James Rollins - Subterranean

Roland didn't wait; he edged past the injured beast. The pain of its crushed toes had inflamed the beast's rage. It charged the truck, ramming the Bronco a solid blow, jarring it two feet to the right, almost shoving them into a Quonset hut.

Roland wrestled with the wheel, trying to keep them moving forward. After a moment's struggle, the Bronco cleared the irate monster. The beast bellowed its protest, but its injury kept it from pursuing. Soon its pained roar faded behind them.

As they approached the lake, close to the fighting, Roland was forced to slow. The smoke was so thick from the fires and explosions that even the Bronco's lights could cut only a couple yards into the darkness.

"Are we heading in the right direction?" Roland asked.

"I think so." Blakely leaned forward, his nose almost touching the windshield. Between his blurred vision and the smoke, it was difficult to tell. "If we keep the big inferno to the left of us, we should head straight to the lake."

Blakely glanced in the rearview mirror. Jason still sat frozen in his seat belt. "How're you holding up, Jason?"

The boy remained quiet; only his eyes moved, making contact with Blakely's in the mirror. "This summer sucks," he said, shifting the gym bag in his lap.

That it does, Blakely thought. He nodded to the boy and again concentrated on the road ahead.

A sudden gust of cavern air cleared a narrow tunnel in the smoke. Blakely sat straighter. Just before the tunnel collapsed under the weight of the smoke again, he spotted it.

Lapping water. The lake! They had made it.

Roland had seen it too. A large bump tossed them all a few inches off their seats.

"I hope you can steer a boat better than this Bronco," Blakely said weakly.

The Bronco suddenly crashed to the left. The wheel spun under Roland's hands.

"Hang on!" Roland managed to yell just before the truck careened into the side of a building, knocking over a lamp pole.

Blakely's seat belt cut into his shoulder as the momentum slammed him to the side. Hitting the door, he groaned as he touched the welt on his head.

Roland unhitched his seat belt and reached for him. "Are you okay?"

"What did you run over?" Blakely asked.

Jason screamed behind them, "Watch out!" He already had his seat belt undone and was clambering over the front seat to join them.

The rear window of the Bronco shattered inward as a crocodilian head rammed through. The safety-glass coating kept the pane together, draping over the snout of the beast. The creature struggled to shake it loose.

"Out!" Roland commanded. "Run for the water."

Roland pulled Jason after him. Blakely clambered over to the driver's seat and dropped out of the Bronco.

Smoke enveloped them as they struck for the water. Blakely desperately hoped he was right and the dock was nearby. Glancing back, Blakely glimpsed the beast struggling to free its head of the Bronco, screeching its frustration. Once free, it would be upon them in seconds.

He stopped.

Roland turned to him. "What are you doing?"

"Keep going. Take the boy. I'll delay it."

"Are you insane? You're not in any shape." Roland shoved the boy toward him. "Take Jason. I can catch up. Leave me your shotgun."

Blakely hesitated. He could order him.

Roland snatched the shotgun from his grasp and pointed it at Blakely. "Move it!"

Blakely knew he wouldn't shoot, but they were losing time arguing. The timbre of the beast's bellow had changed. It was free. "We'll get the engine running."

Blakely ran stumbling after Jason. A shotgun blast tore the air behind him. He prayed for his friend.

Jason ran a few steps ahead. "I see it!"

The lights of the dock bloomed through the smoky air. Thank god. Within moments they were pounding across the wooden planks of the pier.

Shots rang out in the distance.

To the left, a green Zodiac pontoon boat was moored with two ropes.

"Hop in," he wheezed, but the boy was already in. "I'm going to start the engine. I want you near the rope. When I say pull, you yank the end of the rope to free us."

"I know," Jason said, staring back down the dock.

Blakely turned to the ignition cord and pulled it. The engine sputtered but didn't catch. He yanked it again. The same. Shit.

"Here comes Roland!"

Blakely looked up. His aide sprinted toward them, barely visible through the smoke. He yanked on the cord again. It almost caught this time, sputtering longer before dying. Blakely prayed as he watched Roland scramble toward the dock.

From out of the smoky blanket, a reptilian head shot forward, grabbing Roland by the shoulder. His body was flipped into the air, his momentum carrying him down the length of the dock. He landed beside the boat, the cracking of bones audible as he crashed to the planks. In thick pulses, blood flowed freely from his torn shoulder.

Blakely strained toward him, meaning to pull him into the boat.

The creature had stopped at the dock's edge, suspicious of the water.

Blood seeping from his lips, Roland struggled to rise but toppled over. He turned to Blakely and shook his head. With his good arm, he pulled the last mooring free. The boat drifted from the dock's edge.

"Go," he sputtered. He struggled to remove a ring from his left hand. He tossed it toward the boat.

Blakely caught it, recognizing the ring from Roland's partner in Seattle.

"Tell Eric… I love him." Roland pulled his pistol from his belt as the creature placed a tentative claw on the dock.

Blakely yanked the cord, and the engine caught with a clanking whine. With a twist of the gasoline feed, the prow of the boat tilted up as the craft accelerated from the dock. He watched as the monster crept down the dock, hissing toward his friend.

Roland tried to steady his pistol, but he was rapidly weakening. His first shot went wild. The creature was on top of him now. Roland raised the pistol to his forehead.

Blakely looked away.

A shot rang out, echoing over the water.

When Blakely turned back, the smoke had drawn a curtain between him and the dock. Just a dull glow marked its location through the grime.

A sudden bellow of frustration trumpeted across the water. It had been denied its kill.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, LINDA'S GONE?" ASHLEY SAID, raising her nose from the radio. She wasn't able to reach anyone either. "Why can't people stay put? I told everyone to stay inside the tunnel."

Michaelson packed away the radio and pointed behind him. "Sorry. I turned my back on them for a second, and she and Khalid were gone. The tunnel exits another hundred yards ahead."

Ben spoke behind her. "It's the claustrophobia. It's too tight in here."

"Well, it's a damned sight tighter in the belly of one of those predators."

"Khalid already reconnoitered the next chamber," Michaelson said. "I haven't seen it, but he told me it's safe. Only a second wormhole enters the chamber. Too small for one of those creatures."

"Yeah," Ashley said, "but what about other predators? Things that can travel through these wormholes."

Michaelson shrugged.

"Fine. Let's head on. I want the team to stick together." She helped Michaelson with the sleeping Villanueva; he moaned as he was moved. She checked his forehead. Damp, but not feverish. He needed help soon too. Damn this shitty radio.

Michaelson backed down the tunnel, pulling the SEAL along. Ashley pushed from behind, her knees raw by the time the glow of the exit appeared. Ben brought up the rear, lugging the packs. With a final heave, the SEAL was extracted from the tunnel. Ashley tumbled after him-into a natural wonderland.

"Holy shit!" Ben said as he crawled from the tunnel. "I've died and gone to heaven."

Ashley stood stunned. Before her opened a chamber the size of a small ballroom. Almost cozy. Iridescent crystals, some as small as thumbnails, others the size of ripe watermelons, encrusted the walls and floor, casting back the lamplight in scintillating sparks. Rainbows reflected everywhere. Stepping gingerly across the uneven floor, Ashley crossed to the center of the chamber, her mouth hanging open.