John Sneeden - The Hades Conspiracy

The guard relayed the question through his headset. After receiving a response, he nodded. “Yes, sir. Everything is in place.”

The blocks of C-4 had been brought in and placed near the gate in case the key didn’t work. Roger wouldn’t hesitate to use it if, somehow, the gate came down. Whatever this thing was, it would be no match for the explosives waiting to rock its world. That much C-4 was enough to bring down a skyscraper.

Roger lifted his binoculars and trained them on the alcove. The only light came from a few dozen candles Viktor’s men had set in a giant circle.

Roger shifted the binoculars. Viktor and his flock lay prone on the ground, caught up in some sort of spiritual ecstasy. Roger shook his head. He never should’ve worked with them in the first place. He should’ve gotten his hands on the map and come in alone.

As he studied the scene, someone rose and began walking. Roger leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. What the…?

It was Viktor, and he had something in his hand. As he neared the gate, the cult leader approached the obelisk. Roger dropped the binoculars to his chest. No…

There was a flash of light in the alcove. His pulse quickening, Roger raised the binoculars again. A spray of colored light splashed across the walls.

The fool… He can’t be.

And yet he had. He’d placed the relic in the obelisk, and the gate slid open. The idiot had finally crossed over into insanity, and he was going to pay with his life.

Roger looked at his senior guard again. “Have your men prepare to detonate.”

The guard hesitated. “Sir, shouldn’t we warn the others to evacuate the area?”

“I guess you must have something clogging up your ears. I said to have your men prepare for detonation.”

“Sir, if we set off the C-Four while they’re—”

“Just do it!” Roger screamed.

The guard stepped away and spoke into his mic.

Roger turned back to the spectacle playing out in the alcove. The gate was now halfway open. Something hovered in the darkness beyond, waiting to come out, something massive, as tall as a tree.

Rather than retreat, Viktor took a step toward it. His crazed flock followed. They were on a suicide mission, and at this point, there was nothing Roger could do to stop them. The shadows in the cave mouth moved. The thing — whatever it was — took a step forward, the ground shaking under its weight.

Roger lifted the binoculars for a closer look. The gate was open, and a dark figure emerged from the cave. Roger flinched when it came into the light. It had the form and shape of a man but was twenty to twenty-five feet tall. Its head sported a massive mop of red hair, and its beard hung down over its abdomen. It looked like something ripped from the pages of a fairy tale. A real life troll. A giant.

Son of a…

The giant turned its head back and forth, not sure of what to think of all the people. Instead of fleeing, the people moved forward, their arms lifted.

No, you idiots. No.

The giant let loose a horrifying growl then grabbed two of the nearest men. It flung one against the wall. The man hit the rock like a sack of potatoes then dropped to the ground. Roger guessed every major bone in his body was crushed. The other man suffered a more gruesome fate at the giant’s hands. Roger was a hard, cruel man, but even he had to turn away at the sight.

Rather than turn and flee, Viktor pressed forward. He seemed to be speaking to the giant, perhaps trying to reason with it. That was pure insanity. There would be no reasoning with this thing. It had one purpose, and that was to kill anything that moved. Unfortunately, Viktor couldn’t understand that. His mind was too far gone.

Unimpressed with the attempted communication, the giant lunged forward and grabbed the cult leader, lifting him into the air.

Roger had seen enough. He knew what was coming next. Viktor’s body would be torn to pieces. He turned to the guard. “Blow it up.”

The man hesitated.

“Now!”

The guard nodded nervously then relayed the message through his headset.

Seconds later, there was a flash of light to the left of the giant. A massive fireball erupted. Rolling flames billowed out of the alcove. For a moment, it seemed as though it might even reach the city.

Roger stared at the fiery inferno. Nothing could survive such an explosion. He told the guards in the room to gather their weapons. If any member of the order had managed to survive, they were to be put out of their misery. Roger looked back toward the flames. Despite the death and carnage, he gave himself a figurative pat on the back.

Two problems had just been eliminated. And in the next hour, two others would be as well.

The blond man fixed his steely gaze on Carmen then walked over and extended a hand. “Jonas Stegmann, Commander of the Pontifical Swiss Guard.”

She shook his hand. “Carmen Petrosino. We’ve never met, but I recognize your name.”

“And I recognize yours as well.”

“I knew I got off track, but I didn’t realize I was already in the Vatican catacombs.”

Stegmann laughed.

Still concerned about the threat, several of the guards rushed over to the place where the giant had fallen over the edge. Carmen and Stegmann joined them. Flashlights were directed into the pit, but darkness swallowed the beams.

Stegmann looked at Carmen. “Do you know what it was?”

“I have no idea. We heard them coming up but found an alternate way back to the surface. Eventually, we all got separated, and I ended up here.”

“What is that?” One of the men stared into the abyss.

“What is what?” Stegmann asked.

“That.” He pointed.

Carmen crouched but saw nothing.

“A bit further to the left.”

After shifting her gaze, Carmen saw a tiny orange dot floating in the dark void. It seemed no bigger than the head of a pin, yet she knew the size was probably an optical illusion. As she watched, the dot disappeared.

“What just happened?” one of the soldiers asked.

“There it is again,” another said.

The dot appeared once again. Was a light shining up at them?

Stegmann got on one knee and studied the point of light. “I think we’re looking at an opening of some kind. When the opening disappeared, that was the giant passing through.”

Carmen didn’t know if he was right or not, but the hypothesis made sense. If true, it meant at least a couple of minutes had passed since the giant fell. She was no physicist, but that meant the opening could be a mile or two beneath them.

“Why is it orange?” one of the men asked. “If it’s an opening, what’s beyond?”

“Maybe this is a volcano,” Stegmann said after giving it some thought. “If it is, that may be lava. Whatever it is, it seems to give off light.”

A horrifying image surfaced in Carmen’s mind. Was it possible the order was right? Were they looking at an entrance to the underworld? After all, so much of the legend had turned out to be true. Shuddering, she pushed aside the thought.

Stegmann stood.

Carmen looked at him. “How did you know we were here?”

“As we began our investigation, the Polizia di Stato gave us some information on the person who stole the relic.”

“The State Police of Italy?” Carmen cut him off. “I’m surprised they were involved.”

“The thief murdered a courier prior to the heist then used his identity to effect the breach. The police were able to obtain evidence at their crime scene we were able to use to identify the suspect. To make a long story short, we eventually learned this man belonged to a cult.”

“The Order of Baal,” Carmen said with a nod.