The short, empty tunnel ran left to right in front of her, a door at either end, but the door to her left was set into the same wall as the one she'd just exited, leading back toward the courtyard. Jill opted for the one on the right, hoping that her sense of direction was still intact.
The metal door creaked open and she stepped in, feeling the change in the air immediately. The tunnel split in front of her. To the right, a thickening of shadow where the rock walls opened into another corridor. But to her left was a small elevator shaft like the ones in the courtyard. A warm, delicious wind swept down and over her, the sweet air like a forgotten dream.
Jill grinned and started for the shaft, seeing that the lift's platform had been taken up. Chances were good that she was still on the trail of Enrico's killer… … but maybe not. Maybe he went the other way, and you're about to lose him.
Jill hesitated, gazing wistfully at the small shaftand then turned around, sighing. She had to at least take a look.
She walked into the stone corridor that stretched in front of her, the temperature immediately dropping back to the now familiar unpleasant chill. The tunnel extended several feet to her right and dead ended. To her left, a massive, rounded boulder like the one she'd seen before marked the other end, a good hundred feet away. And there was something small laying in front of it, something blue…
Frowning, Jill walked toward the giant rock, trying to make out the blue object. Halfway down the dim tunnel was an offshoot to the left, and she recognized the metal plate next to it as the same kind of mechanism that had moved the pit.
She stepped into the small offshoot, examining the worn stones at its opening. There was a small door to her right, and Jill realized that the passage and room could be hidden by way of the mechanism, the walls turned to block the entrance.
Jeez, it must've taken them years to set all this up.
And to think I was impressed with the house…
She opened the door and looked inside. A midsized square room of rough stone, a statue of a bird on a pedestal the only decoration. There was no other exit, and Jill felt a sudden rush of relief as the implications sank in. She could leave the underground tunnels; the killer had to have left already.
Smiling, she stepped back out into the corridor and started toward the giant rock, still curious about the blue thing. As she got closer, she saw that it was a book, bound in blue-dyed leather. It had been thrown carelessly against the base of the stone, laying face down and open. She slung the Remington across her back and crouched down to pick it up.
It was a book-box. Her father had told her about them, though she'd never actually seen one. There was a cut-away section of pages behind the cover where valuables could be hidden, though this one was empty.
She flipped it closed, tracing the gold-leaf letters of the title, Eagle of East, Wolf of West, as she started back toward the elevator. Didn't sound like much of a thriller, though it was nicely bound.
Snick.
Jill froze as the stone beneath her left foot sank down a tiny bit-and she realized at the same instant that the entire tunnel gently sloped away from where she was standing. -oh noBehind her, a deep, thundering sound of rock grating against rock.
Dropping the book, Jill sprinted for cover, arms and legs pumping as the rumbling grew louder, the tripped boulder picking up momentum. The dark opening of the offshoot seemed miles away – -won 't make it, gonna die– and she could almost feel the tons of stone bearing down on her, wanted desperately to look but knew that the split-second difference would kill her.
In a final, desperate burst of speed she dove for the opening, crashing to the floor and jerking her legs in as the massive rock rolled past, missing her by inches. Even as she drew in her next gasping breath, the boulder hit the end of the tunnel with an explosive, bone-jarring crunch that shook the underground passage.
For a moment, it was all she could do to huddle against the cold floor and not throw up. When that passed, she slowly got to her feet and dusted herself off. The heels of her hands were abraded and both her knees bruised from the running dive, but compared to being smashed flat by a big rock, she thought she had definitely made the right choice.
Jill unstrapped the Remington and headed for the elevator shaft, very much looking forward to leaving the underground behind and keeping her fingers crossed that whatever came next, it wouldn't be cold.
And that there wouldn't be any spiders.
The basement was flooded, all right.
Chris stood at the top of a short ramp that led to the basement doors, staring down at his own unsmiling face reflected off of the shimmering water. It looked cold. And deep.
After he'd left Rebecca, he'd continued down the hall and found room 003 at the end, the ladder to the basement level tucked discreetly behind a bookcase in the neatly kept bedroom. He'd descended into a chilled concrete corridor with buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, a dramatic change from the plain wood and simple style of the bunkhouse above.
At least I found the basement.
It appeared that killing Plant 42 was their only option for escape after all. He'd seen no other exit from the bunkhouse, which meant that it had to be past the plant's room or else there was no back door, a thought that left him distinctly unsettled. It didn't seem possible, but then, neither did a carnivorous plant.
And you won't find out until you get this over with.
Chris sighed, and stepped into the water. It was cold, and had an unpleasant chemical smell. He waded down to the door, the water sliding up over his knees and finally stopping at mid-thigh, sloshing gently. Shivering, he pushed the door open and moved inside.
The basement was dominated by a giant glass-fronted tank in the center of the room that extended floor to ceiling, a large, jagged hole toward the bottom right-hand side. Chris wasn't that good at judging volume, but to fill the whole area with water, he figured that the tank had to have held several thousands of gallons.
What the hell were they studying that they needed that much? Tidal waves?
It didn't matter; he was cold, and he wanted to find what he needed to find and get back to dry land. He started off toward the left, slowly, straining against the push and pull of the gently lapping waves.
It was totally unreal, wading through a well-lit concrete room, though he supposed it was no stranger than anything else he'd experienced since the Alpha 'copter had set down. Everything about the Spencer estate had a dream-like feel to it, as if it existed in its own reality far removed from the rest of the world's…
Try nightmare-like. Killer plants, giant snakes, the walking dead-all that's missing is a flying saucer, maybe a dinosaur.
He heard a soft sloshing behind him and glanced over his shoulder… …to see a thick, triangular fin rise up from the water twenty feet away and slide toward him, a wavering gray shadow beneath.
Panic shot through him, an all-encompassing panic that seared away rational thought. He took a giant, running step and realized that he couldn't run as he plunged face first into the cold, chemical water and came up gasping, spluttering tainted liquid from his nose and mouth, hoping to God Rebecca was right about the virus having burned itself out.
He whipped his head around, eyes burning, searching for the fin and saw that it had halved the distance between them. He could see it now – a shark, its rippling, distorted body sliding easily through the water, ten or twelve feet long, its broad tail lashing it forward – the black, soulless eyes set above its pointed grin. -wet bullets misfireChris stumbled away backwards, knowing that he didn't stand a chance of outrunning it. Wheeling his arms for balance, he sloshed heavily through the dragging water, turning himself sideways and managing a few more steps before the shark was on top of him… …and he leaped to the side, dodging the animal and slapping the water as violently as he could, churning it into foaming waves. The shark slid past him, its smooth, heavy body brushing against his leg.
As soon as it was past, Chris stumbled after it, splashing wildly to keep up as he turned the corner in the flooded room. If he could stay close enough, it wouldn't be able to turn, to get at him – except that in seconds, the shark would have the room to maneuver. He could see two doors ahead on the left but the giant fish was already leaving him behind, heading toward the next corner to turn around and come back for him.
Chris took a deep breath and plunged into the water, knowing it was crazy but that he didn't have a better chance. He stroked desperately toward the first door, kicking off against the cement floor to propel himself forward
