Crux

by James Byron Huggins

  Roy pointed. “Do you know how to use it?”

  “I know the procedures on paper,” the guard nodded. “I learned the basics in trade school. I was going to be a welder for CAT. But this thing is tricky. It’s not oxygen-based welding. And a lot can go wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, sir, a normal welder will hit maybe ten thousand degrees with the right mix. But this uses very explosive gases in an atomized plasma arc. And if you get the wrong mix going, it could blow us all to hell.”

  “What gases?” asked Roy.

  “Hydrogen, helium, oxygen, nitrogen; that’s what’s in these canisters.”

  “Can it melt that slab?”

  “Sir, this welder can melt dirt,” the guard answered. “It can easily melt niobium-titanium, which is what those slabs are made of.” He cautiously placed a hand on the machine. “This thing, if you set it to the right mix, it gets as hot as the center of the sun. It can melt a hole through anything.”

  Roy slung his rifle.

  “Let’s get it downstairs.”

  ***

  “What is that!” Janet shouted.

  Everyone was instantly at Janet’s monitoring station staring at a screen as one of the titanium shields virtually disintegrated at what seemed like the impact of a cannon blast. One second later, dust and debris began to settle and for one split-second a shape could be seen covered in white dust.

  Amanda hit “stop” on the keyboard and froze the image.

  “That’s it!” Amanda shouted, pointing. “That’s the one that chased me and Isaiah in the collider tunnel!”

  Margaret muttered, “So that’s a demon, huh?” A corner of her mouth quirked. “Well, I know this sounds childish, but just how strong is that thing? I mean, in animal terms?”

  “If I’m right,” Isaiah answered, “some are stronger than others. They all have different purposes so they all have different strengths. I’d say that one is at least as strong as a gorilla.”

  “And you say this one’s a soldier?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “You seriously think this is a demon?” Margaret pressed. “Like an Old Testament demon? That kind of demon?”

  Isaiah sighed before, “The word, ‘demon,’ is just a word we use to describe what we don’t understand. No matter how good someone’s imagination is, nobody can imagine what a god or a demon or a ghost or an angel is truly like or where it’s from. But that creature is definitely not from this world. And if this task is important, and I think it is, then I imagine his boss sent his best man, so he’s probably as strong as they get.”

  Janet asked hesitantly, “I hate to even ask what sounds like such a simpleton question, but are you implying that the Biblical Satan is this thing’s boss?”

  “I guess it’s as good as any other theory.”

  “So this a bonified card-carrying demon, huh?”

  “Well, he ain’t no Mormon.” Isaiah leaned on the desk, staring at the screen. “A belief in these bizarre entities is older than recorded history. Even today, it’s a concept that’s prevalent in every culture on the planet. Some kind of monster that comes for you at night. Steals your children. Terrorizes you. Kills your family. And every culture has a different name for them. They’re called demons, asuras, tzitzimimeh, shayatin, shedim, daevas, djinn, or alu. And every culture has a different name for their dimension. Some call it Hell. Others call it Sheol, Xibalba, Narakam, Diyu, Tartaros, Kuzimo, Vffern, Peklo, Hades, or Hellheim. It’s a thousand names for the same creature, a thousand titles for the same place, but the whole world believes that there’s something out there. So since the entire world holds the same concept, I am inclined to believe that some kind of entity meets our crude definition of a demon. And that one fits the bill for me.”

  Amanda asked, “But didn’t you tell me that knowing a demon’s name was the secret to controlling it? And that using a demon’s name was something that even Jesus did? So knowing its name would give us power over it.” She stared. “Wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s just Jewish folklore.”

  “But you said all the other folklore had proven true.”

  “Well, maybe that part is true, too. But since I don’t know its name, it’s a moot point.”

  “At least it’s honest about its intentions,” muttered Margaret. “It wants to kill every one of us.”

  “Take the worst part of yourself and imagine what you’d be like,” Isaiah nodded. “That’s what you’re looking at.”

  “You have a very poor opinion of the human race,” said Margaret. “Although after two divorces I tend to agree.”

  “That thing is just more honest about its evil,” said Isaiah. “Everybody lies. Everybody steals. Everybody even kills in their own way. It’s just a matter of how. The only difference between that thing and us is that it comes from another place and it makes no pretensions about being anything other than what we classify as pure evil.”

  Amanda said quietly, “That’s a really dismal attitude, Isaiah.”

  “In this world the strong feed on the weak in a thousand ways. If they can’t use you, they destroy you. So you’re either a prince, a slave, or an outlaw.” Isaiah pointed at the ghostly image encapsulated in white dust. “That one’s a gladiator. And he’s hungry.”

  Janet asked, “And the other one?”

  There was an uncertain gesture before Isaiah said, “I guess they always work two by two. Like a master and his disciple. That’s not something Jesus invented. It goes back a few thousand years before him. I wouldn’t be surprised that other galaxies came up with the same idea. It’s just logical to send out a group of people to accomplish something instead of a single person. I don’t think the earth has a monopoly on reason.”

  Everyone was silent before a voice groaned in the corridor.

  “A little help here!”

  Isaiah led them out the door to see Roy in front of ten guards straining to carry a huge, gray metallic machine attached to gigantic steel cylinders. Each man was glistening with sweat and each was visibly bent with faces contorted and moaning, in various languages, what sounded like heartfelt curses.

  Roy gasped, “This son of a bitch weighs a ton!” He hauled a few breaths. “You idiots gonna just stand there or what!”

  Tony and the rest of the guards rushed forward, each lending a hand in the lifting and carrying as Janet broke into a laugh. As the burden was removed from Roy, he collapsed against the wall, bent with hands on knees. His head was lifting slightly with every breath as Janet walked forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You still wanna be a cattle rancher? It’s hard work.”

  “Not now,” gasped Roy. He turned to the other guards who were, to a man, in a disinclined posture. “Is everybody still alive?”

  Heads nodded and Janet heard a few harsh utterances in what sounded like German or Swiss or a very irritated mix of both. Then Janet noticed Director-General Francois at the rear of the crowd with both hands behind his back. She didn’t know if his hands were cuffed or tied or if that was merely his attempt at a dignified repose, but his face clearly revealed livid indignation.

  Roy slapped a small semiautomatic in Janet’s hand and pointed at Francois, “Make this ugly bastard open the first two vaults so we can set up this gear at the third door!” He removed a Colt Commander Model .45 from his belt—Isaiah knew the gun from his background—and aimed at Francois. “If you do not do exactly what she tells you to do I will blow your head clean off and thank you for giving me an excuse. Do you understand?”

  Janet had already moved, not caring one whit about what Francois had to say. She grabbed his arm, noticed that his wrists were indeed handcuffed, and pulled him toward the Observation Room saying, “I can’t open just one vault. But you can. So you’re going to open those next two vaults south of here, and only those. And you’ll keep them open until I
tell you to close them.”

  Francois began to speak.

  “Save it!” Janet snapped and chambered the semiauto. “I never worked for you, anyway. I’m with the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  Francois’s face twisted. “All of you are liars! The CIA! Your president swore he wouldn’t let you interfere!”

  “That was the last president, you pervert.” Janet pushed the director into a seat. “America has a new sheriff and he only gives psychopaths like you one chance. You can destroy this place or he’ll destroy it for you. Now, open those vaults. And only those vaults.”

  “You’re all going to die,” muttered Francois and began typing a code Janet had never seen. If she was back at MIT, she would have assumed that it was a fragment of a virus aimed at overriding the continental power grid.

  One vault, then the second vault rose out of view.

  “Now fix it so I can override the lockdown and turn the power on for the collider. And don’t get cute. I’m catching every keystroke. And whether you believe it or not, I’m a genius.” Janet placed the barrel of a pistol to his head. “Now.”

  Francois typed in a long command and finally swiveled the chair. “There. You have what you want. Now what?”

  “Roy!” she called, but when she turned Roy was already close and took the steel cuffs. He pushed Francois’s chair violently to the wall and hooked one cuff to a pipe. Then he spun the director in the chair and leaned close. “I don’t care what that thing is. But you need to get something straight. That thing is here to kill us. All of us. So if you wanna get out of here alive, you’ll cooperate.”

  Stepping back, Roy turned to Janet, who stepped forward to support him. “Look,” she said lightly. “Take a seat. You need to eat.”

  Roy grimaced in pain, “What about you guys?”

  “We already ate.”

  “Where’d you find food?”

  Janet opened a cabinet and pulled out a bag. “In here. I think it’s what you Army guys eat in the field. What do you call them?”

  “MREs?”

  “Yeah. They have an emergency supply down here. Give me one minute. I’ll heat up a bag of cardboard lasagna and then you can set the Semtex.” She glanced at the screen. “They’ve reached the third vault. Is that where you’re gonna put it?”

  Roy nodded with what seemed perilous exhaustion, “Yeah.” He lifted the radio. “Tanto?” A moment. “Tanto? Do you copy?” He waited. “Tanto!”

  A strained reply: “Copy, major.”

  “Make sure that guard only burns a hole halfway through that vault. Make it just big enough for the satchel and not an inch more.” Roy paused for breath. “Do not let him burn through that door. Make sure he knows that. And watch him. Stop him just as soon as it’s big enough to hold the satchel. Roger that?”

  “Roger that, major.”

  Dropping his arm to his side, still holding the radio, Roy simply rested, saying nothing. He was breathing more deeply and steadily as Janet removed the bag from the microwave and laid it on the desk with a fork.

  “Come on, Roy. This ain’t over yet.”

  “This is hell and gone from over,” he shook his head. “Those things are coming like freight trains and I’m not sure if we have enough ordinance to even put one of them down.” He grimaced. “If that satchel doesn’t at least wound it, we’re gonna have a helluva close quarter battle session. But if we’re going down, so are they. I swear to you.”

  Janet put a fork in his hand. “Eat. There’s time to talk. And they’ve already started on the vault.” She peered at the screen. “Wow. A laser beam.”

  Roy mechanically began shoveling food. “It’s not a laser,” he mumbled. “It’s something else. But it’ll get the job done.”

  “Yeah, well, it looks like a laser beam.” Janet glanced at Francois. “My, how the mighty fall,” she said with no semblance of compassion. “And where are your friends now? They could have easily flown you out of here when you were upstairs. What? They didn’t take your call?” She laughed. “So, they’ve thrown you under the bus to save their ass and institution. I bet, when this is over, they’ll say that this whole fiasco was your fault. They’ll talk about how you exceeded the limits of your authority with unauthorized tests. They’ll publish papers about how you violated protocol. How does it feel to be alone?”

  “I am not alone, you cretin!”

  Janet laughed, “You’re going to die in a maximum-security prison with your dream unrealized, so you can drop the masquerade. That is, if you don’t get eaten alive first. Or shot dead by Roy. Or me.” She paused. “I’ve never actually killed a man but, in your case, I don’t think it would bother me a whole lot.”

  “Neither the United States, nor Switzerland, nor France has jurisdiction here,” Francois muttered. “CERN is a legally recognized institution bordering two nations and neither of them will cooperate with your nation or even the United Nations! Why do you think we choose this location in the first place?” He sneered, “Do you think we’re fools? We planned for this contingency!”

  “You didn’t build here for diplomatic or security reasons, director. You perverts chose to build here because this place stands on the temple of one of your gods—Apollonia to be exact. But none of that matters because I’m not arresting you by the authority of France or Switzerland or the United Nations. Hell, those guys are in league with you. So they’re not even going to know we have you. And neither will any other country that bankrolls this obscenity.” Janet smiled. “We’re keeping you to ourselves.”

  Francois fixed her with a sullen stare. “Your authority stops at your borders and you have vowed to execute your duty without prejudice and only within your jurisdiction. What makes you think you can arrest me?”

  “Oh, I’m well within my authority, Francois, because I’m a bonded federal officer sworn to protect my country’s secrets anywhere in the world and I’m arresting you for spying on the United States. And spies have no right to a trial by jury, no right to a judge and no right to legal counsel.”

  “You can’t prove I’m guilty of spying!”

  “When I get through with your computers, I’ll prove it. Do you even know what being a spy means?” Janet stared. “Well, I’ll tell you. It means you have no civilian, military, or international rights whatsoever. And you are not protected by the Accords of the Geneva Conventions, either, which only respects uniformed soldiers. It means, basically, Mr. Director, that the United States can legally hold you for the rest of your life without trial or even human contact. As far as the world is concerned, you’ll be dead. Leavenworth does have a pretty good library, though. You can always read about how miserably all of you failed to remake this world in the image of your whore.”

  Francois muttered, “Your own people will crucify you.” He trembled with each word. “We have people inside your government, too, you fool! How do you think we’ve managed to operate without interference for so long? This won’t end with my imprisonment! It will end with yours!”

  “I hate all this legalese,” Roy shook his head. “If he doesn’t cooperate, kill him. It don’t make no difference to me.”

  Francois’s lips barely moved. “You’re a barbarian.” He stared at Janet. “You have no idea who or what you’ve challenged. All your great leaders have been behind this effort since it began. Even your own people will kill you for this. And whether we succeed here or with another supercollider, we will open the portal. The hour has come. This is the last generation of mankind’s arrogance. And fire unleashed by your so-called God will not destroy this world. But it will be destroyed and remade in the image of a goddess that will make your pathetic Yahweh into a slave. And then you will see true power.”

  “It’s a shame you won’t be around to see it,” muttered Roy. “But you’re too crazy to appreciate a good light show, anyway.”

  Francois’s voice rose in pitch, “The age of
science has been surpassed by a greater age! A far greater age! We have opened a portal that is beyond human knowledge! A portal that makes our greatest scientific achievements look like the skull and bones voodoo of some ignorant savage!” He leaned forward. “All of you will die! And we will live according to how Shiva decides we will live! The hour of the dragon is upon you.”

  Janet laughed, “Battling mythologies. I see you’ve chosen your side. But you’re not only insane, Francois, you’re insanely ignorant. You don’t even know the mythologies that you hate and despise.” She raked back her hair. “For someone who so murderously hates what other people believe, you’re amazingly ignorant about what other people actually do believe, Francois. All you have is your pride and prejudice. And neither of them is worth a damn.”

  “Any movement on those screens?” asked Roy.

  Janet shook her head. “There’s nothing.” She blinked. “It could just be standing there. Or communicating. Or waiting. Or planning. The mind of an interdimensional Jeffrey Dahmer is beyond me.”

  Roy slid the bag aside. “All right. That was good. Thanks.”

  “May we share many more cardboard MREs.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Roy wiped his mouth. “So how many vaults stand between that thing and the satchel?”

  “It has to go through four more vaults before it reaches the welders,” said Janet. “Then we’ll close the last two doors separating us from the explosion and, if you time it right, you’ll blow it up while we’re safe in here.”

  Roy shook his head, “No. I’ll have to set off the satchel by remote transmission and a microwave signal won’t travel through those vaults. We’ll have to leave the doors open between us and that thing until I detonate the bomb and hope for the best.”