Free Seven Ancient Wonders by Matthew Reilly

billowing, the boy held tightly in their midst, flanked by the armed paratroopers.
    As they do, the noonday Sun moves on and the dazzling vertical laser beam of light vanishes.
    The chief priest—Francisco del Piero—is the last to leave. With a final look, he stomps on a trigger stone in the main doorway and then disappears.
    The response is instantaneous.
    Spectacular streams of lava come blurting out of the rectangular holes in the walls of the cavern. The lava oozes across the floor of the chamber, heading toward the central stone altar.
    At the same time, the ceiling of the chamber starts
lowering
—its irregular form moving towards the matching configuration on the floor. It even has a special indentation in it to accommodate the altar.
    The woman on the altar doesn’t notice.
    Either from emotional torment or loss of blood, she just slumps back onto the altar and goes still, silent.
    Wizard arrives at West’s side, beholds the terrible scene.
    ‘Oh my God, we’re too late,’ he breathes.
    West stands quickly.
    ‘It was del Piero,’ he says. ‘With French paratroopers.’
    ‘The Vatican and the French have joined forces . . .’ Wizard gasps.
    But West has already raised a pressure-gun and fires it into the lowering ceiling of the chamber. The piton drives into the stone. A rope hangs from it.
    ‘What on Earth are you doing?’ Wizard asks, alarmed.
    ‘I’m going over there,’ West says. ‘I said I’d be there for her and I failed. But I’m not going to let her get crushed to nothing.’
    And with that, he swings across the gaping chasm.

     
     
    The ceiling keeps lowering.
    The lava keeps spreading across the floor from either side, approaching the altar.
    But with his quick swing, West beats it, and he rushes to the middle of the chamber, where he stands over the body of the woman.
    A quick pulse-check reveals that she is dead.
    West squeezes his eyes shut.
    ‘I’m so sorry, Malena . . .’ he whispers, ‘ . . . so sorry.’
    ‘Jack! Hurry!’ Wizard calls from the balcony. ‘The lava!’
    The lava is eight metres away . . . and closing on him from both sides.
    Over at the main entrance, a waterfall of oozing lava pours out of a rectangular hole
above
the doorway, forming a curtain across the exit.
    West places his hand on the woman’s face, closes her eyes. She is still warm. His gaze sweeps down her body, over the sagging skin of her abdomen, the skin over her pregnant belly now rumpled with the removal of the child formerly there.
    Then for some reason, West touches her belly.
    And feels a tiny little kick.
    He leaps back, startled.
    ‘Max!’ he calls. ‘Get over here!
Now!
’
    A gruesome yet urgent image: flanked by the encroaching lava and the steadily lowering ceiling, the two men perform a Caesarean delivery on the dead woman’s body using West’s Leatherman knife.
    Thirty seconds later, Wizard lifts a
second
child from the woman’s slit-open womb.
    It is a girl.
    Her hair is pressed against her scalp, her body covered in blood and uterine fluid, her eyes squeezed shut.
    West and Wizard, battered and dirty, two adventurers at the end of a long journey, gaze at her like two proud fathers.
    West in particular gazes at the little infant, entranced.
    ‘Jack!’ Wizard says. ‘Come on! We have to get out of here.’
    He turns to grab their loosely hanging rope—just as the spreading lava reaches it and ignites it with a
whoosh!
    No escape that way.
    Holding the baby, West spins to face the main entrance.
    Fifteen metres of inch-deep lava blocks the way.
    And then there’s the curtain of falling lava blocking the doorway itself.
    But then he sees it, cut into the left side of the stone doorframe:
a small round hole
maybe a handspan wide, veiled by the same waterfall of superheated lava.
    West says, ‘How thick are your soles?’
    ‘Thick enough for a few seconds,’ Wizard replies. ‘But there’s no way to switch off that lavafall.’
    ‘Yes, there is,’ West nods