Page 84

CHAPTER 83

I INCHED MY way through the opening, pistol raised. It had been a long time since anybody pulled a nugget out of this place. It was pitch-black inside and it smelled like cat piss. I couldn’t hear or see anything. I looked at the ground to see if there were any bones or feathers that would tell me it was a predator’s den. But at that point, I don’t think a pack of jackals would have scared me off. I was dead tired, and I needed to sleep.

I put down my weapons and wrestled a few loose timbers across the entrance, blocking it halfway up. That was to deter four-legged intruders. I stuffed rocks and dirt into the openings to keep out anything that crawled or slithered.

As I rested my backpack against the wall, I wondered how deep the mine went, and if anybody had ever gotten rich here. But I was in no mood to explore. I sat down and settled my head against my pack. I had a pistol in one hand and a machete in the other. I think I was a little delirious from the heat. As I drifted off, my mind started spinning with crazy thoughts and images—mostly about my ancestor.

I wondered how many of the Doc Savage adventures I’d read about had been true and how many had been fever dreams. Voodoo thugs, giant spiders, headless zombies—I knew I could conjure up any of those creatures right now, and they would feel absolutely real. I took a few deep breaths of the sour cave air, and I was out.

I don’t know how long I slept. But the instant I drifted back to consciousness, I sensed that I wasn’t alone. There was rustling overhead.

I grabbed my flashlight out of my pack and aimed it up. When I switched on the beam, a chill shot through me. I dropped the light and scrambled to my feet. The roof of the mine was quivering and alive. It was packed from front to back—with bats! While I was sleeping, they had flown home to roost.

I grabbed my backpack and weapons and vaulted over the barricade. I could hear scratching and squeaking behind me and I swore I could feel tiny claws in my hair. I hunched over and slapped my head with both hands. But all I felt was my own sweat.

For a second, I wondered if I could have slept right through a bat bite. What if the rabies virus was already coursing through me? I checked my arms and felt my neck. No pinpricks or blood dots. At least none that I could feel or see. But I shuddered just the same. I’d been spending the night with a few thousand pointy-fanged killers.

I needed to get away from the mine opening, as far and fast as possible. It was still dark, but I could gauge my position. I turned west, facing a dark curtain of green. I raised my machete. Before I could swing, I heard a chop.

Then another.

Somebody else was cutting through the jungle. More than one person. Maybe twenty yards away.

I heard more blades swiping, then the wet stomp of shoes and the rattle of metal equipment. I saw the flicker of headlamps. I ducked down and saw shapes moving through the underbrush. Men and boys with heavy weapons.

It looked like a small army.