Fatalis

Chapter Seventy-Two

Gearhart was leading the way with the flashlight in his left hand and the MPS in his right The other two officers were carrying a bucket of tar each and their weapons. The smell of the tar was strong here. He'd be very surprised if the tigers didn't pick it up.

The fissure was low and extremely narrow. Gearhart had to walk sideways with his head bent almost into his chest, the MPS pointing ahead but riding on his hip. Gearhart hadn't anticipated that the air inside would be so cloudy with dust from the jackhammer, his movements were stop-and-start rather than fluid as rocks poked him on all sides. It was awkward for him, and claustrophobic. He was accustomed to open spaces. After moving several yards into the fissure, the sheriff felt the temperature drop. They must have just passed from under the office building. Gearhart still couldn't hear the water but the air felt thick as well as cool on the exposed skin of his face and neck.

Finally, the air cleared. The sheriff could see the tunnel ahead curving in a gentle S-shape, first to the right and then to the left The walls were rough, covered with short spike-like rocks, and the passageway was wider at the top than at the bottom. In some places it felt as if there was no bottom, really, just a wedge where the walls came together. The fissure reminded Gearhart of a muffin someone had fork-split but hadn't pulled apart.

The three men walked for several minutes without seeing or hearing anything other than rock and their own footsteps. Then, suddenly, the fissure ended as the walls came together in a V-shaped dead end. Gearhart shined the light around the wall. There was no way up, down, or to the sides.

Shit.

Gearhart motioned for the men to go back. Rather than trying to turn with the guns and buckets, the men decided to simply sidle back. Suddenly, the officer on the outside stopped. He listened for a moment, then put the bucket down and removed his mouthpiece.

"I heard something," he said quietly.

Gearhart slipped out his own mouthpiece and let it hang under his chin. "Don't move," he said to the others.

There was definitely movement behind them. Scratching sounds, like fingernails on a screen door.

How? Gearhart wondered. The only way in was through the garage. And if the cats had somehow come in that way they would have heard shouts, gunfire, something.

And then Gearhart realized what must have happened. There may have been an opening near the hole itself, one that they'd missed because it was hidden by dust One that the ultrasound hadn't read because it was outside the building. Or maybe the damn cats were clawing through the wall. Grand had said the bastards were smart The sheriff felt like he did whenever a Hanoi Two-Fuck had been triggered: as if there was nothing to do but wait.

There was no way out and, worse, they had the tar. The cats had to smell it Because of the way the officers were positioned-one man behind the other-only the outermost officer would be able to fire. If the first tiger didn't go down right away, it could still get one or more of them. Then the others would be able to finish them off.

To hell with this, Gearhart decided.

"Captain!"

"Sheriff?" came the distant reply.

"We're backed into a dead end and the cats are near the opening!" Gearhart shouted.

"Fuck!" Mclver shouted. "Sit tight! We'r-

Mclver fell silent.

"Captain!" Gearhart yelled.

"Something's going on," Mclver shouted down.

Gearhart listened as the scratching came closer. The two officers looked back at him. He wished he could switch places with them, take point. But there wasn't enough room to get around them. He pulled off his gloves. He wanted to feel the metal of the weapon, the gentle kick, if he had to use it.

And then Gearhart heard something he wasn't expecting.

Gunfire. In the garage.