The Aeronaut

Andean Ascent 5: Tar-Bones

Orion Hunt drifted into the stone corridor, its black basalt stone engulfing him like a chthonic gullet. Shouting and gunfire echoed over his wireless set, although at a lower volume than before. The angular, runic blocks around him were decorated with characters uncannily similar to depths of the Pueblo ruins. The quinquangular cobblestones beneath his feet were like those he'd seen in other Inca ruins, suggesting a local variation.

Hunt's analysis shattered when another inhuman roar echoed down the corridor. A trio of skeletons, shorter than himself but distinctively human, moved in with rasping gasps like a wounded puma. The two in front wore the padded armor of Inca soldiers. They grasped shields in one hand, and copper-headed maces in the other. Their ragged armor was still intact, likely preserved in a drier cavern. The third was almost a head taller, but possessed a sling in hand. The slinger wound up its strangely well-preserved weapon, an uncanny blue glow in its pouch.

Hunt shot to the roof of the cavern, flattening himself against an angled stone. The two clubmen almost ceased their charge, tracking him with uncanny alertness. Before they could change tactics, he opened fire on the one to his right, who blocked his potential escape from the direction whence he came. He leveled the Beretta submachinegun at its chest, its bullets passing through ancient armor to little apparent effect. Recoil ripped his aim up, walking it towards its staring skull.

Hunt saw its head shatter, and a cloud of the blue energy escaped its jaw and eye sockets like a dying breath. The undead thing collapsed on the cavern floor, dropped like a broken puppet with cut strings. He shifted his aim to the other undead creature, but something arched in front of his vision. A blue gob of energy, whistling like a sling stone, struck where he was on the ground a mere moment ago. It shattered like iridescent glass, scintillating in the eerie underground ambience.

Hunt felt one of the shards strike his thigh, ripping through the top of his boot. His aim went wild, riddling both the undead clubman and the floor around it with what remained of the magazine. Off in the distance, he heard the whip of the sling preparing to unleash another projectile. The other clubman, although moving slower after his gunfire burst, waited for him to move out of the alcove above. It took him a moment to realize the creatures were using tactics against him, with the slinger trying to flush him out of cover so the clubman could finish him off.

Hunt knew lingering would be lethal, so he dropped atop the clubman with his Broomhandle drawn. He fired madly into the creature's clavicle, sending it to the ground for good. It shattered into a heap of broken bones, its digits dissolving into dust. He looked up with his muzzle leading his vision, letting his sights fall onto the slinger. Another energy project arched through the air, a trajectory like an underhanded baseball lob. Pushing off the ground with his good leg, he narrowly dove underneath it as he corkscrewed through the air. The air sizzled around him, and he found his teeth clenched.

Hunt's sight picture righted itself as the sinister sphere cleared his body. Remembering about the explosion as an afterthought, he rolled towards the slinger while reloading. Behind him, something exploded. In front of him, the undead assailant stuttered, caught unprepared for close combat. It slipped a stone into the sling, trying to strike him like a whip. Just like boxing, Hunt dodged and wove between blows. He fired at the openings between attacks, until the thing dropped dead.

Hunt caught his breath as he stared once more around him. He was no longer in a cramped tunnel, but another opened chamber. Sunlight, likely piped in from a mirror system like the prior chamber, illuminated the vast cavern. Unlike the prior one, this room was far more uncouth and unworked. Stone bridges connected passageways at different heights above them. The wires before him terminated a machine in the center of the bridge before him. Before crossing, his eyes followed the chamber to its deepest point, which vanished into something blacker than darkness.

Hunt beheld glistening, oily tar. The light from above refracted as it roiled and rolled, like the unearthly illumination beneath the water's surface. It was not the light, nor the machine that caught his attention, but the things in the tar. There were entire skeletons of things that succumbed to the tarpit in some obscure antiquity. He recognized bones that were ursine, feline, canine, and more. He wondered momentarily at the bones he could not identify. Screeching from above abruptly terminated his speculation.

Hunt looked up to see a pair of slingers spinning up salvo of scintillating spheres. They stood on the bridge above the Count's infernal device, but they were not alone. A team of human looters, armed with guns and excavation tools, stormed towards them from the opposite entry. At the rear of the formation was a fat man in an ill-fitted Italian uniform barking orders at the others. From the echoes of his voice, he assumed that was Gordo.

Hunt saw the slingers turn their attention to the other interlopers. Wanting to destroy the machine as expediently as possible, he pulled the dynamite from his belt. He swooped across the bridge, reaching into the guts of the machine. He pulled out another wand-like artifact, this one glowing more intensely than the one in the Pueblo ruins. He replaced it with a lit stick of dynamite, and he jetted up to the top of the cavern. As he passed one of the Incan slingers, he grasped its weapon mid-swing. He shoved its original owner into the tarpit below, continuing the swing with his free hand.

Hunt saw Gordo's men, and he released the sling as they noticed him. A radiant orb whistled through the air like a blessed stone from David's sling, landing in the middle of the gang. He did not need to linger to see the results, but curiosity overtook him as he glanced behind him. Gordo shoved another man into the sliver of energy that would have ended him, darting across the bridge into an empty tunnel. The fat Italian jammed the plunger of a detonator left on the ground nearby, sealing the passageway behind him.

Hunt darted upwards as debris cascaded down the walls of the chamber, like drool drippling from a madman. The Count's men frantically ran back towards where they'd entered from, only for many to get crushed in a cave-in. One fired spitefully and futilely at him, hitting only air as he abandoned the chamber beneath him. He entered the narrow passage at the top of the chamber, spotting a copper mirror like those in the eyes of the statue. A narrow shaft beckoned.

Hunt put his arms straight at his side, allowing his momentum to carry him through. Behind him, he saw an unearthly blue glow reflecting in his goggles. Stone yielded, as the mountain collapsed in on itself. He mused on why the undead creatures suddenly stirred despite the Count's men working for months, at least. Perhaps the Count's imminent arrival drove someone like Gordo to take risks in recklessly opening new tunnels, where they unleashed more undead entities than they could handle.

Whatever the case, Hunt shot out of the collapsing tunnel like a bullet from a gun, into the light of a setting sun.