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Sylvia gave a quick “Thanks” to Eric and gazed all around her. The river was infested with crocodiles.
“They’re everywhere,” she said breathlessly. “That is horrifying. Mark, are you seeing this?”
“For once I’m glad I couldn’t go along with you,” Murph replied over the comms that everyone was linked to.
“Saltwater crocs are common in every tropical river and swamp in Australia,” Parsons said. “Nasty buggers. They can grow up to six meters long and a thousand kilograms.”
“They also have the strongest bite force of any animal on earth,” Murph chimed in. Eric had rigged his finger joystick so that he could type into his computer as well as speak, using a predictive keyboard like the ones found on satellite phones. Drawing on his skills as a video game wizard, Murph had become adept at typing with one finger at lightning speed.
“It says on this website that their bite is three times as strong as that of a Bengal tiger,” Murph continued, “and may be equivalent to the bite of a great white shark, though that’s never been measured in a lab for some odd reason.”
“I’d like to see them try that test,” Eric said.
“The crazy thing is that their jaws only are strong in one direction,” Parsons said. “You can hold them closed with duct tape. I’ve seen them transported that way.”
“Let’s not test out what their bites can do,” Julia said. “I don’t want to figure out how to patch you up with a chunk taken out of any of you.”
“We’ve got a couple of M4s in case the crocs get frisky,” Juan said. He didn’t mention his doubts about how well the assault rifle ammo would penetrate the reptiles’ rhino-like hides.
All of them kept a watch on the water as the boat snaked up the desolate river until they were as close as they could get to the coordinates. Juan beached the RHIB on the shore and kept guard with one of the M4s as everyone got out.
Eric led the way up an embankment and through the greenery. The moist air smelled of fragrant flowers and rotting vegetation, and birds of all types chirped and cawed in a variety of distinct rhythms.
As they got farther from the river and climbed higher, the shrubbery thinned out, and picturesque sandstone formations abutted their path. Finally, two hundred yards from the Ord River, Eric stopped.
“This should be it,” he said.
Juan looked around but saw nothing obvious that would indicate there had been an archaeological expedition here. No ruins, no uncovered pottery or tools, no structure of any kind. Only an expansive view of the river below.
“Spread out and look around,” Juan said. He was already worried they’d come all this way for nothing.
They spent nearly an hour combing the area for any signs that someone had been there when Parsons called out to the group.
“I think I’ve got something.”
They all converged to an outcropping where a rockfall had covered the slope. Parsons pointed to a dark hole in the middle of the rock pile just big enough for a cat to squeeze through.
“I think there’s something in there,” he said. “Feel it.”
Juan put his hand over the opening. Cool air streamed from the hole.
“It’s a cave,” he said. He stepped back and looked farther up the hill. There was a deep scar in the sandstone along with some charring.
“The rockfall happened deliberately. Someone set off explosives to cover this up.”
“What do you think is inside?” Sylvia asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Eric said.
“Then I guess we need to start moving some stones,” Juan said.
They began moving whatever rocks were small enough to pick up or leverage away from the others. The work in the awful humidity was backbreaking and required frequent rests for water. Two hours later, they finally had a hole big enough to squeeze through.
Juan went first after making sure the Oregon knew where they were in case a new rockslide trapped them in. He shimmied through the opening and stood up once he got inside. The cave had to be huge since his light couldn’t penetrate far enough to see the back wall.
He waited until everyone was inside. Then he led the way into a wide chamber with a domed ceiling.
Juan heard a gasp and turned to see a frightened Sylvia standing over seven skeletons lined up side by side. Their clothes were torn and bloody, as if they’d been savaged by animals.
