And then nothing.
Race waited expectantly for the final soldier to call in. But his call never came.
No 'Five'.
Inside the temple, von Dirksen spun around.
'Friedrich,' he hissed as he walked back up the passageway, past the others.
They had come a short way down the steep spiralling tunnel and now they stood in pitch darkness, the only light - the beams of their flashlights.
Behind them, up the slope, they could see a wash of blue moonlight bending around the tunnel's gentle curve, indicating the way back to the surface.
Von Dirksen peered back up the tunnel.
'Friedrich!' he whispered into the darkness. 'Friedrich!
Where are you?'
At that moment, von Dirksen heard a loud whump from somewhere behind him.
He spun.
And now saw only two of his men standing behind him.
The third was nowhere to be seen.
Von Dirksen turned back to face the entrance and was about to say something into his microphone when suddenly he saw an unusually large shadow slink around the bend in the tunnel above him and, in that instant, he completely lost the ability to speak.
It was silhouetted by the moonlight behind it.
And it looked absolutely terrifying.
The soft blue light of the moon glistened off its muscly black flanks. The beam of von Dirksen's flashlight glinted off its long razor-sharp teeth.
The German captain just stared at the creature before him in stunned silence.
It was huge.
And then suddenly it was joined by a second, identical creature, stepping out from behind it.
They must have been hiding inside the alcoves, von Dirksen thought.
Lying in wait. Waiting for him and his men to walk past them, so that they could now cut off their retreat.
And then in a flash the first creature pounced. Von Dirksen never had a chance. It moved incredibly fast for an animal of its size and in a second its slashing jaws filled his field of vision and in that moment all Kurt von Dirksen could do was scream.
Shouts and screams burst out from the television's speakers.
Race and the others stared at the screen in horror.
The screams of the last three members of the entry team being attacked echoed across the airwaves. Briefly, Race heard gunfire, but it only lasted for a second before abruptly both it and the screaming cut off together and there was silence.
Long silence.
Race stared at the television screen, at the picture of the open mouth of the temple.
“Von Dirksen, Friedrich, Nielson. Report.'
There was no reply from the men inside the temple.
Race swapped a glance with Lauren.
And then suddenly a new voice came in over the speakers.
It was a breathless voice, panting and afraid.
'Sir! This is Nielson! Repeat, this is Nielson! Oh God… God help us. Get out of here, sir! Get out of here while you still—”
Smack!
It sounded like a collision of some sort.
Like the sound of something big slamming into the man named Nielson.
Sounds of a scuffle ensued and then, abruptly, Race heard a blood-curdling scream and then—over the scream— he heard another, infinitely more terrifying, sound.
It was a roar—an ungodly roar—loud and deep like that of a lion.
Only fuller, more resonant, fiercer.
Race's eyes flashed back to the television screen and suddenly he froze.
He saw it.
