Excavation

Maggie raised her rifle toward the howling gorilla. “Shut up, asshole!” She pulled the trigger, and the monster fell backward, crashing to the stones. Its legs tremored in death throes for a breath, then grew still.

As the echoes of her rifle blast died down, silence returned to the plaza. No one moved. With the death of the leader, the pack was momentarily cowed.

Finally, Maggie hissed, “Sam, that was my last shell.”

“Then I’d say we’ve overstayed our welcome here.”

As if hearing him, the creatures began to creep slowly toward them again.

The Texan turned to Denal. “How fast can you run?”

“Just watch me!” Denal flew down the empty street ahead.

Sam and Maggie took off after the boy, racing together through the fouled village.

Angry screeches and hungry howls erupted behind them. The chase was on. With the prey on the run, the pack abandoned their wariness. Bloodlust overcame fear. Scouts ran along neighboring streets, white blurs between homes, tracking them. Behind them, hunters gave chase, howling their challenge.

Maggie struggled to keep up with Sam, fighting to get the Winchester over her shoulder.

“Leave it,” Sam yelled back.

“But-?”

Sam slowed and grabbed the rifle from her. He whipped it over his head and threw it behind them. The prized Winchester clattered and skittered across the rock. “I’d rather save you, than a damned rusted rifle.”

Unburdened and strangely energized by Sam’s words, Maggie increased her pace. They ran side by side, matching stride. Soon they were out of the village and onto the jungle path. Trees and whipping branches strove to slow them down, but they pushed onward, scratched and bloodied.

Denal was a few meters ahead of them, leaping and running naked through the woods.

“Make for the tunnel!” Sam called ahead.

“What tunnel?” Denal called back, almost tripping.

Maggie realized Denal had no memory of getting here. She yelled. “Just stick to the trail, Denal. It leads right to it!”

The boy increased his stride. Sam and Maggie struggled to follow. Behind them, they could hear the snap of branches and the yipping barks of the hunters.

Gasping, neither tried to speak any longer. Maggie’s vision narrowed to a pinpoint and, as she ran, her legs spasmed and cramped. She began to slow.

Sam’s arm was suddenly under her, pulling her along.

“No…Sam…go on.” But she was too weak even to fight him.

“Like hell I will.” He hauled her with him. The chase seemed endless. Maggie did not remember the trail being this long.

Then finally sunlight returned. The jungle fell behind them. Ahead, the black eye of the tunnel lay only a handful of meters ahead. Denal was already there, hovering at the entrance.

Sam half carried her up the short slope to the entrance. “Get inside!” he called to the boy.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. Pale forms burst through the jungle foliage, ripping away clinging vines. Some loped on two legs, some ran on all fours.

“Get inside! Now, Denal!”

“I…I can’t!” the boy whined.

Maggie swung forward. Denal still crouched by the entrance. He would take a step toward the shadowed interior, then back away.

Sam and Maggie joined him. The Texan pushed her toward the tunnel. “Go!”

Maggie stumbled into the entrance, her vision so dimmed that the gloom of the tunnel was blinding. She twisted around to see Sam pull Denal into his arms.

The boy screeched like a butchered pig as Sam leaped into the tunnel beside her. Denal writhed and contorted in the man’s arms.

“What’s wrong with him?” Maggie asked, as she and Sam limped deeper down the throat of the tunnel.

Denal’s back arched in a tremored convulsion. “I think he’s having a seizure,” Sam said, holding the boy tight.

Behind them, the screeches of the beasts echoed up the passage. Maggie glanced over her shoulder. The beasts piled up at the entrance, twisted forms limned in the sunlight. But none entered. None dared pursue their escaping prey into the tunnel. “They won’t come in here,” Maggie muttered. She frowned as she swung around. Like Denal, she added silently.

Sam finally fell to his knees, exhausted, legs trembling. He laid Denal down. The boy’s eyes were rolled white, and a frothing saliva clung to his lips. He gurgled and choked.

“I don’t understand what’s the matter with him,” Sam said.

Maggie glanced back to the writhing mass of beasts at the tunnel’s opening. She slowly shook her head.

Finally, Denal coughed loudly. His body relaxed. Maggie reached toward the boy, thinking he was expiring. But when she touched him, Denal’s eyes rolled back. He stared at her, then sat up quickly, like coming out of a bad dream. “Que paso?” he asked in Spanish.

“I had to drag you inside,” Sam said. “What was wrong?”

Denal’s brows pinched together as he struggled back to English. “It would not let me come inside.”

“What wouldn’t?”

Denal pressed a finger against his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know.”

Maggie suspected the answer. “It was the temple.”

Sam glanced over the boy’s head at her. “What?”

Maggie stood. “Let’s get out of here.”