Ryan looked at him. “Can you walk?”
Eyes a bit glazed from trying to control the pain, Jak only nodded, as he shoved fresh rounds into the Colt Python’s cylinder.
They moved out, Sisoka in the lead, striding quickly along the stone passageway, peering through the dim, misty blue light. The corridor widened and the ceiling grew in height. Irregular stalactites stretched from above, and they wended their way around stalagmites thrusting up from the floor. Ryan kept listening for the approach of Joe and his warriors.
The light was confusing; it was just bright enough for them to see a few feet in front of them, but too dim to make out shapes clearly. Suddenly Sisoka halted, lifting a hand. They stopped so quickly that they trod on one another’s heels.
Dropping to all fours, Sisoka crept forward, her hand groping through the bluish mist. Ryan and Doc stepped forward and knelt beside her. Ryan experienced a shuddery sensation of imminent peril. He stretched out his left hand and found that the tunnel floor dropped straight down into the misty light. Doc picked up a pebble and flipped it over the edge. He counted aloud. When he reached “six,” they heard it strike, far below. He backed away, murmuring, “No, thank you, sir, indeed.”
“A dead end,” Ryan said grimly. “We’ll have to make our stand here.”
As Doc backed away, something brushed the top of his head, hanging from above. “Look at this.”
It was a length of frayed rope, and they craned their necks to look up to see what it was anchored to. The end of the rope was lost in shadows.
Ryan reached up and tugged gingerly on the length of hemp. Nothing happened, so he pulled harder. His effort was rewarded by a loud creaking sound. He pulled hand over hand, and a long, flat slab descended from the rocky ceiling.
The slab was made of rough-hewn, splintering timber and lashed together with rope. It was a bridge, affixed to the tunnel roof by a pulley system of some kind. Creaking, the bridge lowered until its outermost edge rested on the tunnel’s lip, spanning the chasm.
“Who wants to take the first step?” Ryan asked.
Before anyone could reply, Sisoka stepped cautiously on the bridge. Though the timbers squeaked, it appeared secure and solid enough. She walked quickly across and was swallowed up by the mist. She called to them that everything was fine. Unhesitatingly, Blood-sniffer trotted across.
One at a time, as if they were walking on eggshells, everyone softfooted across the bridge. Ryan went last, guarding their rear. When the others had safely crossed, he followed. He was the heaviest of his companions, and the timbers didn’t simply squeak beneath his weight; they groaned and a couple of them trembled. He tiptoed the remaining yards to the far side of the chasm.
When he joined his friends, J.B. said, “No rope on this side. We can’t raise the bridge to keep Joe from crossing.”
“He has no choice if he wants us,” Ryan replied. “We can just stay here and pick him and his warriors off as they come across.”
“No!” Sisoka blurted. “You cannot kill in the heart of the Grandmother, not in the Cavern of Creation.”
“If we don’t,” Ryan said, “we’ll all die.”
“No,” she repeated stubbornly. “Find another way.”
“There’s another way,” Mildred said. “Jak, since you’re the lightweight among us, you can ease out on the bridge and cut the ropes supporting the timbers. It won’t be able to support another crossing.”
“That tactic will leave us stranded here,” Doc objected, “perhaps to wander the subterranean rings of Hades for all eternity, like Virgil.”
Ryan turned to Jak. “Do it.”
Jak nodded and crept back out across the bridge. His motions were a little stiff due to his wound, but they heard the faint snicking of razor steel cutting into hemp and the squeak of timbers. After a moment he returned, backing up on hands and knees.
“Done,” he whispered. “Heard voices from entrance.”
The seven people and the wolf walked quietly away from the chasm. After a few minutes they heard a far-off noise, a distant rumble as if a great-wheeled machine were approaching. Then there was a crash and splintering of wood, a noise that swiftly faded except for a brief echo. A faint scream trailed behind the splitting roar.