Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One)

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Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) Page 17

by Nathan Hystad


  “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” Tripp started up the cliffside, and I saw what Hasin meant. The fissure ran along the limestone wall, but it had natural footholds in the edges, meaning we were able to move up the face in relative safety.

  “There’s no other way?” I asked.

  Hasin shook his head and strapped a harness around his shoulders. He gave us each one and attached a link between himself and Tripp, then to Veronica, with me at the tail end.

  “Won’t this just pull us all to our deaths?” Veronica asked with a laugh.

  “It’s safer this way,” he said. “Something happens, stop and plant your feet.”

  With that said, we began the ascent after I checked the GPS to see we were halfway to our target.

  ____________

  I accepted Tripp’s extended hand as we exited the crack in the limestone wall, and I lay on my back a moment, letting my heartrate slow with a few deep breaths.

  “That was incredible,” Veronica said. She was bent over, resting her hands on her thighs, and she smiled at me.

  I climbed to my feet and looked back in the direction we’d just emerged from. The stone forest covered a vast area, and I peered past the rocks to the forest, where Marcus would be waiting with Hunter and Haja.

  “Any chance we’ll be able to return before nightfall?” I asked Hasin, and he nodded, surprising me.

  “Maybe. We have made good time.” The Malagasy man stretched his back and cracked his neck. “The trail is easier before it grows more difficult.”

  “You’ve been here before?” I asked.

  “Once.”

  I didn’t press him. We took a brief break, and I drank deeply from my canteen before stowing it. My protein bar went down quickly, and soon we were on the trail, only a mile from the final destination.

  Tripp lingered behind the guide, and Veronica switched positions, chatting amiably with Hasin.

  “She’s quite the piece of work, isn’t she?”

  Tripp’s comment could have been rhetorical, but I answered anyway. “She sure is. How can someone be so chipper after a climb like that?” My own legs were tired, but the thought of obtaining a Token fueled my motivation.

  Tripp stared forward, his steps like robotic marches. “I don’t trust her.”

  “Why?”

  “She just happened to be at the hotel, and she conveniently had an airplane secured on the coast? It doesn’t add up,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Marcus and I had discussed this exact thing, but it wasn’t like we’d had time. I had a job to go home to, and Hunter was adamant we locate the Tokens soon. I thought about the Believers tracking me and remembered the dangers that awaited us if we failed.

  “Hunter wouldn’t have listened. He’s so hell-bent on finding this Bridge, whatever that is. When this is done, and you all realize it’s been a huge waste of time and resources, let me buy you a beer and tell you where it went wrong,” he told me.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m forty-nine, Rex.”

  Tripp looked older and younger at the same time. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything. I’ve never slowed down, and Hunter has made it clear that if this mission is a success, I won’t have to work another day in my life,” Tripp told me.

  “And what does the future hold for Tripp Davis?” I asked, genuinely curious. A thick white cloud slowly moved above us, giving us reprieve from the midday sunlight.

  “I’m gonna buy a place along the Baltic sea. Fish and grow a garden. Maybe meet a nice woman.”

  “Sounds pretty great,” I admitted.

  “What about you?”

  “I have a job.”

  “No plans for retirement? I’ve spent my entire existence taking orders from other people, and I finally want some freedom of choice. And maybe the odd nap on a hammock overlooking the ocean.” He laughed, the sound a little off-putting from the grizzled veteran.

  I wanted to know where my dad had gone off to, and after that, the future was wide open. “I wouldn’t mind tenure at a reputable school. Maybe lecture on a circuit some day. But I’m also not finished with the thrill of the hunt.”

  “You really love this stuff, don’t you? Digging up lost artifacts.”

  “Only when someone doesn’t chase you down and steal your goods,” I said, remembering who I was dealing with.

  “I thought that was water under the bridge. For the record, I didn’t do anything illegal,” he told me.

  “You paid off my guides and stole months of my life.” I tried to maintain my composure, but dragging out our history was angering me.

  “As I said, it wasn’t illegal there.” Tripp chuckled. “Besides, it turned out that stuff was useless. My backer wasn’t very pleased with me.”

  “We found tools. That statue. Coins, even,” I said, dumbfounded.

  “Then the guides you hired scammed you. They must have swapped the goods without you noticing. I looked like a fool, and you went home empty-handed. If it means anything, I am sorry. I’ve learned a lot in the last eight years.” Tripp stuck out his hand, and I peered at the callused palm.

  “Fine.” I shook it, gripping it tightly. “But you definitely owe me a beer when this is finished.”

  “Done.”

  “If you two boys are done, I think you’d better see this,” Veronica said from ahead, and we arrived, staring into a dip in the rocky outcropping.

  A single dwarfed tree sat amidst the sharp, pointed limestone, a beacon to our destination. A gecko ran in front of my feet, and I watched as it headed for the open vegetation in the area. With a look at the GPS to confirm what I already knew, I smirked. “We’re here.”

  Hasin slowed, apparently not wanting to get any closer, and I went first, deliberately traversing the uneven slope. It was slick, and I saw water funneling from higher up the ridge. It rolled across the rocks in a steady stream toward the tree.

  I stared at the sky, silently asking my father or Clayton why they’d chosen this location to have Luis hide the Token. It was remote and extremely difficult to locate, and I doubted anyone would ever stumble across this exact tree, considering it was far from the public park. Only poachers, and a few of them at that, would have ever trod anywhere close.

  The tree was maybe eight feet tall, with thin branches, the leaves light green. The gecko sat atop a branch, trying to stay frozen as I crouched near the trunk, searching for a sign of the Token. I was surprised to see the tree growing from the stone, and noticed the limestone crumbling around it. I dug a finger near the trunk and felt damp dirt. Life always found a way, especially when there was a water source.

  Perhaps Luis had hidden this here and planted the tree. If it had been thirty-something years, that would account for the small size. Stunted growth in the infertile stone forest.

  Then Tripp was beside me, his shadow blocking the sun from my face as I peered up at him. “Anything?” he asked, but there was nowhere to hide an object.

  “It’s not here,” I muttered, finding a seated position.

  “Damn it,” Veronica said, sitting on the opposite side of the tree. “Hunter’s going to be upset. He’ll pay still, right? Will he want to continue on to the next site?”

  Her questions washed over me, but I had no answers as I observed the water flowing from the limestone peaks. It moved for the trunk and dripped into an opening. The gecko started to shift, and I lifted a hand slowly, indicating for Tripp to stop fidgeting. The small creature’s head tilted toward the sun, then it darted down the trunk, disappearing into the ground.

  “There’s an opening!” I exclaimed, shifting on my knees in front of the tree. The space was small, and my hand didn’t fit inside.

  “Want me to bust it out?” Tripp had his rifle poised, holding it as if to bash the ground with the butt end, but Veronica set a palm on it.

  “You boys, always trying to beat the answer out of things. Allow me.” Her sleeves were already roll
ed up, and she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth as she stretched her fist into the opening.

  “Be careful. There could be rats or snakes.” I held my breath as her arm entered a foot or so into the ground, and her expression suggested it was empty. Then a smile broke, showcasing perfect teeth.

  She pulled her arm up and held a sack. It was beige burlap, like the one we’d found the Case inside. Surprisingly, she handed it to me without looking, a satisfied harumph escaping her lips.

  I was speechless and clutched the bag in my palm. It was heavier than I’d expected.

  “Go on with it. What’s inside?” Tripp asked, annoyed.

  The bag was cinched at the top, and I used a knife in my pocket to slice the sack, sliding the Token out. It was hexagonal, as we’d known, the symbol embedded in its center, just as my father had mentioned in his journal. I stared at the dark metallic shape, remembering the entry of this particular find in the book Beverly had given me a few weeks ago.

  September 17th, 1977

  After four years, we’ve discovered the second piece. The trail grew cold for many months, but we managed to trace it to El Mirador. Its icon is strange: three circles within one another. Hardy still doesn’t know how the objects were distributed by the celestial beings, only that they were placed on six different land masses. This one comes with more relief than the first, from Mozambique, but also more trepidation. One item implied something… a mystery. But two… it makes it real. Hardy’s theory of the Bridge is genuine; that much is evident.

  Clayton grows weary of the mission and talks of starting a family with his wife. I will continue with or without him, and reinforce that with the funding of Hunter Madison, his children will never want for anything. I think I can convince him to side with me and to continue the search for the third article. There are times I wish S hadn’t left our team, but it was necessary.

  We’ll be departing the jungles of Guatemala posthaste, but one thing is clear. The Bridge awaits.

  The three circles were as he’d described them. Three rings, each smaller than the previous. “The Bridge awaits,” I mumbled.

  “What? What’s the Bridge?” Tripp asked.

  “Never mind.” I clutched the Token and slipped it into my breast pocket, where I could feel the weight of it against my chest. “Let’s move. Hunter won’t want to delay any longer.”

  We had another piece of the puzzle, but I couldn’t help but mirror my father’s apprehension at the discovery.

  5

  I walked outside, feeling the crisp air brush against my face. Coming from Australia, then to Madagascar, then to Japan in December was a reminder that it was winter in a lot of the world. Japan always felt slightly more like home than most countries. The people were quiet and friendly, the streets clean, and a sense of pride emanated in everything they accomplished.

  “Alone time?” Veronica asked from the hotel entrance. I stared into the distance, toward the enormous snow-capped peaks of Mount Fuji in the setting sun.

  “Something like that.”

  She came outside, wrapping her arms around herself. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, but most of it melted as it hit the pavement. “Hunter seems pleased.”

  “He has what he’s been after for a long time.”

  “The Token?” she asked.

  “Validation.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “I respect him. He believes in a cause greater than himself, and he’s trying to ensure its detection.”

  “Mount Fuji. Seems like an odd location to hide something, doesn’t it?”

  I watched her looking at the famous peaks, and smiled. “They didn’t hide it there, but it’s kind of brilliant if you think about it. It’s actually thirty kilometers from here, and twenty from Fuji.” I pointed left of the majestic mountain.

  “So if anyone discovered the Token might be near Fuji, they’d start there instead? Why this elaborate ruse? Why not dump them at the bottom of the ocean?” A snowflake landed on her nose. She looked at it cross-eyed and blew it away with a puff of breath.

  “I don’t have the answers. I can only assume they wanted someone to find them.” Why else leave a trail at all? I had to think it was something Clayton had done. His gravestone had led the way to Venezuela and the Case, as well as the locker, etched with the remaining coordinates. “I’m just following the breadcrumbs.”

  “You’re doing a good job. Care for a drink?” Veronica pointed to the doors, and I joined her inside. The lobby was warm. The hotel was probably the finest in Fujinoyama, with clean white tile and ambient lighting.

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  “Hunter and Tripp are securing a permit. I haven’t seen Marcus,” she told me.

  Neither had I, and that was concerning. He was probably just sleeping off his jetlag after the last week of hectic travel. “Shall we?”

  The hostess spoke English and ushered us into the bar. It was a weekday, and the bar was quiet in the late afternoon. A couple of businessmen in suits sat talking quietly to one another over beers, and they stopped as we walked by.

  We took seats at the marble bar near the far end, where no one could sit behind us. We hadn’t seen any signs of the Believers for a while, but I had a feeling they were out there, still searching for me.

  I was underdressed even for this bar, wearing a plain long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, but Veronica wore a hoodie with dark leggings, so we made an equal pair. The bartender approached, a serious expression on his face as he awaited our drink orders. We opted for local beers, and he poured them, setting the glasses on coasters before leaving to serve another guest.

  “Cheers,” Veronica said, clinking her glass to mine. “To the next one.”

  “To the next one.”

  “What’s after this?”

  “Well, we…”

  “No, I mean after this is all done. Once Hunter has his prizes, and you’re back in Boston.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ll be preparing for the new semester.”

  “Is it tough?”

  “Teaching?”

  “No,” Veronica said. “Having to return to a tweed jacket and the students after being out here with the world at your fingertips will be the hard part.”

  “I guess it is,” I told her. “But I need a balance. I like having a home base, and I enjoy teaching… even if some of the kids are annoying.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Did you go to college?” I asked. I knew next to nothing about the woman beside me, except that she was a daring pilot and didn’t seem afraid of anything.

  “Sure did. Art history degree from Columbia.” She averted her gaze, sipping her beer as she looked at the TV screen behind the bar. It was a local news program.

  “Art history. Not what I would have expected.”

  “I know… but that was kind of the point. My parents always wanted me to do something big with my life, and to them that meant becoming a lawyer, or maybe a journalist for one of the big guys. After high school, instead of going to post-secondary straightaway, I left on a whim, not telling them where I was going. I ended up in Europe and spent the next nine months moving from one city to the next, visiting their museums, seeing exhibits, drinking wine, and eating like a queen.” She smirked, the action so natural on her.

  “Sounds like you brought Daddy’s credit card,” I said, and she stiffened.

  “My stepfather is a good man. He paid for me to do it, under the stipulation I’d come home to Manhattan and enroll at Columbia like he had. Seemed like a good deal. After witnessing so many wonderful things in Europe, art history made sense to me. He took it as an insult initially, but we’re good. It was a long time ago.”

  “Did you ever use it?” I asked.

  “The degree? Nah. But I can tell you the difference between Monet’s brushstrokes in the Garden at Sainte-Andresse and in Water Lilies. I ended up with a guy that owned a mechanic shop on Long Island, and worked
on city truck engines for a year before deciding that joining the Air Force was a good way to see the world.”

  She was full of surprises. “I assume that’s where you learned to fly?”

  “Yep. Spent a few years pulling soldiers from danger, but left and decided to work for a tour company in Hawaii. Flew the same route off Maui for three years, and as beautiful as it is, you can only make that trip so many times without it losing the luster.”

  “That’s when you started this rich-kid company?”

  “Social media made it possible, and once I had some socialite in Greece sharing the experience with the rest of her friends, it took off.”

  I glanced at the TV and saw three blurry shapes in a dark backdrop. “Is that…”

  “You guys have to see this!” Marcus’ voice carried loudly across the bar, and everyone turned to watch as my friend dashed past the hostess and landed at the bar beside Veronica. His laptop was open, and he pressed play on a paused video.

  “We can make out three objects presently, and scientists are predicting there might be more. It seems as though the mysterious shapes are attached to one another and are separating as they travel across our solar system. Some are claiming it’s the end of days, others are hailing this as a miracle, but the scientific community is still urging everyone to be calm until more details can be determined,” the serious newscaster said. A banner rolled along the bottom of the screen: Doomsday or Deliverance?

  “Three of them,” I whispered. “Where are they?”

  Marcus tapped the mouse, and another screen opened with their predicted trajectory. They were slender and dark, like slivers of rock barreling past Pluto and onward. There were dates along the line heading for Earth, and it showed them nearing Uranus’ orbit. “If they continue at this pace, we can expect arrival within three months.”

  “Three months. That’s not a lot of time.” I took a long pull from my glass and waved the bartender over, getting another round, and one for Marcus.

  “And that’s if they don’t change speed again,” Marcus reminded me. He pressed play, and the broadcast cut to a woman questioning an elderly lady on the street in Chicago.

 

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