Burial Ground

VIII

10:32 p.m.

Sam reached back for Merritt's hand as her feet tangled in the partially-articulated mess of bones. Over her shoulder, she saw him grab for her hand too late. Beside him, movement from the wall. Something large that until that moment had held perfectly still. It turned toward Merritt with the blunted snout of a caiman and a crown of feathers that rose to erection like the spines on an iguana's back.

The light died. Darkness swallowed her as she fell to the ground and landed squarely on her shoulder.

A loud avian cry filled the tunnel.

She rolled onto her back in time to see the repeated flash of muzzle flare. In the strobing light, she witnessed snippets of chaos. A long neck, bristled with feathers, stretching out of the enclave. Mouth like a crocodile's, opening wide. Dull eyes that glinted with golden rings. Slender, curled fingers with sharp claws. It jerked in twitching motions as the bullets pounded its scaled breast.

Even over the deafening reports, she heard it scream.

The rifle's carbine whirred long after the clip ran dry.

Hissing.

Claws scrabbling against stone.

Finally, silence.

Merritt slapped another clip into the SCAR.

Sam extricated her feet from the tangle of body parts and started to cry.

"Are you all right?" Merritt asked. His voice positively trembled.

She couldn't find her voice, and nodded even though he couldn't see her. His hand found hers in the pitch black.

"Keep moving!" Sorenson shouted from the darkness. There was a thumping sound as he stumbled into the crumpled carcass on the ground. "They're right behind us!"

Another shriek echoed from the direction of the outside world.

Sorenson turned toward the sound and fired.

Merritt tugged on her hand, urging her deeper into the mountain.

Light blossomed ahead, blinding after the absolute darkness.

The tunnel framed silhouettes much farther ahead than she had expected. The floor sloped downward and became uneven. She couldn't bring herself to look to either side as they descended. The skulls of the ancient dead leered at her from the walls, but worse still would be meeting the reptilian stare of another one of those creatures.

How long had the one Merritt killed been hiding in that recess? Had it watched the others pass while waiting for the stragglers, or had it somehow slipped past them in the shadows?

The corridor ended and they stepped out into the cavern where the others had already gathered. Blazing light flumed from another incendiary grenade where it rested against the far wall. Colton and Leo wore hard hats with the spotlights turned on, while Galen paced nervously in the middle of the room.

Colton took up post at the mouth of the tunnel at the back of the cavern. The light barely penetrated the dark channel.

A distant skree.

The acoustics of the cavern made it impossible to pinpoint the direction from which it originated.

"I can't hold them off forever!" Sorenson yelled. He backed into the room, firing in indiscriminate bursts.

Sam looked past him into the tunnel. What little light reached into the orifice swirled with cordite smoke. The darkness beyond churned as though a living entity.

They were out there, at the limit of the fading flare's reach.

Waiting.

Nails clacked on bare stone.

The shuffling sound of bodies jostling each other in the close confines.

Muffled grunts.

The incendiary grenade fizzled and hissed. The corona of light beat a hasty retreat.

Sorenson shot again into the tunnel and something shrieked.

Merritt removed his hand from hers to steady his rifle, and pointed it past Sorenson toward where flashes of iridescent green tested the limit of the glare.

The glow dimmed, and, with a sizzle, the light extinguished.

A predatory skree raised the hackles on her arms.

The shadows advanced with the clamor of talons.