The Source - Michael Cordy [121]
'The Keeper of what?' said Ross. 'By the time I got to Lauren's bedside, the Superior General would have killed all of you and gained control of the Source.' He turned in the gloom and put his face near the nun's. 'And he'd have destroyed the garden. Wiped it off the face of the Earth.'
'What?' said Sister Chantal, horrified. 'He wouldn't do that.'
'Why not? You yourself said it embarrassed the Church, raised too many questions. The point is, Lauren would never forgive me for letting that happen. I led Torino here. I'm responsible. I must stop him.'
'You sure he's going to destroy the garden?' said Zeb.
'Not just the garden. Every living thing, except the Source. Those yellow parcels the soldiers brought are incendiary devices – firebombs. I've seen stuff like that used to clear ground for oil exploration.'
Hackett frowned as they passed the ledge by the magma pool and the broken bridge. 'I can see how he might napalm the garden and kill everything in it. But how's he going to kill the nymphs and rock worms – and those?' He pointed at the tubular tentacles running along the walls.
'His soldiers just need to place a few incendiary devices throughout the tunnels. Thermite generates huge temperatures – over a thousand degrees – and in these confined spaces a fireball would destroy everything. Now they've thinned out the worms they could conceivably get close enough to do the same thing with them. The Source would be untouched but everything else would be purged.'
Sister Chantal shuddered. 'So what do we do?' she said.
He smiled at her. 'It's time to stop being the passive Keeper of the Garden and waiting for the cavalry to come. We are the cavalry. It's up to us to stop Torino abusing this place – particularly the Source.' He turned to Hackett and Zeb. 'What about you guys? I know it's not really your fight—'
'Bollocks,' said Hackett. 'Of course it's my bloody fight. I'm not letting some arrogant priest control what I saw up there. Count me in.'
'Me too,' said Zeb. 'You're not having all the fun, Ross, just because you finally jumped on the conservation bandwagon. I've always been on it.'
73
As they headed for the glow of the antechamber, a throng of nymphs appeared, silhouetted against the light. Ross heard an electronic crackle and a man's voice. He gestured for the others to be quiet and pushed them into a recess. Although they were together again, united behind a single purpose, he still wasn't sure how they could stop four trained, armed killers and a fanatical priest convinced he was on a mission from God. Peering out, past the nymphs, he saw a soldier talking into his short-wave radio. He was alone, laden with a flame-thrower and a bulging backpack. 'There are about ten of them,' the soldier was saying. 'Probably more in the tunnels behind them. Over.'
'Disperse them with the flame-thrower, Gerber, then place the charges,' said a crackly voice. 'Don't worry. So long as you have the flame-thrower, you're safe.'
'I can handle them,' said the soldier, curtly. 'Over.'
'Then handle it. Out.'
There was a click, then a roar of flame. The man laughed as the nymphs turned and ran. The one with the red flowers tore past Ross in a blind panic, heading for the dark tunnels. The soldier followed, throwing out bursts of flame. 'Run, you fuckers,' he shouted. 'Pest Control's here. You can run but you can't hide.'
Ross and the others pressed themselves deeper into the recess. As the soldier passed, Ross held his breath. He didn't allow himself to think about what he was going to do next. He just acted. He leapt on the soldier's backpack and pulled back with all his weight and strength. The other man was strong and for a few seconds he supported Ross's weight as well as the cumbersome backpack and the flame-thrower fuel canisters.
Then he grunted and fell on to his back.
Hackett leapt on him and wrestled the flame-thrower nozzle from his hands. Zeb grabbed for his radio and pulled it from his fingers. Even Sister Chantal held