The air under the tarp turned to liquid fire.

The three of them huddled, gasping, coughing, choking.

“Susan,” Lisa finally croaked out.

Susan screamed.

She didn’t cry with mere lungs, or the flutter of vocal cords. She howled out of the core of her being.

She could not escape the agony. Her mind, still attuned by sunlight, continued its detailed recording of every sensation. Forbidden from oblivion, her being scribed every detail: the sear of her lungs, the fire in her eyes, the flaying of her skin. She burned from the inside out, propelling her cry to the heavens.

But was there anyone to hear?

As she expelled all of herself upward, she finally found her release.

She fell back to the stone.

Her heart clenched one last time, squeezing out the last of her.

Then nothing.

“What about Susan?” Lisa gasped.

Gray risked a peek from under a flap of tarp, craning back toward the rocky spar. The lake still boiled, burning under the fiery sun. The air above the lake shimmered with an oily miasma.

But the worst flow of gasses spiraled upward, through the opening, drafting up the flue of the Bayon’s central spire, turning tower into chimney.

Gray knew it was the only reason they lived.

If the cavern had still been sealed…

Out on the spar another of their party had not fared as well. Susan lay sprawled on her back, as still as a statue. Gray could not tell if she was breathing. In fact, it was hard to see her shape against the glare of the sunlight.

And that’s when he realized it.

The rocky spar did not extend fully into the stream of sunlight.

Susan still lay in shadow — but she no longer glowed. The brightness in her had blown out like a candle.

What did that mean?

Overhead, screams echoed down from the temple, now awash with the pool’s toxic expulsion. Gray also heard more stones striking the roof of the cavern. The caustic gas had further weakened the precarious balance of stone above their heads.

“We have to get out of the cavern,” Gray said.

“What about Susan?” Lisa asked.

“We’ll have to trust she had enough exposure. Whatever she needed to happen, hopefully happened.” Gray rolled to his knees, coughing hard. They all needed the cure now. He stared over to Kowalski. “Get Lisa to the stairs.”

Kowalski pushed up. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Lisa clutched Gray’s wrist as he stood, keeping the tarp over their heads. “What are you going to do?”

“I have to get Susan.”

Lisa pinched around to see — then covered her mouth. The lake still roiled heavily, popping with gas. “Gray, you’ll never make it.”

“I’ll have to.”

“But I don’t see her moving. I think the sudden explosion was too much.”

Gray remembered Marco’s story, of his forced cannibalism, drinking the blood and eating the flesh of another man to live. “I don’t think it matters if she’s alive or dead. We just need her body.”

Lisa flinched at the callousness of his words, but she did not object.

“I’m going to need the tarp,” Gray said.

Kowalski nodded, clutching Lisa by the arm. “Fine by me. I’m taking the girl.”

Gray whisked away from them, cocooning himself in the tarp. He wrapped his head, leaving only a slit to peer out. He heard Kowalski and Lisa running down the strand.

Another boulder crashed onto the cavern roof from the temple above.

As good as a starter’s pistol.

Keeping his head low, Gray sprinted down the causeway.

Thirty yards.

That’s all.

There and back.

Steps from the shore, Gray bulled into the rising miasma of toxin. He held his breath. Still, it was like hitting a wall of fire. His eyes immediately burned, squeezing his vision to a pinpoint, while tears turned the rest of his sight into a watery blur. Barely able to see, he closed his lids, pulled the slit shut, and ran blind, counting his steps.

At thirty he risked a fast peek. An inferno greeted him.

But through the pain he spied an outflung arm. A step away. He took that step, bent down, and grabbed the arm. Luckily she no longer glowed, no longer burned. Still, he could not pick her up. He retreated, dragging her. The tarp tangled his feet, slowing him down. He finally tossed it aside, taking one breath before he did so.

It dropped him to a knee.

His chest clenched, his throat closed in protest.

Swallowing flames.

He pushed up, dragging blind, stumbling, hurrying.

His skin ran with fire, as if lashed with steel-studded whips.

Not going to make it.

Fire.

Flame.

Burn.

He tripped, went down to a knee.

No.

Then he was rising again — but not on his own.

“I’ve got you,” she said in his ear.

Seichan.

She had an arm under him, dragging him bodily. His toes scraped the stones as he struggled to gain his footing.

He croaked at her, coughing.

She understood.

“Kowalski’s got her.”

“Right here, boss,” the man said behind him. “That was some run. Made it to three steps shy of the goal line. Not a touchdown, but that’s why you have a goddamn team.”

As they fled around the lake, away from the central tempest, Gray’s vision cleared. He finally found his feet.

Seichan still supported half his weight.

“Thank you,” he whispered coarsely in her ear.

Her cheek was badly blistered, one eye swollen shut.

“Let’s just get the hell out of here,” Seichan said, sounding more irritated than relieved.

“Amen, sister,” Kowalski said.

Gray glanced back to the pool. He watched something drop through the hole in the roof, dangling from a line like a baited hook. It swung back and forth a bit.

A thick, heavy satchel.

“Bomb…” Gray whispered.

“What?” Kowalski asked, incredulous.

“Bomb,” he said louder.

Nasser was not done with them yet.

“Aw, hell, no…” Kowalski scrambled closer with Susan over one shoulder, plainly trying to outrun them. “Why do people keep trying to blow me up?”

Shouting erupted below, flowing up the stairs from the cavern.

Lisa wanted to go down. She had hated abandoning the others, but Vigor needed her help, too.

“Keep turning!” Vigor said, sweat pouring down the sides of his face. He glanced to the stairs — then back to Lisa. “From their shouting, I think we’d better hurry.”

Between their palms, they had been unscrewing a large bronze bolt. Its platter-size head bore a crucifix, presently twirling as they spun the screw. By now, the greased bore protruded a full two feet from the arched top of the door.

How much more did they have to go?

They turned faster.

Vigor quoted the bottom inscription on the door, huffing as he labored.

“‘An angel of the Lord descended from the sky, and came and rolled away the stone from the door.’ At first, I tried rolling the door itself, and gave that up pretty quickly. Then I remembered the last line. ‘Let only one strong in the spirit of the Lord dare open it.’ Plainly a nod toward the crucifix. I should’ve picked up on that from the outset.”

Feet pounded on the lower stairs, coming up.

Kowalski yelled to them. “Bomb…door…hurry!”

“A man of few words, our Mr. Kowalski.”

With a final twist, the bronze screw fell free of its socket. The weight caught them both by surprise, and the screw tumbled to the steps with a ringing clatter.

Kowalski came barreling up from below, carrying Susan. She hung limp. Kowalski’s face sank when he saw the door still closed. “What have you been doing?”

“Waiting for you,” Vigor said, and shoved the slab.

No longer screwed tight, the door toppled outward, crashing to the stone. Sunlight burst forth, reflecting off the stone all around. Lisa could barely see as she stumbled out with Vigor, making room for Kowalski and Susan.