The Samson Effect Chapter 22

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TWO SOLDIERS CLIMBED to the mouth of the cave while the other two remained at the foot of the mountain. Already, the sun's heavy rays bore down on Thomas, heating the sweat his shirt had soaked up. He looked over his shoulder toward Michael and the women. Delia scaled the surface with the agility of a mountain goat. Hanna climbed much more tentatively, though Thomas was still impressed with her progress. It was the first time he remembered beating Michael in a physical challenge, yet victory over a man with cracked ribs was hardly something to celebrate.

Thomas could see the agony masked behind the determination etched on Michael's face. Each grunt from Michael echoed from the mountainside, and yet they seemed to give him the nudge he needed to make it up, inch by inch. Thomas looked up at the soldiers who waited to pull him to the level surface at the cave's mouth. He reached out a trembling hand to the soldier's vice grip, which pulled him the rest of the way.

He pulled the canteen from his belt and drained half its contents, dismissing Delia's earlier warning to conserve. A cool flush revitalized the strength the climb had zapped. He looked down at the approaching climbers, ready to lend his hand, but was relieved when the two soldiers made it clear they could handle it without his help.

He walked to the cave's entrance and peered inside. The opening led back about fifteen feet before sharply turning to the right. The passageway was just big enough for them to crawl into, one by one. He gripped the remaining stalactite fang, trying to envision the serpent's image he had seen from the helicopter. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could not recreate the vision from this vantage point. If not for the uncanny timing of their flight, he knew there was no way they would have been able to find the spot.

He turned to the rustling sound behind him and saw Delia's deep bronze arm extend and grip the soldier's hand as he hoisted her the remaining way up. She grabbed her canteen and tipped it back, gulping a little more water than her own advice should have allowed. Thomas smiled and dropped to a sitting position next to her. "I'm impressed. You're not even winded."

"Looks can be deceiving," she answered between breaths. "If you weren't in my way, though, I'd be up here already."

Thomas smiled. "Sure you would." He crawled to the cave and started inside. "Want to see where we're going?"

Delia followed close behind until they reached the first turn. Thomas took out his flashlight and aimed the beam into the black void. He cringed when he saw a steep pitch downward that extended beyond the light's reach. "Great," he mumbled as images of his painful slide in the other cave flooded to mind.

"You two, wait for us."

Thomas looked back at the cave's opening and saw one of the soldiers kneeling in and shining his light at them. "This is as far as we're going without you. Just wanted to get an idea of what lay ahead."

"What do you see?" Hanna's unmistakable figure silhouetted in the cave's entrance.

Thomas tapped Delia and pointed toward the exit. "Nothing really. Just a chute going down into the cave."

They emerged from the cave and saw Michael lying on his back with his hand shielding the sun from his eyes. He made no attempt to mask his exhaustion. As Thomas approached, he saw Michael's canteen lying empty next to his sweat-drenched body.

"You going to make it?"

Michael pulled his head to Thomas and held up a finger as he tried to catch his breath. "Yeah … just give me … a minute."

For the next few minutes they rested, and each ate a granola bar they had packed. One of the soldiers poured part of his water into Michael's canteen. When everyone seemed rested enough to continue, a soldier knelt next to the cave's entrance.

"If you're ready, let's get going."

As he entered the cave, Thomas stopped him. "I think it's best if I lead. I know what we're looking for, and I need a full view of what's before me."

"Sir, I think it's best I lead."

"You can be right behind me. We're more likely to run into trouble from behind anyway."

The soldier looked at his partner, who nodded. He stepped out of the way to let Thomas take the lead. Within a few minutes, the train of explorers was halfway down the steep chute. The walls and floor were rugged, winding and narrowing along the way. Thomas was sure the passageway was naturally formed, but the discarded water bottles and plastic wrappers let him know others had been down this way recently. His stomach tightened as he thought of the prospects that someone else may have found what they were looking for.

They continued down until the tunnel's grade began to level out. This must be the belly, Thomas thought. He shined his flashlight in front of him. It looked as if this part of the snake's belly was alive. The tunnel walls undulated and shivered in the darkness.

Thomas froze, not sure he wanted to go farther. "What is it?" the soldier behind asked.

Thomas squeezed next to the wall, giving the soldier a view ahead of him. "I don't know. Looks like the tunnel is alive."

"Alive?" Hanna asked.

The soldier reached to his hip and pulled up something. "Everyone, put your face to the ground and cover your heads. Don't look up until I give the word."

"Why? What's out there?" Thomas asked when he saw the soldier pull out his pistol.

"Bats. By the looks of it, thousands. A few gunshots should scare them out of here."

Thomas dropped to the ground and buried his face under his arms. He didn't like the thought of thousands of bats making a mad exodus out of the cave and flying chaotically over him. He closed his eyes and cursed himself for insisting to be in the lead.

For a few seconds, the silence eerily hung with anticipation.

The stuttering cracks of bullets pierced the silence, and the cave echoed with unnumbered screeches. Thomas not only heard the cries, he also felt them reverberate from head to toe. He wasn't sure, but he thought he also heard a woman's scream buried in the frightening screeches.

Then bats began to swarm. Thomas felt the rush above him and the wind from their flapping wings beating down upon him. Every so often one of the bats touched the top of his head or bounced from his legs. Every muscle in his body tensed as the roar of screeches rumbled above him. It went on and on until Thomas wondered if their exodus would ever end.

After what seemed an eternity, the screeches faded in intensity. Thomas began to feel hope that the ordeal would soon be over. He realized he had been holding his breath and let the stale air spill from his lungs. He gasped, sucking in rich oxygen. Peaceful contentment washed over him. It was almost over. As he raised his head, a hand gripped his shoulders and forced him back to the ground. "Get down!" As soon as his face hit dirt, Thomas heard another round of gunfire.

The surge of bats increased but this time died away after a few seconds. Soon every sound receded until absolute silence returned. Thomas remained prone until he heard the all clear from the soldier. Only then did he lift his head.

He looked over his shoulder to see everyone slowly raising their heads. Thomas sucked in a breath and crawled forward. The stench left from the bats nearly overpowered him as he moved farther through the chute. A chamber quickly opened to a room about fifteen or twenty feet high and wide enough for the group to walk around freely in.

He reached to the wall to steady himself, and his hand pressed on something cold and slick. He pulled it back to find it covered with guano. He shined the light into the room and saw a slick layer of bat dung covering the floor. Maggots were squirming in it, their white bodies highlighted against the inky, dark mush. Cockroaches scurried across it surface. With the group silently urging him forward, he wiped his palms on his shirt and stood in the entrance. Stepping aside, he made room for each person to enter and listened to the "Yucks" and "Oohs" as they did. Someone's stomach retched. Thomas could have sworn it was from one of the soldiers.

He stepped carefully, feeling the guano ooze over the laces of his hiking boots. "Careful, the footing is slick." He continued to trudge through the murk while shining his light along the walls. He completed the room's circumference, finding no other exit. This was the end of the line.

"Well, what do you want to do now?" Michael asked, completing his own survey of the room.

"I don't know." Thomas massaged his closed eyes, trying to ward off his disappointment. "It's too much of a coincidence not to be the location we're looking for."

Hanna shined a light around the room. "Did you find anything that gives a clue as to where the Samson Effect may be hidden?"

"No," Thomas answered. "No markings, no sealed passages, nothing."

"Well, there's only one more place to look."

"Where?"

Hanna pointed her light at the guano.

"What? There?" Thomas looked to the floor and then to Hanna. "You think it's buried in bat dung?"

"Not exactly, but we may find something on the floor under it." She didn't wait for a response but started at the back corner of the room and used her boot to slide the guano away, revealing a smooth, stained surface.

"And what exactly are you looking for?" Michael asked.

"I don't exactly know. I was hoping you would tell me."

Thomas slid his toe through the guano and wrinkled his nose. "I guess it's not going to hurt to check." Everyone spread out at the back of the cave, side by side. Even the two soldiers agreed to help. "All right, we're looking for anything out of the ordinary."

"Out of the ordinary? What exactly does that mean?" Delia asked. "It means anything that shouldn't naturally be here; a carving, a mark. I don't know. Just yell if you think you've found something."

Thomas heard Delia's muffled response, and knew she meant him to hear it. "That clears it up."

He didn't comment. Instead, he began sliding the guano away with his foot. Quietly, the others followed his lead. They were at it for fifteen minutes when Delia's shrill cry stopped the others in their tracks. "I've found something! Quick, look!"

Thomas sloshed over to her, followed by the others. Delia's knees sank into the guano as she frantically cleared an area two feet by two feet with her hands. A thin line formed a near perfect square, enhanced by the guano. Ignoring the sticky mess, Thomas dropped to his knees and ran his fingers along the line. "It's a cover. I'm sure of it."

He ran his fingertips along the surface of the rock slate. In the upper left corner, his fingers felt the indentation of surface carvings. He reached for his canteen and poured water on the corner. The water and his fingertips removed the guano enough for an etched image to become visible.

Delia gasped. "The mark."

Michael thrust his hand down and ran it over the etching. His fingers froze. He looked up at Thomas, and the two of them broke out in simultaneous laughter.

Michael motioned a soldier over. "You have anything to pry this up with?"

The soldiers began using every tool they had to try to pry up the stone, but nothing worked. Finally, they tried another tactic with Michael's approval. One soldier placed a chisel on the corner opposite the mark and picked up a stone. The cavern echoed from continuous poundings until, finally, the chisel broke through.

The soldier removed the chisel and Michael shoved his fingers into the hole. "It's hollow."

The hole made it easy for the soldiers to pry off the stone cover. Thomas shined his light into the cavity and saw a layer of tiny, white, coarse rocks about four inches down. Delia picked up one of the stones and examined it. "Salt. It's salt."

Michael examined one of the stones also. "I believe you're right."

Thomas started digging, throwing handful after handful of salt out of the hole. After removing about ten inches, his fingers struck a solid object. With renewed fervor, he dug around the object and uncovered a clay jar. He pulled it up and examined it. The jar was plain with no markings, and the top was still sealed. As he turned it over he could tell something was in it. It felt like sand or pebbles falling free within it.

Thomas held the jar delicately in his hand, gently brushing off the fine white dust with his thumbs. "We need to get this to a lab."

With deliberate swiftness, Michael grabbed the jar and thrust it against the stone lid. It shattered, spilling out yellow-white crystals. As the crystals spread away, a single dark sphere about the size of a golf ball rested on top.

Thomas's heart sank. "I can't believe you just did that!"

Michael picked up the sphere. "Come on, you wanted to know what was in there as much as we did."

Michael's utter disrespect for the ancient vessel caused indignation to bubble up inside of Thomas. However, the expressions on everyone's face made him bite his tongue. He picked up the yellow crystals and let them slip through his fingers. His indignation fled when he realized what he was holding. "Of course," he whispered.

"What?" Hanna asked.

He picked up more crystals and let them fall through his fingers again. "It's honey. Salt and honey, two of the most reliable forms of preservation in the ancient world."

"You mean this ball is a seed … the seed?" Hanna asked. "But it's three thousand years old."

Thomas held out his hand and Michael handed him the seed. "Nothing lasts forever, but the size and thickness of the seed, coupled with the honey and the salt to keep moisture and bacteria away—"

Hanna gasped. "You mean it may germinate after three millennia?"

Michael popped the bottom of Thomas's hand and snatched the seed from midair. With an infectious smile, he said, "There's only one way to find out."



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