The Apocalypse Game - Chapter 3

“Professor!” A disheveled male in his early twenties burst into a humid tent futilely cooled by a humming electric fan, “They found the entrance!”

“Clunk!” The China cup steadily sitting in the hands of an elderly struck the table with unexpected force, its murky contents splashing wildly at the rim of the fragile container. Without a single word, the owner of that piece of antiquity bolted from his creaking chair and dashed for the dreary flaps concealing the temporary research headquarters from the scorching summer sun.

The aged figure was swept up in a whirlwind of anxious students towards the ragged hills outside of their campgrounds, towards the site which the team was probing at. Rediscovered excitement and energy flooded to the ends of the man’s dormant limbs, and he even forgot to smooth back the strands of blanching hair to reveal his grim and professional profile. Ignoring the onslaught of the suppressing heat waves, the professor led the parade to the foot of the field bridging the distance between them and the discovery - what waited at the end of the rolling hill of thriving wild grass was the star of this expedition, and possibly of his entire career.

The glaring skyline was quickly devoured by the jagged top of a solemn cliff. The wall stretched into the clouds, daring to tear a hole through the flawless sheet of gold that threw a massive shadow down its back, threatening to engulf anything that thought of stepping onto its soils. When they first set foot onto its territory, the team of archaeologists was washed in a wave of reverence and overwhelming repulsion. However, they were not quite discouraged from continuing their expedition at the sight of the mountain’s magnificent, but were instead galvanized into the mood of investigation and query. Currently a small semi-circle of five excavators and scholars clustered around a dark opening, undisturbed under the cliff’s intimidating glower. The female and male crouching near the entrance in heated discourse were in their thirties; a slightly plump elder leaned on a metal shovel lazily and stared at the ground between the half circle and the ominous darkness; and two teenagers knelt around a pile of paper, poised as if bemused by the contents on the pages before them.

“Professor Yin,” A young student jumped to his feet from the notes and scurried forward excitedly to greet the animated figure as the eight member promenade from the campsite came into view, “We found it exactly where you predicted it would be.”

“Very well, have you sent anyone down?” Professor Yin deftly slipped on a pair of latex gloves and moved towards the dark mouth. Now at the clearing before the cryptic opening, the archaeology team assembled around its leader like eager children around their father and intently awaited instructions. Spying the nails of a tin climbing claw clinging onto the top edge of the hole, Yin found his answer before the student responded.

“Tian and Fang went down already,” The boy answered carefully, “they left an hour ago.” The group had been collaborating for a long time, and it had always been tradition to send the two best martial artists, known as probers, to “inspect” the tombs before an entire team entered. Unlike large ruins, sacrificial grounds and burial grounds of the West, ancient Chinese tombs were often adorned with lethal traps. The predecessors were already aware of tomb robbers, thus adequate measures against the bunch were taken. On top of simply being thrilling, the quality and quantity of these deadly puzzles also served the useful purpose of revealing the status of the tomb owner. Therefore, the precaution of sending in the two was to ensure the safety of the larger group. However, this one was incomparable with the rest " it was the heart of professor Yin’s research, the fruit of twenty years of labour - and not letting him enter the relic first seemed somewhat disrespectful.

Dr. Yin’s brows knotted in disapproval but quickly darted apart to resume their usual equanimity. He could not say that he was totally unaffected by the stolen privilege, but he knew the actions of his acolytes were for the safety of the team. And what were all his accomplishments without the team? Yin could not fathom the answer.

Nodding lightly, the aged man motioned for the circle to sit around the stack of paper the teens had previously studied. Relieved that their revered mentor was not enraged by their decision, the group lowered ne after the other and huddled around a yellowed map above other loose sheets of paper littered with diagrams and intermittent phrases.

“This is the first discovery of remains form the Zhen civilization, if it truly ends up being the tomb documented in the scroll;” Driven by the professional habit of a teacher, Dr. Yin launched into a lecture on the mysteries behind the firm shell of the mountain, “All we know about this is that it was revered by the royal family and recorded by scribes in the Qi dynasty. The Zhen are an enigmatic group; as to how they became involved with the warring states is left for the tomb to explain.”

With that, Yin looked up hopefully at the ominous mouth leading into the intestines of the daunting mountain. It huffed out a chilling breath and audaciously returned his stare, challenging the scholar to venture into the depths of its enigma. For a slight second, the professor regretted allotting his acolytes the position in the face of danger and feared for the two’s safety. Despite the youths’ courage and experience as probers, they were only children. Moreover, this tomb emanated an unsettling aura which churned the professor’s stomach unlike any other excavation.

The group huddled with mixed emotions and awaited the pair’s return with anxiety. In the distance, the sun as already nearing the end of its shift, washing the land with a shade of warm crimson, yet the boys in the captivity of the cave were far from the end of their journey.

Peering up at the blushing clouds, Dr. Yin frowned with concern. It was highly unusual for Tian and Fang to dwell in a newfound site for more than two hours, regardless of the size of the place. They were only required to clear the route to the second chamber, or retreat if it was difficult to locate. Taking into account the aberrations, the professor gave them a wobbling space of two more hours. However, counting from the time of his arrival, Tian and Fang had already been clearing for over four hours. The group was tense with apprehension, but every student suppressed their urge to request search of the two in the abyss. They looked toward Yin with urgency. Already unsettled from the abnormal time taken to investigate this cavity, Dr. Yin met his students’ gazes and tightened his brows with alarm. Something must be wrong.

“Guan, Han and Lou, prepare to descend with me,” Dr. Yin struggled to keep his tone steady and fired a rapid shot of commands at another two teens as well as the middle aged man who brought the discovery of the entrance to his attention, “and I need the first aid team prepared for immediate medical attention.” Strapping on the layers of protective gear and a bulky bag of probing essentials, the professor led the three others to the edge of the deadly descent.

Yin knelt down with a solemn glimmer in his eyes and touched the metal claws which had long lost the warmth of life. Tian and Fang, please hold on, his eyes shone with a rare wetness, we’re coming to get you. The brief weakness in the man’s gaze was quickly replaced by determination as he secured the claw connected to a sturdy rope around his waist next to the previous two. With a wave, he motioned for the three to follow suite.

Just as he leaned back into the darkness, Dr. Yin spotted a sudden tug on the claw beside his. Surprise and relief bloomed over his grim features as he watched the rope tighten and vibrate with tension from the motion below. Content was immediately replaced with suspicion as Dr. Yin watched the string dance with a specific rhythm. Two of them went down, but why was only one moving?

Long short short short long long, long short short short long long… the tugging persisted as the professor waved the excite team away from the ominous opening. He carefully deciphered the recurring pattern in his mind. This was their collateral of the Morse code, a method of communication unique to the team. When the group was first assembled, his mischievous students vouched a secretive code shared only within the team, so they made one of their own " and the signal which played on the solitary string swept him in distress.

Long short short - danger, don’t come close. Short long long - pull.

Shaking from apprehension, Dr. Yin bellowed to the dumbfounded crew to gather beside the two ropes. Without another second of hesitation, the flock scrambled to take their place beside the hole and hauled.

The weight on the other end of the rope seemed paramount compared to the other, almost as if someone, or something, on the other end was playing tug of war with the people outside the tomb; yet both certainly bore more than the mass of one person. Inch by inch the rope slithered and slid over the doorstep of the necropolis and into the caress of the blushing dawn. With a last cry the two weights sprung into view. The youths gasped in aghast and suppressed a shriek while Dr. Yin struggled to maintain his grip on the string as a malevolent shudder crawled down his back. The group failed to step forth, paralyzed by the mess disgorged by the monstrous mountain.

Flopped on his abdomen, a boy in his teens awash with bruises and cuts was drenched in an upsetting shade of crimson. Debris and mud cluttered his winsome features, occasionally crumbling off from his painfully knotted brows. With one hand still intertwined with the ragged rope, the other laid worn and unanimated on top a body tied to the same rope. The boy beneath his arm was close to being disfigured - his arms hung awkwardly by his sides, pointing out at unnatural angles; his pants was torn to pieces, revealing the sanguinolent skin beneath; and his face was crawled over with hair and blood, shielding what was unquestionably a chilling expression twisted with agony.

Wrapped and tied up like a wild boar, a bulging cloth bag laid a meter away at the tip of the other rope. Patches of the crude material was torn and stained dark with a stinking liquid which occasionally dripped off to form a small puddle.

“Medical team! Where are the medical professionals?!”  The elderly man looked around wildly and hollered in distress like a mother lion that had just lost her cubs, “Get your butts over here!”

Eight figures cladded in white sprung forth with two heavy first aid cases and two steady stretchers. Recognizing the two youths laying before them, the team erupted in chaos. Friends and classmates scrambled forward to reach the quiet bodies, and those too weak to remain on their feet crawled to reach the lifeless boys. Others turned to each other in fear, conjecturing what could have possibly landed the two master probers in such a terrifying state.

“Stop, all of you!” Head pounding with the onslaught of noise and panic, Dr. Yin turned to the pandemonium unraveling before him, “is this my team? Are these the future leaders of archaeology?! Stay composed and back away from the injured.”

Pairs of eyes brimmed with fear, concern, panic, and anger simultaneously shone at the old man, and was met with determination in return. Slowly, they reclaimed the confidence and composure that will one day be true to their title. Yes, the leaders of archaeology cannot act like amateurs - their teammates were in danger, and they will walk them through it, coolly and professionally, putting all their ability into ensuring the safety of the two.

With rediscovered energy, the team was galvanized into action. A cluster of researchers formed beside the maps and continued to investigate the structure of the labyrinth beneath; a group of specialists knelt beside the soiled bag and attempted to reveal its contents; while the professor and a flock of doctors surrounded their patients. Amidst the scramble, the boy lying on top wanly raised his head and peered at Dr. Yin. The old man spotted the sudden action and dashed to kneel beside him. The boy cracked open his bleeding lips in attempt to say something.

“Tian,” Taking a bloodied hand, Dr. Yin forced down the sudden bulge swelling in his throat and called softly, “I’m Dr. Yin, everything’s fine. Repeat what you just said for me.”

Already weak from his wounds, Tian struggled to hum out a syllable for the second time.

“Where is… Emblem… Bag…” The teen searched around frantically until he descried an edge of the bag tied onto the end of the other rope. Shifting off of Fang, the boy hailed his body in the direction of the group of specialists. Startled by Tian’s extreme reaction, yet at the same time thrilled by the possibility of what he could have meant, Dr. Yin shouted towards those kneeling around the bag.

“Is the emblem in there?” He turned to them in excitement and disbelief. Staring back at the professor with equal eagerness and curiosity, the students immediately cropped the sac open to reveal a heap of well-preserved artifacts. A moment later, a disappointed voice flowed back to the pair.

“Sorry sir, it’s not here…”

Sighing in comprehension, Dr. Yin drew Tian’s mistake under his ambition and fatigue. He turned back to Tian and spoke to him in a soothing tone, “It’s alright, just rest for now. We can find the emblem when the rest of us go in.”

Sensing his professor’s supposition, the boy grasped his hand and stared at him with an intense flare in his eyes.

“The eh-emblem…” He rasped, “We found… Watch… Wrath…” The youth’s lustrous and energetic eyes began lulling back weakly as his voice drifted off with his consciousness once more. With the last strand of strength, Tian raised a trembling finger and pointed toward the group of students dissecting the bag of antiquities. He stared into the professor’s eyes with a piercing clarity unbefitting with his current state and enunciated in a nearly inaudible voice solely for the old man to hear.

“Traitor.”

 

 

Author's Note

Update in two weeks? I'm on break now so I will try to update more frequently!

Shelf, comment, review!

Reviews

[heatherscott67]

Apocalypse is never going to happen so grow up and stop writing about it it is an old topic get over it

[Wind Chaser]

Well you can say that to a lot of topics! No one can tell whether apocalypse is going to happen or not, and I certainly hope that it does not in the near future, but it is what this book's prompt is based off of. Please read only if it fits with your interest.

[heatherscott67]

I'm sorry it is just so over done many times. I think the walking dead already covered this topic years ago.If you are not aware The walking dead is a comic that came out when I was 11 I'm 25 now. Its something that does better in a graphic novel or TV show by the way both are different storys . point is its hard to describe the killings of zombies the way you could if you saw a picture or in action. I'm not trying to come down on your story at all I'm sorry if it seems I'm putting you down its more of kind of question.

[Wind Chaser]

That's alright ^^
This isn't about a zombie apocalypse. The undead may become involved, just not in the way depicted in the walking dead. It's more oriented towards the prophecies of ancient civilizations :P
If you are interested, you can read on to see :)