6. Chapter 6 - Matt #3
Matt caught only fragments of it in the darkness. Thin limbs moving too quickly. Pale skin stretched tightly across an emaciated frame. Eyes reflecting white for a split second before the creature vanished past the chamber entrance with disturbing, jerking speed.
Then another followed. And another. Matt stopped breathing entirely.
At least four of the things moved through the adjoining tunnel in frantic bursts of motion, crawling across walls and ceilings with violent, insect-like coordination that barely resembled human movement anymore.
None of them noticed Matt and Theron hidden behind the collapsed stone.
Theron remained perfectly still beside him while the creatures passed. Up close, Matt could hear the rough strain in his breathing again, tighter now, like holding himself under control required active effort.
The last creature paused suddenly near the chamber entrance and slowly lifted its head. Matt felt the hyena tense as the thing sniffed once before turning toward the darkness where they hid behind the collapsed pillar.
For one horrible second, Matt was certain they had been spotted.
Then Theron moved.
The growl that tore from Theron’s chest barely sounded human anymore. It rolled through the chamber low and violent enough that Matt felt the vibration in his ribs before the creatures reacted.
Every pale face snapped toward the sound at once.
Then the entire group recoiled.
The things retreated backward into the corridor with sharp clicking shrieks, their movements suddenly frantic in a way Matt had not seen before.
Panic rippled through them as they vanished deeper into the tunnels, scrambling across the walls and ceiling until the echoes of their movement finally disappeared into the distance.
Silence settled heavily across the chamber afterward.
Matt stared after them for several seconds before turning toward Theron again. “Okay,” he said carefully, still trying to steady his breathing, “I feel like we skipped several extremely important explanations.”
Theron stayed near the edge of the pillar, listening toward the tunnel until the sounds fully disappeared.
“They hunt in packs,” he said finally.
Matt blinked once. “That was the explanation you chose?”
Theron ignored the comment and stepped farther into the chamber. The flashlight beam caught him more clearly now, illuminating the fresh wounds crossing his ribs beneath the fur. Matt realized some of them looked recent. Very recent.
“You fought them already,” he said.
Theron glanced toward him briefly before looking away again. “Many times.”
Something about the answer landed strangely in Matt’s chest because Theron sounded weary in a way that went far deeper than physical exhaustion.
Matt studied him carefully while they crossed the chamber together. Theron moved like a predator, every motion controlled and dangerous beneath the partially shifted frame, but traces of the man underneath still surfaced constantly in ways that felt impossible to ignore.
He watched every corner before entering it, positioned himself automatically between Matt and every open tunnel, and spoke more roughly whenever the growl beneath his voice intensified.
Theron was fighting something every second he remained standing there.
And somehow, Matt understood that instinctively.
Ahead of them, the chamber narrowed into another descending corridor carved directly into the mountain. Theron stopped abruptly near the entrance, and Matt nearly walked into him before realizing what had caught his attention.
The stone walls ahead were covered in claw marks. Not random damage. Writing.
Hundreds of lines had been carved directly into the rock in overlapping layers deep enough to survive centuries underground.
Most were written in languages Matt didn’t recognize.
One sentence wasn’t.
DO NOT LET THEM REACH THE SURFACE.
It appeared again.
And again.
And again.
Matt stared at the wall while cold unease settled heavily beneath his ribs. Then he noticed the carvings changing the farther down the corridor they went.
The higher markings looked controlled and deliberate, their lines sharp and measured despite the claws that carved them.
Lower down, the writing changed. The carvings became deeper and more erratic, their lines cutting violently through the stone as though control had steadily deteriorated with each passing entry.
By the time the markings reached the base of the corridor wall, the words barely resembled language anymore.
Matt looked toward Theron, who still had not met his eyes.
“I wrote them.”
Theron remained near the corridor entrance for several long seconds after speaking, his attention fixed somewhere deeper in the tunnels while Matt tried to process the implications of what he had just admitted.
“You wrote all of this,” Matt said carefully, glancing back toward the walls covered in carved warnings. “How long have you been down here?”
Theron’s jaw tightened beneath the dark fur framing his face. “Long enough.”
“That answer is aggressively unhelpful.”
Matt opened his mouth to argue before another distant sound echoed faintly through the tunnels behind them. This time it was not scraping or shrieking.
It sounded like gunfire.
Far away. Muffled by layers of stone, but unmistakable.
Matt straightened while Theron’s entire posture sharpened toward the sound with predatory focus. The shift happened so fast it almost looked involuntary.
“My team,” Matt said.
Theron listened for another moment. “Maybe.”
Another distant shot echoed through the mountain, followed by silence.
Matt gave a flat look. “Sound doesn’t carry right down here.”
“No.”
Theron turned toward the warning-lined passage. “Need to move before they circle back.”
Matt looked once toward the darkness where the gunfire had come from, then followed him deeper underground.
The passage narrowed beyond the carved walls, forcing Theron to angle his shoulders to fit through portions of the older stonework.
Unlike the excavation tunnels above, these corridors showed no signs of modern reinforcement or recent equipment placement.
The architecture felt older here. Deliberate in ways Matt struggled to fully explain.
The walls curved too smoothly in places where stone should have fractured naturally.
Support arches repeated at uneven intervals that somehow still felt patterned.
Even the silence carried a strange pressure that made the deeper sections of the tunnel feel less excavated than buried alive.
Matt swept the flashlight ahead as they descended. “So let me summarize my current situation,” he said. “I’m trapped underground with… whatever you are… who may or may not have written an entire hallway of psychological breakdown graffiti while we’re being hunted by cave creatures.”
Theron glanced at him. “Wolf.”
Matt blinked. “That somehow raises more questions.”
Theron glanced sideways at him briefly. “You talk when you're nervous.”
“I talk constantly. There’s an important difference.”
“You smell nervous.”
“That feels invasive somehow.” To Matt’s surprise, the low sound that came from Theron afterward almost resembled a laugh.
The realization hit strangely hard because the sound carried the rust of something Theron had not done in a very long time.
The corridor descended another several yards before abruptly opening into a circular chamber carved directly into the mountain. Matt slowed as the beam crossed the room.
Ancient symbols covered the walls from floor to ceiling.
Unlike the warning corridor behind them, these markings looked intentional rather than desperate. Intricate geometric patterns spiraled outward across the stone in overlapping rings surrounding a massive circular platform at the center of the chamber.
And something stood on it. Matt froze.
The figure remained motionless atop the platform, partially obscured beneath centuries of dust and mineral buildup. At first glance it resembled a statue.
Then the flashlight beam shifted higher.
The thing chained to the platform opened its eyes.