Chapter 16
By now Steve was getting pretty frustrated. Seemed these earthen passages went clear to Canada. Futile hours had been spent following the strange glowy ruins emblazoned on the sides of the walls. Brilliant orange and gold flames danced at the tips of the torches lighting the way.
He was exhausted.
Sweat glistened from his forehead and trickled down his neck.
Sure was hot down here. Hot enough to fry eggs, probably. Amazing that he didn't suffocate being in an enclosed area, but the passages seemed to be fed by invisible cracks and crevices into which oxygen spilled. The trip through the unknown wasn't anywhere close to comfortable. And the volcanic fumes were really starting to rub him the wrong way. But at least there was air and, hey, he hadn't keeled over dead yet, so there was a plus.
No more lava flows either.
Good, good.
Still, the tunnels had worn out their welcome. No matter what the deal, it was just too hard to enjoy the scenic native-passages with all their beautiful, glowing symbols and the constant rumble of an unstable Mt. Fulcan when the words 'You Will Die Soon' were rendered in dripping blood from the side of a solid rock wall.
Yep, it was amazing how fast a place lost it's appeal after that.
Thus far the volcano's reluctant explorer had been wandering around quite a while without finding so much as one pathway which looked different from the rest. It got very tedious wandering around for hours without food, water, or a clue as to where exactly he was and how to get out. Once or twice he'd paused to doze off alongside a nice warm wall. Then it was back to being a rat in a maze.
He rounded another corner--this one gasp actually looked different--and found himself in a rather large area about the size of a gym. A pair of torches hung at the end of the far wall; chasing away the darkness and lighting the way to a dead end.
Steve studied the room with mounting interest. Well well, surprise surprise; only two weird Mad Hatter-esque glowing symbols in this room. It must not have been special. If it were, he figured, it would've been covered in ruins.
Great, I'm lost in a maze designed by the Mad Hatter! It was like some lunatic's demented sanctuary where everything was turned upside down and nothing made sense.
Quite tiresome. All he wanted to do was get out, and the sooner the better. Was that too much to ask?
" Phft! Another dead end! "
Something was strange about the dirt here though...it was darker and appeared to be more loosely packed; in fact, now that he thought about it, the whole room smelled stale and deathly. Like the way those A&E archeologists were always describing the smell of a mummy's tomb.
Steve shuddered despite the total lack of cold. This all felt wrong. Very wrong. His spider sense was tingling.
" Well, ooookay," He stated, finding the sound of his own voice oddly comforting, " I guess I'll just turn around and..."
But he had already stayed too long.
All at once, the loose, dark soil in front of him began to shift and move.
" Huh?! What the..." He should run, he knew. But some quirk in his nature--a little too much curiosity, perhaps--kept Steve glued to his spot watching the strange phenomenon.
There was very little sound as the dirt parted and something white and gleaming made it's first poke from the ground.
Squinting, Steve tried to bring the thing into clearer focus. What is that? There was little time to wonder, however, as all around the room earth was moving and more of the white things were rising up; some quicker and more forceful than others. One of the rising white things had what were undisputedly claws attached to what might be toes...a paw?!
Those white things were bones!
All the color drained from Steve's face. Bones?! Bone animals! That's it! I'm outta here! Chances were an all-bones monster was not going to be friendly. He was about to turn and bolt when the ground right beneath the twin torches exploded outward in a shower of dirt and rock!
" Yeeiii! "
A gleaming white skeleton now stood confidently on all fours, shaking a few stubborn bits of earth from it's dead frame.
Steve recognized the shape immediately.
A dog. he realized with fright, It's the skeleton of a dog! The animal's skull with the elongated snout and several sharp canine teeth gave that away. The dog itself was big-boned--perhaps it might have been a Great Dane in life. There wasn't a single strip of flesh clinging to one spot on the entire dirt-ridden body.
As it's buddies continued to animate around it, the skeleton-dog turned it's bleached-white head on Steve. Instead of eyes, a bright red flame of light burned in each of the empty sockets, fixing the human prey with a cold glare which seemed to suck all the life out of him.
" You trespass on sacred ground." A man's voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the entire boneyard with it's ageless echo, " Your life is forfeit."
Steve yelped in surprise, then backed away rapidly. This was too much. No amount of curiosity was going to hold him there now.
" Forfeit?! " He echoed, spinning on his heel like and rocketing back the way he'd came, " I'm very sorry to have disturbed your pet cemetery, but it's not like you had signs posted or anything. You really oughta give a person more warning! "
There was no reply.
Figured. Booming ghostly voices could be so impolite.
Steve raced on like the hounds from hell were chasing him; which, he supposed, actually wasn't all that far-fetched. Legs pumping at full speed, he tried desperately to remember every little twist and turn ahead.
Too close behind, an indescribable howl of rage and fury betrayed the pursuing demon dogs.
How many were there? Ten? Twelve? Steve barely cared. Even one was way too many to handle. And how can skeletons move with no muscles? Of course, I guess it shouldn't come as such a big shock in a cave with bleeding walls. There's something seriously wrong with this island.
Seriously wrong was an understatement. A freak flash of lightning from a freak storm had sent him here, and everything about this was quickly catching up to Rockfort and Antarctica in terms of freakiness.
His mind spluttered with the possibilities. The island was haunted. Or cursed. Maybe both.
And not for the first time in his relatively young life, Steve Burnside was scared senseless.
Ever since Rockfort he'd grown to accept the fact that there were monsters out there. Real monsters. Zombies. Mutations. Horrible, horrible mutations sporting one big, long, elastic arm while the other was a shriveled stump. Things which looked liked furless apes. Frankenstein tyrant creatures. The walking dead.
All were the result of viruses, viruses created by Umbrella and it's rivals for bio-organic warfare and possibly world domination. Steve had come face to face with these abominations and managed to survive. That was a miracle in itself.
But this time was different. Good as Umbrella was with viral warfare and bio-engineering, there was no way they could have conjured up a freak storm from a clear blue sky. It was also more likely that cats would turn vegetarian and start speaking Spanish than Umbrella mastering the art of teleportation.
However, Umbrella's scientists learning to teleport, though extremely improbable, was at least remotely possible. Them being able to make limestone bleed and animate the all-bones skeletons of the dogs now chasing him was not.
Every ghost story he'd ever read or heard came back on him; flashing through his mind in a whirlwind of terror. Skeleton dogs with blazing crimson eyes and more than enough life to chase him down...
No, Umbrella wouldn't be able to do something like this.
But a necromancer could.
Black magic. That had to be it.
And here I thought that magic didn't exist. Shows what I knew. Oh god, what happened here? Wait, no. Scratch that. I don't want to know. I just want out!
The narrow volcanic paths twisted and twirled in an insane maze beneath the ominous Mt. Fulcan. Even as he ran, the torches in front of him went out with an unfelt wind. The blazing red symbols grew brighter...now they looked more like bloody cuts in the walls.
Steve couldn't read them, but it was a pretty safe bet he wouldn't want to even if he could.
On and on he ran--until his legs felt like cooked spaghetti and his heart hammered heavily in his chest, threatening to burst if he didn't stop soon. Oh god....
Whoever had designed these tunnels had done it right. Steve felt as if he'd run clear up the mountain and back down again.
Three times.
" I give up! " Exhausted, he stopped; rested against one of the hot walls, sweat cascading off his tired form by the bucketfuls.
Were the dogs still chasing him?
Maybe. Probably. He didn't hear them right now, but, of course, that meant absolutely nothing. For all he knew the ghastly specters could run through walls.
Oh, and wasn't that a cheery thought?
With lack of anything better to do while he regained his breath, Steve took the liberty of looking around. It was almost pitch black save one glowing symbol the size of a dinner plate shaped like a 'v' with a slash through it. He had no idea what it meant.
Probably not a good-luck symbol.
It was too dark now to even see where he was, or which way the path continued. No question about it, if those skeleton dogs caught up with him now, he was just going to be out of luck.
It was then that a powerful stench hit his nose; the unmistakable rot of dead flesh. But of course, Why am I surprised? There's always gotta be dead things. Question is, who? Or what? And...Suddenly nauseous, he felt a lump swell at the back of his throat, Where at?
All of a sudden Steve was thankful for the complete enveloping darkness. He didn't want to think about what he may be standing by...or--oh please don't let it be this--in.
Minutes slipped by without skeletons or some other nasty beastie leaping in, and the trapped man tried to clear his head. Ok. So he was all alone in the underground passages of the damned where walls bled, torches went on and off on their own accord, creepy voices came with no owners, and being nothing but bones wasn't enough to stop guard dogs from defending their final resting places.
Was he forgetting anything?
Oh yes.
There was no way out. And that was the worst part of all.
That' can't be true, Steve's brain argued, and he brushed a strand of sweat away from his forehead with an unsteady hand, There has to be a way out. There's gotta be. All I have to do is find it. Now think logically here...the hotter it gets and the more the ground slopes downwards means I'm going deeper into the volcano, a strict no-no. What I want is to be climbing uphill where the air is cooler. And next torch I find that's lit I'm grabbing. Have to be able to see where I'm going too.
Determination set in. It was a good plan. Problem was, the tunnels wove about like the fabled Minotaur's labyrinth, and the fiend torches which lined the walls lacked loyalty and were always fading on and off with a mind of their own.
Once again his eyes found the glowing ruin. This was like a puzzle. Perhaps there was a pattern to the symbols which would help him find his way out? Had to be it. Someone's sadistic version of a game. The point of it is that the symbols are here for a reason, and that's a clue about the passages themselves.
Without warning, a spark flashed! Before Steve had time to even register it blazed into a full-fledged fire caught on the end of a torch that had until then been lost to the blanket of darkness.
At the moment, however, magic torches were the least of his worries.
He had detected the source of the stench he had been trying not to think about for the past few minutes. Sprawled out before him--almost touching his shoes--was the limp form of a large black housecat.
With no head.
Oh gross! Grossgrossgrossgross....he was about to step over it when the furry form got up and stood to face him...red blood and masses of tissue spilling from what was left of it's neck.
Now, a headless cat cannot growl.
But Steve swore, this one did.
