Chase Baker and the Da Vinci Divinity (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book 6) by Vincent Zandri Page A
Authors: Vincent Zandri
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don’t
exactly have a ladder at our disposal.”
The crunching noise is almost
deafening, the floor and walls nearly covered entirely in centipedes. We stay
down here another minute, they will overtake us and sting us until we’re
paralyzed with toxic shock. Then they’ll suck the life from us. Literally.
I focus my eyes on the wood coffin.
That’s the ticket …
“I’ve got an idea,” I say.
Climbing onto the altar that bears
the coffin, I shove my hands under it and heave. It takes almost all my
strength, but the dead body inside it spills onto the floor.
“My apologies, old boy,” I say.
Then, “Give me a hand.”
Andrea is slapping away at the
centipedes, ripping them away from her neck, pulling them from her hair. Her
eyes are wide and wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was crying. Still,
she manages to climb up onto the altar.
“Help me tip this thing up.” She
bends at the knees and shoves her hands under the heavy casket while I lift it
a few inches off the platform. “Okay,” I say. “When I say go, give it all you
got and heave.” A dozen centipedes drop from the ceiling onto her head,
disappearing into her hair. Another couple drop onto my head, one of them
attempting to crawl into my ear. I scream, “Go! Go! Go!”
We pull upwards with all our
strength, lifting the casket so it stands on end.
Slapping the long insect from my
ear, I join my fingers at the knuckles, invert the hand, make like a footrest.
“Put your foot in here,” I command,
“then grab hold of the casket top and pull yourself up and out of the hole.”
“Brilliant!” she barks. “What about
you?”
“I’ll be right behind you. Just go.
Now. Go!”
Stepping into my finger-locked hands,
she reaches for the top end of the rectangular casket, then heaves herself up
like she would with a chin-up bar. There’s so much adrenalin shooting through
her system, she practically tosses herself head-over-heels over the casket and
out the chamber floor opening directly above our heads. Lying herself out flat
on the floor, she extends her hand to me.
“Come on,” she says. “You’re next.”
The centipedes have taken over the
floor. There’s no sign of the stone walls, only thousands of insects crawling
over one another, seeking out precious food in the form of human flesh. My
flesh.
Bending at the knees, I jump up,
and manage to grab hold of the casket. Then, using my arm strength, I pull
myself up and seize hold of her hand. Between her pulling on my arm and my
pushing myself off the casket, first with my free hand and then both my legs, I
manage to make a hasty exit from the chamber through the opening.
“Centipede check,” I say, running
my hands through her hair, then patting her back and her legs. She does the
same for me.
“I think we’re clean,” she says. “But
that doesn’t mean I’m not going to itch for the rest of my life or not have
nightmares.”
“Are you stung or bit badly?”
She shakes her head. “Mostly just
creeped the hell out is all.”
“Me too,” I say. “Those insects
have probably been nesting there for centuries. When Florence eradicated most
of the plague ridden rats, I think it’s safe to say they thrived.”
“Survival of the fittest,” she announces.
Then, looking me in the eye. “What’s next?”
“We follow this tunnel out,” I say.
“Maybe we still have a shot at running into our mysterious benefactor.”
“Doubtful,” she says.
“Well, we have the Book of Truths .
Let’s get out of here, get back to my place, and figure out where the hell that
cave is located.”
“That’s why we hired you.”
“So far, so good, girlfriend.”
“Don’t push your luck, boyfriend.”
The Maglite cuts through the
eternal darkness of the tunnel.
We walk, strangers in a strange and
unforgiving underground land.
21
We walk the catacombs for another fifteen minutes until we come
upon a
exactly have a ladder at our disposal.”
The crunching noise is almost
deafening, the floor and walls nearly covered entirely in centipedes. We stay
down here another minute, they will overtake us and sting us until we’re
paralyzed with toxic shock. Then they’ll suck the life from us. Literally.
I focus my eyes on the wood coffin.
That’s the ticket …
“I’ve got an idea,” I say.
Climbing onto the altar that bears
the coffin, I shove my hands under it and heave. It takes almost all my
strength, but the dead body inside it spills onto the floor.
“My apologies, old boy,” I say.
Then, “Give me a hand.”
Andrea is slapping away at the
centipedes, ripping them away from her neck, pulling them from her hair. Her
eyes are wide and wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was crying. Still,
she manages to climb up onto the altar.
“Help me tip this thing up.” She
bends at the knees and shoves her hands under the heavy casket while I lift it
a few inches off the platform. “Okay,” I say. “When I say go, give it all you
got and heave.” A dozen centipedes drop from the ceiling onto her head,
disappearing into her hair. Another couple drop onto my head, one of them
attempting to crawl into my ear. I scream, “Go! Go! Go!”
We pull upwards with all our
strength, lifting the casket so it stands on end.
Slapping the long insect from my
ear, I join my fingers at the knuckles, invert the hand, make like a footrest.
“Put your foot in here,” I command,
“then grab hold of the casket top and pull yourself up and out of the hole.”
“Brilliant!” she barks. “What about
you?”
“I’ll be right behind you. Just go.
Now. Go!”
Stepping into my finger-locked hands,
she reaches for the top end of the rectangular casket, then heaves herself up
like she would with a chin-up bar. There’s so much adrenalin shooting through
her system, she practically tosses herself head-over-heels over the casket and
out the chamber floor opening directly above our heads. Lying herself out flat
on the floor, she extends her hand to me.
“Come on,” she says. “You’re next.”
The centipedes have taken over the
floor. There’s no sign of the stone walls, only thousands of insects crawling
over one another, seeking out precious food in the form of human flesh. My
flesh.
Bending at the knees, I jump up,
and manage to grab hold of the casket. Then, using my arm strength, I pull
myself up and seize hold of her hand. Between her pulling on my arm and my
pushing myself off the casket, first with my free hand and then both my legs, I
manage to make a hasty exit from the chamber through the opening.
“Centipede check,” I say, running
my hands through her hair, then patting her back and her legs. She does the
same for me.
“I think we’re clean,” she says. “But
that doesn’t mean I’m not going to itch for the rest of my life or not have
nightmares.”
“Are you stung or bit badly?”
She shakes her head. “Mostly just
creeped the hell out is all.”
“Me too,” I say. “Those insects
have probably been nesting there for centuries. When Florence eradicated most
of the plague ridden rats, I think it’s safe to say they thrived.”
“Survival of the fittest,” she announces.
Then, looking me in the eye. “What’s next?”
“We follow this tunnel out,” I say.
“Maybe we still have a shot at running into our mysterious benefactor.”
“Doubtful,” she says.
“Well, we have the Book of Truths .
Let’s get out of here, get back to my place, and figure out where the hell that
cave is located.”
“That’s why we hired you.”
“So far, so good, girlfriend.”
“Don’t push your luck, boyfriend.”
The Maglite cuts through the
eternal darkness of the tunnel.
We walk, strangers in a strange and
unforgiving underground land.
21
We walk the catacombs for another fifteen minutes until we come
upon a
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