“Remarkable,” he said, his eyes bright. “Hydraulic fluid, walls that move, tunnels that dig themselves.”
Lex faced him. “Is there anything you didn’t tell me about this place?”
“Nothing. I have no idea what this is.”
“How could the ancients have constructed something like this?” Lex demanded.
“Clearly they had help.” It was Sebastian who spoke.
“You mean little green men?”
“I don’t know about that,” Sebastian replied. “But the one thing I do know for sure—” He pointed to the weapon cradled in Weyland’s hands. “Five thousand years ago our ancestors were killing one another with wooden clubs and knives chipped from obsidian. Not these things.”
“So little green men may not be so wide off the mark,” said Miller from the sidelines. He was rechecking the readings on his spectrometer after a thorough examination of another of the Predator weapons. “I’ve just completed a basic spectral analysis of the metal. The majority of the compounds here are simply unknown, but the two elements I
Miller closed the cover on his spectrometer.
“Well, whatever it is, we’re not prepared for it,” Lex said. She stared down the long, dark corridor that had opened up behind Weyland. “We’re going to round up the rest of the team and get to the surface. Let’s move.”
Meanwhile, Max and two security members whose tags identified them as Bass and Stone hauled a large wooden crate to the center of the room and pried it open. Packed inside was an arsenal of heavy weapons, including MP-5s, plenty of ammunition, and a variety of handguns and survival knives. Verheiden began handing them out. Peters took a machine gun and a sidearm. Max accepted an MP-5. Connors took a Desert Eagle.
“What the hell is this, Weyland?” Sebastian cried.
Weyland smiled pragmatically, his skin waxy and pale in the gloom. “We’ve lost contact with the surface. And this discovery is too important to hand it over to the Chinese or the Russians.”
“But this is supposed to be a
Weyland bristled. “This is
Weyland gestured toward the sarcophagus, and instantly his security team began to unload the ancient weapons rack. They carefully rolled the devices up in protective wrapping and stuffed them into a large backpack.
Lex spied the activity and confronted Stafford. “What are you doing?”
“My job. Yours is over,” Max said as he slammed a magazine into his machine gun.
Lex’s eyes narrowed. “I told you, when I lead a team, I don’t leave my team. My job is over when everyone is back on the boat safely, and that gun doesn’t change anything.”
Stafford looked to his boss. “Mr. Weyland?”
Weyland looked at Max, then at Lex.
“She brought us here, she’s getting us home.” He faced Max. “You and your crew back her up.”
As everyone assembled on the threshold of the new corridor, Max stepped aside so Lex could pass. “After you,” he said.
Lex ignored the slight condescension and consulted her wrist compass. “This bearing should take us back to the entrance. We make it to the surface and we regroup at the whaling station.”
“What about Thomas and Rousseau?” asked Sebastian.
Lex glanced at him, then looked away. “We’ll find them on the way out.”
Minutes after Lex and her group departed the Chamber of the Sarcophagus, a seemingly immovable stone portal rose into the ceiling. Then a shimmering blur appeared at the doorway of the murky chamber, stirring the stagnant air.
Blue lightning crackled and the Predator uncloaked. As the creature stalked toward the open sarcophagus, a low clicking sound reverberated deep within its throat. Standing over the now empty weapons bin, the clicking morphed into an angry rumble.
A breeze stirred as more ghostly figures drifted into the chamber. One by one, they disengaged their cloaking devices and approached the sarcophagus, until all were assembled.
The lead Predator tapped the computer keypad on its wrist with two oddly elongated middle fingers. There was a hum of energy from behind his mask as a ruby-red ray emanating from his glassy eye slits stabbed through the darkness.
Utilizing the thermal sensor built into its battle mask, the Predator scanned the stone floor for any traces of residual energy. With its head twisting to the left, then to the right, the creature’s high-tech dreadlocks swung about, scanning every inch of the chamber. Finally, the Predator found the spoor—the residual heat of footprints left behind by the humans as they moved on.
The Predator roared and thrust the tip of its curved spear in the direction of the long corridor, where the trail of ghostly footprints led deeper into the pyramid. Shifting the spear in its hand, the Predator engaged its stealth armor and faded from view. With clicks and grunts, the rest of the Predators followed in a blur, right behind the leader.
CHAPTER 21
The long, broad corridor beyond the Chamber of the Sarcophagus stretched off into the darkness. Lex and the others followed the passageway for about three hundred feet until they found themselves crossing a stone bridge constructed of carved blocks as large as houses.
Nothing could be seen on either side of the bridge, just a vast, black emptiness. Frigid blasts rose up from the depths. Lex pointed her flashlight into the darkness, but the beam could not penetrate the abyss. Out of curiosity, she broke a chemical glow stick and dropped it over the side.
For a long time, everyone watched the light fall. When it finally faded in the distance, it was still falling.
“How deep could that be?” Connors asked.
Sebastian managed an ironic smile. “To hell perhaps? If we’re not already there.”
Miller stared at the huge construction stone under his feet. “We’re standing on a single piece of solid rock that’s bigger than a Wal-Mart—and these people built a bridge out of it. How could primitives have possibly moved it here?”
“Clearly—”
“They had help,” Stafford interrupted. “You’ve said that before, Dr. De Rosa. But
“An extraterrestrial intelligence from another civilization,” said Miller.
“But why?” Max replied. “If some advanced star-faring civilization did come to Earth in ancient times, why hang around? These ancients may have had something like a civilization, but compared to an alien race that could travel across galaxies, they were primitives.”
“So are
Weyland hobbled past them, an oxygen bottle slung over his shoulder. The industrialist no longer seemed interested in their speculations. Max Stafford broke off his conversation with Sebastian, then hurried to catch up with his employer.
On the other end of the bridge they found another door—this one framed by panels decorated with even more elaborate hieroglyphics.
“This looks important,” said Sebastian.
The darkness beyond the threshold was absolute. Lex drew a powerful storm flare and ignited it. Raising the flickering light high, she led them into a long, broad corridor lined with mammoth jade-hued statues mounted on square stone pedestals. Each effigy was a representation of a vaguely humanoid being between eight and ten feet tall, with impossibly broad shoulders and hair bound in long dreadlocks. The faces varied—some were broad, flat and featureless, while others had narrow, close-set eyes and a mouth surrounded by mandibles that looked like they belonged on a shellfish.
