Tom Pawlik - Beckon

Nun’dahbi issued a sharp, guttural command, and two more of the men grabbed Elina’s face. Cold, hard fingers clamped onto her jaw and skull, holding her immobile as the woman leaned close.

Elina screamed through the mouthful of rag, choking and sobbing as the woman etched marks across her face, whispering unknown words that only Elina could hear.

Jack, Dwight, and Javier followed the tunnel deep into the mountain. Dwight had taken the lead, carrying his flashlight in one hand and a revolver in the other. As they descended, the tunnel became rough and harder to navigate.

Jack found himself praying desperately as he plunged further into danger. It was a strange sensation. Before meeting Elina, he hadn’t even thought to pray. Not earlier in the caverns. Not even when he was being chased by the N’watu. But now… now he was heading back into the pit. Back into the danger he’d escaped from just one day before to try to save a woman he hardly even knew. And he wondered if there really was a God who would help him. Or at least give him some answers. Was this the right course? Or would they have been better off staying on the surface and contacting help?

But he knew Elina didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the authorities to arrive. He also knew every step was leading him back into the horrors to which he had sworn he would never return.

Dwight held up his hand and shut off his light.

“What’s the matter?” Jack said between breaths.

Dwight whispered, “They’re coming. I hear voices.”

Jack squinted into the darkness. He could see a faint shaft of light drifting across the tunnel up ahead. “What’s the plan?”

Dwight flicked his light back on and inspected their surroundings. The cavern passage was low and wide and marred by numerous rock formations that had slowed their progress.

“Take cover off to the side,” he said. “We can ambush them when they come by.”

Jack’s pulse was racing as Dwight explained the plan in Spanish to Javier. Jack had never fired a weapon on another human being before. Now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. But he heard himself saying, “Fine.”

They found a couple of rough boulders against one of the cavern’s sides and took cover behind them. Jack crouched in the darkness, watching the light approach and now hearing voices as well. It was Vale all right, and Carson, but Jack couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Minutes crept by, and finally the men came into view. Jack couldn’t see well enough to shoot at any of them. And on top of that, he was having doubts about killing anyone in cold blood. No matter how much he felt they deserved it.

“Aim for the head,” Dwight whispered. “Perilium begins the clotting cascade almost immediately, so hitting them anywhere else may not do the trick.”

Vale and Carson were discussing something about the prisoners. Jack thought they were trying to decide whom to sacrifice next. The big man was following close behind.

Suddenly Javier leaped from cover and started firing his shotgun toward the flashlight. Which immediately blinked out, plunging them all into darkness. Jack could hear Dwight yelling and firing his revolver as well. He stood, aimed in the direction he thought Vale was, and pulled the trigger. The blast kicked the shotgun back into his ribs.

It was over in seconds, and the rumble echoed off along the tunnel. They emerged from cover slowly, and Dwight swept the area with his light. They spotted one man—the big one—splayed across a rock. Rivulets of blood dripped down from his head into the mud. In front of him was Frank Carson lying on his back, staring up. His chest and shoulders were soaked with blood, his gun still clutched in his grasp. But there was no sign of Vale. Dwight moved his beam across the rocks and found a trail of blood leading back up the tunnel. But they couldn’t see any movement.

“He’s still alive,” Jack said. “He got away!”

“He won’t get too far.” Dwight was staring at the ground a few feet away.

At his feet Jack saw a shattered glass jar. Its yellowish liquid contents were seeping into the mud.

Dwight bent down and lifted one of the pieces of dark glass. “This was a week’s worth of perilium for all of us.” He looked up at Jack. “What have I done?”

“We can find another way,” Jack said. Though even as he heard his own words, he knew they rang hollow. “How much is left up at the lodge?”

“Vale keeps it under lock and key. Maybe a few vials. They always give us just enough to last until the next feeding time.”

Jack took the flashlight and cringed as he inspected the bodies. “The big guy’s dead. Half his skull is gone.” He came to Carson and saw him blink. His bloodied chest was moving. Perhaps already recovering from the wounds. “Let’s just take his gun and get going.”

Javier pried Carson’s revolver out of his fingers and checked the bullets. Then he leaned over him. “Cómo cambian las cosas en un par de semanas.”

Jack looked at Dwight. “What’d he say?”

Dwight just grimaced and shook his head.

They continued on. Jack had walked only a few paces when he noticed Javier was not with them. Suddenly a gunshot cracked the darkness behind him and Jack spun around. Dwight shone the light behind them, but all they saw was Javier walking toward them, sticking Carson’s smoking revolver into his belt.

He didn’t say a word.

Elina was nearly faint with terror as Nun’dahbi finished marking her face with the black ink. She spread her hands over Elina’s body, then took the staff and swept it across her again, rattling the beads and the round gourd affixed to the top.

After this she lowered her veil again and barked a few more commands to her men. They lifted Elina from the stone table and carried her toward the edge of the pit.

They looped additional ropes around her and tied them to another line connected to the log. Then one of the N’watu lifted Elina up and dropped her over the edge of the pit.

She screamed a muffled cry of terror as she felt herself fall away from the ledge over the open black maw. She swung out and then back, dangling from the log like a fishing lure.

She kicked frantically, trying to swing herself back to the side, but another N’watu loosened the rope and began to lower her into the hole. Elina descended slowly into utter darkness. The smell of death and rot wafted up from below, a sickly sweet odor that filled her with fear. She could feel that her struggling was beginning to work the gag loose from her mouth.

Her heart pounded against her chest and she prayed desperately, wondering what was down here, what kind of horror she was about to encounter.

Then her toes scraped against something solid; she hoped it was a rock but couldn’t be sure. They let her dangle there, twisting in the darkness. Waiting. She looked up and could see the black outline of the rim against the faint glow of the lanterns above her.

She hung in silence, weary from struggling. Yet her terror was like a noose, strangling her. She stared into the solid black void, waiting to die.

Suddenly a muffled clap of thunder echoed through the cavern. Elina looked up and heard some sort of commotion among the N’watu. Clearly whatever made the sound wasn’t something they were expecting. She could hear them speaking to each other—arguing in their choppy, guttural language. Their sounds quickly receded, leaving her in silence again.

But now she felt a spark of hope kindle inside her. Maybe the others had gotten free somehow and were coming for her. Maybe someone had finally notified the FBI.

Or maybe…

Somewhere in the darkness in front of her came another sound. A low, erratic tapping, unlike anything she had ever heard before.