Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,136

and loosening soil from the banks of the river where it fell in clumps. Lighting filled the sky above, shifting through the clouds, illuminating the world below. For an instant, Mount Meru exploded into view. It looked as though a meteor had struck. The mountain rose up on the sides to half its previous height. It had collapsed. Meru, home of the gods, the last refuge of the Neanderthal species, had been buried.

At first Sara felt sad that such a historic and incredible place had been lost, but then she remembered what it felt like there. Beyond her senses being blinded, the place struck her as evil. The curses against humanity. The hate that had gone into laying those stones was still palpable. Meru was an evil place and Weston’s time there had made him indifferent to the fate of the human race. The world was better off never knowing about it.

King saw the situation differently. Two things were about to happen. First, the collapse of the mountain would send a river-fueled tidal wave in their direction. Second, if the debris carried forward by the wall of water didn’t kill them, the river, now blocked by the fallen mountain, would run dry, allowing the old mothers easy access to them.

Shifting his view toward shore, King saw their salvation ahead. A portion of the riverside cliff had been knocked down and a long beach had been formed on the opposite shore of the river from the Neanderthal women. He judged the distance traveled, the direction of the shoreline, and the objects—a rotting reed basket, a tattered T-shirt, and a half-submerged canoe—littering the shoreline.

Anh Dung. It had to be.

“There!” King shouted, pointing toward the shore.

As the six Chess Team members swam for the shore, the old mothers, who could clearly not swim, hooted and hollered.

“Rook!” Red shouted. “You father! Rook!”

Then they were off and running down the opposite shoreline, no doubt headed for another fallen tree. They’d be on top of them in no time. The group crawled onto the shore just as a surge of water caught their feet.

Rook looked back. “Move, move, move!”

As Bishop scooped up Knight and ran, the others ignored their wobbly legs and ran up the track of sand, entering the jungle just as a wall of water pounded down the river, eating up the shoreline as it moved. A loud swishing filled the forest. The raging waters had moved outside the confines of the river. Trees cracked and leaves swished as the river flowed through the jungle.

They ran, unable to see the oncoming wall of water.

But Sara could feel it. Huge and fast, slowed only by the trunks of hundreds of trees, yet moving steadily forward.

“Faster!” she urged them, feeling the water gaining on them, pushing through the darkness. But there was something else moving with the trees . . . in the trees. The hybrids. Over their initial shock, they had rejoined the chase. Out for vengeance.

As Sara felt the cool tickle of the first splash of water at her feet, she felt the earth beneath her rise up. She stumbled up the incline, clawing her way up through the sopping-wet earth and loose leaves. Clear of the water, she fell flat on her stomach and took several deep breaths.

Then King’s hand took hers from above. “Not yet,” he said, yanking her back to her feet.

They ran again, and then, as suddenly as the river had carried them from the mountain, they cleared the jungle and entered a clearing. Lightning lit the scene—a field full of tall grass. A series of bright orange flags placed by Bishop only days ago, each marking the position of a land mine, led into the reeds. The field was full of them.

“Follow the markers,” King said, “but do not step anywhere near them.”

They launched into the grass, leaving the cover of jungle and exposing themselves to the whipping rain, wind, and the hybrids moving through the trees.

Loud whoops filled the air behind them. The hybrids were coming.

A roar, followed by a loud “Rook!” sounded from their right. Red and the old mothers had crossed the river before the flood as well. The chess board was set and the pieces were moving.

The tall, thick grass slapped against Sara’s face as she ran, but was a mere distraction to the pain in her back from when she had been crushed against the underwater cave ceiling. Her torn shirt revealed several gouges pouring warm blood down her back. Trying to ignore the