A mad dash for the golden object...

Rebecca Walsh, a live real tomb raider, sprints across the Lithic Cradle as Kansas is pursued by the creature down one of the openings that line the chamber.

A short, lithe redhead accustomed to exertion, she makes a good two hundred meters before realizing the sound filling her ears isn't that of her pounding heart. 

She drops a hand into one of the many pockets that line her vest and unleashes a stun grenade. It concusses and bat-like creatures lurch away, screeching. She makes a mental note: echolocation. She has made so much ground she can almost clearly see the golden object.

She bugged Wilding's office. The man was a fool. Amicable, pleasant company at a party, but still a fool. And Kansas... They had a long history together. She knew how important the Lithic Cradle was to him and even believed him, when he was slightly drunk and would say more about it than he normally would, though she'd deny it. They started into the business together, bright young things smiling upon a golden scroll of the future unrolling towards the horizon. How things changed! How fast! She thought this now, as she thought about it earlier, out in the desert where she hid behind a outcrop of sandstone.

She only has two stun grenades now. The last few worked, but there were too many of these things. She had to make a difficult decision. Abandon course. She was not usually this rash, but the desire to undercut Kansas was too much. As she drops a grenade she curses, for the source of the radiant golden light is within reach, and darts down a passage. It slopes downward on steps etched into the stone, and the steps are steadily growing larger. She slides out a flashlight.

They had gone their separate ways. She took the business, the boat, the truck, and the bank. One of the traits she loved about him was his resourcefulness. He clawed back into the industry, though at first he mostly did suck jobs dredging boats or finding lost jewelry on the beach. Then there was the big find. Civil War gold off the coast of Virginia. Who would have thunk?

She has been to a bridge where a mass of bats come out at dusk. The noise is like this, only worse. The steps are a meter wide and a meter tall now. She has to climb down from edge to edge, and this slows her down considerably. When it becomes two meters by two meters she throws the last grenade behind her. She stumbles, and the explosion pushes her face first into the darkness.

"Kansas, help meee—" She doesn't know why she called his name, but that is a question that disappears along with her consciousness when she hits something hard and plunges into a darkness more absolute than her surroundings.

The End

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