Nick and Major Pearce had travelled just as far and turned up just as much as the other half of the recovery team: Squat.
"Hey Pearce, can you smell that?" asked Nick, remaining nonchalant.
The Major's mouth twitched, "Hey fox, can you be more specific?"
"When we first set foot in this dungeon, I smelled a smell. A kind of smelly smell that smells… Smelly," explained Nick, with a noticeably firmer tone.
Pearce stopped marching and turned to face Nick directly, saying "Yes. I caught that too."
"Though what bothers me most is, the further we go, the weaker it gets."
"You can tell me the relevant, more important information anytime," remarked Pearce.
Nick rolled his eyes before explaining "Despite the fact I can barely smell it now, I feel this disturbing... Presence. Some kind of freaky sixth sense stuff."
Pearce tightened his grip, finger poised on his weapon's trigger, "The scent can do strange things, it messes with your head."
"I want to believe you but," Nick paused, psyching himself up a little before saying "When I first encountered the scent, my head was pretty damn clear. In fact, it had never been clearer."
"I followed it, and it led me right to a close friend. A friend who'd unfortunately decided to end his life with a chunk of lead through his temporal lobe."
"Sounds pretty fuckin' horrendous," muttered Pearce, apologetically.
"Coming from you, that means a fair bit. I was all of thirteen and a half - I remember it vividly, you-"
Nick stopped mid sentence, his gaze fixing on the doorway at the far end of the corridor. Sloshing footsteps in the puddles grabbed his attention like a bear trap. Pearce snapped his aim to the same spot.
A boxy thunderclap echoed behind them as they slowly traversed the corridor. Slow, methodical splashing continued sounding through the hall, only ceasing once they'd reached the next space, a stretch of hallway lined with pipes, perpendicular to the first hall.
The two canids gave the area alternating glances left and right. After a few takes, they turned to one another.
"Maybe you were right, I'm just getting jumpy," commented Nick.
"There's definitely someone around, I'm positive we're being watched," replied Pearce, in a deliberately quiet tone.
Slow steps accompanied by deep, raspy breathing, came around the corner.
"Stop right there!" commanded Pearce, adding "identify yourself!"
Nick turned to regard the figure before them. He could only make out a pair of eyes, easily six feet above the ground. They put out a disturbing greenish yellow, made more disturbing with the fact they didn't reflect the light, they glowed.
After a few heartbeats, the figure had better definition: It stood at least six feet and eight inches tall with a thin, wiry body, lanky arms and legs. It had a relatively small and ovular head, with a narrow neck. With a quiet grunt, the creature started a adroit stride toward Nick and Pearce with deliberate speed in place of it's earlier trudging.
Pearce took a step back, calling out "Halt or I'll shoot!"
Nick brandished a pocket knife, bracing for combat. The thing ignored him, making a bee-line for Major Pearce.
Pearce lined up a center mass shot - before he could pull the trigger, the hostile flung a small object at the ground between them. When the projectile struck a hard surface, the hall lit up with a disorienting flash of white light. Pearce managed to squeeze off a round, hearing a fleshy impact right in front of him. As the flash cleared, he saw the creature standing over him, gripping his carbine. To keep his wrists intact, Pearce had to let go of his gun as his assailant disarmed him with a strong, skillful twist.
Nick leapt forward, plunging his knife into their enemy's thigh - it took all his strength to drive the blade through it's garments and into the flesh. Still clutching Pearce's rifle, the creature struck Nick with it, releasing an angry yelp as it did so.
Pearce reached for the gun but the creature pulled it away, bringing forward it's other arm to deliver a hard shove to the timberwolf's chest. Pearce skidded back a meter or so, sending up a spray as he tumbled into the ankle deep water. Amidst the chaos, Nick felt a guilty pang as he picked himself up. This would be the second time Pearce had been disarmed and thrown across a room by a big scary beast whilst in his company.
A whining groan sounded behind them. A scruffy head poked through a fresh gap in the wall - evidently some kind of door. The head cried out "This way, quickly!"
Nick dashed over, helping Pearce to his feet. Fueled by adrenaline, the two rushed toward the gap. Meanwhile, the creature raised Pearce's rifle and hip-fired round after round as it marched forward behind them.
After it's stolen weapon emitted a few ineffectual clicks, it tossed it aside and broke into a full run to catch it's targets. Nick and the Major couldn't help looking behind them as they squeezed through the narrow escape route. This enemy fought like a wild beast, but knew how to use a firearm without so much as a pondering glance. It bore the strength of a rhino in a frame no taller than the average wolf.
Now beyond the threshold, their savior used all their weight to action a rusty lever beside the opening. With a bone-tingling shriek, the lever dropped and sick sounding pneumatics pulled the opening shut.
A moment later, the door banged repeatedly. After some harsh scraping sounds, frantic steps through water could be heard, growing more distant until altogether inaudible.
Liam Pearce and Nick Wilde stood, breathless and panting, trying to piece together the nightmare that'd just unfolded.
They had only a moment to regard their rescuer: an exhausted and dirty rabbit wearing bent, cracked glasses and a torn outfit stained with blood and God knows what else.
"This place is that thing's stomping ground! Closing the doors just delays the inevitable. Follow me, it'll be a tight fit - but it's a tight squeeze or a bloody, gruesome death!" cried the tired lagomorph, spinning on the spot and dashing over to a dented, loose grate cover and promptly disappearing into it.
A cramped crawlspace didn't phase them. To be fair, the prospect of relative safety actually made it quite tantalizing. The two ditched their backpacks and hurriedly followed the rabbit.
After a tense squirm lasting anywhere between several seconds and several minutes, Nick and Pearce emerged into a room dimly lit by oil lamps - and seemingly the only room thus far to have a dry floor.
Though not much, it certainly made for a nice change after a dirty and corroded ventilation shaft.
"Huhn… Oh, Bens. It's just you," slurred a weary Zebra on the floor.
"Not just me. Harris' hunch was correct: We have guests," replied the rabbit, adding "speaking of, where is Harris?"
The zebra sat up with a groan, clutching a wrapped leg wound. He took a breath and said "He went up the second passage, in case somebody wandered up there."
With a wheeze and plenty of scraping, an entrance opened on the far side of the room. From the pitch black emerged a ram with tattered wool, followed hastily by Judy and Isaac.
The door whined closed behind them as the two groups met up.
"What in the Hell happened to you two?" cried Judy, regarding the filthy, damp, breathless, and empty-pawed predators standing by a square hole in the wall.
Nick trotted over, trying his best to stifle his onset exhaustion. Now closer, he asked, "Later. Now, are you alright? How's Izzy?"
Judy rolled her eyes, "Have you seen yourself? Besides, if you want to know how Isaac is, ask him, he's right here."
Judy's tone stung. What's happened between them to make her act like this? The ram addressed the group, relieving Nick of his thoughts:
"I see you've had an encounter with the local," he remarked, flatly."
Pearce took his turn, replying "About that. I don't suppose you'd have some intel on that? How about we start with what the fuck it is?"
"Professor of archaeology Doctor Harris Ramsbrury, Phoenix Cooperative research expedition. And you are?" asked the ram, ignoring the Major's question.
Frowning, Pearce introduced himself with an outstretched paw "Major Liam Pearce, Phoenix Recovery - military escort."
Ramsbrury wordlessly switched his gaze to Nick, who said "Officer Wilde, Nick P. On loan from the ZPD."
"Isaac Katzendale, substitute field mechanic," said Isaac, somewhat regaining his hearty vigor.
Judy took the initiative for her introduction, to ideally prevent any further wasting of time: "Officer Judy Hopps, also on loan. As I'm sure you've figured out, we're here to bring you home. Suffice it to say we've run into some hurdles but the plan remains unchanged - we're getting you out of here."
"I hope you can deliver on that," chuckled Ramsbrury, adding "until then, let's get acquainted.
The twitchy rabbit beside Nick stood straight, pushing his glasses up on his nose, saying "Doctor Elias Benson, research assistant."
"Mitchell Innsbruck," coughed the zebra from his spot on the floor.
After a brief pause, Isaac perked up and declared "That's all four members of the expedition team accounted for."
"I only count three. Is there another one of you slinking about?" asked Pearce firmly, giving Ramsbrury a hard look.
"No," started Isaac, wincing uncomfortably before adding "we found Mister Muskens - or rather what's left of him hanging from a wall like an unholy piñata."
The three scientists bowed their heads.
"I take it you already knew."
"All too well. It really could have been any of us. Poor luck that it was Clark - I didn't mind him," explained Ramsbrury solemnly.
"I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say I'm sorry for your loss. Even so, we can mourn the dead once we're safe. The tomb is flooding, sooner or later the water will get in," declared Judy confidently.
"I can't help but feel we're sidestepping the issue. Wilde and I were just attacked by a hostile target. If we can't remove it, the flooding is little to worry about," said Pearce.
Nick made it his cue to weigh in, saying "Eli said in some pretty certain terms that it knows this place pretty well. So why doesn't it know to find us here?"
"It does. Why? The answer is quite simple actually," replied Innsbruck.
"Oh, Is it now?"
"Yes. It's about survival. It's also about numbers. Three to one, letting starvation or general attrition take us out is not too stupid an idea," he explained.
"You're cooked, Zebbie," spat Pearce.
"What'd you call me, Waffa?" Innsbruck retorted.
"I said you're full of shit. That thing fights like a honeybadger. It can use a gun too - just needs better aim," said Pearce. He'd said it so flatly it almost sounded polite, adding "my point? Numbers don't matter."
In terms of wisdom, an injured, exhausted Zebra paled in comparison with a battle hardened timber wolf, at least regarding the tactical aspect.
Harris drew a long glance around the room, Eli and Mitchell both gave him a nod. With a cough, he said "I had better start from the beginning."
Everything was perfectly fine when we arrived. We set up camp and made day trips into the tomb. It wasn't until the storm rolled in that the problems rolled in too, and they rolled in droves.
"Agh! Fuck," spat Mitchell Innsbruck.
After a slide in the fresh mud, the zebra found himself on top of all the cooking utensils. If the feeling of cold steel in his flesh weren't bad enough, he rolled over to see a grill spatula embedded in his quadricep.
Having seen it unfold, Clark Muskens hurried over to get him up. "I'm coming, Mitch!" he cried as the wind buffeted his thick coat.
Muskens dragged him backwards through the mud, struggling to hoist him up and into the back seat of their car. Hovering over the wound, the panicked wolf yanked out the spatula only to be sprayed with a jet of blood from Mitchell's femural artery.
"My God, what are you doing?" cried Elias Benson, dropping the contents of his arms to assist Clark, adding "you fool! Get me a belt to tourniquet the wound!"
Harris Ramsbrury took it in for a moment: the most important resources already lay in the tomb, the storm wouldn't settle anytime soon - time for a judgement call.
"Strap him up Eli!" he yelled, hobbling over and preparing to lift one end of the injured zebra.
"I'm trying! There's too much blood!" cried Elias desperately.
With a sharp tug, the impromptu tourniquet pulled tight just as Harris came to the door.
"Clark, lift his shoulders, I have his legs! We can give him more attention once we're out of this bloody storm!" yelled Ramsbrury over the weather.
Defying friction and physics itself, the expedition team hobbled their way through the downward winding corridors.
Now in the space termed 'the control room,' Elias sweeped research equipment worth a mammal's salary off the central table to clear a spot to get some kind of proper bandages on Mitchell's wound.
"We need to warm him up, I-I think he's going into shock," Eli stammered.
"The casket room. We need to go to the casket room! at the very least it's cleaner and drier than in here," said Harris, panting from the effort of carrying the casualty.
Once again, Clark and Harris hoisted Mitchell up, this time onto their shoulders, dragging him deeper into the 'tomb.'
After much stumbling through black corridor, they finally reached the 'casket room," named for the pair of sarcophagi positioned along the back wall. In one corner, Eli put down a rolled up coat as a makeshift pillow. Clark and Harris could barely put Mitchell down without dropping him.
"We need lamps, emergency blankets or a sleeping bag, and the butane stove," remarked Eli.
"What're we waiting for? We can't do anything more for Mitchell," said Harries, fumbling for his flashlight.
Eli reluctantly followed Clark and Harris as they hurried back toward the door. On his way, he cast a glance toward the caskets. One open, one closed. He could've sworn both were shut tight when they first came to this room earlier that very day.
"Mister Benson! Come on!" bellowed Harris.
"Right. I'll get the stove!" cried Eli.
In retrospect, I should have inquired after Eli's hesitation. Every other instance he'd paused - there'd been a bloody good reason. Right before the storm hit, he felt it was worth moving all our equipment inside - just as well too. It greatly simplified the task of finding supplies for Mitchell.
Two passages ultimately led to the casket room, one into the left side and another to the right. The three headed up the left passage and parted ways to get what they needed. They would encounter no further obstacles until their paths crossed on their way back.
Within a heartbeat of reconvening, they stopped dead in their tracks. From the far end of the corridor in which they stood, a tall stranger watched them in complete silence.
"Innsbruck, I-is that you?" stammered Eli, squinting in the darkness.
Clark, who's nightvision surpassed that of his companions, said with certainty "It's not Innsbruck."
Shifting his load, Harris pointed a flashlight up toward the stranger: the light shone on a skinny, flat faced creature clad in body armor. With a shallow grunt, it kicked off the ground and ran toward them.
It all happened so fast. In moments, only a few feet stood between themselves and their attacker. Clark threw down the stove in his paws and lunged forward to grapple with the creature.
Maybe adrenaline gave him the needed oomph, but Clark actually took the force of the stranger's charge, holding it back from striking Eli and Harris. He barely squeezed out a yell: "Go! Run, I'll hold him as long as I can!"
Battling their desire to help Clark, Elias and Harris shuffled as fast as they could - Mitchell would die without this gear.
Over Clark's shoulder, the stranger eyed them making their escape and delivered a sharp headbutt to the already weakening wolf. He crumpled over and the assailant gripped him by the shoulders and tossed him aside, deftly leaping after Eli and Harris.
"I… Don't… Think we can make it!" cried Benson, not realizing how much of a lead he had on Harris, who struggled many feet behind him.
The rabbit crossed the threshold and turned to watch in anxious fear as Harris desperately followed after him. Every meter the heavyset ram came closer, the hostile stranger closed the gap by two.
"Try to get the door, Eli!" gasped Harris.
Struggling and heaving, the skinny two foot tall mammal strained against the corroded sliding door with all his might.
At the very moment Harris made it through the doorway, he too turned to get the door closed. At the apex of his turn he stood face to face with their attacker, frightening him to the floor. Toes at the very edge of the entrance, their attacker stood motionless apart from a neck craning to stare at the two mammals.
Hearing Clark struggle to his feet, the stranger adroitly tugged on a nearby lever, making an about face and marching toward him. After a horrendous grinding of ancient gears, the door began to slide shut.
Harris and Eli could only see the stranger's back as the finally closed, accompanied by screams of terror undoubtedly coming from Clark Muskens.
"Since that moment, if we so take much as a single step beyond this safe haven, certain death comes streaking down the hall," said Harris in conclusion.
Even in the dim light, Judy could make out the two caskets on the side of the room. Just as described, one lay open and the other sealed shut.
"Have you been on many expeditions before?" asked Judy.
"Of course we have. How in the Hell do you think we got this far?" blurted Mitchell, rudely.
"What my colleague means is that it's been quite the journey. We've had the coordinates for some time, but they were keyed to a different latitude and longitude than we're used to," explained Harris, awkwardly.
"I see. One more question, why haven't you opened the other casket yet?" asked Judy, feigning curiosity.
"Is one murderous monster not enough for you?" asked Eli in retort.
"Obviously not. Unless that sarcophagus has something else in it," replied Nick, who'd come over to stand beside Judy, arms crossed haughtily.
"Yeah. Something like, oh I don't know, the very thing you've been searching for all along?" commented Judy, giving Nick a brief smile of appreciation.
Isaac stood back, quietly watching Judy and Nick do their thing. He'd wanted to see it for some time. He hadn't quite caught up yet, but trusted in their combined confidence. Pearce too seemed quite content to let them do the talking.
Harris frowned, "I don't appreciate the intimidation, nay the manipulation at play here. We are scientists in peril. You are here to rescue us. What more is there to discuss?"
All turned to Isaac when he let out a chuckle. He stepped up to stand by his friends to weigh in: "Well, actually, we're here to "recover" you. And while we're discussing semantics, if you knew this place was a tomb, you'd probably know who or what was entombed here."
"Confound it!" cried Benson, "damned if I die digging up mummies for Phoenix! Clark is dead, for God's sake."
"Why is there so much secrecy surrounding this? Why has the group you work for got you on tender hooks?" asked Judy.
"I don't know, but it's above my fucking pay grade. Playing babysitter for rent-a-cops beats this shit any day," muttered Pearce.
"Eli is right," said Harris, with a sad sigh.
"We get out of here alive, you know damn well they'll never let us near their research again," remarked Mitchell, sitting upright and watching with interest, adding "the committee don't believe in intellectual property."
"It's not worth the fuss anymore. Right then, chaps, let us have a good look at what we came for and show our new friends while we're at it," declared Harris Ramsbrury, looking the happiest or at the very least, the most relaxed Judy had seen since they'd met.
End Notes
I knew I shouldn't have said anything about the previous chapter's length.