2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light) (64 page)

‘There!’ Rebecca said. ‘Turn it ninety degrees.’

Goodwin did so and the two pictures aligned perfectly. Repeating the process over and over, with Rebecca’s help, a larger picture resolved itself. When the final drawing was inserted, Goodwin stepped back to view it.

The black shapes had formed together to create a stark outline.

‘It’s the sphinx!’ Rebecca said.

Goodwin’s eyes were drawn to the centre where another shape had been depicted, a pentagram, inside which was the shape of a man. Beside this figure, within a sea of black charcoal and with straight lines emanating out from it, was a patch of white, like two overlapping stars. And inside this oddity was an indistinct form.

‘What is that?’ Priest said, peering at it over Goodwin’s shoulder. He pointed at two white marks. ‘Are those eyes?’

‘It’s a light,’ Rebecca said.

Goodwin shook his head as fear coursed through his veins. ‘It’s not
a
light; it’s
the
light – the entity!’ He grasped Priest’s shirt with both hands and stared into his eyes. ‘This is where the light comes from, why it entered the lake. God didn’t lead me here. We’ve been deceived. This place isn’t a way out at all; it’s the creature’s lair. Are you hearing me?! We have to go!!’

Chapter Eighty Two

Priest swore and gestured to three of his men. ‘Find the boy!’

‘Where’s Walker?’ one of them said.

Goodwin turned to see the corporal was nowhere to be seen.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ Priest grabbed Goodwin’s arm. ‘This better not be a trick, Director.’ He turned to his men. ‘Follow me!’

Goodwin found himself running up the crystal stairs and out into the mist. One of the soldiers stumbled and fell into the toxic tar, but Priest kept going.

Goodwin ignored the man’s cries for help and grasped Rebecca’s hand as they ran. They reached the entrance to the tunnel and clattered down its steps. Water splashed underfoot as they ran on, tearing down the passage at breakneck speed.

Soon after another staircase emerged out of the gloom and, breathing hard, Goodwin pulled Rebecca onwards until they were back at the frieze and the three statues that knelt in situ. Priest slowed as the oppressive silence of the Sphinx’s interior reasserted its pitch-black grip.

A strange noise echoed on a breeze. The temperature dropped and Goodwin’s breath puffed into the icy air like smoke.

Priest cocked his rifle and his men did likewise. A scream from behind made everyone jump.

‘What was that?’ Rebecca said, eyes wide.

‘Keep moving.’ Priest crept forward across the glistening floor and down into the next area.

A blue glow and pulsing hum throbbed through the crystal sea underfoot while a thick mist hung silent over its frosty surface. Moving forward, the cold increased and the water vapour thinned. The silver statue and its golden throne emerged from the gloom and a figure lay sprawled on the floor twenty feet to its right, unmoving.

‘Joseph!’

Goodwin grabbed Rebecca’s arm. ‘It’s not him.’

‘It’s Walker.’ Priest edged closer, rifle raised. He nudged the body with a foot. ‘He’s still breathing.’

‘Where’s Joseph?’ Rebecca said.

Goodwin shivered, he had no idea; he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

The background hum peaked, the glow vanished and a powerful vibration made the floor shake.

Goodwin experienced a strange sinking sensation and he pointed his torch down at his feet. ‘The floor’s melting!’

All around the frosted crystal rippled and shook as the hard surface turned to liquid. They shouted in alarm as the viscous fluid sucked them down.

‘Get to the throne!’ Priest said, wading forward.

The rapidly melting floor flowed up over Goodwin’s knees and within a few steps the icy liquid had reached his waist. Rebecca cried out for help and Goodwin dropped his torch and lifted her up just as the vibration ceased.

Rebecca shone her light in front of them. ‘We’ve stopped sinking.’

The pervasive blue glow returned, sending the dark back into retreat. A wave of electricity flickered through the mist behind and a metal structure reared up out of the deep around them. The liquefied crystal poured from its ancient rune-encrusted surface and Priest scrambled up onto it. Goodwin deposited Rebecca on its edge before he felt something move past his legs.

‘What the hell?’ One of the soldiers pointed his rifle down into the fluid.

A light coalesced around him and he disappeared beneath the surface. Terrified, Goodwin hauled himself out as another man vanished from sight. Priest fired into the crystal sea while the remaining three men scrabbled to safety.

The light ebbed away and the surface calmed.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ one of the soldiers said, ‘what was that?!’

‘Can anyone see them?’ said another, his voice shaking.

The seconds ticked by, but there was no sign of the men resurfacing.

Priest shook his head. ‘They’re gone.’

‘Fuck this shit, so am I,’ said the third man.

Pushing past Priest, he disappeared into the dark with his two comrades close behind. Priest glanced back at Goodwin before following suit.

Left alone with Rebecca, unarmed and exposed, Goodwin wanted nothing more than to go with them, but he knew they had to find Joseph first.

Rebecca tugged at his arm. ‘Richard, look.’

The mist dissipated to unveil the rest of the platform on which they stood – it was in the shape of a giant pentagram.

Goodwin could now see where the ethereal illumination was coming from. The wall containing the frozen alcoves shone with an eerie pulsating light which was mirrored by an identical structure on the opposite side. Silhouetted against this unreal backdrop, in the centre of the pentagram, stood a familiar figure.

‘Joseph,’ Rebecca said. ‘Joseph!’

The young man didn’t respond and Goodwin steered her in the other direction towards the silver statue.

Rebecca resisted. ‘What are you doing?!’

‘I’ll go back for him,’ Goodwin said. ‘Promise me you’ll wait here.’

Rebecca looked like she was about to protest, but instead she nodded. ‘Be careful.’

Goodwin let her go and moved with care back over the slick, metal surface.

As he approached, Joseph bent down and hauled the limp form of Corporal Walker into the pentagram’s centre, which was raised a couple of feet above the rest of the platform.

‘Joseph?’ Goodwin said.

The young man didn’t look round. Instead, he withdrew the knife from Walker’s belt and hunkered down to trace strange shapes on the floor. Symbols in the metal ignited at his touch, blossoming to life like purple fire.

Goodwin edged closer, his heart beating ten to the dozen.

Joseph stood and an altar spiralled up before him, carrying Walker’s spread-eagled body along with it.

Goodwin could hear strange sounds in the air – whisperings – like the voices of the dead. He went to touch Joseph’s shoulder, but before he could the young man turned to look at him.

Goodwin froze. Joseph’s unblinking eyes gleamed with the same blue sheen he’d glimpsed before; the whites shot through with blood.

The tip of a knife rested against Goodwin’s chest and he held up his hands and took a slow backward step.

Joseph returned his attention to Walker’s prone form, his free hand hovering over the body.

Goodwin knew what was happening – he’d seen it or something similar before in his vision: a blood sacrifice.

A bright light appeared in the liquid ahead. It shone and glimmered with a beautiful iridescence. Goodwin couldn’t take his eyes off it and he found himself following it past Joseph, beyond the pentagram and towards one of the wall’s glowing alcoves.

Goodwin could hear a woman’s voice calling his name, but all he could see – hear, taste, touch – was the light, the wonderful, glorious light. His depression wilted, his anxiety vanished and his fear fled. Goodwin was walking to heaven and God’s embrace. He reached out a hand and ran his fingers over the icy interior of the sunken recess. It felt like home, like life itself.

‘Richard!’ A hand grasped his shoulder and pulled him round, breaking the spell.

‘Rebecca?’ Goodwin blinked. ‘What are you doing? Where’s Joseph?’

Rebecca looked back at the altar. ‘I don’t know, he was right there.’

A glint of steel plunged down. Goodwin pushed Rebecca aside and grabbed Joseph’s wrist. Fingers coiled around Goodwin’s throat and he was forced back into the freezing alcove. Unable to breathe, Goodwin fought for his life. His fingers dug into Joseph’s face and sank into an eye. The grip on Goodwin’s throat increased and he was slammed back – once – twice – three times. He felt his strength fading and his vision blurred. Fluid poured in around his feet and out of the corner of his terrified eye he saw a black shape forming in the crystal. Suddenly the pressure released and he stumbled forward.

Regaining his senses, he saw a revived Walker wrestling with Joseph on the floor.

‘Don’t hurt him!’ Rebecca stepped back as they rolled onto the pentagram.

Goodwin knew there was no chance of that happening as Joseph forced Walker’s head down into the liquid within. Goodwin ran forward and hauled Joseph away, but a blade lanced out to slice his arm. Rebecca screamed and Walker attacked. The corporal slammed Joseph into the crystal wall, cracking its surface. They struggled for a moment before Walker grunted in pain and staggered back. Joseph’s knife glinted red in the shadows and the corporal collapsed to his knees.

He looked up at Goodwin in shock, hands pressed against his neck to try and stem the gushing blood. Walker let out a strangled gurgle and toppled over, the light fading from his eyes.

Goodwin looked up at Joseph, who remained where he was, stock still and watching the floor, his blue irises following the trail of blood as it flowed down a channel and into the alcove.

Walker’s life force merged into the crystal wall, flowing up into two opposing channels before branching out into tiny trails, like veins.
No
, Goodwin thought,
not
like
veins, they
are
veins!
The red blood was flowing into something inside the crystal itself, something dormant, and by the size of its partial outline, something definitely not human.

Goodwin pushed Walker’s body over the edge and into the liquid and Joseph let out a guttural growl and launched himself forward.

Goodwin ducked a slash of the knife. ‘Stop the blood!’ he said to Rebecca.

Joseph swung again, narrowly missing his neck.

‘What?!’ Rebecca said.

Goodwin dodged back. ‘The alcove, stop the blood!’

Inside the crystal wall a dark mist coalesced, joining with the blood that fed it.

He fended off another blow, but the attack was a distraction as Joseph grasped Goodwin’s forehead to send pain lancing through his skull. Goodwin fell to his knees in agony. Images flashed before his eyes, vivid and powerful, searing into his brain. He cried out and then the sensation vanished. Sitting up, he shook his head.

Joseph stood before him and held the knife out for him to take. Goodwin felt compelled to accept it, even though part of his mind screamed at him not to. He looked at the knife and then – ever so slowly – turned it on himself. His mind shrieked in protest and his hands shook as he tried to resist his own strength. The blade inched round and Goodwin gritted his teeth, trying to fight back at the invisible power that controlled his movements. A gasp of air escaped his mouth as his lips curled back in animalistic self-preservation. The blade was pointing at his stomach now and angled up towards his heart.

A voice in Goodwin’s mind whispered its command for him to end his own life. He continued to resist with everything he had. ‘No,’ he said, ‘nooo …’

Seeing Goodwin’s plight, Rebecca spun Joseph round and slapped him hard across the face.

The power that controlled Goodwin released. Weakness flooded over him and he dropped the blade. Overcome, his eyesight dimmed and the world spun.

Moments later his vision cleared and he saw Joseph holding a struggling Rebecca over the liquid, his knife raised.

Goodwin clambered to his feet. ‘Joseph, NO!

The blade fell, Rebecca screamed and a gun fired. Joseph stumbled back. Rebecca slipped, cracked her head on the pentagram’s edge and disappeared beneath the thick fluid. Goodwin jumped in after her as gunshots echoed again.

He plunged down into the deep. There was no bottom here. Ears rushing with no sound, the viscous liquid clung to his eyes. Rebecca drifted below him, unconscious. He swam down to pull her up as a bright light formed above. Two glowing eyes appeared in its midst and Goodwin’s horror turned to terror as something grabbed his shoulder and dragged him to the surface. Air and noise returned in a rush and hands hauled him back onto the pentagram. He gasped, shivering with cold, and looked up into the eyes of a Darklight helmet. The visor rose. ‘Are you okay, sir?’

Disorientated, Goodwin was at a loss for words.

‘Sir,’ the man said in a louder voice, ‘do you understand me? My name’s Captain Winter, I’m here to take you back to camp.’

Goodwin heard someone coughing and spluttering and he looked round to see Rebecca on her side a few feet away. He nodded and the man helped him to his feet.

Goodwin wiped the transparent substance from his face. ‘Where’s Joseph?’

The captain pointed at the alcove.

Goodwin pushed past two Darklight soldiers to find Joseph hanging suspended in solid crystal, his face a mask of shock and fear. Frozen in time, blood seeped from a series of gaping wounds in his chest. Further back, the light in the crystal wall faded and whatever had sought to escape from its hidden bonds died with it. The gruesome sight made Goodwin feel sick to his core with despair. He placed his hand against the surface, where Joseph’s outstretched palm was encased.

A tear rolled down Goodwin’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

A whimper of anguish made Goodwin turn to see Rebecca had got to her feet.

‘Rebecca no,’ – he barred her way – ‘you don’t want to see—’