Beckon (7 page)

Chapter 13

The air felt warmer inside the tunnel, which made sense if this was leading them to where the N'watu were living.

Ben cracked a couple of glowsticks and suggested that they proceed with their flashlights off. No need to attract unwanted attention. Besides, if the N'watus' eyesight had adapted to the darkness, the lights might prove to be a useful weapon if the situation warranted.

They followed the tunnel, keeping as quiet as possible. Jack found his palms sweaty. Since the N'watu had found Rudy's jacket, they would probably be wary of additional intruders. Then again, living for generations inside this cave system had most likely given them heightened senses of smell and hearing in order to compensate for the lack of light. For all Jack knew, the N'watu were already watching them.

The passage wound downward, and before long Ben put a finger to his lips, then stuck his glow stick inside his pocket. Jack knew Ben must've seen or heard something, so he stashed his stick as well. In moments, Jack could see a soft glow ahead of them. It was just bright enough to outline the walls of the passage.

Ben motioned for them to proceed, and they inched their way down the passage. At the mouth, Jack found himself staring into a large chamber perhaps fifty feet across. Several clay bowls and other pieces of crudely fashioned pottery were scattered throughout the cave, each filled with a copious amount of the glowing slime. The yellowish glow provided enough light to make out some of the main features of the room, though much of it was still concealed in darkness.

But the chamber itself was empty. At least empty of any N'watu, Jack noted. Or more specifically, any N'watu that he or Ben could actually see.

Ben swiped his hand across his throat as if to signal Jack to not make a sound. A moment later he gestured for Jack to follow him. They made their way slowly around the perimeter of the room, staying in the shadows and mostly trying to keep as quiet as possible.

The chamber seemed oddly smooth, as if the N'watu had carved away the floor and walls to enlarge the room. Jack wondered how many generations of this lost tribe had dug and chiseled away at the rock to fashion their living area. What kind of tools had they used? How long had it taken? He also noticed additional markings on the walls, identical to the others he had seen.

Jack wondered if his father had made it this far—if he had discovered the N'watu—or if his body was indeed among the skeletal remains back in the bone pit. Jack's head reeled from the emotional toll of the last two hours. Who knew how long this tribe had been here? Ben had indicated the N'watu were here long before the Caieche. They could be looking at artifacts and a culture dating back thousands of years.

Ben signaled him to stop and then tapped his ear. Jack paused to listen. A low sound came from one of the openings leading off the chamber. A soft humming, deep in timbre. It was quiet at first, rising and falling in pitch and growing slowly in volume.

Jack leaned into the tunnel, trying to hear the sound more clearly. Without warning, it picked up in intensity and volume. He could tell it was the N'watu—he could hear multiple voices, though he could not discern exactly how many. It sounded like some sort of chant.

Ben gestured for him to back away from the entrance. “We need to find a way out of here,” he whispered. “It sounds like some kind of ceremony or something. But as long as they're down that tunnel, we should try heading down one of these others.”

“Which one?”

Ben looked around the cave and then pointed to one of the openings across the way. “That one looks like it leads up.”

They crossed the chamber to the other side, and Jack paused to inspect one of the bowls of slime. They had been situated around the room like little tiki torches lighting up someone's backyard deck.

They crept into the passage and found that it did indeed angle upward. And after a few yards it also narrowed considerably. Suddenly Ben motioned for him to stop.

The droning chant they'd heard coming from the other passage now seemed to be coming from in front of them again. Ben motioned him closer. “It looks like all these side passages lead to a common chamber. We'll have to find another way.”

But Jack shook his head. His curiosity was breaking through his apprehension. “Let's see what's going on.”

Ben glared at him. “Are you crazy?”

But Jack dug his video camera out of his pack. “I have to see what they're doing. I have to document it. I need proof.”

He crawled past Ben and within several yards he stopped, crouching low in the tunnel as Ben crept up behind him. They were looking down on a circular chamber much larger than the first and filled with bowls of the luminescent slime. There were at least a dozen N'watu figures throughout the room, crouched or kneeling in awkward positions with their heads lowered, humming a rather dissonant tune. Jack turned on the camera's night-vision setting and peered at the screen. He could see that the walls were covered with various drawings and writing. It did indeed look like some kind of ceremonial chamber.

Jack could also see another figure, smaller than the others, standing at the far end of the room. It appeared to be a woman, clothed in what looked like a shroud of black veils and adorned with beaded armlets, necklaces, and bracelets. Her face was hidden by a veil that covered her head down to her chin, but she seemed to be the focus of all the attention.

Jack leaned back and whispered to Ben, “It looks like she's the matriarch of the tribe. Like a female shaman.”

Jack noticed movement at the far end as two N'watu males entered from a side passage, carrying what looked like a large papier-mâché beach ball, though it was only roughly spherical. It was a lumpy gray monstrosity, yet they bore it with great care. They sported strange headdresses, each with a set of horns that curved up and forward. And they also wore what appeared to be short leather tunics with two more pairs of the horns sewn into them somehow. The tunics draped across their backs so that the horns stuck out to the sides. Jack looked closer and could see that they were in fact the legs of the cave spiders. It was obvious their garb was intended to mimic the creatures.

The chants in the cave grew louder when these men appeared, and the woman began moaning as they approached her—a soft, rasping sound more like the yowling of an angry cat than a human voice. If there were any words, Jack could not make them out.

They brought the ball in front of the woman, and Jack could see she was holding something in her hands. A tool or knife of some sort. Jack peered closer. It was a knife—a long, crudely fashioned blade.

She muttered some further incoherent words and plunged the knife into the ball, slicing open a small incision. Jack saw the gray mass shudder in the grasp of the two bearers. The sides quivered as if the thing were made of Jell-O. She slipped her hand into the opening and pulled out a fistful of . . .

There was something moving in her grasp, tiny, translucent, and wriggling. She held her fist up and spoke again.

Now Jack could see the thing in her hand was one of the cave spiders. A hatchling. Though only an infant, it looked to be about the size of her whole fist. Maybe three or four inches across, Jack guessed. Its transparent outer skeleton appeared to be still unformed, and its tiny limbs protruded between her clenched fingers. She lowered her hand and shoved the hapless creature into her mouth, chewing it with obvious enjoyment.

Jack recoiled, and beside him Ben's face registered similar disgust.

Jack whispered, “It looks like an egg sac. But it's huge. I've never seen anything like it before.” He wished Rudy could have been there. He'd be able to offer a better analysis.

The woman reached inside the egg sac and plucked out a second spider as one of the N'watu stood and approached her. He knelt down in front of the woman as she fed the wriggling creature into his mouth. One by one, the rest of the N'watu rose and approached the woman. As they did, she would pluck hatchlings from the sac, say a few words, and shove them into their mouths like some bizarre form of Communion.

After the dozen or so N'watu had come forward, she scooped the rest of the hatchlings into a large bowl as one of the men stood beside it with a stone, mashing their bodies into a writhing slush. Jack could hear faint squeals and squeaks as the baby spiders were crushed against the inside of the bowl.

They were careful not to let any escape.

Ben pulled Jack back from the ledge. “So they
eat
the baby spiders?”

“It's like some kind of ceremony for them,” Jack whispered. “If they worship these spiders, maybe they believe that eating them . . . I don't know . . . gives them a kind of communion with their spirits.”

Ben stuck his thumb over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here.
Now.
”

He crept back down the tunnel, and a few moments later Jack followed quietly, his head still buzzing and his stomach churning from the horrific ceremony he'd just seen.

As he reached the first chamber, Jack heard Ben swear and stood to find himself face to face with four N'watu warriors. Their tall, gaunt, and sickly pale bodies were covered with black tattoos, and they held long wooden spears in their hands. Pointed directly at Jack and Ben.

Chapter 14

Jack stood, numb with terror, as more of the N'watu entered from the adjacent tunnel. In moments they were surrounded by at least a dozen pale-skinned warriors. Their tattooed faces held little emotion, but their fierce, colorless eyes glowed yellow in the dim light of the chamber.

Yet none of them spoke.

“What do we do?” Jack whispered to Ben. The sound of his voice sent a chorus of grunts and snarls among the warriors.

“Shh!”
Ben hushed him. “Don't say anything.”

Some of the N'watu leaned closer, driving the tips of their stone spearheads against Jack's throat.

Jack fought the urge to attempt to communicate with them, to make some kind of peaceful gesture. This culture, isolated as it had been from the outside world for so long, obviously held more animosity than curiosity toward outsiders. They didn't seem intrigued or fearful. They probably saw all intruders as a threat. Or more likely as a future sacrifice.

Suddenly a low, catlike voice filled the chamber.
“Yey takka hey na kaynee.”

The N'watu parted slightly to reveal the black-veil-clad woman he'd seen earlier. She stood inside the entrance of the passage, regarding Jack and Ben as if they were a pair of foxes cornered by her hunting dogs. Then she moved across the chamber between the warriors. It was clear that she commanded a high level of respect. Jack noticed that they would avert their eyes from her as she passed by. Perhaps that was why she wore the veils, Jack thought. Perhaps she was so revered by the N'watu that they were not allowed to even look upon her.

The woman approached Jack and Ben. She was shorter than he'd expected, standing only up to Jack's shoulders. In the dim light, Jack could see hints of ghostly white flesh beneath the layers of veils. She stretched a pallid hand toward Jack's face without making contact. Her bony fingers were tipped with long nails filed down to sharpened points like talons and dyed as black as ink. They hovered less than an inch from his skin. As though she could feel him without actually touching him.

Then Jack caught sight of an amulet hanging down her chest. A round medallion fashioned from some sort of metal, with markings identical to the drawing he'd seen in his father's papers. Jack froze as he recognized it. He didn't dare move or he knew they would kill him. But in the dim light he could definitely see it was the same design.

The woman muttered something else that Jack could not understand. Strident, guttural words that seemed to drip with venom. Her voice was raspy and soft—both acerbic and somehow still feminine, something wholly unnerving to Jack. He could see the glimmer of her white eyes glowing behind the veil.

Then she turned her attention to Ben and seemed more intrigued by him than by Jack, perhaps seeing he was from one of the local tribes. She reached her hand up and this time made contact, sliding her elongated, talon-like fingers gently down his cheek and jaw.

Jack tried to see beneath her veil but could make out no discernible features or expression. Just a vague white outline of her countenance and her two colorless eyes. But the medallion consumed his thoughts. If he could only get his hands on it . . .

The woman stepped back and spoke again, her tone different.

“Chenok ta-neyhee,”
she hissed.
“Cah-hee-chay.”

Jack glanced at Ben, whose expression seemed calm. He replied,
“Che-ahan ta-neyhee . . . keyanok Caieche.”

Jack's eyebrows went up. Ben understood their language? Or perhaps the N'watu knew the Caieche language. Either way, if they could communicate, they might be able to talk their way out of this situation. Explain that they didn't mean any harm and weren't a threat.

“You can understand them?” he whispered.

Ben didn't take his eyes off the woman. “She speaks Caieche. The
old
tongue.”

The N'watu men growled and pushed the tips of their spears closer against Jack's neck. Jack swallowed; they apparently didn't approve of them speaking to each other.

The woman spoke again—Jack couldn't tell if it was to them or to her warriors. He tried to back away, but they crowded him closer. They were outnumbered, and Jack knew he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight before getting a spear thrust into his chest or throat.

In a kind of detached way, he saw what was left of his life play out in his mind. The N'watu would either kill them both here and feed their carcasses to the cave spiders or tie them up, drag them out to the bone pit, and let the spiders devour them alive. He hoped grimly it would be the former.

“Ben,” Jack whispered, “I don't think this is going to end well. . . .”

“Close your eyes.”

Jack had been hoping for something a little more encouraging. Frankly, that advice sounded a bit too defeatist for Ben.

“What?”

“Just close your eyes.” Ben's tone was deliberate and tense. Maybe he hadn't given up after all.

Jack closed his eyes just as the cave erupted into chaos. He could hear unintelligible shouts and a high-pitched shriek. Someone slammed into Jack's shoulder, knocking him to the side at the same time that something sharp sliced across his upper arm.

Jack toppled over, and his eyes snapped open. A blaze of light sent bolts of pain into his skull. He was barely able to make out the image of Ben holding a bright-orange flare in one hand and with the other fighting off a barrage of flailing limbs and spears.

Above the tumult, he heard Ben's voice shouting, “Run!”

Jack scrambled to his feet and flipped on his flashlight as Ben plowed through the group of warriors toward the tunnel from which they had first entered. Jack followed close behind.

His own eyes throbbing from the brightness, Jack could only imagine how the N'watu—who'd spent their entire lives underground—were feeling. But he knew they had only a few seconds to escape before the warriors recovered from their temporary blindness.

Jack stumbled through the chaos. He could feel hands clawing at him, trying to get a grasp. He swung his arms around, hard. Clutching one of the spears, he sliced and stabbed, hoping he could inflict at least some damage. He felt the weapon making contact with several other bodies and hoped desperately that none of them were Ben.

He fought through the confused and blinded warriors, following what he thought was Ben's voice, but within moments, the howls of pain around him crowded everything else out, and he could feel hands clutching his arms and legs. They were groping for his head and neck, thrusting their spears wildly into the light.

Then Jack heard Ben calling him. “Over here!”

Jack followed in the direction of his voice but so did the N'watu warriors. Jack caught a glimpse of Ben amid flashes of light and darkness. He too had managed to commandeer one of their spears and stood by the tunnel, now with two flares and his flashlight blazing through the chamber.

Jack stumbled past him, into the tunnel, back toward the wooden door, not sure exactly why he was going that way. Maybe they could get through the door and hold off the mob.

He came to the black wood of the doorway and pushed it open, the counterweights on the inside making it easy to lift. A moment later Ben was beside him. But now they faced another dilemma. They needed to brace the door somehow, to block it so the N'watu couldn't follow them. Or at least to delay them for a few minutes.

Then Jack had an idea. “I'll hold the door, and you cut the ropes!”

Jack held up the massive wooden door while Ben crouched down and sliced his knife across the ropes holding the counterweights. The first one snapped, and the door shuddered. Jack grunted at the sudden addition of weight now transferred to him. He jammed the spear underneath to keep it propped up.

Jack could hear the N'watu approaching up the tunnel. Ben threw two flares into the passage. Maybe that would slow them down. Then Ben sliced the second rope and rolled back through the door as Jack let it slam shut.

He lay gasping for breath while Ben wedged the spear into the mud at the base of the door.

“We have to go,” Ben said. “I don't think this is going to hold them for long.”

Jack rolled to his feet and gathered himself. Now they were out in the cave with the spiders. He was relieved to be free from the N'watu but couldn't help feeling they had only jumped right back into the fire.

“Go where?” Jack breathed as they headed down the passage toward the bone pit. “If there was another way out, it was probably back there.”

“Then we go back the way we came in,” Ben said. “We just keep an eye out for those spiders.”

“We can't get out that way.”

But Ben seemed undeterred. “We'll figure something out. Or we'll find another way.”

They reached the ledge overlooking the inky blackness of the bone pit and paused to catch their breath.

“And what if there isn't one?” Jack said.

Ben shook his head. “There's
always
another way out.”

They lowered themselves over the ledge into the bone pit, climbing down the pile of human remains as they had done before. They reached the bottom and paused to listen for any of the cave spiders' telltale clicking sounds.

The place seemed deserted. Jack swept his light across the muddy ground and spotted the still-fresh puddle of blood. He quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to see anything of Rudy's remains.

Ben seemed to sense Jack's uneasiness and tapped his shoulder. “C'mon, let's find that tunnel on the other side.”

They climbed up the slope out of the pit and were starting across the cavern when Ben motioned for Jack to stop.

“Hold up,” he said, tilting his head.

Jack held his breath and listened, cursing to himself. Nothing good ever happened when Ben did that.

Ben stood motionless, his flashlight shining weakly into the darkness ahead. Jack's flashlight began to tremble in his hand after several moments, and he had to remind himself to breathe again. He couldn't hear a thing except the echoes of water dripping onto the mud from somewhere above them.

“What is it?”

Ben's voice was barely a whisper. “We're not alone.”

Then Jack heard it too. A scraping sound, like something being dragged across the mud and gravel of the cave floor. But he couldn't tell if it was in front of them or behind. The echoes seemed to come from all around them.

Jack spun around, shining his light behind them. Shadows skittered off the rocks and boulders strewn about the cavern floor, jerking and darting around the perimeter of his vision. Jack's heart raced as he and Ben stood back-to-back, sweeping the flashlight beams across the cave. They illuminated the immediate area but seemed to get swallowed entirely in the inky blackness beyond.

Then came another sound. Both terrifyingly familiar and yet eerily new. It was a clicking, like the spiders had made, though this sound was deeper in timbre, slower and more deliberate. Like someone tapping gently on a hollow log in a continuous though uneven rhythm. And the scraping also grew louder.

Jack swept the light around, meeting the beam from Ben's flashlight. It fell momentarily on a large rock formation directly ahead of them. An odd-shaped boulder . . .

That moved.

Jack couldn't tell exactly what it was, nor could he determine its size or shape. Only that it was big. Very big.

Ben clutched Jack's arm and pulled him off toward the right as the cavern was filled with a shriek like knives scraping across a chalkboard. They ran at an angle away from the sound and the movement, toward the side of the cavern. Ben scrambled across the uneven cave floor, darting and weaving between rocks and holes.

Jack followed close behind, now hearing more sounds behind them—the familiar clicking of the spiders. It sounded like a whole torrent of them. Had whatever made the shriek alerted the others to the presence of fresh prey? Terror rose in Jack, gripping his chest. His breath came like a steam locomotive chugging uphill. He could see only flashes of Ben's back in front of him as his light jostled in his hand.

“Over here.” Ben's voice emerged from the tumult. Jack lost sight of him and swept his light across the cave.

“Where are you?”

A light flashed in Jack's eyes. Ben was standing several yards away to the left, waving his light. Jack hurried across the cave, stumbling over rocks. He jammed his toe against a boulder and sprawled headlong into the mud. His light tumbled from his grasp.

Out of the darkness, Jack felt something hard pounce onto his back. A shrill hissing sound growled in his ear. He cried out, rolling to the side to shake it loose. Sharp talons dug into his shoulders.

He fumbled with the clip of the backpack and shook his shoulders free of it. He scrambled to his feet, leaving the pack behind, and scooped up his light again. Without thinking, he spun back to see one of the cave spiders, a good-size one, tearing into the bag like it was dinner. It shook the sack almost like a dog shaking a rag. Suddenly it stopped and reared on its haunches, lifting its front legs up. Jack recognized that pose from the first spider they had seen. The one that had attacked Rudy. The creature's hideous, gaping maw was overshadowed by a pair of clawlike fangs that clicked together with jerky, rapid movements.

Jack knew the pose most likely indicated that the creature was ready to strike, but he was frozen where he stood. The spider's palps rapped together like castanets.

Jack blinked as another, larger shadow passed in front of him. Ben dashed into view and punted the spider off into the darkness. He turned and glared at Jack.
“Are you crazy?”

Jack shook himself to his senses. The barrage of shrieks and clicking grew steadily louder, and he could see a wave of shadows moving across the cave floor.

Ben ran out of sight again as Jack scrambled to his feet and searched the ground around him. “My pack!”