Sighing, he turned away from the diagram and looked at Rebecca. “Whatever happened to Barry, we should go ahead. This may be the only way off the estate.”
Rebecca smiled a little. “Fine by me. It just feels good to get out of there, you know?”
“Yeah, no kidding,” he said, with feeling. He hadn’t even realized how accustomed he’d grown to the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the house until they’d left it. The difference was truly amazing.
They walked through the tidy storage room and stopped at the back door, both of them breathing deeply. Rebecca checked her Beretta for about the hundredth time since they’d left the main hall, chew-ing at her lower lip nervously. Chris could see how tightly wound she was and tried to think if there was anything she needed to know, anything that would help her if they were forced into a combat situation. S.T.A.R.S. training covered all the basics, but shoot-ing at a video screen with a toy gun was a far cry from the real thing.
He grinned suddenly, remembering the words of wisdom he’d gotten on his first operation, a stand-off with a small group of whacked-out survivalists in upstate New York. He’d been terrified, and trying desperately not to show it. The captain for the mis-sion had been a tough-as-nails explosives expert, an extremely short woman named Kaylor. She’d pulled him aside just before they went in, looked him up and down, and given him the single best piece of advice he’d ever received.
“Son,” she’d said, “no matter what happens—when the shooting starts, try not to wet your pants.” It had surprised him out of his nervousness, the statement so totally weird that he’d literally been forced to let go of the worst of his fear to make room for it_“What are you grinning about?”
Chris shook his head, the smile fading. Somehow, he didn’t think it would work on Rebecca—and the dangers they faced didn’t shoot back. “Long story. Come on, let’s go.”
They moved out into the calm night air, crickets and cicadas buzzing sleepily in the surrounding woods. They were in a kind of courtyard, high brick walls on either side, an offshoot walkway to their left. Chris could hear rushing water nearby and the mournful cry of a dog or coyote in the distance, a lonely, faraway sound.
Speaking of dogs . . .
There were a couple of them sprawled out across the stones, soft moonlight glistening against their wet, sinewy bodies. Chris edged up to one of them and crouched down, touching its flank. He quickly pulled his hand back, scowling; the mutant dog was sticky and warm, like it had been sheathed in a thick layer of mucous.
He stood up, wiping his hand on his pants. “Hasn’t been dead long,” he said quietly. “Less than an hour, anyway.”
There was a rusted iron gate just past some hedges in front of them. Chris nodded at Rebecca and as they walked toward it, the sound of rushing water in-creased to a dull roar.
Chris pushed at the gate and it swung open on violently squealing hinges, revealing a huge, cut stone reservoir, easily the size of a couple of swimming pools put together. Deep shadows draped and hung at every side, caused by the seemingly solid walls of murky green trees and lush vegetation that threatened to break through the bordering rails.
They moved forward, stopping at the edge of the massive pool. It was apparently in the slow process of being drained, the turbulent noise caused by the narrow flow of water through a raised gate on the east side. There wasn’t a complete path around the reser-voir, but Chris saw that there was a walkway bisecting the pool itself, about five feet below water level. There were bolted ladders at both sides, and the path had obviously been submerged until quite recently, the stones dark with dripping algae.
Chris studied the unusual setup for a moment, wondering how anyone got across when it wasn’t being drained. Another mystery to add to the growing list.
Without speaking, they climbed down and hurried across, boots squelching against the slimy stones, a clammy humidity enveloping them. Chris quickly scaled the second ladder, reaching down to help Rebecca up.
The heavily shaded path was littered with branches and pine needles and appeared to border the east end of the reservoir, passing over the open floodgate. They started toward the forced waterfall and had only gotten a few feet when it started to rain. Plop. Plop plop.
Chris frowned, an inner voice informing him coolly that he shouldn’t be able to hear raindrops over the roar of the draining water. He looked up—
• and saw a twisted branch fall from the stretching foliage hanging over the rail, a branch that hit the stones and slid smoothly away—
• that’s not a branch—
• and there were dozens of them already on the ground, twisting across the dark stones, hissing and writhing as they fell from the trees overhead. He and Rebecca were surrounded by snakes.
“Oh, shit—“
Startled, Rebecca turned to look at Chris—and felt cold terror shoot through her, her heart squeezed in its icy grip as she took in the path behind him. The ground had come to life, black shapes coiling toward their feet and dropping from above like living rain. Rebecca started to raise her gun, realizing numbly that there were too many even as Chris roughly grabbed her arm.
“Run!”
They stumbled forward, Rebecca crying out invol-untarily as a thick, writhing body fell across her shoulder, a touch of cool scales against her arm as it slid heavily off and hit the stones.
The path zig-zagged and they ran through the shifting shadows, heels crunching down on rubbery, moving flesh, throwing them off balance. Snakes darted forward to strike at their passing boots as they ran over a steel grate, black, foaming water thunder-ing below, the sound of their boots hitting metal lost to the liquid roar.
Ahead of them, the stones were clearer—but the path also dropped off sharply, a small elevator plat-form marking its end. There was no place left to go. They crowded on to the tiny platform and Rebecca snatched at the controls, her breath coming in pan-icked gasps. Chris turned and fired repeatedly, the shots blasting over the crash of water as Rebecca found the operating button and slammed it down. The platform shuddered and started to descend, slipping down past rock walls toward a massive, empty courtyard below. Rebecca turned, raising the Beretta to help Chris—
• and felt her jaw drop, her throat locking at the gruesome scene. There had to be hundreds of them, the path almost completely hidden by the slithering creatures, hissing and squirming in an alien frenzy as they struck wildly at each other. By the time she managed to unfreeze, the loathsome sight had risen past eye level and was gone.
The ride seemed to last forever, both of them staring up at the edge of the path they’d left behind, tensely, breathlessly waiting for the bodies to start falling. When the lift was within a few feet of the bottom, they both jumped off, stumbling quickly away from the wall.
They both leaned against the cool rock, gasping. Rebecca took in the courtyard they’d escaped to in between shuddering breaths, letting the sound of the splashing waterfall soothe her nerves. It was a huge, open space made out of brick and stone, the colors washed out and hazy in the frail light. The water from the reservoir above tumbled down into two stone pools nearby, and there was a single gate across from them.
And no snakes.
She took a final deep breath and blew it out, then turned to Chris.
“Were you bit?”
He shook his head. “You?”
“No,” she said. “Though if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not go back that way. I’m more of a cat-person, really.”
Chris stared at her for a moment and then grinned, pushing away from the wall. “Funny, I would’ve figured you for lab rats. I—“
Beep-beep.
The radio!
Rebecca grabbed at the unit hooked to her belt, the snakes suddenly forgotten. It was the sound she’d been hoping to hear ever since they’d found Richard. They were being hailed, maybe by searchers—
She thumbed the receiver and held the radio up so they could both hear. Static crackled through the tinny speaker along with the soft whine of a wavering signal.
“. . . this is Brad!. . . Alpha team . . . read? If. . . can hear this...”
His voice disappeared in a burst of static. Rebecca hit the transmit button and spoke quickly. “Brad? Brad, come in!”
The signal was gone. They both listened for a moment longer, but nothing else came through. “He must have gotten out of range,” Chris said. He sighed, walking farther out into the open yard and gazing up at the dark, overcast sky.
Rebecca clipped the silent radio back to her belt, still feeling more hopeful than she had all night. The pilot was out there somewhere, circling around and looking for them. Now that they were clear of the mansion, they’d be able to hear him signal. Assuming he comes back.
Rebecca ignored the thought and walked over to join Chris, who had found another tiny elevator platform, tucked in the corner across from the water-fall. A quick check showed it to be without power. Chris turned toward the gate, slapping a fresh clip into his Beretta. “Shall we see what’s behind door number one?”
It was a rhetorical question. Unless they wanted to go back through the snakes, it was their only option. Just the same, Rebecca smiled and nodded, wanting to make sure he knew she was ready—and hoping
desperately that if anything else happened, she would be.
FovRtEEn
JILL STOOD AT THE EDGE OF A YAWNING,