Free Subterranean by James Rollins Page A

avoid the spurting arterial blood, he tipped the guard backward into the gorge. For a moment, the guard teetered, arms wheeling as he tried to regain balance, eyes stretched open in horror, a wash of blood flowing down his chest. Then he tumbled into the blackness.
    Khalid listened. After a handful of seconds, he heard a distant thud.
    Content, he crossed the bridge and slipped into shadows. From here he would need to move quickly and quietly. He proceeded across the base toward the elevator, avoiding pools of light. Thankfully, they were few and far between.
    After four minutes, he was at the elevator. The area, well lighted but empty of eyes, was unguarded. The military, isolated so far from the world, was too damned confident with the security of their periphery.
    After a minute of study, Khalid crouched and darted for the huge metal box that housed the elevator’s motor assembly. He slipped a cube of plastique from his inner jacket pocket and secured it to the assembly in a darkened corner. He paused a moment. No time to be frugal. He took a second cube and positioned it next to the first. That was better. More than enough to leave a crater where the motors now stood. He carefully wired the bomb to ignite with the proper signal from his transceiver. He eyed his handiwork with a thin-lipped smile.
    A security blanket. When the time was right, this should cover his escape, ensuring no one followed him back up.
    After a final check, he fled into the dark.

EIGHT
    S EVEN O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING ? M ORE LIKE MIDNIGHT .
    Ashley shook her head, staring out the windshield as the electric vehicle bumped along. Due to the enclosed space of the caverns and the risk of fouling the air with carbon monoxide, internal-combustion engines had been prohibited, except for a few watercraft.
    So the electric golf-cart-like transports, nicknamed “Mules” by the Navy personnel, were the only real means of travel around Alpha Cavern.
    Ashley rubbed at the Mule’s fogged window. Only the headlamps broke the darkness ahead. Beside her, with both hands firmly gripping the wheel, sat Dr. Symski, a young freckled researcher still new to his degree.
    From the back seat, over the buzzing whine of the electric motor, Ben’s snores erupted like shotgun blasts. She glanced over her shoulder at him. How could he just fall asleep like that? The trip was a one-hour excursion over rough terrain. An exceptionally large bump jarred her back into a forward position.
    Dr. Symski turned one eye toward her. “I can’t believe I’m sitting next to the Professor Carter,” he said. “I’ve read your paper on the Gila dwellings. Amazing stuff. And now here you are.”
    â€œThanks,” she said. The young researcher had too much enthusiasm for so early in the morning. Her cup of coffee hadn’t kicked in yet, and the stench of leaking ozone from the motor’s batteries was making her queasy.
    â€œI wish you were here with us from the start. I’m afraid there’s nothing new left to explore. We’ve already searched, cataloged, diagrammed, and explored every square inch. It was all in the papers I sent you last night.”
    She rubbed at her red eyes. It had taken her until four in the morning to read the reams of data. Two hours of sleep did not make for a pleasant morning. “I wish someone had faxed me those earlier. I would have liked to have gone through them more thoroughly before viewing the site.”
    â€œSorry, but all this is stamped confidential. We were ordered to restrict access until you arrived.”
    She watched the road ahead as the Mule crawled through the shadows. “More goddamn secrecy,” she grumbled.
    â€œI’ll show you the main areas when we arrive. A guided tour, if you will.”
    Hell with that, she thought. “Listen, Dr. Symski, I’m sure your team was very precise, but I’d prefer to do a little exploring on my own. Get a feel for the