now amplified in the darkness; a reminder of their relentless pursuit in protecting the secrets of the temple.
Whip-clang! Whip-clang!

Dom’s mind rapidly descended into a frenzied panic. Sweat was draining out of every pore; he stank of it. It dripped into his dry mouth; it was warm, salty. And then the darkness spoke to him.
You’re mine! All mine!
it croaked.
Centuries of festering and patience are encased in this temple and you will not disturb it, you will become a part of it!

In the darkness, Dom grabbed his head.
Get a grip, Dom. Get a frickin’ grip!
he told himself.

He scrambled for his Zippo, throwing open the side pocket of his combat pants and pulling it out with a trembling hand. He flicked it and it sparked endlessly. “Come on, come on, baby, don’t let me down.”

It kept on sparking without lighting. He shook its contents up. “Come on, baby,” he pleaded, tears slipping out of his eyes. All the while that nerve-shredding
whip-clang!
continued without mercy, bombarding his tender mind.

And the darkness kept on talking.
We’ll watch the flesh rot away from your bones, take pleasure in your soul melting into the walls around you. You will stay here. Forever. Forever!

“Come on, baby!” Dom urged his Zippo. He gave it a kiss, then flicked the flint. It sparked and the glory of a flame burned. In an instant, the hateful darkness was pushed back like a lion fending off a circle of hyenas. But, it remained on the peripheries, ready to pounce. All it wanted was the flame to go out. But, Mary Lou’s Zippo burned strong, bright. It illuminated the tunnel a rich yellow that bounced off all the stone walls. A moment of solace overcame Dom, a sense that things were on an upward curve. He’d gone from darkness to light, now he all he had to do was make it through this hellish tunnel.

He gathered himself, while all around him, the relentless whoop and clang of the spikes tore through his mind like hot knives.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

T
rixie’s eyes widened. She ducked, just as the thug’s gunshot split the atmosphere. There was a quick rustle of foliage behind Trixie. His aim was off, but probably wouldn’t be for long. Her instincts kicked in. She turned and scrammed, just as all the monks and thugs began chasing.

She went back the way she came, jumping and dodging, her heart hammering. Behind her, raised voices filled the air. Another gunshot went off and she instinctively dipped her head. There was a dull thud as the bullet hit a tree trunk. They’d need to outrun these guys and hopefully lose them without getting themselves lost.

She jumped through a large bush, startling Alicia and Rafa. They both turned her way.

“Run!” was all Trixie said as she darted past them.

Rafa and Alicia just stood there like lemons, watching her go past like a pair of dummies.

“RUN!” Trixie repeated, whipping her head to the side as she bolted past them.

Raised voices emanated from where Trixie had just emerged, followed by another gunshot. Alicia and Rafa got the message. They both upped and ran after Trixie, who was on the path back to the river.

“Get back to the boat!” Trixie shouted over her shoulder.

Soon, they reached the Jeeps. Trixie thought about checking to see if the keys were still in the ignition, then thought twice about it. If they weren’t, she’d just waste precious seconds. Instead, she raced past them, the dirt track now leading her back to the river. She put her head down and darted along it. Behind her, Alicia and Rafa’s footsteps pounded across the dirt.

Trixie made it about halfway to the river, her mind fizzing with uncertainty. They left Dom behind all alone in the Temple of Snakes. But, they had their own worries. Things were going haywire, just at the wrong time.

A loud roar of an engine made her ears prick. She whipped her head around. Behind Alicia and Rafa was an advancing monster. The Jeep was storming toward them, hoping to squash them beneath its massive tires. “Look out!” she screamed.

Alicia dived left, Rafa bolted to the right, the Jeep missing them by a split second. In an instant, it was on Trixie. The driver’s crazed eyes grew big in her field of vision; his teeth were clenched in a big grin. In the passenger and rear seats were more insane, brainwashed people, monks and thugs.

Trixie took a sharp right, before going into a dive. She hit the dirt, just as the Jeep whizzed by. She crawled behind the nearest tree as fast as a lizard. She peeked out of the side. The Jeep was performing a tight U-turn.

She huffed in frustration. If they could get to the boat, they could find a hiding spot and wait it out. She needed to get Alicia and Rafa on the same page, then sneak past these guys back to the boat.

She peeked out the other way. Her eyes widened. Rafa was out in the middle of the dirt track, waving his arms around.

What the hell is he doing?

He’d get himself killed.

“
Hola, pendejo
!” Rafa shouted, just as the Jeep turned back on itself. Trixie watched it. The driver revved the engine, then steamed forward, dirt flying up from the wheels. Rafa dropped down to his knees and aimed his crossbow. The Jeep whipped up the dirt track toward him, eating up the ground. Rafa tongued his bottom lip, then fired. The skewer hit the front tire of the Jeep. There was a massive blast. The Jeep veered off the dirt track with a screech and slammed into a tree. The driver and the guy riding shotgun smashed through the windshield and hit the jungle floor, breaking themselves to pieces.

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief. Rafa got up from his crouched position, just as voices rang out behind them.

“Oh God,” Trixie lamented.
Don’t they ever give in?
She jumped out from her hiding place. “Come on, get to the boat!” she shouted to the other two before racing down the dirt track.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

D
om re-lit his torch and replaced his Zippo in his pocket. He then turned his concentration on the spikes ahead of him. “Okay, now we’re going to count,” he said, images of the Count from
Sesame Street
suddenly infiltrating his mind, a bizarre contradiction to what was actually happening. “Can you count with me, children? One... two... three?”

The spikes retracted.

“That’s one. Two, three, four, five—”

Whip-clang!

“Five seconds, children. We have five seconds to get past the spikes.
Ha, ha, ha.
”

No problem, it’s a piece of cake.
He let out an insane cackle.

The spikes slammed down. He counted. Five seconds. He waited again. Five seconds. And again until he was sure. The gap was five seconds every time. It was clockwork.

He closed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s do this!” he said, satisfied with the trap’s reliability.

He edged right up to the spikes. “Ready? Ready? Get ready!” He sucked in a huge breath and held it.

The spikes scraped back up into the ceiling.

Now was his chance.
GO!

He set off, scampering along like a frantic dog, his free hand and knees working hard like agitated ants.
One, two, three...

Frightened whimpers escaped him as he passed under that danger zone, the knowledge he was a dead man if he wasn’t fast enough fueling his terror.

Four...

He cried in anguish, his knees and hand working overtime to get through that gap.

Five!

The spikes flew down.

Dom pulled his feet into his body, becoming an armadillo. His heart jumped around in his chest.

The points of the spikes slammed into stone behind him; he almost collapsed in relief. Tears dripped from his eyes. He wiped them away with his free hand. “Can you frickin’ count with me?” he wailed in a mix of joy and agony. “One, two, three!”

He ventured to take a glance back; the spikes behind him raised back into the ceiling. He breathed hard, his mind zoning in and out. This was intense. It was like being trapped in the intestine of a mechanical demon.

He wiped his eyes and steadied himself. “Okay, one down, three to go.”

He grabbed a breather, then crawled on, his palm patting on the warm stone, his knees aching. He made it up to the next set of spikes and came to a halt. This one was coming down at a different rate. Two quick slash downs followed by a three second wait.
Slash-slash,
three second wait,
slash-slash
. He tried counting the slashes and seconds in his mind, but it was all getting confused with everything else going on, and the terror, and the adrenaline, and the—

Argh!

A wrong timing and he’d be a cocktail cherry. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of all the clutter; the fear, the uncertainty, the disorientation and just concentrate on getting past this set of spikes.

“Okay, okay,” he said to himself. He slowly opened his eyes and watched the spikes with studious eyes. Two quick drops, then a three second wait.

Three seconds, Dom, that’s all you got!

He patted the air ahead of him with his free hand. “Okay, okay, I got this.”

He held his breath and watched the spikes. They came down twice in succession, then a three second wait.

One more,
he told himself.
One more time, then go. One—

Slash-slash!

He scrambled through, his lips gibbering and quivering.

One, two—

He raked his knees across the rough stone, before pulling them tight into his chest.

Three!

Clang!

He whipped his head down. Through his legs he watched the spikes now behind him rise back up into the ceiling. He puffed his cheeks. Two down, two to go. Adrenaline was now coursing through his veins; it was helping push him on. With every set of spikes he passed under, his confidence grew, but he wasn’t out of it yet.

He crawled up to the next set of spikes. On nearing them, he gasped in horror. Lying directly beneath the spot the spikes descended was a small skeleton, the spikes impaling it repeatedly through its ribcage.

Man, that’s all I needed to see,
Dom thought to himself with deep chagrin.

He glared at the remains in despair.

Man, was that a kid? How’d he get here?

He shivered. “Don’t look at it,” he told himself, instead concentrating on the spikes as they fell. This one was yet again falling at a different rate to the others. He watched and counted.
Slash-slash
, three second wait,
slash
, three second wait,
slash-slash
. Dom concentrated on the spikes as hard as he could. Any other time, the pattern would’ve been easy to follow, but with the added pressure, a mistake was all too easy. And not to mention having to look at that tiny skeleton.

“All right, all right. Get ready.” He swiped a hand down his sweaty cheeks.

The spikes impaled that ribcage, and then retracted.

He scuttled along like a scared bunny, his chest tight, his tongue lolling. Those skeletal remains popped and crushed into powder beneath his knees. He dashed through, his eyes focused straight ahead, ignoring the horror of the bones snapping under his weight. He threw his knees tight into his chest and the spikes clanged down behind him.
Slash-slash
.

He sucked in a huge breath. He made it. Three down. One to go. Just one.

He approached it with caution. This one was the worst of all. Its pattern was a complicated sequence.

Slash-slash-slash
, one second wait,
slash
, three second wait,
slash-slash
, one second wait. Repeat.

He remained where he was for maybe two full minutes, counting, watching the spikes as they mercilessly rammed down and back up like pistons. His mind was quickly scrambled; slash, wait, slash, three seconds, two seconds, slash, wait, blah!