The Judas Strain - James Rollins [192]
The stone plug shattered out of the rooftop, raining down chunks of the block. Sunlight blazed down. A large slab bearing a corner of an upturned lip splashed leadenly into the water, swamping Susan. More pieces struck like depth charges.
Triumphant voices echoed from above.
Gray heard Nasser’s voice call out. “They have to be down there!”
But Nasser wasn’t the worst danger at the moment.
The full face of the sun blazed unfiltered upon the lake, combusting the pool. Already primed, close to critical mass, the bubbling became an instant boil, erupting in vast expulsions, coughing up gouts of gas and water.
The pool was blowing.
They’d never make it to the stairs.
Gray backpedaled, dragging Kowalski and Lisa with him a few steps. He yelled at Seichan. “Drop flat! Now!”
He obeyed his own advice, waving Lisa and Kowalski down. Gray grabbed the abandoned tarp they’d used to transport Susan. He dragged it over all three of them, trying to trap as much air as possible.
“Pin your edges close to the stone!” he ordered the others.
Beyond the tarp he heard the crackles of boiling water, furious, hissing angry—then a deep sonorous whoop, as if the entire lake had jumped a foot then dropped. Water washed his ankles, then swept away.
The air under the tarp turned to liquid fire.
The three of them huddled, gasping, coughing, choking.
“Susan,” Lisa finally croaked out.
12:00 P.M.
SUSAN SCREAMED.
She didn’t cry with mere lungs, or the flutter of vocal cords. She howled out of the core of her being.
She could not escape the agony. Her mind, still attuned by sunlight, continued its detailed recording of every sensation. Forbidden from oblivion, her being scribed every detail: the sear of her lungs, the fire in her eyes, the flaying of her skin. She burned from the inside out, propelling her cry to the heavens.
But was there anyone to hear?
As she expelled all of herself upward, she finally found her release.
She fell back to the stone.
Her heart clenched one last time, squeezing out the last of her.
Then nothing.
12:01 P.M.
“WHAT ABOUT SUSAN?” Lisa gasped.
Gray risked a peek from under a flap of tarp, craning back toward the rocky spar. The lake still boiled, burning under the fiery sun. The air above the lake shimmered with an oily miasma.
But the worst flow of gasses spiraled upward, through the opening, drafting up the flue of the Bayon’s central spire, turning tower into chimney.
Gray knew it was the only reason they lived.
If the cavern had still been sealed…
Out on the spar another of their party had not fared as well. Susan lay sprawled on her back, as still as a statue. Gray could not tell if she was breathing. In fact, it was hard to see her shape against the glare of the sunlight.
And that’s when he realized it.
The rocky spar did not extend fully into the stream of sunlight.
Susan still lay in shadow—but she no longer glowed. The brightness in her had blown out like a candle.
What did that mean?
Overhead, screams echoed down from the temple, now awash with the pool’s toxic expulsion. Gray also heard more stones striking the roof of the cavern. The caustic gas had further weakened the precarious balance of stone above their heads.
“We have to get out of the cavern,” Gray said.
“What about Susan?” Lisa asked.
“We’ll have to trust she had enough exposure. Whatever she needed to happen, hopefully happened.” Gray rolled to his knees, coughing hard. They all needed the cure now. He stared over to Kowalski. “Get Lisa to the stairs.”
Kowalski pushed up. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
Lisa clutched Gray’s wrist as he stood, keeping the tarp over their heads. “What are you going to do?”
“I have to get Susan.”
Lisa pinched around to see—then covered her mouth. The lake still roiled heavily, popping with gas. “Gray, you’ll never make it.”
“I’ll have to.”
“But I don’t see her moving. I think the sudden explosion was too much.”
Gray remembered Marco’s story, of his forced cannibalism, drinking the blood and eating the flesh of another man to live. “I don’t think it matters if she’s alive or