Page 186 of The Secret of Secrets

In slow motion, the center of the park seemed to be rising up, straining skyward in a vast, bulbous mound, as if a colossal subterranean beast were trying to break free. The snow was shedding down the sides of the hill as the ground continued climbing higher. Then, with a thunderous crack, a violent geyser of white gas rocketed through the surface of the earth, projecting hundreds of feet into the air.

Stupefied, Kerble staggered backward as the pillar of vapor climbed into the sky over the park. The deafening howl from below lasted only seconds before subsiding…followed by the impact of the mountain of earth collapsing back on itself.

He inched forward in disbelief and surveyed the devastation. A deep crater had opened where the center of Folimanka Park had once been. The gaping hole contained a twisted heap of rubble and rising dust.

A moment later, a deathly cold wafted up from the park.

And then, as if by magic, the air around him crystallized and filled with snowflakes as fine as confectioners’ sugar.

Chapter 117

Seconds before the blast, with sirens at full volume, Langdon and Katherine had shouted for help as the fortified garage door slid closed and sealed them inside. Desperate to be heard, Langdon yanked open the driver’s door of a nearby sedan and began honking the horn, but even that was barely audible over the noise.

It didn’t matter anymore. Langdon now felt a palpable shift in the air…a sudden pressure in his ears, accompanied by the first wave of a deep, guttural howl.

Whatever was happening at Threshold…was happening now. Langdon hoped this garage was far enough away from the core of the facility to avoid the blast.

“Get in front!” Katherine shouted as she pulled open the sedan’s back door and climbed in. Langdon jumped in behind the steering wheel, both of them slamming their doors in unison. “Get down and buckle your—”

The car windows exploded, and a torrent of frigid wind whipped through the car. With the force of a passing high-speed train, a hurricane tore through the garage, extinguishing all light and lifting the sedan like a toy. In an instant, they were upside down in the darkness, their car tumbling side over side across the garage floor.

“Katherine!” Langdon shouted into the deafening storm, holding on to the steering wheel and trying to brace himself as best he could as the car rolled sidelong. A barrel roll in a fighter jet was said to be the least jarring of maneuvers because the centripetal force held you in your seat. Langdon now realized it was true…at least for a couple of moments.

Then came the impact.

The sedan collided with something immovable and jolted to an abrupt halt.

Langdon launched from his seat and crash-landed on his chest…somewhere. Dazed and in total darkness, he felt startlingly cold. His brain took a quick inventory of his body, gauging the pain merely as cuts and bruises rather than torn limbs. The fury of the explosion had subsided as quickly as it came. The warning sirens had fallen silent too.

Langdon’s ears were ringing, and with no light, he felt entirely disoriented. A biting cold had descended around them, although Langdon sensed he was still inside the car.

“Katherine?” Langdon ventured.

The voice that replied was weak but very close. “Here.”

Langdon felt a wave of relief. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not…sure,” she managed. “You’re…crushing me.”

Langdon now realized he was lying directly on top of her. Carefully, he shifted his weight to one side, rolling off her. His shoulder landed painfully on pieces of broken safety glass, and he shifted again, finding a clean area on which to support himself. As he got his bearings, he realized the car in which they had taken refuge was upside down, and they were now lying against its roof.

Wriggling forward, Langdon felt his way through the darkness until his hands found the frame of a shattered window. The opening felt too small for him to pass through, and he continued groping his way around the interior of the car until he located a larger opening—the windshield or rear window. Grasping one side, he heaved himself forward, slithering through the opening onto the hard floor of the garage.

The floor was slippery and cold with a layer of what felt like frost. On hands and knees, Langdon turned around and reached back through the opening.

“Katherine, over here,” he said as calmly as he could, anxious to know whether she was injured. “Can you find my hand? Are you hurt?”

He could hear her movement in the darkness, and he kept speaking to her, guiding her in his direction. Finally, their hands touched. Katherine’s fingers were cold, her hands trembling in shock. Gently, he eased her toward him, helping her out of the car. She immediately got to her feet and wrapped her arms around him, holding tight.

As they embraced, Langdon felt a sense of déjà vu—holding her once again in cold darkness, a feeling of overwhelming relief to know she was safe.

“My bag…” she whispered. “I lost it…the binder…”

“Forget it,” he said, holding her tighter. We’re alive. That’s all that matters.

Langdon had no idea what had just happened or how extensive the damage was, but he suspected the U.S. government would be answering myriad questions in the coming days. With luck, he and Katherine might now be the least of the CIA’s concerns.

Finch is most likely gone, Langdon thought, feeling little sorrow for the loss. The pang of sadness and guilt that Langdon felt was for the other lost soul—the man in the golem’s mask of clay—the creature who had literally risen out of the earth to save their lives.