Chapter Twenty One
The Vault

He had been nine years old the first time he saw an airplane fly.

Chris Larabee's father, the General, had taken both boys to Fort Myer in Virginia to attend some army business Buck Wilmington no longer remember. Buck had damn loved the man for the invitation, because the man didn't give two licks about the fact Buck was a product of the local bordello. All Marcus Larabee ever saw was a boy who needed a man's influence in his life and was willing to provide it. His mother who was similarly touched by the gesture had permitted it, sending Buck on his first trip out of state.

They had journeyed to the fort at the same time another visitor was conducting business there. Buck had never heard of Orville and Wilbur Wright until that visit, but following his time in Fort Myer, he would never forget it. Watching the Flyer soaring over the skies was like revelation and young Buck knew from that moment on, he would never want to be anywhere else. The plane, little more than a construct of spruce and fabric, with its twin propellers, was nothing like the Darlin' Millie but Buck knew he was born to fly.

In the war, being a pilot had allowed him to see the fighting from above and despite the losses in the air to the German Air Force, he had to admit, it was nothing like the carnage on the ground. Buck doubted he would have made it back from Europe otherwise. Flying overhead, he remembered seeing the bodies and praying each time he did, Chris and his friends were not among the dead. During the Oise-Aisne Offensive, seeing the death below him had made him feel ashamed he was safe in the seat of his plane instead of being in mud below, dying.

Right now, as he watched the converging Erran forces closing in around the ruin of Eridu like a ring of steel, Buck supposed he finally knew what it was like to share the battle with his friends at ground level. In retrospect, it was an experience he could do without. Despite Ezra's expert direction, surprising not just him but Josiah as well, the Erran were overwhelming them with sheer numbers. The red robed devils were closing in and while Ezra was using every ounce of experience he possessed as a former cavalry man, he could not keep the enemy at bay.

Buck continued to fire his rifle, the rat-tat-tat of gunfire exploding in his ear as he continued to shoot, his belly pressed against the dirt. He saw the barrage clip one man in the shoulder, enough so that he had almost been unseated. He slumped to the side of the saddle and clung on with one hand, to avoid tumbling into the dirt. The rest of the payload from Buck's gun was nowhere as merciful on the man next to him. Three bullets slammed into the rider's body in quick succession. Through his sight, Buck saw the man jerk like a puppet for a few seconds before he fell away from the horse, like the animal had shed its skin.

If he did not die when he hit the sand, he certainly did when the horses behind him trampled over his body, despite their best efforts to avoid him. Yet the enemy was still coming and Buck found himself reaching for more ammunition, carefully watching the supply and wishing once again, he was in his plane with a couple of bombs he could drop on the bastards.

"They're getting closer!" Buck shouted to no one in particular, dropping his head down when a bullet whizzed past, impacting on the rock wall behind him. It spat small fragments of stone across the ground upon impact. "We're going to have to use our ace in the hole!"

Ezra who had been firing steadily at the approaching targets, lifted his head up from the sight of the gun resting on the rock wall behind which he was taking refuge. While still wearing the face of the consummate poker player who gave nothing away, Buck knew the man long enough to know Ezra was also seeing their situation deterioating which each inch of ground being claimed by the enemy. They had planned for this assault but no one could have expected the Erran to come with such numbers.

"We must wait until they are closer!" Ezra declared, putting to end any suggestion of using their ace in the hole. Both he and Chris had come up with the idea jointly and now that it was needed, he did not intend to squander its worth by acting prematurely. "We will only have one shot at this and even so all we can hope to do is reduce their numbers. We must give Mr Larabee and the others enough time to reach the Tablet."

"I don't know if I want them that close!" Nathan hollered from where he was. He had paused to reload and was grateful Josiah was maintaining the protective cordon around them because the Erran were quick to take up the gaps he provided by his brief pause. As he kept his head down, fumbling for the bullets to reload his gun, he could hear the explosion of artillery and their heat passing over him as they sought out new targets in their predefined trajectory.

"I do not think we have much choice in the matter!" Ezra declared. "Nevertheless, before they arrive, I am certain we can reduce their numbers significantly."

The gambler faced front again and noted the dwindling Erran numbers, while significant, was nowhere enough. There were still at least thirty of them on close approach. Raising his binoculars to his face, he peered through them and studied the line of riders. Unsurprisingly, he saw amongst the cultist, the woman who attempted to poison them on numerous occasions, her companion the large behemoth who nearly choked the life out of him and of course, the Shah himself. Ezra had ridden in the cavalry long enough to know who was in charge by their positioning in the formation.

The manner in which Shah was being guarded on all sides meant nothing else.

Ezra wondered if he were a better sniper like Vin, would he have made the attempt and decided it was a worthless expenditure of time since he wasn't certain he could make the shot to put down the leader of the Erran. Instead, he saw the enemy approaching the invisible line he and Chris had drawn around Eridu, as a contingency for the possibility of this situation becoming a reality.

"Mr Sanchez!" Ezra shouted over the sound of returning gunfire at the former seminary student who was manning the submachine gun with deadly precision. "I think it's time!"

Josiah didn't answer immediately, too distracted by the piston like rhythm of the gun's discharge. Spent shell casings were scattered around him and up ahead, the wall of artillery swept at least two of the Erran from their saddles while another was unseated when one of those bullets struck horse flesh. The older man flinched at that, never much liking the animals wounded by the foolishness of human riders.

"Someone take over!" He called out and waited for a second before he saw Nathan crawling across the ground like a snake, trying to keep from being hit. The medic made a run for it in the last few feet, his back bent into a question mark before he slid into place next to Josiah, like he was Satchel Paige himself.

"All yours brother," Josiah remarked, tipping his cap at the younger man before making a quick run for a partially crumbled wall at the rear of the temple floor.

"Thanks," Nathan remarked, taking charge of the weapon and resuming the deadly fire aimed at reducing the Errans' numbers. "I feel honoured."

Josiah ran past Ezra in much the same fashion as Nathan had approached, keeping his head down by crouching low. Bullets were riddling every surface the ruined city and Josiah wondered if God was watching out for them since none of his companions had felt the sting of any projectiles as yet.

"Say when Ezra," Josiah reminded as he dashed past.

"I will not keep you waiting long," Ezra responded before he went back to shooting. "Tell me when you're in position."

"Yes Lieutenant ," Josiah grinned, perfectly aware Ezra hated being reminded of his military rank. The man still claimed it was some madness that had overtaken him in his youth that prompted him to enlist in the first place.

"If you are going to resort to name calling..." he started to say when another bullet whizzed past his face and he fell backwards.

Josiah uttered a little laugh, indulging in a little gallows humour as he continued onwards, pausing here and there as he weaved past the path of bullets crossing Eridu's length and breadth. He practically had to dive over the shortened wall, wondering what on Earth he was thinking by making the attempt, since he was nowhere as spry (or young) as the others, before he landed in a roll.

Scrambling to his feet, he crawled towards the detonator box waiting impatiently for his return, the handle standing impudently at attention. The box was sheltered by the wall, the brick providing the perfect shield from the bullets, far better than anyone else was being protected at present. Josiah sat up, kneeling in front it, placing his hands on the handle and shouting out, certain Ezra was listening, waiting to hear he was in position.

"I'm ready!" Josiah called, his normally erudite voice booming loudly.

Ezra who was poised and waiting to hear Josiah's words, stared at the terrain in front of him and knew this was the last chance they had of reducing the odds against them. They might not win the day, but it would be a pyrrhic victory for the Erran. The enemy was less than fifty feet away from Eridu and it was the safest point for the detonation, without causing significant instability in the ancient structure.

As the gunfire continued, along with the dull thunder of horses, Ezra gave the order.

"NOW!"

Without even needing to see Josiah pushing down on the handle of the detonator box, the explosion of sound that resulted felt like the earth being split open. As the tremendous roar filled the air, terrifying any animal in the vicinity as the deafening noise was followed by bone shattering rattles, a wall of earth rose up in the air at the detonation of the dynamite charges. Chris Larabee, ever the pessimist had been certain the Erran would find them, despite their best precautions and Ezra had suggested this little contingency in case they did. Thus, they planted the explosives around the site almost as soon as they arrived in Eridu.

He saw the horses buckling and like all former cavalry men, Ezra flinched at seeing it. The animals were caught in the line of blasts, their frightened braying filling the air as others retreated, colliding with the horses behind them. Some of the creatures reared themselves on hind legs, dislodging their riders. The entire line was in disarray, scattered across the desert sand like someone had thrown a rock at an anthill.

"That should give Chris a bit more time," Buck spoke up as the gunfire paused momentarily while the Erran attempted to regroup.

"Hopefully," Ezra said as he reloaded his gun and prepared for the next wave. "He is encountering less difficulties than we are."


When Chris finally caught up with Mary in the chamber at the end of the corridor where they had escaped the swarm of scorpions, he was convinced she had succeeded in triggering the mechanism of yet another death trap to be found in the temple. Her journalistic nose as well as her fearless nature (which could be somewhat attractive), made this an inevitability. Yet when he stepped into the room and glimpsed what she was seeing through the amber light of her torch, he could appreciate what engendered such a fearful exclamation from her lips.

Slowing down as he was confronted with the same scene as she, Chris came to a stop next to Mary and had to admit, he might have made a similar utterance, albeit with a slightly more colourful language, if he had stumbled upon the scene she was viewing with wide eyes.

Surrounding them on every inch of wall space, save the floor and ceiling, were corpses.

They stood upright, stacked two or three deep in carved slots against the wall, resembling dried husks of cordwood instead of mummified corpses. Pack tightly together, with arms folded over their chests, dressed in a mixture of armour and jewellery over the swaddling used to encase them once the embalming process was done.

The scene reminded Chris of Paris. He had spent time there after the war, shortly before they were to be shipped home and Chris had visited the city's famous catacombs. In that stygian underground cemetery, the dead were marked by the skulls they left behind. What he was seeing now, did not look that dissimilar, except the bodies were all intact and posed as if they were keeping watch over the room for any unwanted trespassers.

"It's okay," he assured her, finding it satisfying she could be unnerved like any other woman. "It's the live ones you gotta worry about."

Mary tossed him a look. "I admire your ability to make such distinctions Mr Larabee."

Despite the situation, Chris couldn't help but admire the fire in her eyes, even when it was projected out of those dove like eyes. "I think since you've almost gotten me killed in a Mesoamerican water trap, you can call me Chris."

Even though he said it with a straight face, the teasing in his voice was apparent.

Mary crooked a brow in his direction, her frown fighting to remain on her face. "Alright then, Chris ." she spoke with that imperious tone even though the slight curl at the corner of her lip betray the warmth she was trying not to show him. "What is this place?"

"I'm not sure," Chris confessed. "It's obviously a burial vault but I'm not the expert. JD? Professor?" After four years doing this, he knew something of Sumerian culture and was aware they buried their dead instead of cremating them. Still, in comparison to the two scholars in their company, he was an amateur. Both men were probably being held back by Vin who would not let them proceed further until Chris gave the signal, deeming it was safe. "Come on down, it's clear."

It did not take them long to enter the room to join Chris and Mary who were continuing to study the bodies arrayed. They were mostly men, although there were one or two women and obviously high born, if their ornate burial clothes were any indication. The positioning of the bodies bothered him though, he couldn't imagine why they were standing upright like that when Sumerian culture buried their dead flat.

The familiar tickle in the back of his mind, the one that warned of caution, made itself heard as the others entered the room.

"Of course," Alexandra Styles exclaimed as she entered with Vin and threw up her hands in exasperation more than fear. Being a fourth-year medical student, dead bodies weren't that much of a surprise to her but the macabre nature of the place was in keeping with the rest of this situation, she decided. She was really tired of being confronted with one awful thing after another. "What's next? Flesh eating bugs?"

Vin decided this was not the time to mention the tiger beetles they'd encountered at a dig in Egypt.

"Don't worry Darlin'," he tossed her a wink. "I'll protect you."

"Oh, you're lucky you're pretty." She flashed him a radiant smile of warmth, wondering how this insanity was tolerable to her, just because she was with him.

"Oh," Orin Travis stated with interest as he stepped into the chamber and surveyed the place and its dead occupants. "This is a vault. Judging by the adornments, I would say these were the city's nobles and leaders. The everyday Sumerian buried their dead in the home." Glancing at JD, the Professor spoke to the young man as if he were teaching a class. "Can you tell us more Mr Dunne?"

JD smiled affectionately at the Professor who continued to be a teacher even now and would forever have his undying loyalty as a friend. Orin Travis had changed his life when he introduced JD to Chris Larabee and the men he now considered family. In becoming part of the seven, Orin had ensured JD would never be alone again

"Yes Sir," he flashed the Professor a smile, accepting the challenge. "All Sumerian homes had a vault or tombs, whatever you want to call it. They buried all their dead there, even left spaces for where wives and husbands would eventually end up. They even kept the household pets there."

"Very good," Orin said proudly, glad to see the young man's academic prowess was still as sharp as ever. Taking a step closer to one wall of corpses, he studied their shrouds and the objects they were interred with. "Most of these men are armed, they must be temple or royal guards."

Both Chris and Vin noticed that first.

Even by modern standards, they looked quite formidable. Each guard wore a helmet of bronze and iron, their body armour was a circular breastplate held in place with straps around the arms. Sheathed in scabbards at the hip were Mesopotamian swords or khopeshes and short daggers. Also, within reach were spears and maces. Even under four millennia of dust, Chris thought they looked quite threatening.

"Why would they be buried here?" Mary had to ask. "I thought you said this was for the nobility?"

"There may be a further chamber," Chris replied. "One where there's a king or something."

"Well there's the door," Orin pointed to the exit at the far end of the room, just like the one with the scorpions. "Perhaps the vault for the nobility is through there. If so, it would make sense the guards being placed here, to keep watch."

"You know what's odd though," JD commented. "Why are they standing up like that?"

"Yeah I was going to mention it," Vin spoke up, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Alex was not straying too far. "Ain't they supposed to be lying down or something?" Granted Vin was no expert on these things, his sole contribution here was not to let anyone get killed in whatever danger they triggered by attempting to retrieve the Tablet.

Alex drifted away from the talk, inching closer to one of the corpses. Despite her earlier complaint, she was a little fascinated once her shock had worn away. Not that she was about to let Vin on this fact. She knew she was almost certainly in love with him. The connection between them felt so strong and natural, it was uncanny. However, as much as she might care for him, she did not intend to be a regular companion on his adventures if they were all like this.

Taking a step forward with her torch in hand, Alex reminded herself most strenuously she was not to touch anything after what Mary did in that mound dwelling in New Mexico. Leaning in closer, she studied the corpse of a male, who was almost six feet tall, despite his desiccated state. On top of the swaddling around his body, he was buried with his bronze aged armour, a helmet on his head and his khopesh hanging at his hip. In life, she had no doubt he would look quite frightening..

Alex had to admire the sophistication of the embalming process because even though this man had died four thousand years ago, she could see his distinct features exposed through the withering material of his shroud. He had a strong straight nose, refined features and deep set eyes. In his day, he would have been quite the...

His eyelids flew open silencing any further thought in her mind.

At first Alex thought it was a flicker of the flame from her torch. Blinking, she wanted to clear her eyes to ensure she wasn't imagining things. When one was surrounded by corpses, it wasn't an unheard of possibility. Except he blinked too. As old skin flexed and cracked, small particles of dust broke free around his face, revealing the blackness of empty eye sockets.

Still trapped in disbelief by her scientific mind, Alex stared in horrified fascination until the thing tilted its head in her direction and pulled its thin lips back, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth that resembled stained wood instead of enamel. It was at this point, Alex's survival instincts kicked in and she retreated, just as it started moving.

Her scream jarred everyone.

Vin swung around the instant he heard that cry and saw Alex recoiling just as corpses against the walls started to come alive around them. One by one, they were pulling themselves free from their placements in the wall, creating clouds of dust as they surrounded the new arrivals with surprising speed. Unsheathing their blades or clutching the spears and maces left for them, they moved forward in a ring of steel. While Vin would react faster than Alex, for the first second he could only gape at what was happening in front of him before his mind discarded his astonishment, to deal with the threat.

"Get behind me!" Vin barked and that was one order she was not about to disobey.

Mary uttered a cry of terror when an arm lashed out of the darkness and grabbed her arm. Reacting reflexively, she kicked out and planted a foot in the corpse's sternum. The force of the kick drove the breastplate and her foot through the creature's chest until she was almost ankle deep in ancient flesh and organs. Despite its injury, the dead Sumerian was not about to be impeded by its prey and regained his grip on her, holding Mary in place as he sought to run her through with the blade in his hand.

"MARY!" Orin shouted in horror as he saw his daughter in the grip of a zombie.

Understandably, it took a few seconds for everyone to react as they should. Scorpions were one thing but the dead rising up from the grave, was straining belief. Unfortunately, there was no time to debate the matter since it appeared they were about to be overwhelmed by the creatures who were about to slaughter them in this chamber.

Orin's cry had mobilised Chris and he reacted without hesitation, drawing his gun and jamming the weapon against the creature's skull before pulling the trigger. The discharging bullet made the thing's head explode, sending pieces of skull and dry brain matter in all direction as it tumbled to the tiled floor. As it collapsed, its arm detached from the rest of its body, leaving its hand to maintain the vice like grip around Mary's forearm.

"Get it off me!" She squealed in uncharacteristic hysterics.

"How in the hell is this possible?" JD managed to ask as he saw one of the creatures advancing towards him and wasted no time firing at it. There were so many of them now, he wondered if they had enough ammunition to deal with them all. Orin was trying to make his way to Mary when JD saw the almost skeletal figure closing in on his mentor.

"Professor, look out!" JD leapt into action, placing himself in front of the man before squeezing the trigger repeatedly. As twp bullets slammed into the creature's chest one after the other, JD saw it stagger backwards, jerking about spasmodically in reaction. The young scholar expected the corpse tumble to the ground so he could deal with the others, when it did the exact opposite.

The corpse shook off the effect and straightened up. It lifted its head at the young man and JD swore it was almost smiling before it started moving again.

"Aw Jeez! Chris!" JD shouted at the gunslinger. "I think we have a big problem!"

As Chris saw them closing in, their weapons gleaming, he thought JD had sorely underestimated the situation.

They had several big problems.