Night 57: South Hall
[From here and here.]Well this was not as expected. The last hall he'd trekked through down here at least had those swell picture stories about death to entertain them on their way. Here, Peter had to settle for whatever amusement could be drawn from a pitch black room and all the adults holding the flashlights. So much for the Peter Parker Finger
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The pitch-black of the hallway beyond them wasn't about to ease that feeling. For a moment he regretted not bringing a flashlight, but once there were more of them trapped between the walls the others' lights were enough. Enough to illuminate the creatures, at least.
Wings, claws, fangs... a tangled celebration of all things creepy, like some sort of transmetal nightmare, and in the centre of it all the leering snake's head bearing some message he couldn't make out against the black.
"That's encouraging," Depth Charge commented briefly before stepping aside. With his view mostly obscured, it would be best let S.T. or whoever else finish reading it off- whatever it said, it wasn't going to be encouraging.
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Someone switched on another light (Taylor, it turned out) and his vision began to adjust to the dim glow. Another short hall, with another large set of doors in front of them, this time decorated with--
Indy staggered back with a gasp, face fixed in an expression of open-mouthed horror.
Several seconds of panic and at least one collision with whoever was behind him later, he realized what he was really looking at. In the near-pitch darkness and the uneven light of the flashlight, the giant snake head looked alive. But it was just a carving. Indy started breathing again, albeit in slightly uneven gulps.
"Clever," he said sheepishly. "That could almost fool someone." Jesus, he hated Landel.
Despite having realized the carving was just that, he still wasn't all that eager to get close to it, and Taylor was doing just fine with reading the inscription (not to mention he was in the way anyway). Indy moved aside and waited. With a little squinting he could make out some of the other carvings on the doors: winged demons, the opposite numbers of the angelic figures on the white marble doors they'd just passed through. Not exactly welcoming. Those kids had seen the movies; why the hell hadn't someone thought to mention the damn snake wasn't real?
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They hadn't counted on that. And despite Peter's suggestion, they couldn't be sure that more than one pair would be able to get through. Indy's gaze darted around the other five patients as he calculated. Dent, he quickly decided. It should be an adult who went, and it should be the adult who was best armed and most trustworthy. That Indy wanted to go went without saying. He had to see what was beyond those doors. And he'd certainly vouch for himself as the best-equipped for trouble--aside from the bum left hand, that is.
Then Peter broke forward and ended any time for deliberations, freeing his hand from the costume and pressing his index finger on one of the snake's fangs before Indy could even open his mouth to stop him.
That clinched it. Without giving Pilgrim or anyone else the chance to play hero, Indy pushed his way in front of them and brought himself face-to-face with the giant snake carving, which looked even more realistic at close range with its long fangs curving down like scimitars. He thrust his right index finger up to the one not already stained with blood; the razor-sharp tip pierced the skin with almost no pressure.
That was the last thing he was aware of before the dim flashlight beams faded out, and everything went dark.
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