by Jay Noel
Simon, Lopez, and Orsini checked their weapons before following behind her.
“Let's go,” said Enapay. “We're going to find your boy.”
KAMAU WAS LIFTED BY HIS surviving comrades who brought him over to Marcel's bed. His wounds were already bleeding through his clothing, saturating the sheets underneath him. From Marcel's quick examination, Kamau was shot at least three times. The one to the stomach looked fatal.
Geller was in the room carrying an auto rifle. “Go find him! He could not have gone far.”
Marcel hung back. He listened to the men replay the violent events. Apparently, the intruder was wounded by Kamau too, and when reinforcements came, they had nearly cornered him. Marcel heard one of the men saying something about jumping through a window, but a weak tug on Marcel's sleeve made him jump.
“You are safe,” Kamau managed, his eyelids barely open and his teeth covered in blood. “I'm glad.”
Marcel took Kamau's large hand with both of his, grasping it. “The bad man is still out there. He jumped out the window.” He saw Kamau wince. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“I would be lying if I said that I'm not.” Kamau's eyes fixed on Marcel's. “I sure wish you could fix people.”
Geller rushed over and grabbed Marcel by the shoulders to do a quick once-over. “Good, he's not injured.” He bent low to Kamau. “You have done an excellent job in protecting the child. Kai would have most certainly taken Marcel if it wasn't for your actions.”
Kamau slid both feet off the bed, wincing again as he sat up. “I will stay here with the boy. This is still the safest place for him. We must make sure to gather as many men as we can to guard this chamber. That door is the only way in and out of here.”
“Except for the shattered windows,” Marcel said.
“Get someone to man them,” Kamau told his employer.
Geller nodded and barked orders to his soldiers.
Kamau exhaled a deep grunt when he stood on his feet. Marcel couldn't help but stare at the growing clouds of blood on Kamau's midsection and left thigh.
“Don't worry, child.” whispered Kamau. “Kai will not take you. I struck him at least twice before I passed out. He will either die slowly, as I will, or my men will finish him.”
“I know.” Marcel took a hold of his left hand, and the dark warrior held on with loose and blood-covered fingers.
Kamau leaned against one of the tall bed columns, his eyelids flickering. “Do me a favor. Go get my other gun.”
ZEN WAS STUCK HIDING BESIDE the entrance to the gallery as two more of Geller's soldiers flew by him and rushed down the stairs. Gun shots echoed from below now, and he heard the two mercenaries give one final cry before hitting the ground.
The victor was coming up the steps, heading straight for him. From the sound of it, however, Zen felt sure there had to be at least four people ascending the stairway. He brought his pistol up and waited. The cacophony of quick steps grew louder. He took advantage of the dark. He used his acute sense of sight to see the moving shadows floating upwards towards him.
The first thing he saw was a pistol with a pearl handle, followed by what looked to be auburn hair. He slid his own firearm back into its holster with a mix of relief and annoyance. He felt a slight pop in his inner ears and Ishen washed away.
“Neva?”
She hurried up to the third floor and entered the museum to give Zen a brief embrace before the others filed in.
“What are you doing here?” Zen asked, letting his irritation take over. “I did not give the signal.” He turned to Enapay. “Remember the last time you failed to follow my instructions?”
“Something's going on here,” Neva said. “We watched all the servants run out of here as if the place was on fire.”
Enapay gave Zen a playful punch to the shoulder. “I thought for sure you were behind it all.”
“Not me,” said Zen. “I found two bodies in the tunnel. Both were Geller's privateers. Someone had been there before me.”
“We saw the bodies too,” said DePaul with a frown. “Who could have done that?”
“Whoever he is, he's raised the alarm,” Enapay said, peeking out the entrance and looking straight up towards the top floor. “I think more of Geller's clowns are on the way too.”
Neva pointed upwards with her gun, and the thudding of heavy boots reverberated from outside the gallery. “I'm getting my son back.”
Before Zen could stop her, Neva left the safety of the museum and sprang onto the stairs. She fired her revolver twice. The bodies of two more of Geller's men rolled down and crashed at her feet. Zen sped up the stairs to catch up with her.
“Body count's up to four,” called Enapay from behind. “Never agitate an angry mother.”
“Wait, let me lead,” Zen pleaded. “You are full of blind fury and it puts our rescue operation in danger. Stay behind me.”
Neva ignored him. She lunged up the final steps and strode around the corner to shoot her pistol into the corridor. Neva shoved her empty sidearm into her left holster.
Zen stayed low and tried to get a clear view of the enemy around the corner. He felt Enapay right behind him, and the rest of the group protected the rear. Geller's men returned fire with their auto guns, sending Neva back as chunks of stone broke away from the wall and pelted Zen's face.
“There's at least twenty up here,” Neva yelled over the gunfire.
Zen wiped his eyes and spit out a few chalky fragments of the wall before saying, “Your Machine Boy must be up there.”
Enapay and Simon crawled up towards Neva and Zen on the landing, stopping just short of the disintegrating corner.
“Make sure to watch our rear,” Zen said to Orsini and Lopez below. Zen noticed DePaul was out of his element. He clutched his tele-relay box up against his chest and his whole body quivered while up against the stairway wall.
“This is a good time as any.” Enapay reached into his satchel slung around his side.
“For what?” Zen asked. His ears rang from the blasts of machine gunfire.
Enapay produced two strange black grenades. He pulled their pins, wound their keys, and hurled them around Neva into the hallway. Zen pulled her away from the corner to protect her from the inevitable explosions. He heard the bombs clank on the floor before rolling, and the soldiers let out a collective yelp as they scattered.
“Those don't go boom,” said Enapay.
Before Zen could ask, both grenades burst with a hollow and harmless thud. Zen assumed the grenades had somehow malfunctioned. He hated those damn things. A high-pitched hiss filled the area, and DePaul pulled on Zen's leg.
“We must pull back, the gas will knock us out too if we're too close.”
Neva and Enapay led them back down to the gallery on the third floor with Zen covering the rear of their retreat. He heard the dull thump of bodies hitting the floor above them as he followed them down. Several escaping footsteps sped towards the stairway, and Zen readied his pistol.
Three men bounded from the fourth floor, covering their coughing faces with unsteady hands. Zen unloaded three shots, cutting down the men immediately.
“Excellent shot,” said DePaul.
Enapay pointed a finger at the old man. “Told you.”
Zen remained on the stairs, prepared for more mercenaries fleeing the gas-filled hallway.
“When will it be safe to go up there?” Neva asked as she reloaded.
DePaul sat on the steps, taking deep breaths while he opened a brass pocket watch. “In two minutes. We'll have about seven minutes thereafter until most of the men awaken.”
“I'm not waiting two minutes,” Neva said as she shot past Zen and made her way back up to the fourth floor.
Zen followed, and the smell of metal and rotten eggs attacked his nose. For once, he was glad his senses were not heightened by Ishen. Neva hurried into the corridor with gun drawn. She stepped over the unconscious soldiers and approached a large wooden door.
“I'm a little ligh
t headed,” either Lopez or Orsini remarked from behind. A whitish fog lingered in the corridor, and Zen felt queasy. Neva stopped at the only door near the end of the corridor, which looked to have suffered from more than a dozen gunshots.
The others stood back. Neva flanked the left side of the door, while Zen and Enapay remained with the others on the right. Despite Zen's protesting with his eyes, Neva reached down and turned the lever. With her revolver raised, she pushed the door open.
Zen waited for gunshots to bang from inside the room, but a moment of heavy silence hovered in the air. There was a click, followed by blasts from an Iberian auto gun from inside the chamber. The door was further torn to splinters, only an outline of wood remaining intact. From the sound of it, there was a single gunman firing at them.
The shooting ceased. Zen heard the shooter struggling with his rifle and cursing in a foreign tongue. Zen raised his pistol, ready to throw himself into the chamber. However, Neva beat him to it. She stepped into the doorway and fired a single shot.
Zen peeked inside and watched a stocky, balding man with a single gunshot wound to the head wane before crashing onto the floor. He recognized the fallen man from the pencil drawing. Geller lay face down with his legs twitching. Neva got her kill after all.
To Geller's right was the boy, but a bleeding soldier with dark skin grabbed him with one hand and held an unsteady pistol aimed at Neva with the other.
“Mama!” Marcel cried, still in the clutches of the wounded soldier.
She stepped into the room, her revolver steady and aimed at the wounded man sitting on the bed. “You let him go, or I will kill you where you stand.”
Zen and Enapay came from behind and aimed their own weapons at Geller's man.
“Let me go,” said Marcel, looking up at the soldier. “She's my mother. She came for me!”
The man released him. Marcel sprinted to Neva. He leaped into her arms and began to sob on her shoulder. Zen kept his gun aimed at the soldier who dropped his weapon and collapsed onto the bed. The dark-skinned man's shirt was blood-soaked, and a horrible bullet wound blossomed on his upper left thigh.
“Don't hurt him!” Marcel cried while still in Neva's embrace. “Kamau is my friend.”
Neva slowly released her son, but she pointed her pistol at Kamau. “He works for Geller. He took you from me.”
Marcel pushed her gun aside. “He did work for him, but Kamau protected me from another man trying to take me.” The child looked his mother squarely in the eyes. “Kamau is on my side.”
Kamau lifted his head. “You need to get out of here now, all of you.”
Marcel dragged Neva to the dying man. He grasped Kamau's bloody hand and tried to yank him from the bed. “We're taking you with us.”
“No. You are with your mother again,” Kamau said. “Everything is as it should be. You should never have been taken from her in the first place, so this is my punishment.” His body tightened in pain. “Now go.”
The Machine Boy whispered something in the man's ear before letting go of his bloody hand. Marcel's cry grew louder as he grasped Neva's pant leg.
Kamau turned to the others. “There is a faster way out. It leads to the underground tunnel without having to go down all the stairs. You need to go back down to the floor below us, the artifacts museum. There is another exit there, at the end of the main gallery corridor. Underneath the brown tapestry you will find a doorway. It leads to the passageway to the tunnel system.” Kamau winced and clutched his stomach wound. “Kai is still on the loose, and he will not stop until he has the child.”
“Kai?” Zen took quick steps to the fallen soldier. “A man named Kai did this to you? He tried to take the Machine Boy?”
Kamau tried to respond with words, but could only manage a slight nod before his head slumped.
“Some of the men are already starting to wake up,” DePaul cried from outside the room.
Although he didn't recognize the name, Zen knew Kai was a Nihonese surname. Kai had to be responsible for the two dead bodies he had found in the tunnels. His countryman had also been in this room in pursuit of the boy. Kai must have broken through the window during his escape. Zen felt a light tap on his shoulder.
“We need to go,” said Enapay.
Zen hadn't noticed Neva and Marcel approach the dying man's bedside, both bent over him. The boy shuddered as he wept, and Zen saw Neva take Kamau's hand. She reached down with her free hand and caressed the man's sweaty forehead, and Zen knew the man's body no longer held his spirit.
It is in dying you are born into eternal life.
Zen finished the quick prayer and exited the chamber. Neva and a still-crying Marcel followed him, and they joined the rest of the group into the corridor. The gas in the air completely dissipated. Several of the mercenaries on the floor stirred, slowly breaking free from their unconsciousness. Simon, Lopez, and Orsini kept their rifles nervously trained on them.
“What should we do? Go the way we came? Or believe Geller's hired hand?” asked Enapay.
“Grab the privateers' weapons,” Zen said to Simon before turning to Enapay. “We do as Kamau said. We go down to the gallery.”
THE FLURRY OF GELLER'S MEN searching the castle for Kai reverberated throughout the stairwell. It was difficult to tell whether the sounds were coming from above or below them; therefore, Zen set a slow pace as he guided the group down two flights of steps back to the third floor. When he reached the museum, he caught sight of three mercenaries inside with their weapons already drawn. Zen lunged backwards as the bursts of machine gun fire tore large lumps of stone from the walls.
“We got more coming up from the second floor,” Enapay cried as pointed down towards the stairway.
Neva huddled with Marcel and DePaul in the center of their group, her anger surfacing on her flushed cheeks. “We're trapped, Zen.”
The now familiar hollow click of a failed Iberian rifle came from at least one of the gunmen inside the gallery. After silently thanking Iberia for making such ineffective weapons, Zen threw himself into the doorway and fanned his revolver. He caught one of them uselessly trying to unjam his gun, dropping him first. Zen's next bullet found its second target, slamming into the chest of the man in the middle. However, the mercenary on the far left was able to squeeze off three rounds before Zen got him between the eyes.
Before the final soldier's body fell to the floor, a bullet tore through the top of Zen's left shoulder, the impact throwing him off balance and leaving a sizzling laceration searing his shirt. Neva and Marcel both shrieked, and Simon climbed down to help Zen back to his feet. The bloody wound burned a new kind of pain throughout his body, but the metallic barrage of enemy gunfire from the level below shook him from his agony.
Ignoring the biting gash on his shoulder, Zen entered the gallery. Simon offered to examine the wound, but there wasn't time. Neva, still holding onto Marcel, followed. Enapay returned fire down the stairwell, holding off the advancing soldiers so the rest of them could take refuge inside the gallery. Orsini and Lopez flanked the open doorway to provide cover fire for Enapay as he opened his pack.
“We need breathing room,” Enapay said, dropping his weapon and fumbling in his leather satchel.
Zen's whole left side ached, and he felt the warm dripping of his blood trickle down his shoulder and tickle his side. “Another gas bomb?”
Enapay's mouth formed a sinister line. “No, this one goes boom.”
DePaul took Neva and the boy deeper into the gallery, away from the firefight. Zen formed a fist with his left hand, double-checking that he still had function on that side. He stepped away from the museum's threshold to make room for Simon, Orsini, and Lopez who kept the mercenaries at bay on the stairway with their constant rifle bombardment.
Enapay jumped out of the gallery as he pulled the pins from two grenades and heaved them down the stairwell. Uncoiling his long legs, he dove back into the room. Zen reached out to help the other two men, but another stray bullet zipped past his ear.
Gunfire erupted from below, and one of DePaul's employees was struck in the neck by a ricocheting bullet, but Zen didn't know if it was Orsini or Lopez. The man's limp body buckled before falling to the floor. The soldiers below screamed at each other when the sound of Enapay's grenades bounced off the stairwell walls.
From below, the mercenaries unleashed a final short burst of gunfire, striking yet another one of DePaul's men. Zen narrowed his eyes to try to discern who was shot when two earth-shattering explosions filled the entire area with flames and debris. Simon and Enapay were thrown backwards, and they nearly slammed into Zen just as a fireball engulfed the stairway.
It took a few nervous moments until a voice finally called from the heavy smoke consuming the entrance to the museum. Zen clutched his left shoulder and struggled to stand.
“Everyone alright?” Simon emerged first from the billows of smoke and staggered further into the gallery.
Enapay brushed the dust from his long, black hair. “I'm still in one piece.”
With most of the smoke rising upwards, Zen saw the huddled bodies of Orsini and Lopez just outside the chamber. The stairway below them had been completely annihilated. On the landing, only one of the men was moving, and Zen felt a pang of regret he couldn't distinguish which man was which. He was sure one of them was dead, and the other was at least wounded.
Simon rushed towards both men on the smoldering platform.
“It's Lopez. He's dead.” Simon next examined Orsini who writhed silently next to Lopez's body. “Can you make it?”
Orsini clutched his midsection, unable to reply. Enapay went to the fallen man to help him up, but Orsini went limp and stopped breathing. Blood pooled underneath him, and it was obvious he had received a fatal shot to the gut.
Enapay took the pause in action to reload his rifle. More of Geller's men were yelling below. “Someone needs to tell these hired guns their boss is dead.” He glanced towards the museum. “Where is everybody? They're safe, right?”