The Last Priest Read online

  “You can do it,” Charley told him.

  “This is going to hurt, Henrik,” Chris continued, his voice filled with fear as Duncan headed back to them and sat next to Henrik's head, gently pushing down on his other shoulder to hold him in place.

  “Hurry” Charley said, watching as another dribble of blood ran down the man's chest.

  “I...” Chris replied, holding the burning lighter closer but unable to keep his hands steady. “I don't know if -”

  “Give it to me,” she continued, grabbing the lighter and then dipping the flame down until it reached Henrik's skin. For a moment, the skin started to darken, before Henrik started muttering through his haze of semi-consciousness.

  “I've got him,” Duncan said firmly, pushing down to keep Henrik in place. “Don't worry, I won't let go, just get it over with.”

  “I'm sorry,” Charley whispered, moving the flame across the wound and watching as the flesh started to burn. She had no idea what she was doing, other than generally hoping that the wound would start to seal, but she figured she had no other ideas and, besides, she didn't want to give herself a free moment to think about Martha. After a few seconds, however, she began to smell an acrid burning smell, which she realized was coming from Henrik's flesh, but at least the flow of blood seemed to have been stopped. “Turn him over,” she said finally. “I need to do the other side.”

  As Chris manhandled Henrik and rolled him onto his side, Charley moved around and saw that the spike had left a large exit wound. She held the lighter closer and began to cauterize again, while trying to ignore the sound of Henrik's pained groans.

  “Is it working?” Duncan asked.

  “There's not so much blood,” she replied, “but I don't know if that's directly because of what I'm doing.” She continued to burn Henrik's flesh for several minutes, constantly switching between the front and the back of his shoulder, before finally letting the flame die and sitting back. “I think I'm finished.”

  “Henrik, can you hear me?” Chris asked as he and Duncan rolled the injured man onto his back. “I need you to stay with me, Henrik!”

  As Chris continued to keep Henrik awake, Charley turned and looked over at Martha. A large pool of blood had gathered beneath the woman's body now, seeping into the gaps between the stones. Despite her horror, Charley began to crawl closer, feeling as if she had to take a look and make sure that her friend was really dead. When she was close enough, she reached out and put a hand on Martha's bare, cold wrist, searching for a pulse that was long gone.

  “What are you doing?” Duncan asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied, pulling her hand back. “I just...” Hearing a noise nearby, she turned and looked across the dark chamber, but there was no sign of anything. She grabbed a torch and shone it into the darkness, half-expecting to see someone on the other side of the chamber, but after several seconds she realized there was nothing. Still, she'd head a faint bump, maybe a kind of click, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

  “We can't move him,” Chris said after a moment. “The wound'll re-open, and anyway, if it's raining outside there's not much we can do.”

  “We can't stay in here,” Charley replied, turning to him.

  “That's exactly what we're going to do,” he told her. “You two can go back out if you want, but someone needs to stay with Henrik. I can do it.”

  “No, I'll stay too,” she replied, even though she hated the idea of spending another second in the pyramid. She was shivering more than ever now, as her wet clothes continued to cling to her body. “But what about -” She turned and looked at Martha again. “I mean, we can't leave her like that.”

  “We'll move her,” Chris said with a sigh. “It's the only choice.”

  “And then what?” Charley asked.

  “Given the circumstances,” he replied, “I don't think we'll be able to carry her with us when we leave. The only option left is to bury her.”

  “We can't just leave her behind.”

  “We don't have any choice,” he continued. “Once the storm has passed, we'll bury her outside and then we'll assess the terrain and work out how we can get back to civilization. In the meantime, we should move Martha so that we can't see her. There's nothing respectful about having her on display like that.” He paused for a moment. “This is no-one's fault, you know. None of us could have done anything to stop it, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “This whole building is probably booby-trapped,” Charley replied. “It's a miracle we didn't find any others.”

  “I guess that's the end of our project, then,” Duncan added.

  “It is?” Chris asked, turning to him.

  “We can't keep going,” he pointed out. “We have to just focus on getting the hell out of this place.”

  “But we're so close,” Chris replied. “I don't think Martha would want us to -”

  “Don't tell me what Martha would have wanted!” Duncan snapped. “And don't try to use her death to turn this into some kind of moral crusade! We screwed up, Chris! You're the leader of this expedition, so you screwed up more than anyone else! Someone is actually dead because of what we did!”

  “I don't think we should talk about this right now,” Chris replied. “Tempers are running hot and -”

  “You're the one who brought us in here at full speed,” Duncan pointed out. “You're the one who said -” He paused for a moment, before turning away and heading over to Martha's body. “Whatever. Sod it. Who's going to help me move her?”

  “I will,” Charley replied, getting up and making her way over to Martha's feet. She hated the idea of touching the dead woman again, but at the same time she wanted to get her out of sight. She felt as if, so long as she kept busy, she'd at least be able to stop thinking about everything that had happened.

  “We'll put her around the other side of that wall over there,” Duncan said, with a hint of fear in his eyes. “Pick her up on three, okay?” He reached down and took hold of Martha's body, and Charley did the same. “One. Two... Three.”

  ***

  “Where I grew up,” Henrik whispered a few hours later, his voice sounding weak and fragile as he sat propped against the wall, “there was a huge fish processing plant. The smell was incredible, it lingered over the whole town. Everything we ate or drank had a hint of fish in it. I couldn't wait to leave that town when I graduated from high school.” He paused for a moment, staring straight ahead. “The weird thing is, I can smell it right now.”

  Sitting next to him, Charley watched as Duncan worked on the other side of the round chamber, examining more pictograms in an attempt to keep himself busy.

  “I can hear the seagulls, too,” Henrik continued, closing his eyes for a moment. “They never stopped. All day and all night, they'd be swooping about, hoping to get some mackerel. I hated that bloody town, but right now there's nothing I wouldn't give to be back there. Even if it was just one more time, I want to go there before I...” His voice trailed off for a moment, as if he was lost in thought.

  “You're going to be okay,” Charley replied, turning to him. “I promise.”

  “And the rest of you are going to carry me out of the jungle, are you?”

  She nodded.

  “How the hell are you going to manage that? You don't even have a stretcher.”

  “We'll manage,” she replied, tucking strands of still-wet hair behind her ear. “Don't worry about us.”

  “Maybe I can walk,” he pointed out, sounding as if he was on the verge of falling asleep. His head dropped for a moment, before he looked up again. “It's my shoulder that's hurt, not my legs. You never know, I might still...” He paused, and finally he began to frown. “I swear I can hear those seagulls, even sitting here thousands of miles away. Do you think that's a good sign, or does it mean I'm starting to lose my mind? Maybe that's what happens when you die... Maybe you slip away into your favorite memory...”

  “You're not going to die,” s
he said firmly.

  “What's yours?” he asked.

  “My what?”

  “Your favorite memory.”

  “I don't know,” she replied, a little surprised by the question. “Let's just -”

  “Tell me,” he continued, before gasping as a burst of pain shot through his chest. “Come on, humor me.”

  “Probably being at my grandparents' house,” she replied. “They've got this little place, it's out in the sticks and my dog lives there with them. He lived with me at first, but my father banned him from the house and then banned him from his precious manicured garden, so my grandparents took him in. I don't get down there to see them as much as I should.”

  “I thought your father was filthy stinking rich?” Henrik asked with a pained smile.

  “He is,” she replied. “I just... I remember being at my grandparents' house with my dog, that's all. I want to go there again, as soon as we get back from this place. I want to eat marshmallows on the porch while my dog tries to understand the sprinkler on the lawn.” She paused. “And you'll get back to that town that stinks of fish, with all the seagulls.”

  “A guy's got to dream, right?”

  “You'll be fine,” she continued, looking across the chamber and realizing after a moment that she couldn't see Chris anywhere. “Where the hell did he go?” she muttered.

  “Through the... door...” Henrik whispered.

  She turned to him. “What door?” she asked, before looking over at the door that had claimed Martha's life. “You can't be serious...”

  “You don't think he'd let a little thing like a death hold him back, do you?” Henrik asked. “We should never have come here. We should have listened to the warnings.”

  “Don't get superstitious,” she told him.

  “I mean it,” he continued. “I want you to promise me something, Charley. Whatever happens to me, and whatever Chris decides, you have to leave. Don't go any further into this place, not one step. Don't break the seal on the tomb, and don't take anything with you when you go home. The warnings are clear.”

  “There's no curse,” she replied. “It's just... This didn't happen to you because of some mystical stuff written on the walls, or because of something that was decided a thousand years ago. You just had an accident, and now we're going to get you out of here.”

  “Promise me,” he whispered. “Don't go any further.”

  “We won't,” she told him, getting to her feet, “but not because of some baloney curse. It'll be because we're focusing on getting you out of here. Just wait a moment, I'll go and check what Chris is doing and then I'll bring you something to eat. Okay?”

  “Don't trust him,” he added.

  “Who?”

  “Chris. I don't know what's really going on, but he's hiding something. I've known him for a long time, he used to be careful, but something's changed. Don't trust him, Charley, and don't let him lead you further into this place. The treasures of Ah-Shalla are said to have the power to bring greed to the hearts of all who see them, and I think maybe it's greed that's making Chris act this way. Don't let the same thing happen to you.”

  “I won't,” she told him. “Just wait here, I'll be back with some energy bars.”

  Turning, she made her way across the chamber before reaching the spot where Martha had died. There was still some blood on the ground, already starting to seep into the cracks between the stones. Peering through the door, she saw to her horror that Chris was examining the stone warriors.

  “Hey!” she called out. “What the hell are you doing in there?”

  “Studying these things,” he replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Come and look at this!”

  “Are you insane? After everything that happened?”

  “I've disabled the trap on the door,” he explained. “It's quite safe.”

  “We have to start thinking about getting out of here!”

  “It's still raining outside,” he replied. “Besides, we can't move Henrik until at least tomorrow, so we might as well use our time here to take a look at the place. Charley, get down here and come see these statues, they're the most wonderful things in the world!”

  “Chris, I'm not -”

  “I know you wrote your undergraduate dissertation on this kind of thing. Come on, don't be scared!”

  “I'm not scared,” she said firmly, “I just -” Looking at the chain by the door, she saw that it had been cut. Realizing that the spikes weren't going to come out again, she hurried through the door before making her way cautiously over to where Chris was examining one of the statues. “You shouldn't be in here,” she told him. “It's not right.”

  “Why not? Out of respect for the dead?”

  “For one thing.”

  “Which dead? The ancient, or the new?” He turned to her. “Sorry, that was out of place.”

  “Henrik seems weak,” she told him.

  “He lost a lot of blood. It'll take time for him to recover.”

  “I'm worried it's more than that.”

  “Relax, he'll be fine. Come and take a look at this.” Leading her between the statues, he headed to the far wall, where he stopped for a moment. “What do you think?”

  “It's a wall,” she replied.

  “Exactly. It's a nondescript wall, nothing draws your eyes to it at all.” He paused. “If we break through here, I'm convinced we'll find the burial chamber of Ah-Shalla.”

  “You need to let this go,” Charley said firmly.

  “Why?”

  “Because we have to focus on Henrik! We have to get out of here!”

  “One more night,” he replied, placing a hand against the wall. “I'll be more careful, I'll make sure there's no way anything can surprise us, and I will get into the burial chamber. It's not like we can leave anyway.”

  She stared at him for a moment, shocked by the fact that he was still so completely focused on the search for Ah-Shalla's tomb.

  “I thought Martha was an old friend of yours,” she said finally.

  “She was.”

  “So how -”

  “She gave her life for this expedition. It'd be disrespectful of us to pull out now, that's not what she would have wanted.” He paused. “We'll fix the camp and then I'll work on this wall tonight. By morning, the weather should have cleared up and we should have a much better idea of whether Henrik's okay to be moved. We need to make decisions based on logic, Charley, not emotion. Trust me, in a situation like this, emotion can get you killed.” He tapped the wall. “Think about it. Just beyond these stones, there's a thousand-year-old tomb filled with unparalleled treasures. One of the greatest kings of the ancient world is entombed so close to us.”

  “And is that really the only reason you're here?” she asked. “Curiosity?”

  “Of course, why -”

  “Martha thought you were hiding something.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Martha could be rather paranoid at times. Sorry, but it's true. She was always rather jealous that I was able to find money for these expeditions, whereas she was never able to make that step herself.” Taking a chisel and hammer from his pocket, he began to work on the stones, chipping away piece by piece. “She liked to pretend there was some kind of gender discrimination going on,” he continued, “but the brutal truth is, she never quite had the last little inch of passion that's required to push these projects over the finish line.”

  “And my father?” Charley asked. “Why did he pour so much money into this expedition? I know it's not because of a love of history. He always has some kind of financial end-game in mind.”

  “I didn't know you were so cynical.”

  She paused, before realizing there was no point arguing with him. “Have fun with your inch of passion,” she muttered, turning and heading back toward the door. Hurrying through, she fetched a bottle of water and some energy bars and then she walked over to Henrik, only to find that Duncan was already sitting with him. As soon as she saw the look on
Duncan's face, she knew something was wrong.

  “It's too late,” he said, visibly shocked. “Henrik's gone.”

  Looking down at Henrik's face, she could immediately see that it was true. Something subtle had changed, as if a shadow of death had crossed the man's features.

  In the distance, Chris could be heard hammering at the stones again.

  Chapter Eight

  By morning, the bad weather hadn't eased. If anything, it was worse: vast swathes were pounding down, hissing over every surface and battering the treetops, while a strong wind blew curtains of rain to the south, bringing a cold shiver.

  Sitting just inside the main archway, with the satellite phone in her hands, Charley watched as the rain continued. She was trying to focus on individual drops, watching as they hit the stone plateau in front of the pyramid, and allowing herself to be gently hypnotized by the rhythms of the natural world. She felt as if she was trapped in a moment, and that as long as she stayed completely still and breathed as slowly as possible, she wouldn't have to think about the fact that she'd watched two people die.

  Finally, hearing footsteps nearby, she realized her moment of peace was about to be shattered.

  “Hey,” Duncan said, stopping next to her and looking out at the rain for a moment. “Well,” he continued, “I guess that answers my first question. Looks like the weather hasn't cleared up yet.”

  Hitting a few buttons on the phone, Charley tried to get a call started, but with no luck. She'd been trying, on and off, all night, but the storm was causing some kind of interference.

  “Hammering,” Duncan continued. “That's all I heard during the night. Goddamn Chris, hammering away. That's two nights in a row he's been like that, does the guy never bloody sleep?”

  “He thinks he's found the burial chamber,” Charley replied, seeing a flash of Martha's body in her mind's eye. She winced slightly.