The spotter spoke into his radio. “Proceed south seventy feet into the Hall, then west twenty feet to a door.”
The Commander took a small black box from his belt and pressed a button. A ruby laser shot out, pencil-thin. He moved the beam around until he had the distance reading he needed. Then he moved forward and repeated the procedure, shining the laser toward the west wall.
“Red One to Dugout. Door in sight.”
“Good. Proceed.”
The Commander moved ahead to the door, motioning his men to follow.
“The door’s locked. Setting charges.”
The team quickly moulded two small bars of plastique around the doorknob, then stepped back, unrolling more wire.
“Charges set.”
There was a low whump as the door flew open.
“The trapdoor should be directly in front of you, in the center of the storage room,” the spotter directed.
By moving aside several flats of scenery, the Commander and his men exposed the trapdoor. Undoing the latches, the Commander grasped the iron ring and heaved upward. Stale air rushed up to greet them. The Commander leaned forward. In the Hall of the Heavens below, everything was still.
“We’ve got an opening,” he said into the radio. “Looks good.”
“Okay,” came Coffey’s voice. “Secure the Hall. Send down the medics and evac the injured, fast.”
“Red One, roger that, Dugout.”
The spotter took over. “Tear out the drywall in the center of the north wall. Behind it you’ll find an eight-inch I-beam to anchor your ropes to.”
“Will do.”
“Careful. It’s a sixty-foot drop.”
The Commander and his team worked swiftly, punching through the drywall, looping two chains around the I-beam, attaching locking carabiners, a block and tackle. A team member hooked a rope ladder to one of the chains and dropped it through the hole.
The Commander leaned over once again, shining his powerful light down into the gloom of the hall.
“This is Red One. We’ve got some bodies down here,” he said.
“Any sign of the creature?” Coffey asked.
“Negative. Looks like ten, twelve bodies, maybe more. Ladder’s in place now.”
“What are you waiting for?”
The Commander turned to the medic team. “We’ll signal when ready. Start lowering the collapsible stretchers. We’ll take ‘em out one by one.”
He grabbed the rope ladder and started down, swinging over the vast empty space. The men followed, one by one. Two fanned out to provide suppressing fire as necessary, while two others set up tripods with clusters of halogen lamps, hooking them to the portable generators being lowered by ropes. Soon the center of the hall was flooded with light.
“Secure all ingress and egress!” shouted the Commander. “Medic team, descend!”
“Report!” Coffey cried over the radio.
“We’ve secured the Hall,” the Commander said. “No sign of any animal. Medic team deploying now.”
“Good. You’ll need to find the thing, kill it, and locate the Mayor’s party. We believe they went down the stairwell back by the service area.”
“Roger, Dugout,” said the Commander.
As the Commander’s radio buzzed into silence, he heard a sudden report, muffled but unmistakable.
“Red One to Dugout, we just heard a pistol shot. Sounded like it was coming from above.”
“Dammit, go after it!” cried Coffey. “Take your men and go after it!”
The Commander turned to his men. “All right. Red Two, Red Three, finish up and secure here. Take the grenade launcher. The rest of you come with me.”
= 56 =
The viscous water was now lapping at Smithback’s waist. Just keeping his balance was exhausting. His legs had long since gone numb, and he was shivering.
“This water is rising awful damn fast.” D’Agosta said.
“I don’t think we need to worry about that creature anymore,” Smithback said hopefully.
“Maybe not. You know,” D’Agosta told him slowly, “You were pretty quick back there, jamming the door with the flashlight like that. I guess you saved all our lives.”
“Thanks,” said Smithback, liking D’Agosta more and more.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” D’Agosta said over the rush of the water.
“Everyone okay?” D’Agosta turned back to the Mayor.
The Mayor looked haggard. “It’s touch and go. There are a few who are slipping into shock or exhaustion, maybe both. Which way from here?” His eyes searched them.
D’Agosta hesitated. “Ah, I really can’t say anything conclusively,” he said at last. “Smithback and I will try the right fork first.”