She walked by the remains of the bonfire to the right, in the middle of the beach. The logs were nearly consumed stacks of charcoal, only now cool enough to allow the snow to accumulate on them. The other tracks in the snow were already beginning to fill, soon to be obliterated entirely. Even the stone island far off where the lake met the sky was a white beacon barely visible through the sheeting snow.
Turning into the cave, she walked into the recess in the wall and followed its course through the pitch black, running her fingers along the walls to either side to keep from walking into anything. Wan light slowly infiltrated the smothering darkness, accompanied by the muted voices of those ahead. Finally, she stepped out into the larger cavern and stood atop the overlook.
The others were down beneath, the room dimly lit by the flickering remains of a fire constructed with all of the remaining wood. She tried not to think about their options for heat when the flames had turned what little was left to ash. Several of the others were up on the various levels of the pueblo, hauling out large sticks and other objects from whoever passed them up from beneath and tossing them down to the ground where others gathered them into piles. One of the girls was monitoring a pot of what smelled like Spaghetti-O’s on the fire while another circulated the room with a jug of water.
The cave wasn’t much, but it was warmer than she thought it would be, and easily twice the size. When they had said there was a pueblo inside, she hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but this surpassed her wildest expectations. It looked almost like a haphazardly constructed motel straight out of the American Southwest. She’d seen similar buildings in paintings and coffee table books, but never in person. Decomposition had set in through the years and it looked as though a stiff breeze could topple it, but they just might be able to live in it after all.
Evelyn looked around until she found the rocky staircase leading down to the cavern floor and began to descend. The mural on the wall caught her attention and she had to slow to marvel at it. The people weren’t square-sided or abstract like any of the other primitive wall etchings she had seen, but true-to-life, almost photographic drawings. The level of craftsmanship was staggering.
Walking between two clusters of stalagmites, their points reaching above her head, she approached the fire to warm her hands before trying to see where they needed her to help.
“We were starting to wonder if you might have left,” April said, stirring the wonderful-smelling concoction with an oversized plastic spoon.
“I was just checking on some things.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing really. I just planted a couple of—”
“Oh, yeah. You’re the plant lady,” April said and smiled.
“What…? I don’t understand.”
“Haven’t you seen yourself in the mural?”
Evelyn could only shake her head.
“Come on then,” April said, leaning the spoon against the side of the pot. She brushed her hands off on her thighs and took Evelyn by the hand.
Evelyn stared at the chalk design as they approached, amazed by the size of it. It was still mainly bathed in shadows set to flickering by the crackling flames, but details revealed themselves with each encroaching step. From above, it looked as though the background was smeared black with chalk, but as she drew closer, yellow eyes separated from the darkness, mottled with black. She’d never seen anything like them, but they still sent a shiver up her spine.
“See…” April said, stopping right in front of the wall. “You’re the plant lady.”
“Oh my God,” Evelyn gasped. It was like staring into a mirror. She held a basket brimming with kelp in both hands. The leaves were far too wide though, more closely resembling a species of lettuce. She grazed her fingers through the dust, but the chalk turned to powder and came away on her skin.
“Hey! Check this out!” Mare called. They turned in time to see his head pop out through the hole in the roof of the corner unit on the ground floor of the pueblo. He held what appeared to be a large black rock over his head.
“What is it?” Adam asked, setting down an armful of those long sharpened spears. He took the stone from Mare and helped him out of the room beneath. Adam pulled away his left hand and studied his palm. It was positively coated with a black chalky residue.
“Well…what do you think?” Mare asked, waiting for a response, but Adam only shrugged. “Don’t you know what that is?”
“Apparently not. Enlighten me.”
“It’s coal. You know…extremely flammable? Produces heat? Burns hot for a long time?”
“How much is down there?” Adam asked, rolling the chunk over and over in his hands.
“The whole room is nearly filled with it.”
“Seriously?”
Mare smirked. “There ought to be more than enough to last us through the entire winter.”
Adam bit his lip, his brow lowering contemplatively.
“I would have thought this would have made you a lot happier,” Mare said.
“I just don’t understand.”
“You burn it and—”
“No, not that,” Adam said, passing the coal back to Mare. He turned and looked out upon the entire cave. “Don’t you think this is all too convenient?”
“What do you mean?”
“The building. The mural. The coal. Everything. How could anyone hundreds of years ago have known that we would be here now, and why would they go to so much trouble to make sure that all of this was so perfectly prepared?”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, man.”
“That’s just it. What exactly are we preparing for here?”
IV
Salt Lake City
IT WAS PERFECT. WERE HE TO HAVE CLOSED HIS EYES AND TRIED TO PICTURE the building that best suited each and every one of their needs, this would have been it. Richard couldn’t help but reflect upon his own brilliance. If he had believed in fate, he knew it would have been smiling down on him at that very moment.
“Magnificent,” he said, standing at the rear of the front parking lot with his back to the street and staring up at his fortress.
The Renaissance Inn had been designed to look like a medieval castle, from the large gray bricks all the way up three stories to where four red parapets crowned each corner. The only thing that could have possibly made it even more amazing would have been a thick wooden drawbridge, but just a double set of glass doors in the front and one to either side would be easy enough to defend. If indeed they would have to. That still remained to be seen.
He turned to where the light blue bus was idling near the front door and watched the boy and his mother climb down the steps and into the deep snow. Exhaust swirled all around them from the old vehicle as they walked toward the front doors where the others were already beginning to pack into the lobby. He needed to keep the boy close to him. He was like a naïve little Rasputin; the key to the power Richard needed to rule. So long as he could keep that child right by his side and usurp his dreams, he would be able to lead them as the prophet they were slowly beginning to believe him to be. So long as the others thought he was more than human, more powerful than all of the rest with his direct connection to divinity in his dreams, then they would blindly follow him to the gates of hell itself.
There was a loud clang behind him and he spun to face the road again. The last of the convoy of trucks had finally pulled through the gate where Garrett had been waiting to close it behind them. The extent of the property was enclosed by a black, wrought-iron fence that had to be close to eight feet tall, each of the vertical posts capped with a sharp spade. It would be simple enough to coil some barbed wire on the top and maybe even run some battery-powered electrical fencing through the lower portion. And with the gaps between the bars, they would have a nearly unobstructed shot straight through at whatever may attempt to storm the gates before they even attempted to scale it.
Across the street was an enormous parking lot that led back to a warehouse
that could have housed a football field, the loading bays lined with a fleet of semi-trailers adorned with the Safeway logo. There were dozens of other properties just like it leading away toward the airport, and while he couldn’t clearly see any details through the blizzard, odds were that at least one of them had to serve as a distributor for some chain of stores that carried hardware. And maybe one of them might even be a hub for a sporting goods store where they would be able to load up on guns and ammunition. That was the most important thing after all, wasn’t it? None of them would feel safe until they were armed, and who would hold the key to the armory?
Richard beamed. Power was a wonderful thing, indeed.
He strode out of the storm and through the front doors with an unwavering feeling of confidence. Maybe his claim to divinity was more than just rhetoric. Everything had fallen precisely into place, not as he had foreseen, but as he had imagined. Maybe in this brave new world of dreams that predicted reality and unsubstantiated faith, he was more than just their leader. Soon enough…soon enough they would worship him as a god.
Richard didn’t even feel the trailing edge of the freezing wind or the snow that had accumulated on his shoulders and head. He was impervious even to the chill as it melted through his loafers. When he walked through the entryway, they were all waiting for him in a silence marred only by sniffling and coughing. All eyes were upon him as he passed through the foyer and past the racks of pamphlets advertising local attractions.
His people filled the chairs and couches in the large lobby, crowding the space between. To the right was a darkened restaurant beside the front desk, aptly enough named Ye Olde English Tavern. They looked as he thought a similarly grungy and unbathed group of refugees might have passing through Ellis Island in the days of his forefathers. The cold and exhausted huddled masses not risking their lives for a mere shot at freedom, but pathetic human refuse yearning to be led to their destinies.
He grabbed the back of the closest chair, the man already sitting in it immediately hopping out, and dragged it to the center of the room beside a chalkboard advertising prime rib for two for twenty dollars. Climbing up atop it, he surveyed their faces before addressing them. Their features softened noticeably when he smiled.
“How does it feel to be inside again?” he asked.
There was a grumble of contentment.
Dim light slanted through the dramatically arched windows at the front of the hotel, creating corridors of mote-riddled grayness to give just the impression of illumination, showcasing his misty breath when he spoke.
“First off, I want to congratulate all of you for your unfaltering strength and desire to better our circumstances. Surviving in itself is no small feat, but taking that first step forward into the unknown is downright terrifying. You all should be incredibly proud of yourselves. You are the bravest lot of men and women I have ever had the privilege of being associated with.” He paused to allow their applause. “But now comes the hardest part of all. Are you guys ready to get to work?”
There was much nodding, a good portion of it obviously grudgingly, but he could see in their eyes their acquiescence, that they knew there was no alternative.
“With the storm outside adding to the lack of sunlight, we’ll be lucky if we have four or five more hours of daylight out there, so we need to get started. Time is working against us. We need to have our generators running and in place to allow us the luxury of artificial light to extend our useful hours of productivity.” He paused. They looked like so many beaten dogs. Perhaps the time was right to throw them a bone. He continued with a warm smile. “But first, why don’t you all head into this restaurant and see if you can rustle up some breakfast?”
That set them at ease, encouraging smiles and conversation as they moved en masse into the tavern.
“Garrett,” Richard said, taking the larger man by the arm before he could walk past. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Whatever you need, boss.”
“As my right hand,” Richard started, gauging the man’s reaction carefully, “I’m going to need you to do something of the utmost importance. Confidentially. Do you think you can do that?”
“Absolutely,” Garrett said, his eyes alight with his newly designated importance.
“Here’s what I need you to do,” Richard said, pulling Garrett closer so he could whisper directly into his ear.
Garrett listened intently, focusing on each and every word so as not to lose any of them beneath the din. He nodded several times, peering at the crowd from the corner of his eye until he saw what he was looking for. When Richard finished, he looked the muscular man in the eyes and slapped him on the shoulder, dismissing him with a nod.
As Garrett crossed the lobby, he could feel his chest swelling with pride. He’d been a lot of things in his life and had even enjoyed a fleeting moment of celebrity playing ball in college, but until now, he’d never been anything close to truly important. Integral. Richard was counting on him and there was no way he was going to let him down.
“Excuse me,” he said to the man in the Army fatigues who remained seated, apparently waiting for someone else to fix his food for him or for the crowd to thin. There was an air of depression about the man, not merely emotional sadness, but a physical malady that appeared to be draining him slowly. “My name is Garrett.” He offered his hand.
“Peckham,” the man said, reciprocating the gesture, his grip embarrassingly weak. His eyes reflected a level of exhaustion that unnerved Garrett as they were sunken into pits of darkness. The man was overly subdued, almost like he was drugged, and even though Garrett was no doctor, he could easily recognize the symptoms of shock.
“Mr. Robinson would appreciate it greatly if you could spare a few minutes to meet with him on the third floor.”
“I need to eat.”
“We’ll make sure you eat your fill afterwards.”
Peckham scrutinized Garrett. He didn’t like the cryptic nature of the entire conversation. If there was one thing he had learned through his years in Uncle Sam’s service, it was how to sniff out subversion. The whole nature of the proposed meeting was covert.
He watched the other men and women through the restaurant’s door as they gathered around bowls of croutons and pretzels. The last thing he wanted right now was to find himself in the middle of anyone else’s business, but he had to admit that for the first time in days something had piqued his curiosity enough to momentarily clear the fugue that had settled upon him.
“Third floor?” Peckham asked.
Garrett nodded.
“What the hell,” Peckham said, clapping his palms on his knees and rising to his feet.
“I’ll meet you up there,” Garrett said as he turned away, trusting Peckham to find the stairs and ascend without a chaperone. Walking into the restaurant, he scoured the crowd until he saw his targets. He pushed through the mob of people happily crunching away on anything they could get into their mouths until he reached the mother and her young son. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Mr. Robinson would like to see you.”
Susan whirled to face him, at first appearing frightened, but she relaxed fairly quickly. She had known at some point this might become a possibility, and she would do absolutely anything to protect Jake.
“Can you stay here with my son?” she asked.
Garrett looked confused. “Mr. Robinson would like to see both of you, if you don’t mind.”
“Why?” Susan asked.
“He will explain when we arrive.”
Susan eyed him cautiously. What wasn’t he telling her?
“Come on, Jake,” she said, taking the boy by the hand.
He turned around at her urging, his face covered with crumbs, and shut his eyes as fast as he could, stifling a scream.
The man in front of him was drenched with blood from wide gashes all over his face and chest, his clothes torn to wet black ribbons, and his mother…she had a bloody crater on the back of her head from which blood poured unimpe
ded down her back.
When he opened his eyes again, everything had reverted to normal. Both the man and his mother had already started to head for the door, oblivious to his reaction.
“Please, mommy,” he whimpered. “I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go.”
But she either didn’t hear or ignored his pleas, pulling him along behind as they crossed the lobby toward the staircase door.
V
Mormon Tears
JILL SET THE LAST OF HER GATHERED POLES ONTO THE GIANT PYRAMID IN the middle of the cavern floor. There were still a ton more down in that room, but the others were now completely preoccupied with shoving blocks of coal into the fire, so she could finally sit down and relax for a few minutes. She’d eaten a plate of those canned noodles, but they sat like a stone in her gut. Maybe after she gave her system a chance to digest them before putting her body back to work she might start feeling—
Darkness descended upon her like a shroud. It was smothering. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Pulse thumping in her temples, her eyes gradually adjusted to the blackness. She could see her hands in her lap. No…the fingers were longer and dirty, the bare legs too heavily muscled. It wasn’t a thick coating of dirt on the slender fingers, but chalk, covering the hands all the way up to the forearms. The backs of the arms were forked with veins despite how thin they were.
She caught a glimpse of something drawn on the ground in front of her crossed legs and chunks of chalk scattered about. There wasn’t time to clearly see the design before she raised her head and looked straight up through a square hole. Shadowed faces leered over her for a moment before they withdrew and slid something that made a grinding sound across the opening, slowly, inching incrementally over her until it sealed off the wan light, stranding her in the absolute blackness where she couldn’t see a thing.
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