MacCready placed his lantern on the floor and in one rapid motion pressed his body into a depression in the cave wall. Colonel Wolff quickly mimicked him. As much as he wanted to flee, now that he was free of the gun that had been continuously trained on him, MacCready’s life depended on remaining still—absolutely still.
Four large shadows erupted through the hole in the floor. At first they were formless and abstract—wild shapes pouring out of the ground—gliding effortlessly up the walls. But shadows did not make sounds, and these hissed at each other, filling the chamber with a musky aerosol that reminded MacCready of skunk oil.
One of the creatures scrabbled past MacCready’s face, claws clicking against the ceiling. And in the glow of the Indian lanterns, he finally got a clear picture of the vampires. Like animated gargoyles, he thought, and the part of his brain that could never turn off zoologist mode noted that they moved as gracefully on vertical walls, or even across the ceiling, as jaguars moved across the ground. He was familiar with similar gravity-defying moves in smaller creatures like roaches and chameleons, but never had he seen the like in an animal of this size.
And then, without warning, all four of the gargoyles disappeared down the corridor, toward the prey that was currently making the most noise.
If Schr?dinger hates centipedes, wait till he sees what’s coming.
MacCready eyed the colonel, who was still pressed into the depression.
Just as he began to ease away from the wall, MacCready noticed something that caused him to freeze. There was a flutter of movement, and another dark shape emerged from the subchamber. This one was smaller than the others, and it hauled itself out of the hole with considerable effort. Then the creature stood on the floor, breathing hard, listening.
MacCready fought the urge to close his eyes. It’s a young one.
The bat sniffed at the air and then did something completely unexpected: It sneezed.
MacCready held his breath and the little vampire drew nearer, its face moving into a lantern beam and casting its features in deep red, horror-movie shadows. Mac could not escape the feeling that the bat smelled something familiar, not just a human scent, but his scent. And his subconscious sent up an image. The tree . . . the staked-out goat.
In the distance, Schr?dinger was now making thrashing sounds against the corridor walls.
The littlest vampire pivoted toward the sound. The creature appeared to hesitate for an instant. Swiveling its head slowly from side to side, it cast out high-frequency bursts, barely discernible to the humans.
As MacCready watched, the young draculae pressed its chest to the ground, as if it were a human about to perform a push-up. Then, all in one small part of a second, the bat’s oversize pectoral muscles catapulted it into a hop that carried it down the darkened corridor in a blur of motion.
The men remained motionless, their bodies still pressed as deeply into the cave wall as physics would allow. Only their eyes moved, and then only for an instant, as each man’s gaze was drawn back to the hole in the floor.
Are there more of them coming? MacCready wondered. Should I—
A strobe of automatic gunfire came from Schr?dinger’s direction. The staccato roar was painful in the enclosed space and MacCready resisted the impulse to fling up his hands to cover his ears. Particles from the cave ceiling shook free and fell around him. There was another burst of machine-gun fire, shorter this time. They turned reflexively toward the source and the last few flashes revealed the giant sliding down onto his knees, firing his weapon. He let out a series of increasingly unintelligible curses, which deteriorated into a new and surprising sound. This was the end of SS Sergeant Schr?dinger. The legend, who once grinned at his captors when punched in a freshly bored bullet wound, was crawling on all fours toward the cave entrance, bat-bitten and whimpering like a little girl.
MacCready glanced at Wolff, whose attention had been drawn to the disquieting whimper. His next move will be to execute me.
As if reading his mind, the German slowly turned to face his prisoner. Wolff’s movements were deliberate and unhurried. His face bore no emotion. And as the colonel’s right arm began to rise, MacCready knew that there would be a Luger attached to the end of it.
This is it!
MacCready gestured in the direction that Schr?dinger and the bats had gone, and for a split second he saw puzzlement in the German’s expression. As the colonel’s gaze broke away, MacCready hurled himself off the wall, going completely and perplexingly airborne in the confined space. Wolff turned back just in time to see him execute a perfect dive—directly into the hole in the floor.