Subterranean by James Rollins

guard by the bridge and gave him a thumbs-up sign. “Sorry for the scare, but we’re tightening security.”
    â€œWhy?” she asked.
    â€œSorry, ma’am. That’s classified information.” He turned and proceeded toward the bridge.
    Ashley turned to Ben. “What do you make of that?”
    He shrugged. “Who can figure the military? Bunch of buffoons.”
    â€œI know. I wouldn’t mind pushing the lot of them into that damned chasm.”
    â€œHey, what do you know? We do have something in common.” He spun on a heel, very militarylike, to head back to the dormitory. He offered his arm.
    This time she took him up on his offer.
    Blakely stretched, leaning away from the console. He glanced at a clock on the wall. A few minutes after midnight. Now, that was cutting it down to the wire. The team would be leaving in nine hours.
    â€œAll green lights,” said a voice behind him. “Finally.”
    He turned to the head of communications, Lieutenant Brian Flattery. “I knew those new circuit boards would do the trick,” the doctor said. “With the communications net intact, we’ll be able to communicate to my team anywhere on the planet.”
    â€œThat’s good,” said Flattery. “But still . . .”
    â€œDon’t fret. This time it’ll be different.”
    Flattery glanced at the floor. “We never found Wombley’s body. Only that splat of blood.”
    â€œI know, I know.”
    â€œAnd there’s still no word from the other team. It’s been four months. And what about the recent disappearance of the guard by the chasm?”
    Blakely held up a hand. He had heard similar rumblings across the camp. “We’re prepared this time. We’ll be in regular communication.”
    â€œShouldn’t this group be forewarned of the risk they’re taking?”
    Blakely shrugged. “Major Michaelson and his two men know. That’s what’s important. I guess I’m going to have to give the rest of the team some details, but they don’t need to know everything. This time we’re proceeding with foreknowledge of the risks. We’re properly armed.”
    â€œWe don’t really know that.”
    Blakely squinted at the line of green lights on the communications console. He tapped one light that fluttered. It stabilized to a steady green. “Nothing to worry about.”

BOOK THREE

Chutes and Ladders

TEN
    T HE PACK WAS HEAVY, THE CUSHIONED STRAPS CUTTING into Ashley’s shoulders. She shrugged it off and set it down at her feet. Heavy, but manageable. She saw Linda grimace as she tried to adjust her own backpack over her shoulders. Ashley reached over and tugged the bag higher on Linda’s back. “Carry it like that and it won’t be so bad.”
    Linda smiled, but creases of worry still etched her brow. “Thanks. I just have to get accustomed to it.”
    Ashley nodded. We all do, she thought.
    Ashley led Linda toward the group clustered near the team’s radio. Blakely was explaining its operation to Ben, Khalid, and Major Michaelson. “Our web of receivers and transmitters operates at an ultra-low frequency. They’re buried and spread out, so we will be able to communicate through hundreds of miles of rock in all directions.”
    Major Michaelson hefted the radio, testing its weight. “Sort of like the buried transmitters that guide our submarines.”
    â€œExactly the same principle. Low-level reverberations. The system has been tested and checks out fine.”
    â€œHow often do we establish contact?” Ashley asked as she stepped up.
    â€œThree times a day. At the designated hours,” Blakely responded. He pointed at the radio. “This is the most important piece of equipment you’ll be carrying.”
    Major Michaelson tapped his pistol at his waist. “This is my most important piece of equipment.”
    Ben snorted.