The Source - Michael Cordy [82]
'Whatever it is, this is the band of gold that Father Orlando and the conquistadors followed to the garden,' said Sister Chantal. 'We must follow it, too.'
They had entered the vast cave on what amounted to a mezzanine level. Its ceiling, with the star-like apertures, rose above, and its floor was over an abrupt edge to their right, many feet below. A Boeing 747 could have parked in it with ease. Hell, a fleet of them could land and take off in it, Ross thought. The air was surprisingly hot, and tainted with a foul smell, which worsened as they went deeper. Ammonia made his eyes water and Hackett, sucking at his inhaler, was scrabbling in his medical bag for a surgical mask.
Deeper into the cave, the ground sloped down and the passage became narrower until they were walking in single file along a ledge. Now Ross could see the source of the overpowering stench. Over the abyss to his right there was a conical mountain of bat droppings. At least forty feet across and easily as tall, it rose from the floor below to its peak, a few feet from where they were standing. A rustling, clicking sound came from the mound and its dark surface was constantly moving. Every inch was beaded with writhing cockroaches, feeding on the waste. Zeb covered her face. The sight was almost worse than the smell, and Ross put his hand over his mouth to stop himself retching. Above the surgical mask Hackett's eyes showed his disgust. For a man who hated anything remotely dirty or sucio this was a nightmare.
In the darker corners of the ceiling, Ross spotted thousands of bats hanging from the rock. He dreaded the possibility of their waking suddenly and overwhelming them as they fled the cave in their thousands. He pointed upwards to warn the others, who instinctively pushed themselves closer to the wall, putting as much distance as they could between them and the edge.
The danger, however, came from below.
Hackett saw the sandy-coloured snake first, wriggling along the ledge, trying to evade them, but Zeb almost stepped on it. It reared and struck her thick walking boot. As it prepared to strike again Hackett kicked it away, inadvertently towards Mendoza, who jumped out of its path and lost his footing. Trying to regain his balance, he fell on then rolled off the ledge. He scrabbled frantically for a handhold on the sharp rock but gained only a momentary grip before he dropped into the seething mound of filth. He sank fast. Cockroaches covered his boots and lower leg, then swarmed up his body.
By the time Ross was on his knees and holding out his good hand, Mendoza was up to his neck in bat faeces. As his head sank below the cockroaches, he stared up at Ross, lips sealed, eyes wide with terror. Ross hung further over the ledge but couldn't reach his flailing right hand. Then an arm circled his waist and a rope tightened over his shirt.
'You're okay,' said Hackett. 'Zeb and I've got you.'
Eyes watering, nostrils stinging, Ross edged over till his face was inches from the filth and grabbed Mendoza's hand just as it disappeared. Mendoza's other hand reached for him and the sudden weight almost yanked his face into the mire. 'Pull me up!' he shouted.
His arm jerked so hard that Ross had to use his broken wrist to avoid dislocating his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he felt the rope tighten round his waist and drag him up. Gradually, Mendoza emerged, and when his head cleared the surface he breathed out and gasped.
As they dragged him on to the ledge, Sister Chantal sprayed him with insect repellent. Lying there, he writhed like a madman, knocking Hackett's glasses and medical bag into the filth. His panic only abated after Hackett patted down his clothes, scattering the remaining cockroaches. As Mendoza recovered his composure and changed his clothes, Ross watched Hackett's medical bag and spectacles sinking beneath the seething cockroaches. He also saw the snake, writhing in its death throes. After a few seconds the mound had consumed it.
Zeb patted Hackett's