The Dark Rift: The Supernatural Grail Quest Zombie Apocalypse (The Last Artifact Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

Rome, Italy.

“We must move quickly!”
whispered the Bishop.

Gabriel tiptoed to the entrance and poked his head out into the cold, dark passage. He heard footsteps, and then saw a light flash suddenly in the gloom. Within seconds, two figures had become visible. One of them was holding a lantern, but both of them were holding guns. They were clearly Nasrallah’s men. He darted back into the chapel, intending to alert Fra and Suora, but finding them both awake and on their feet. He motioned Natasha and the Bishop to draw near.

“Nasrallah’s men are just up the tunnel,” he whispered. “I don’t know how they got there. We should have seen them pass.”

“They have come from above,” said the Bishop.

“But that’s impossible. The only way they could have found us would be through the nunnery tunnel.”

The Bishop took hold of Gabriel’s shoulder and passed him his father’s journal. He had sealed it in an envelope. He drew Natasha nearer as well, and spoke to them both.

“There are dark forces at work here,” he whispered urgently. “Their knowledge of where the Cube is at any particular moment is directly related to the amount of spiritual separation that exists between the two of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Gabriel.

“Listen carefully, my son,” said the Bishop. “When you retrieved the Cube without Natasha being present, it would appear that you inadvertently directed certain dark forces to her. These forces have been with her ever since, and according to the Professor, they will continue to follow Natasha until you and she are able to fully merge.”

“Merge?” whispered Gabriel urgently. “This is no time for superstitious nonsense, Marcus! The bad guys are just down the hall. What are you talking about?”

“The answers are in the book, my son. Until you resolve these problems, you will find that the enemy will always have a general idea of where you are.”

Gabriel and Natasha looked at each other and then back to the Bishop. He was gazing up at the scaffolding now. In the light of the fire it could be seen rising up the frescoed wall and ending at the ceiling. There was an old ladder strapped to its side.

“If memory serves me correctly, there is a trap door up there,” he said, pointing. “I believe the scaffold is hiding it. It will lead to the next upper level. Go now. You must still find your way out of the catacombs. That will be no easy task.”

“But, Uncle,” said Natasha, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “The three of you could never make it up that scaffold.”

The old Bishop noted her tears and dug for his handkerchief.

“We will not be going with you, my child,” he said gently.

Well familiarized with the Bishop’s grubby handkerchiefs, Gabriel stuffed a clean tissue into Natasha’s hand before the Bishop could offer up his own. Natasha shot Gabriel a teary-eyed look of thanks. She was no stranger to her uncle’s hankies either.

“The three of us will stay here and hide,” said the Bishop, pocketing the handkerchief absently.

Gabriel frowned.

“They’ll find you and they’ll kill you!” he said, a little too loudly.

“That is not certain, my son,” smiled the Bishop. “There are spirits of God here who are helping us. Have faith, and fear not for us.”

“But, Uncle—” pleaded Natasha.

“Go!” said the Bishop, a rarely seen anger flaring up in his eyes. “There is more at stake than you can possibly imagine, and there is no time!”

To everyone’s surprise, Shackleton took to the ladder in a single leap, making his way to the top swiftly and without pause. From below the others watched him disappear onto the top platform, only to see him poke his head out and look down at them.

“Who would believe a dog could do that,” whispered Gabriel, shaking his head in amazement.

In a moment he had taken up both of their packs and was guiding Natasha to the scaffolding. She resisted at first, but Gabriel’s touch seemed to reassure her.

The timbers were old but strong, and at the top they found the door the Bishop had spoken of. It was barely big enough to squeeze through, but as Gabriel shined his light into it he could see that it opened into a tunnel above. Shackleton was already through. Gabriel could see him in the shadows, sniffing the air and looking around.

“I’ll go first,” he said, stuffing the packs up and hoisting himself through.

He held a hand down for Natasha to take.

“Come on,” he whispered. “There’s no time.”

Natasha was looking over the edge of the scaffolding. She could see the Bishop helping Suora into the tiny opening at the base of the altar. They would be hiding in the room that was filled with bones. Natasha saw him look up at her.

“Go!” he mouthed, motioning to her with his hand.

Natasha saw him smile reassuringly, and then disappear into the opening.

“I will see you soon, Uncle,” she whispered, and just then, Nasrallah’s men burst into the chapel.

Natasha saw them make for the hearth. These were not the uniformed figures she had seen earlier on in the courtyard. They were plainly dressed men, and would have appeared to be tourists were it not for the guns in their hands. Gabriel poked his head down and was going to say something, but Natasha silenced him. She gave him her hands and let him pull her up.

* * * * * *

“Radio Bahadur,” said one of the mercenaries in Arabic. “Search every corner of this place. They were just here. They could not have gone far.”

Bahadur arrived moments later to find most of his men in the chapel. They were all in plain clothes now, two of them emerging from behind the altar. They had found a backpack. They approached Bahadur.

“It looks as though they were sleeping in that little room, sir,” said one of them, handing him the pack. “The room is full of bones, but there is a blanket spread out on the floor.”

Bahadur took the pack from the mercenary and reached inside. He brought out a package, unwrapping it to find a large piece of cake, dripping with honey. He smelled it and took a huge bite.

“Has this entire space been searched?” he said, chewing.

“Yes, sir,” said the soldier. “We have found nothing here but the traces they left behind. They must have been eating when they became alerted to our presence. There is still soup in the pot.”

“Soup?” repeated Bahadur, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the hearth.

He had not received a single morsel of food in more than twenty-four hours now, and his tortured body was in desperate need of nourishment.

“Continue with the search as planned,” he said. “They are obviously not here. Go! The sooner this is over the better.”

Within moments his men had vanished, leaving Bahadur alone before the crackling hearth. He sat himself down in one of the chairs, wincing in pain as he reached for the pot. It rested on an iron grating with hot embers still burning beneath it. Beside the pot he found a slice of bread laden with what appeared to be slices of roasted pork. It had been Gabriel’s, and only a single bite had been taken from it.

“Lentils,” he said, blowing on a spoonful of the soup. “And roasted swine…”

He paused for a moment, thinking.

“A sin to eat, but Allah will understand.”

By the time Gabriel
had lifted Natasha through the trapdoor, Shackleton was nowhere to be seen. Gabriel shone his light down the passage in one direction and Natasha in the other. There was no sign of the dog anywhere.

“Shackleton!” whispered Natasha. “Shackleton!”

Gabriel turned to face her.

“He knows what he’s doing,” he whispered. “We’ve got to keep moving. This place is crawling with Nasrallah’s men.”

“But which way do we go?”

Gabriel pulled out his compass.

“The main entrance is at the southern end of the necropolis.”

“But we are still three levels beneath it,” said Natasha.

“Good point. Let’s just look for a way up then. Any preference in direction?”

Natasha pointed into the shadows.

“That way.”

“West. OK. I’ll always trust a woman’s intuition. Let’s go.”

“I hope that Shackleton has the same intuition as me,” said Natasha, but Gabriel had already moved off.

The tunnel they found themselves in was identical to the others. To their right and left were the countless loculi with their sepia coloured bones. Unlike the tunnels of the lower level these wound and split, bringing them to many forks and junctures along the way. They stopped at every one, each time Gabriel asking Natasha for her first intuitive direction.

“Left,” she would say after a moment’s pause, or, “Straight through,” or, “Left,” “Right,”.

They walked like this for what seemed hours, feeling themselves more and more entangled in the knotted passageways. With each step, Natasha felt her hopes fading. She no longer felt the pressing danger of those who pursued them. Everything had been overshadowed by a desperate desire to escape this place; to simply get out. With every step Natasha felt as if the dead were calling to her, and with every step she feared more and more that they would never leave this place alive.

“Is it true that some people have entered these catacombs and never found their way out again?”

She could see Gabriel up ahead, his dark form silhouetted by his roaming flashlight. He stopped and turned to face her, suddenly aware of how frightened she was.

“Come here,” he said grudgingly, pushing a hand through his shaggy hair. “You’re lagging behind.”

Natasha came closer, and Gabriel took her hands into his. In the darkness he could feel them cold and trembling. He had to make her understand.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said.

Natasha forgot all her misgivings and fell into his arms.

“I’m scared,” she said amid shivers.

“Now listen to me,” said Gabriel softly. “I’ve been in much worse places than this. Really, I have. I’m not worried. Believe me. We’re going to get out of here.”

Natasha bit her lip.

“But what about Uncle Marcus, and Suora and Fra?” she said quietly.

Her eyes were wide open now, staring out into the darkness that loomed behind him.

“And where is Shackleton?”

Gabriel said nothing. He could already feel her calming down as the warmth spread between them. He was feeling something he had never experienced before. With their bodies pressed together, the inner void that had plagued him for the past month felt suddenly full.

Gabriel pushed her gently away, but kept hold of her arms. Women like Natasha were incapable of accepting the kind of love he had to give. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way many times. The objective here was simply to cheer her up a little. That was all.

“Never lose sight of the facts,” he said.

Her scent was intoxicating him.

“Marcus knows these catacombs well, and he’s been full of surprises up to now. They will be fine. Just trust me on this one.”

He moved a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“You might have all your woman’s intuition,” he added, frowning at an unexpected surge of affection in him, “but I’ve got my gut, and it’s telling me they’re fine. We’ll be seeing them again soon. That’s a promise.”

Gabriel’s was having a considerable effect on Natasha. In the few minutes they had been together, almost all of her fear and coldness had vanished. As surprising as it was to her, she could not recall having ever felt more safe and secure than she did at that moment, lost as they were in that dark and dreadful place. She swallowed slowly and collected herself, stepping back and wiping away her tears.

“You have a way with ladies, Gabriel Parker,” she said, giving him a smile that was suspicious and timid all at the same time.

Gabriel was going to say something but Natasha reached up and put a hand over his mouth. She could see a flickering light in the darkness behind him, not fifty paces away.

“There is somebody coming,” she whispered.

Gabriel took hold of her hand and pulled her back into the shadows.

“Don’t even breathe,” he whispered severely, poking his head out into the tunnel.

He could see the light clearly now, but was surprised to learn that it did not come from a flashlight. It appeared to be the light of a lantern, or several lanterns. It was illuminating a large area of the tunnel. Within moments the clatter of many feet were echoing around them. A voice spoke out in an Italian accent.

“Now, please, ladies and gentlemen. We will follow him, but keep together. We do not want anyone getting lost.”

Gabriel turned to Natasha.

“Did you just hear that?”

Natasha had a smile from ear to ear.

“Let’s stay here,” said Gabriel. “We’ve got to be absolutely sure.”

Gabriel poked his head out again to see a large group of twenty or so tourists behind their guide. Directly before the man was a handsome brown hunting dog, urging them all to follow him.

“Shackleton!” shouted Gabriel, jumping into the passage. “Come here boy!”

Natasha burst from her hiding place just in time to receive the dog into her arms. He had come bounding down the passage like a horse at play, slowing only just before arriving, and gently finding his way into Natasha’s embrace.

“Oh, Shackleton!” she said. “What would we do without you?”

* * * * * *

The setting sun was blinding as they emerged from the necropolis, a relief flooding into them that could only be described as euphoric.

“What a beautiful evening,” said Natasha, taking in a deep breath of the fragrant air.

Around them Rome bustled in its familiar way, oblivious to the damp graves and catacombs that lay underfoot. Shackleton let sound a deep bark.

“What is it, Shackleton?” asked Natasha, bending down.

“He’s trying to tell us something,” said Gabriel. “What is it, boy?”

As if in response to Gabriel’s question, Shackleton raised a paw and laid it on Natasha’s bent knee, nuzzling his head into her lap.

“Shackleton!” she said laughing. “What are you trying to tell us?”

The dog answered her question with a happy bark, bounding off immediately afterwards.

“Shackleton!” cried Natasha. “Come back!”

They stood up to see the dog trot past a group of tourists and disappear into the crowds. Natasha looked at Gabriel in distress.

“Now don’t start worrying about him again,” he said, holding out his hands. “I’ve got a hunch he knows more about what’s going on here than we do.”

“But where is he going?” she asked, pouting.

“I haven’t a clue,” said Gabriel. “But if I’m sure of one thing, it’s that we’ll be seeing him again, and probably when we need him the most.”