Michael Cordy - The Source

'No.'

Torino heard a click as Weber undid the safety on the flamethrower. The others raised their weapons. 'Go on.'

Hackett shook his head. 'No.'

Weber released a jet of flame. 'Go.'

Hackett jumped and shuffled forward, blinking against the sweat that poured down his face. Hackett stared at the black holes, every muscle in his body alert and trembling. He was sure he'd seen something moving within those dark spaces, something from his nightmares. A stab of anger penetrated his numbing fear. It would be so unfair to die in this remote place just as he had found his lost city. It incensed him that he might never enjoy the glory of his discovery or benefit from its gold.

He shuffled up the path to the top of the waterfall and saw that, as well as the holes in the walls, countless fissures led to a maze of dark passages. Straining to see beyond the blinding light into the blackness, he walked faster, wanting instinctively to get beyond the holes. He broke into a jog, then began to run up the path.

'Slow down,' hissed Weber.

Hackett ignored him. The soldier's flames could make him move but they couldn't make him stop. It felt good to release the adrenalin rushing through his body, and for a moment he dared to believe that he had imagined the glimpsed shapes in the dark.

Then Weber screamed.

Hackett should have kept running. But, despite his terror, he was a doctor and turned instinctively to help. When he looked back, he froze, unable to process what he was seeing. The black holes seemed to be moving, telescoping out of the walls. It was only when he saw Weber collapse on the path screaming, blood pouring from perfectly circular wounds in his thigh and shoulder, that Hackett realized black, worm-like creatures were twisting out of the rock, circular rows of teeth protruding from their jaws, biting into Weber's flesh then recoiling into their lairs. He stared openmouthed, registering the myriad holes that riddled the walls.

Was there one of those things in every hole?

'The flame-thrower. Use the flame-thrower.' Bazin's shout, from further down the tunnel, galvanized Hackett into action. He rushed to Weber and knelt behind his bleeding body. Shielded by the fuel tanks strapped to Weber's back, he took the flame-thrower nozzle from Weber's limp hand and pressed the igniter.

Fire suddenly enveloped the creatures and another, louder, scream echoed in the tunnel. Different from Weber's, inhuman, it seemed to come from deep within the rock. The sound of rapid machine-gun fire intensified the shrieks as Hackett kept pressing the flame-thrower igniter.

Suddenly, a worm-like creature thicker than Hackett's thigh spiralled through the flames and tore into Weber's protective vest, pushing the soldier on to Hackett, pinning him down but also protecting him. Other dark shapes rifled towards them, taking chunks out of Weber. Then something hit Hackett's left shoulder. Such was his shock that he felt no pain until he saw that a neat circular chunk had been taken out of his flesh, exposing muscle and bone. His shirt was soaked with blood – he had never seen so much. The pain came now, running through him like fire. He tried to move his left arm but the agony was excruciating. Using his other arm, he pulled Weber's body closer to him and, with detached horror, realized the soldier's right buttock had gone. He pushed himself flat against the sharp crystal path as one of the creatures smashed through Weber's elbow, breaking bones, trying to reach him. Weber was still alive but they kept coming, devouring him piece by piece.

'Help me,' the soldier screamed, above frantic gunfire, but Hackett could barely help himself. One of the twisting creatures came straight at Weber's face, directly in front of Hackett's own, its baleful red eyes staring right at him. Its tubular body was made up of dusty, interlocking armoured plates. As it struck, it opened its mouth wide, exposing circular rows of protruding teeth, breath reeking of decay and rotting flesh.

Weber tried to scream, but when the creature bit into his face and recoiled back to its lair it took his tongue with it. The next took his cheek and left eye. Hackett tried to curl up into the foetal position as one of the creatures ripped into his right calf muscle. The agony seared through him.

Then he felt rough hands dragging Weber off him and pulling them both away from the monsters. The attack had lasted just seconds but they had been the longest of Hackett's life. All he could think about as he crawled, bleeding, to safety was the last thing Weber must have seen before the creatures drilled into his face. Moments earlier Standing on the path beside the waterfall, Torino stared up at the vision of Hell unfolding before him. Bazin pushed past him, pumping and firing his shotgun, while Fleischer opened up with the Heckler amp; Koch. The heads of two rock worms exploded, and the flailing headless trunks recoiled into the wall leaving a trail of blood. Bazin rushed forward and tried to reach Weber but the flames held him back. The flame-thrower seemed barely to deter the frenzied rock worms, though. Through the inferno, Torino glimpsed Weber's body being consumed by the hellish creatures, while Hackett lay pinned beneath him, trying in vain to keep them at bay. Worse than what he could see, however, was what he could hear: an inhuman screaming that filled the acrid air and forced him to put his hands over his ears. He couldn't tell if the sound, which surrounded him, came from the rock worms, the nymphs below, or something further up the tunnel.

Shell-shocked, he watched Bazin and Fleischer drag Hackett and Weber past him. As he followed them away from the flames and the worms, he kept looking back, beyond the carnage, to the light beckoning from higher up the tunnel. The creatures were Satan's demons, placed there to test his resolve and prevent him from reaching God's light. They would not deter him. He would find a way.

Watching the stream redden with blood, he peered at Hackett's wounds and Weber's butchered body. Dr Kelly had lied to him that the tunnel was safe. He must have seen the conquistadors' nemeses, and known they were still there.

How much more had Kelly not told him? How much more did he know?

Sister Chantal chewed at her gag and shook her head again. Ross glanced over his shoulder at the soldier who had been watching them for the last hour. At this rate, they would have to wait till dark for him to cut Sister Chantal's tie with the shard of crystal he had taken from the cave. The good news was that the light was fading. The bad news was that, though darkness would give them cover, he would be working blind.

Suddenly Sister Chantal was nodding frantically. Ross glanced behind him. The soldier was holding his two-way radio, looking anxiously towards the forbidden caves. Then he put down the radio and rushed away.

Trying not to think about what was happening in the tunnel of blood, Ross reached across to Sister Chantal. She held up her hands to help him, but it wasn't easy with his own wrists tied. The crystal was so small and the plastic so sheer that he found it difficult to get any purchase on it. Eventually he managed to make a nick in the plastic and saw along the groove.

Manipulating the crystal was laborious, finger-aching work and it was impossible to tell whether he was making any progress. He became so absorbed in his task that only when Sister Chantal pulled her hands away did he look up. Torino, Bazin and the others were coming out of the forbidden caves. Two men were dragging Hackett and the soldier who had been carrying the flame-thrower. The latter's mutilated body was limp and covered with blood. At least Hackett was moving.

'Take them to the lake,' Bazin ordered. 'Immerse them in the water. Make them drink.' Hackett crawled into it and began to drink, oblivious of the red cloud blooming around him.