Kraken Rising: Alex Hunter 6 (23 page)

Captain Wu Yang and his team had to cross the underground stream, again and again. At times, it was shallow, the water being of crystal clarity. But other times, the stream bed fell away beneath their feet and they needed to paddle, the shadowy impenetrable depths unknown, perhaps just over their heads, or many fathoms deep.

In another hour they came to a broad, dark beach, and Captain Yang called a halt. Han Biao and Liu Yandong sat together, each pulling up rounded stones to perch on, as the black sand seemed to stick to anything metallic. Han Biao had scolded Liu for sipping water from the cave stream, admonishing him for his lack of caution. But the bigger man had just shrugged it off.

“Tastes fine, and better to save what we have,” Liu said. “Who knows what will be around the bend.”

Han Biao grunted. Liu was right, but he would neither eat nor drink anything until Captain Yang allowed them to nibble on their rations. He felt the captain had it in for him already, and insubordination would be the last straw.

Han Biao scratched at his arms, and Liu pointed. “You have a rash … on your neck.”

He reached up and touched his neck. It felt smooth, not painful, but he had a tingling itch. It was nothing compared to his arm, which crawled madly with the irritation. He could feel the lumps there.

“Must have been something in the water I’m allergic to. Itches, very bad.”

“Urine,” Liu said. “My grandmother always said that if you have been stung by something to use your urine. Pat on, let it dry.” He shrugged.

Han Biao nodded. It was a good idea, as they had little first aid with them, and he knew that urine had many medicinal properties. “Maybe I will.” He looked around. “Okay.” It was a home remedy, but right about now the insane itch made him ready to try anything.

He got to his feet and wandered a few paces down the bank and then in towards the cave wall. Shadows swallowed him almost immediately, as the men sat in groups around a few of the lit flashlights – the small dots were a comforting glow in the utter darkness.

He grimaced. The tickling itch on his neck had turned to a crawling sensation just like on his arm. And now the rest of his body decided it wanted to join in. Even his throat start to burn and he had a strong desire to cough – a bad idea in the quiet of the caves. Yang would be furious if he made a commotion. Maybe he had caught a cold.
What a time to get sick
, he thought depressingly.

Han Biao stepped further into the shadows and unbuckled his belt. He reached in for his penis, his cold hands shrinking him, and needing a tug to pull it free of the zip. He sighed, feeling like crap. He was trained to ignore discomfort, still, that didn’t mean he and his comrade brothers didn’t experience it.

He started to urinate, and there came a strange sensation. It felt as if lumps were passing along the length of his penis. He reached one hand forward in a cup shape to capture some of the warm liquid in preparation for smearing it on himself, in the places where he felt the insane tickling the most. He cupped a handful of urine and raised it to his shirtsleeve – there were already holes and rents in the tough fabric from the cave-in, so getting to his flesh was easy. He splashed it over the largest of his abrasions and then rubbed the liquid up and down in long strokes. It felt like there were grains of rice under his hand.

“
Hoy?”
The tickling on his skin was now amplified by a new sensation – his skin crawled both inside and out now. Han Biao looked quickly over his shoulder. Captain Yang sat with a small group. He had been most specific about there being no use of their lights, but his fear and curiosity was screaming. He would chance a quick look. He lifted the elbow shaped light from his belt and snapped it on, pointing the beam into his cupped hand to both stifle the flare of the white light, and also see what was in his hand.

His mouth dropped open in confusion. He hurriedly changed the angle of his light, not caring now who saw his use of the precious batteries.

“
Ack!
’ His lips pulled back in revulsion. The remaining fluid in his hand was pink, tinged with blood. But this was not the main source of his concern. Within the cherry colored liquid, there wriggled a mass of black thread-like worms, each thrashing madly like sperm seeking an egg. There was a small scratch on the meat of his palm, and his eyes bulged as he saw that the worms were spearing what he assumed was their heads into the wound, and then thrashing ever harder.

“
Yi!
” He flicked his hand, and then had a horrifying thought. He pulled at his shirt, craning to look at his shoulder where he had smeared the mass. The red oily liquid was covering his body, the worms now coating his torso. What was worse, was that the wounds on his arms and shoulders had far too many of the worms to have just come from his urine – they must have already been there – coming from inside.

Han Biao felt the tickling now in his belly, and even at the back of his mouth. He dropped his hand and turned to the group.

“Captain-
nnnnn
!” He staggered forward, his arms out. “Captain Yang, in my wounds … they got into my wounds.”

The men were all on their feet in a second, guns now up and pointed, seeking an enemy or intruder to defend against.

He staggered towards them. “Captain, they’re inside me. I can feel them … they’re eating me.”

Yang strode quickly towards him, his face twisted in fury. “Silence.”

He had a pistol in his hand, and with the other he held it up flat in front of Biao’s face, halting him. With the barrel of his gun, he edged open Biao’s shirt. His lips compressed.

“From the water. They got in my wounds,” Han Biao said, not being able to help his words turning to a wail.

“Come quick,” Yang said, and turned to walk further up the dark beach and away from the men.

Han Biao staggered after him, feeling the insane itch from his ears to his anus. His limbs started to go numb, and suddenly his pants felt loose at his waist.

His gut roiled, and he sobbed, grabbing hold of his belt to keep his pants up. He staggered after Yang, just focusing on the man’s back, as his rapidly fear-fragmenting mind was beginning to leave him. He fell to his knees.

Yang nodded, edging into an alcove. “In here, I have something that will help.”

Han Biao walked forward on his knees. He felt a weakness in his limbs like he had never felt before in his life. He looked down at his pathetic frame – his clothes bagged on him, and holding up a hand he saw that he was nearly shriveled down to bone, but there was furious movement beneath his skin. The remaining meat was literally being eaten from within him right before his eyes.

He looked up at his captain, and into the muzzle of the gun. The black dot at the end of the barrel flared, and then there was nothing.

*

Liu Yandong’s eyes were wide as Captain Yang walked back to the group, holstering his sidearm.

“Infected,” he said, and looked up at his men, arms hung loosely at his side. “Is anyone else injured, sick?”

The men quickly checked themselves, murmuring. Liu did the same, but if he had any injuries, he would not dare share them with the captain. After a minute, the group professed themselves fit, and Yang grunted, and went to turn away, before stopping and quickly turning back.

“Or did anyone drink from the stream?”

Liu Yandong had been staring at the body of his friend, but the question snapped him back. He licked his lips and swallowed, feeling a small tickle in his throat. He had some gnawing in his belly, but that was just from hunger. Besides, there was no way he was going to say anything.

Yang turned to him. “Liu Yandong, lead us out again. Rest time is over.”

Liu gave a rapid half bow.
“Yao.”
And he jogged out ahead of the men, relieved to be away from Yang’s penetrating stare.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to look at the body of his colleague as he neared it. But from the corner of his eye, he detected movement. Was his comrade still alive? He veered towards the cave wall for a better look. Sure enough, the body was moving. Maybe Yang’s shot only wounded him? He wished he could use his light, as Biao now looked tiny, shrunken, lying on the dark sand.

Liu slowed. There – there
was
movement – Han Biao’s body jerked and jumped. But the activity was strange, boneless, and not how he would have expected a man to be if he was alive or even writhing in pain. Something wasn’t right. Liu stopped walking and stared. He grimaced, his eyes going wide in horror. Han Biao’s body suddenly collapsed in on itself, but the clothing was not quite empty. There was a rippling beneath the fabric as though there were small animals fighting inside.

Láizì dìyù de shēngwù
, he whispered. It was a line from an ancient story he read as a child; a village fell into a sinkhole, and the villagers had to descend to hell, where on the way, demons tormented them, and cursed them with plagues of flies, and beetles, and worms. Liu momentarily crushed his eyes shut and turned away. He forged on, keeping his head down.
That’s where we really are
, he thought –
in hell
. They all died in the cave-in, and now they were lost souls making their way down to the Underworld.

Aimee and Casey knelt at the rim of a hole in the cave floor. There was a warm breeze lifting from the impenetrably dark depths that smelled of salt, moisture, and rotting vegetation. Aimee lay down and closed her eyes, straining to hear anything that might indicate movement. After a moment she sat back. There was nothing and no hint of the acrid scent that usually heralded the stink of the creatures’ approach.

“It’s a chute.” Aimee got to one knee. “And probably the quickest way down.”

“Well, that’s where the signal is coming from, so …” Casey pulled out a glow stick, bent it, and let it drop. The flaring yellow stick sailed down into the darkness, bouncing a few times against rocky outcrops before disappearing around some sort of bend.

“Not too bad, and it’s rough. Plenty of handholds.” She stood and looked around the cave, pointing to a stalagmite rising from the cave floor. “Going to have to tie off just the same.”

Hagel looked from the stalagmite to the hole. “Means we’ll use the rope up – no one to untie it. One-time deal.”

“Open to alternate suggestions,” Dawkins said from the rear.

“Yeah, like not use the rope, and we just scale down.” He glanced at Aimee, and then over his shoulder to the non-HAWCs, his eyes alighting on the slender Soong. “You’ll be fine.”

“You know what? One of us falls and dies, no problem.” Casey’s eyes were level. “One of us falls and breaks a leg, well now, that’s a disadvantage I don’t want to have to deal with. Unless it’s you.” The scar on her cheek made it hard to tell whether her expression was just her permanent sneer, or something more hopeful.

Aimee felt that Casey was digging in, simply because she was pissed off. “I don’t need to tell you guys how to manage risk. We’ve each got rope, but no pitons, cams, or rope locks. So as far as climbing or caving is concerned, the rope is all we got. We need it,” Aimee said. “Long way to go yet – down, and then, hopefully, back up.”

“Okay.” Casey grunted. “We use the rope for non-climbers. I’ll go first, and secure the rope. Have a little look-see down there.” She pointed to the huge form of Rinofsky. “Rhino, you’re last and on gear recovery.”

“Got it, boss.”

Casey turned to Vince Blake. “Tie off your rope, Lieutenant.”

Blake crossed to the stalagmite, and looped his rope, carrying back the loops of soft cord and dropping it down into the hole. It only reached about two thirds of the way.

“Good enough,” Casey said. “I’ll go down this length and, if need be, use my own rope. Hopefully, the rock will be broken up enough that we don’t need it.”

“Good luck,” Aimee said.

The stocky HAWC snorted. “You bet. Break a leg, huh?” She grin-sneered at Aimee, and then her eyes slid to Hagel. She winked. The man looked back at her, deadpan.

Casey pushed her rifle up over her shoulder, and then pulled a flashlight – its handle split in half and opened into a loop that she pulled over her forehead. She then looped the rope around her groin and ass, turned, and stepped back, dropping down quickly, the rope
zizzing
between her gloved hands, one up and one down.

The group crowded around the hole, watching as Casey hopped her way down. At about fifty feet, the rope slackened as she obviously had stepped onto something or reached the end of her rope.

Her beam of light illuminated the cave as she continued down. After another few minutes the light went out or disappeared around a bend.

Seconds passed, a minute, then more.

Aimee got down on her belly again. “Okay down there?”

They waited. Silence. The rope stayed slack.

“Yo, boss.” Rhino leaned out.

A bobbing light, far down appeared. “All good.” Casey’s voice repeated ever softer in an echo. “Plenty of ledges on the way down. Comin’ back up.”

The rope began to jerk, and in another few moments Casey was hefting herself over the side of the hole. She sucked in a single deep breath, and rolled her shoulders.

Aimee shook her head. That climb would have near totaled her, but the female HAWC barely broke a sweat.

“Steep to begin with, and no handholds. But then it breaks up and gets a lot rougher – lots of boulders and jutting ledges, before it bends slightly and the angle eases off. More a scramble over loose debris then.” Casey wiped her gloved hands together, dislodging some wet cave-slime. “It’s damper, and looks like it keeps going and going, all the way down.” She grinned at Aimee. “Maybe to that underground sea of yours, huh?”

Casey stepped back from the edge, and stared off into the tunnels behind the group for a moment. She snapped back. “Okay, people, form up. Let’s get this party started.”

*

Hank Rinofsky stood back and watched the team descend. Rhino kept one hand on the rope, just monitoring its tension. He continually turned his head, using his scope now to switch between thermal, night vision, and then back to light intense as he checked for anything above the grunts and heavy breathing of the team as they vanished into the chute.

When it came his turn, Rhino hovered at the lip for a few moments, contemplating his own descent. First he needed to untie and retrieve the rope. He laid his hand on the soft but extremely strong cord. From away in the darkness, there came a tiny sound from the cave they had just left. He paused, reaching up to switch his scope back to infrared, and then thermal – there was nothing.

“Hey, little tattoo guy, that you?” His voice was soft, but still carried in the dark silence. He squinted, trying to remember the word for hello that Blake had taught him. “
Nín h
ǎ
o?”

He waited, but there was nothing but a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. “
Nín h
ǎ
o?”
This time softer, and again he listened for a response.

His hand went quickly to the rope. He knew he was skilled enough to climb down without it, and Franks wanted all the gear recovered. He picked up the knot, and then froze – there was a wet sliding noise and then a soft thumping, like something bouncing.

He pulled his huge weapon from over his shoulder.
Come on, you motherfucker
, he thought, as he braced huge legs.

The bouncing continued, and when it started to slow, it then sounded like it was being kicked along, sped up again to bounce some more. He waited, the grip on his gun so hard his knuckles were probably bone-white under his armored gloves. From out of the dark cave they’d just exited, came what he at first took to be a football. It ricocheted off the walls to bounce several more times, and then it rolled wetly to a stop.

Big Hank Rinofsky stared, open-mouthed. It was a human head, slightly flattened and the stump of neck ragged. In the few seconds he stared, time seemed to elongate – he took in every detail: the blood, the Asian features twisted in horror and pain, and on one side of the neck a dragon tattoo, with the reds, greens, and yellows still flaring hotly beneath the blood.

Little tattoo guy, that you?
his mind yelled. Rhino snapped into action, raising his weapon and firing into the cave. His laser pulse cut into the dark, but hit nothing but stone. There was the smell of hot plasma in the air, and Rhino shut it off. He held his position. He could hear or see nothing, but every sense in his body screamed at him to run.

“Fuck this, I’m seeing things.” He left the rope tied off, and grabbed it, dropping down into the chute, jumping and bouncing down to the first landing fifty feet below. He quickly unhooked himself, and spun, pointing his gun back up the pipe, using the barrel-mounted light to scan its edges.

He stepped back a pace, and was about to turn away, when beside him, the rope wriggled, and then started to be pulled up. He watched it, his mouth open for a few more seconds.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Rhino backed up, his gun ready. The massive HAWC was scared of no man, but this … this was something far different. He turned, almost sprinting, as he retreated over the tumbled boulders to catch up to the group.