XVIII
WorshipHacking at the last of the vines curtained over the darkened entry, Derick yanked them free and tossed them aside. Stepping back, he snagged a rag from his belt to wipe down the blade before sheathing it. Dank, cool air breezed out of the passageway, brushing them all with the scents of greenery and decay. Frowning, he yanked more vines from the sides of the entry, revealing identical holes on each side. About six inches by six inches, they were mostly worn smooth, with gouges cutting up the edges.
“Looks like a locking mechanism of some kind,” he said, bringing his rifle up. Thumbing on the torch snapped to the top, he shined it down the passageway. “French, you're with me. Shiny, Ozzy, you two stay out here.”
“NAF! NAF NAF!!”
“You stay here too, Private,” Derick glanced
