Temple of the Serpent

Chapter 13

Rex waited behind the forest of stalagmites to survey the path of gold nuggets leading into the temple. A bloody handprint dripped down the marble, freshly smeared across one of the pillars.

Digger! This is it. Go time.

He fished the flattened piece of gold from the fold in his wetsuit and held it so he could see the reflection of the entrance to the temple. Rex monitored for activity for two full minutes, but nothing came to pass. He flipped the gold into the air, and the mirror surface caught a flash of a blurring movement behind him. Shit!

Rex slipped between a cluster of stalagmites and backed himself in as far as he could. He held out one of his bang sticks in one hand, gripping his Sig in the other.

Three heartbeats later, he detected a crunching like a tire over gravel, growing louder, closer.

He steeled his breathing, weapons at the ready.

When a three-foot serpent tongue emerged outside of the nook Rex was holding up in, he nearly gasped. The enormous head came next, slitted eyes set in a scaly pattern that blended the reptile well with the natural surroundings of shadowy limestone. Two giant frogs kicked and squirmed futilely in the snake's mouth, caught in the fanged vise.

Stay still. Don't move. Don't breathe.

The body of the snake measured twenty feet, perhaps thirty. It was hard to tell the way it sidewinded over the pebbles of gold. Body undulating, scales glistening with water, the serpent slithered past Rex. Foot after foot, it crawled past.

When the tail passed by Rex's hiding place, he was perplexed by the pointed, rattle-free end. Maybe the cave mural depicts the serpent greater than it is to scare off people. This snake was large, but by no means undefeatable. But then what was the rattle he had heard earlier?

He filed the thought away as not enough information to determine.

After a few minutes had passed, Rex held his mirror of gold out and pointed it to one side, then the other. He repeated his reconnaissance as if readying to cross a busy street, one full of speeding trucks that could mow him over and end his life.

Convinced of no immediate danger, Rex proceeded with caution, applying stealth to every footstep. He angled his mirror one last time toward the temple, and then behind him.

All clear.

***

"Sound off," Captain Edgars whispered into his throat mic.

His team checked-in, all but Digger and Rex, who remained out of radio contact range.

"How's the leg?" Edgars jutted his chin to Napalm's calf where Lacey finished wrapping the wound and kissed the bandage when done. "On a scale of 1 to 10?"

The team's pyro-specialist stretched his leg, rolled onto his knees, and then pushed to his feet. When Napalm's leg bore his full weight, he grimaced.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, it's a 2. Pain is masked well enough." He shrugged. "I've had worse."

Edgars nodded. "Good. Let's get some more light in here and see what's down this tunnel. Keep the chatter low. I don't want anything to be alerted to our presence."

On cue, the Spike Chamber groaned and squealed. The ceiling cranked back to its normal height, and the trap reset. At least it served as a way back out, but the ruckus it generated echoed down the tunnel.

"I think it's a little late for that," Simon said. "Whatever is here knows we are, too."

Edgars didn't argue the logic as he watched the trap reset, ending with a thud-clank.