“What?” Tony sounded incredulous.
“All you have to do is say the words, kill Clark, and then repeat them again.”
“Is that all?”
Startled, Clark took a step forward. “Now hold on just a goddamn minute.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Diamond moving toward him. Clark raised his rifle and pointed it at Diamond. Diamond gestured at the weapon. Suddenly, the M16 grew hot in Clark’s hands. He dropped it, hissing with pain. The rifle clattered to the floor.
“No,” Amethyst said. “Our time is up. Summoning Dagon requires a sacrifice. Reversing the ritual requires one, as well. Kill him, Tony, and let’s be done of this whole thing.”
Slowly, Tony brought his rifle up. His expression was stone; his gaze was hardened.
Clark said, “Shit.”
TWENTY-ONE
Consumed by sheer, blind panic, Wade fled into the darkness, running deeper into the underground network of tunnels and passageways. Sweat, blood and dirt caked his flesh and clothing. His gasps and sobs were intermittently punctuated by agonized squeals as the baby Clicker beneath his pants plunged its stinger into his leg. Despite his terror, Wade had enough presence of mind to realize that the infant lacked the venom of its older kin. Otherwise, his legs would have been a bubbling, acidic mess by now. Still, that did nothing to ease the pain. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him with an ice pick. The creature plunged the stinger into his ankle and then crawled a few inches up his leg. Then it repeated the process over and over again, stinging him on the calf, knee and lower thigh. Now, as he ran, he felt it inching higher.
Sobbing, Wade stopped and clamped both hands around his leg, slowing the creature’s advance. The nubs of his missing fingers throbbed and burned. The Clicker squirmed and wiggled beneath his pants. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it there, seeking a way around the blockade. He thought about fumbling in the darkness for a rock—something he could use to bludgeon the Clicker, but he was afraid to remove his hand.
Wade had no idea how far he’d come, or where he was. The tunnel was silent except for his own ragged breathing. Even the echoes of his screams had died down. The darkness was absolute. He’d never suffered from claustrophobia, but he felt it now. The blackness enveloped him like a shroud.
The tiny stinger punched through the cloth of his pants and jabbed his left hand, just above the space where his missing fingers had been. Wade instinctively drew the wounded hand back, and the Clicker seized the opportunity to climb higher. He felt the small pincers graze his underwear. His balls shriveled tight beneath the fabric. The claws brushed up against it again. Then Wade felt them open.
“No!”
Curling his hands into fists, Wade beat at the Clicker, smashing it again and again, heedless of the blows he was inflicting on himself, as well. His bloodied stumps exploded in pain, but he ignored the sensation. There was an audible cracking sound, and then hot wetness splattered across his groin and thigh. The Clicker ceased moving, but Wade continued pummeling it, pulverizing the remains until it dribbled down his leg and pooled around his shoe. He didn’t stop until he’d accidentally punched himself in the testicles. Groaning, he collapsed to the ground, cradling himself with one hand and trying to ignore the nausea that suddenly swept over him.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, crumpled into a ball and weeping softly. Eventually, the pain eased and Wade uncurled himself and sat up. His joints and muscles ached, and the throbbing in his head and hand continued unabated. Using his teeth and uninjured hand, he tore some strips of cloth from his shirt and fashioned a crude tourniquet for his left hand.
I need to find the others, he thought. Need to get back to them before I get lost down here.
He shuddered, imagining wandering hopelessly for days or even weeks through this underground warren, until thirst or exhaustion did him in. Climbing to his feet, Wade reached out with both hands and felt around until his fingertips brushed against a hard surface on his right. A bit more exploration determined that he’d found a wall, rather than just a boulder. The space to his left was just empty darkness. Cautiously, he inched forward, letting the fingertips of his right hand trail along the wall for guidance. At intervals, the wall bent and curved, and his fingers slipped away. Then he’d grope in the darkness until he found it again. Wade couldn’t be sure if these intervals indicated branching tunnels and passageways, or if it was just the natural curvature of the rock.
This must be what it feels like for an astronaut on a space-walk. No, even they have more light than I do right now.
Suddenly, he heard the patter of footsteps. The tread was heavy and hurried, as if the person was running away from something or hurrying down the passageway. It couldn’t be one of the Dark Ones. If they were pursuing him, they’d be stealthy.