The Cross of Sins (3 page)

The first things he noticed were the walls of the cavernous dome, sloping away from him in every direction. The further he lowered himself, the further he was from the relative safety of the walls. The second thing he noticed was the lava below. Some magnetic pull, some strange physical law had set it in motion, circling the well of fire in a slow, surreal, unsettling whirlpool of lava.

The third thing he noticed was the alcove.

About halfway down, one of the walls of the crater gave way to a small vent, just wide enough for a person to climb through. Jake couldn't imagine how the Kahna Togans could possibly have managed to get this far inside their mountain. Perhaps they had called upon their gods for help. However they had managed it, Jake, himself, was going to have to rely on nothing more than a length of wire cable and some clever guesswork to get to the fissure.

Slowly, he lowered himself to just below the height of the alcove and began swinging his body weight on the cable.

At first, there was no momentum whatsoever, but gradually, as he built up speed and inertia, he was swinging like a pendulum. As he pitched to and fro with ever-increasing strength, he managed to steer his movement toward the alcove. He cut though the boiling air and sent hot pockets and currents swirling through the rising steam. With greater speed, he reached closer. And closer. Until eventually, with his chipped nails and cut fingers, he hooked the edge of the alcove. He held himself there for a tense moment, pulling against the weight of his own swing as it tried to pry him off the wall. But with all the might of his burning biceps and bulging shoulder muscles, Jake managed to haul himself into the vent of the alcove.

It was small and smoldering inside. There was practically no air. There was very little light seeping in through the narrow entrance. But there was, however, propped against the far wall, sitting alone in the dark, smothering space of the alcove, something perfectly out of place.

Something shimmering.

Something sparkling.

Something made from the diamonds of the mountain itself.

With the cable still tied firmly around his taut waist, Jake took one step forward and reached one hand toward the glittering fabled Devil of Kahna Toga.

But Mount Kahna Toga had other plans for him.

At the precise moment his fingertips touched the glass-like surface of the idol, squatting on its priceless haunches, flickering its glimmering forked tongue at him, the mountain let out its mightiest roar yet.

From the pit behind him, lava began to erupt in sporadic, blazing bursts.

The whole of the island shook, and as it did, virtually the entire ceiling of the cavern outside the alcove slid from above and toppled into the boiling lava, taking with it half the crater's rim—and setting the boulder—around which Jake's cable was tied—into motion.

Bombarded by the sudden avalanche, the huge boulder tipped off its broken shelf and tumbled backward, away from the beehive crater, back into the lake.

Jake's fingertips brushed the sparkling diamond Devil, and then suddenly—
whoosh!

The cable, still tied around his waist, yanked him out through the opening of the alcove. The skin of his torso was torn and shredded as he was ripped away from his treasure and swept up into the air.

The cable slithered upward, out through the opening of the crater and down the other side where the rock to which it was tied slapped against the surface of the lava and began to sink. The wire cable turned red-hot, the lava eating through it at a veracious rate.

When the rock hit the lava, Jake, on the other end of the cable, jerked to a sudden halt and was left dangling over the lava inside the beehive crater. He felt his bruised ribs strain, but he had greater concerns. The bubbling magma below him began to rupture and rise, the cavern began to break apart all around him, and his best hunch told him that his cable was caught somewhere between a rock and a very hot place, with very little hope of remaining intact for much longer. He had seconds—if he was lucky.

In a reflex action, Jake's fingers quickly unhitched the knot around his waist. His body dropped free, but his hands held tight to the cable. As the lava continued to gush and flare, rapidly filling the crater, Jake realized he had one last shot at the alcove.

Still clinging to the cable, he pushed his body through the air, swung backward with all the force he could muster, and then catapulted himself forward and let go of the cable, leaping haphazardly at the crater wall. He soared above the rising lava, his hands thrust out before him, and slammed into the crater wall with a hard thump.

Behind him the sizzling wire cable dropped into the lava like a snake on fire.

Jake clung to the wall for a perilous second before feeling the opening to the alcove just below his feet. He looked down. The lava was splashing up toward the fissure. He clambered down as fast as he could, swooping into the vent and crash-landing inside the alcove. Swiftly, he seized the diamond devil in both hands.

As he did, lava surged up and over the entrance to the alcove. It streamed inside. Jake glanced over his shoulder at the scorching magma flooding furiously toward him. He lifted the Devil high above his head.

For a second, he hesitated.

He was bargaining that the crust floor of the alcove might be thin enough to break through. If he found a weak spot, it could lead him to a way out. It could also lead to a pool of seething lava, waiting to explode beneath his feet. It was a risk. Not to mention what he might do to the statue, which he was now using as a sledgehammer. A single flaw in the Devil, a single imperfection in the idol, and it would shatter into a million worthless shards. For the sake of his own life, Jake could only pray the Devil of Kahna Toga had no flaws. Right now, all he could do was take his chances.

The lava was guzzling into the alcove now. It formed expanding puddles that inched toward Jake's feet. The leather of his boots began to melt. His laces spontaneously ignited. He held the idol high and danced around the magma, finding the highest possible ground. Then, with all his might, Jake thrust the Devil of Kahna Toga at the ground beneath his feet.

There was a loud crack.

The ground beneath the idol shattered.

The crusted floor of the alcove split and opened wide, and suddenly, the Devil of Kahna Toga vanished.

As did Jake Stone.

As well as a river of lava that flooded into the alcove and swiftly followed him, flushing down into the newly formed chasm.

Jake fell into the darkness for what seemed like minutes. When he finally hit a surface, it was smooth and sloped and sent him into a treacherous tumble. He picked up speed fast, turning and toppling uncontrollably until he managed to twist himself onto his back and stay that way, sliding feet-first at a breakneck pace down what appeared to be a dangerously steep lava tube. Ahead of him he could make out the gleam of the diamond Devil, still in one piece, barreling down the perilous descent. It made a heavy, bashing, crashing noise as it toppled head over heel, echoing thunderously all the way down the tube—

—Until another noise rapidly filled the tunnel.

Tearing along at lightning speed, Jake managed to turn his head to see what was coming down the chute behind him: a giant, roaring, ravaging wall of lava, storming down the hole at a speed greater than his, consuming every inch of the lava tube with an insatiable appetite.

Jake turned back quickly to face forward. He jammed his feet together like an arrow and laid as flat as he could, trying to pick up even greater speed. The diamond Devil rambled and ricocheted off the walls of the tube ahead of him. Behind him, he could feel the heat getting closer; feel the torrent of fire bearing down on him, hungry and determined to wolf him down whole.

Suddenly, somewhere far ahead, he glimpsed daylight streaming into the tube, speeding toward him.

The torpedo of lava behind him closed in. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw bolts of orange streak the walls on either side. He felt the sting of fire spitting against his bare shoulders.

Then, without warning, the diamond Devil stopped clanging.

Jake looked ahead and saw it shoot out into blinding daylight.

He held his breath, and suddenly, he was jettisoned into the air, into the wide open, high above the dazzling blue of the Pacific Ocean.

As the mountain spat him out, he spun in mid-air and rolled into a dive.

Behind him the stream of lava spewed from the lava tube.

Jake saw the Devil of Kahna Toga break the water below him. He slapped his palms together and plunged into the ocean a split second later. Then, he kicked. With all his strength. With every muscle in his legs. Furiously, he pushed himself as far beneath the surface of the ocean as he could manage.

When the jet of lava hit the water above him, there was a boom like thunder, as though the whole ocean was exploding. On the surface, the blast of boiling steam spread out in a shock wave that slammed the ocean cliffs and swept out to sea.

Beneath the water, small chunks of instantly solidified lava teemed down to the seabed, where Jake had already found the Devil of Kahna Toga nestled in a thatch of seaweed on the ocean floor. As the black hail of lava rock pelted him from above, Jake snatched the idol off the ocean floor. His lungs were bursting for air. He kicked furiously, heading into deeper waters, pushing himself away from the cascade of lava that was already forming a new coastline for the island.

Moments later, he broke the surface of the warm tropical South Sea. Behind him, the mountain exploded. A gigantic plume of ash and steam billowed down its slopes. Lava burst into the sky and streamed down the coastal cliffs below its rumbling peak.

"Some people make great entrances. Others make memorable exits. You, my friend, seem to do both."

The voice came from behind Jake, shouting over the rupture of the mountain.

In all the commotion of the eruption, Jake hadn't seen the ocean cruiser pull up behind him. He didn't hear its motors above the roar of nature's explosion. Now, as he turned in the churning waters, he saw Perron's grinning face looking down upon him. He heard his wicked, gleeful laugh. That's when he knew things were about to get even worse.

Before he could dive out of view, two men in scuba gear jumped into the water beside him. One of them tried to seize the idol, but Jake fought him off.

Then, he saw the spear gun in the second scuba diver's hands.

He felt the searing heat, the pain pierce straight through his side.

Then, he felt the warmth of his own blood, swirling all around him.

He felt the idol slip from his arms. He saw the two divers swim back to the boat, leaving him in the choppy red-blood waters. He heard the motors of the cruiser fire up, churning smoke and foam in his face as he struggled for air. But above all the noise—the roar of the cruiser, the rumbling of the distant mountain, the rush of his own blood thundering through his brain and oozing from his body—above it all, the one thing he knew he would never forget was the shrill caw of Pierre Perron's laughter fading in the distance.

He could still sense the motion of the sea. At first he thought he was imagining it. Then, he realized he was on some sort of vessel. His eyes opened, just a little, and he saw a circle of light. A porthole, he realized. It was smeared, a combination of salt and grease on the glass and his own grogginess. He tried to sit up, but the pain shot through his body with a paralyzing bolt.

His first fear—that he had been taken on board Perron's cruiser like some sort of prisoner—quickly subsided when he listened more closely to the whine and chug of the engines, as he squinted through his weary eyes at the cramped confines of his quarters and the dank and grime on the walls; as he smelled the stink of fish all around him.

This boat was not exactly the kind of vessel Perron would set foot on.

Jake saw his torn and tattered cargo pants hanging on a fish hook nearby, his boots stacked in one corner. He looked down to see a filthy blanket covering his body. He lifted it to see that he was naked. Blood had dried in dozens of lines—some thin and slender, some thick and deep—all over his body. There was a frayed and filthy bandage bound around his waist with a large crimson stain pin-pointing the wound he had received from the spear gun.

Just then, the door burst open.

An enormous unshaven Polynesian man in rubber pants and a thick shirt smeared in fish scales and dried guts stood in the doorway. In a gruff tone, he blurted something at Jake in a language he did not understand. Whether it was angry abuse or a piece of friendly advice, it was impossible to tell.

Jake was unsure of what to do or say. All he could manage was, "Thanks," in a weak voice.

In reply, the burly Polynesian gave a stern nod. Then, surprisingly, he seemed to speak in English with a foreign accent. "You're lucky we found you before the sharks did," he appeared to say, although the accent didn't sound remotely like that of a South Pacific Islander. In fact, it sounded Brazilian.

That was when Jake saw the second man, squeezing into the cramped quarters from behind the thick-set Polynesian. It was the second man who had spoken. As he moved into the small space, he knelt beside Jake.

"Try to relax," he said. His voice was soothing, his accent thick yet gentle. His face was handsome and brown, his eyes were like pools of dark melted chocolate, his short hair only a shade or so lighter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled high and his arms and hands were strong and firm. "My name is Eden Santiago. I'm a doctor. You're on a fishing boat. These men were kind enough to fish you out of the water. But now I need to move you."

Confused and in pain, Jake watched as the handsome Brazilian produced a small medical pouch. He filled a syringe with fluid. Jake flinched quickly despite the pain. "Hey wait a second, buddy. I don't know who you are or where you came from, but back up with the needle. No offense, but the last guy who stuck something in me didn't leave me feelin' so good."

The Brazilian threw back the blanket that covered Jake, exposing his naked body and pointing to the tattered and soiled bandage wrapped about his waist. "I don't want to ask when that bandage was last used, or why, but do you know how quickly an infection can work its way into your body?"