The Labyrinth Key

by Christopher Cartwright

  “No.” Ethan’s look was a cross between embarrassed and pissed off and pressed the button without warning. “I told you. It’s a rotary!”

  Right. He’d said that. Sam gripped the steering wheel and craned to look behind him. Rotary, eh? Well. That was good and that was bad: He knew from experience that rotary engines could output a huge amount of power from very little fuel- he’d done his share of drag racing along the shore in Georgia on college breaks- and so he also knew that they tended to be very unreliable.

  “Can she handle what we have coming up?” The door opened methodically behind them with an even, measured pace. Sam grit his teeth. Over the whine of the motor he couldn’t hear if anyone was coming. Better to keep the windows down?

  Sam reached for the button and found a crank. He cranked furiously as Ethan did the same on the opposite side and as if his life depended on it.

  Which it did.

  Ethan loaded the gun, knocking in another round of ammo. “I fixed her up myself.”

  There wasn’t time to ask his credentials. Sam tapped the gas tentatively, smelling gas and oil and the mustiness of Ethan’s garage, the plastic scent of the garbage bag of a man who had just gotten home. He hoped like hell Ethan was a good mechanic.

  The garage door had barely cleared the top of the car before Sam hit the gas and the car pushed backward. Ethan braced himself on the passenger seat and craned out the back window. He had hoped to see an empty field- and for the moment, it was. But it wasn’t going to be empty for long- even in the distance, Ethan saw a convoy of black hummers screaming down the street. One of them cut through the field behind Ethan’s condo. Through the thin screen of trees Sam saw a building. In the heightened sense of a man fighting for his life, he realized that the building was a funeral home.

  “Go! Go! Go!” shouted Ethan.

  Sam stepped on the gas and felt like he’d been punched in the gut as he slammed backward as the car roared to life. The pair were pushed back into their seats as if it were a roller coaster as Sam peeled around the short driveway and spun the wheel to straighten her out, thump, thump, thump. He stared down the convoy approaching the drive. If he hit it now, he could make it.

  He tested the throttle. Sam had never felt this much power in a car. He knew it was no time to admire the mechanics of the rotary engine beneath their ride’s hood, but Ethan did have a sweet ride.

  As if on cue, the convoy started firing at the NSU. They were just sparks in the distance, but Sam knew that sparks in the distance meant deafening gunfire very soon.

  He punched the gas pedal again. The driveway wasn’t long. “ARE THERE ANY OTHER ROADS OUT OF HERE?” shouted Sam over the racket of bullets peppering the ground next to the car.

  “TAKE A RIGHT AT THAT DRIVE!” bellowed Ethan. Sam tightened his lip. Screaming wouldn’t help.

  He took a right just as the cars got close enough and he could see drivers but not make out any faces.

  “Tell me!” he shouted over the sound of the wind- the windows were down.

  “You got it! Left when you- RIGHT. Go RIGHT when you hit Wooster!”

  “You sure?!” The caravan was gaining on them.

  “It heads for the bay! Out of city limits – we can go 120 and no one’ll give a damn.”

  Sam shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

  They were on a dirt track now, with the tires scraping for traction against the mud. Sam silently thanked himself for learning how to rally-drive a long time ago. There was no way they would have gotten safely out otherwise. Behind the car, the convoy continued to gain on them. The gunfire was starting to get annoying, with some bullets starting to ping the car.

  “Hey, bud, can you use that gun of yours?” asked Sam.

  Ethan probably nodded, but Sam was too focused on the road. He heard Ethan recheck the ammo in his gun. All he heard was, “Can you keep clearance on the right side? I’m not trying to get crushed.”

  Sam shifted the car a bit to the left, gritting his teeth. It was work enough to keep the car on the road, much less worry about the person hanging out the window.

  The shot Ethan fired off took him by surprise. It was precise and measured. Sam had expected the hopeful spray of a desperate man but was pleasantly surprised when Ethan aimed and shot cautiously. Smart, he thought.

  Ditches full of wildflowers whizzed by. Fields and woods. Now and then, a driveway. Up the road, Sam spotted a split coming up. “Which way?” he shouted. Coolness went out the window. Ethan shouted an indiscernible response over the wind, still focused on the firing. Screw it, thought Sam. He twisted the steering wheel hard to the left, almost launching Ethan out of the car.

  Ethan slammed back inside, swearing like a sailor. “I told you to turn right! What the hell are you doing?”

  “I couldn’t hear you!” responded Sam. The road had turned to asphalt, so it was a lot easier for Sam to drive smoothly. Now that he didn’t have to focus on keeping the car on the road, Sam realized they’d emerged on a road traveling along the bay. From what he could tell they were still heading away from civilization, but for how long, he couldn’t say.

  “Christ- we’re headed back to town!” Ethan growled. “You should have gone RIGHT!”

  Damn.

  Sam cast a glance in the rear-view mirror, then one out front again. Far in the distance he saw a bridge spanning an inlet off the bay and gripped the wheel as the car quivered under him. He jerked his chin at the bridge. “Where does that go?”

  The men behind them were driving hummers. Hummers couldn’t corner worth a damn. This baby handled like a dream, Sam thought. So far, anyway.

  “Kittridge- this little town on the other side- it’s like the last place before we really come back into-”

  “Great.” Sam hit the gas. Ethan’s eyes went round as he realized what Sam was up to.

  “Are you serious? You know if we lose it that bridge is-”

  A shot took out Sam’s side mirror. He flinched, then glared at Ethan. “Got a better plan?” He couldn’t take his hands off the wheel, but wished he could. He’d love to punch the boy in the face. This was all his damn fault. If he’d just told Sam he’d taken the key in the first place-

  Ethan delivered a sharp glare toward Sam then whipped around like a petulant child. He fired furiously out the window. A few seconds later, he screamed.

  Sam bore down and kept all his focus on the upcoming bridge. He couldn’t afford distractions. Could. Not.

  Ragweed. They’d just passed ragweed; he’d bet his life on it.

  Bet his life. He might have to, he thought as his eyes started tear up and itch.

  Damn his allergies. He couldn’t afford distractions right now. He sniffed back a massive sneeze and blinked hard, his streaming eyes squinting through tears. The bridge was closer. Thirty yards. He just had to make it onto the bridge. There was no way they’d be able to follow.

  If they could…

  Well. If they could, he’d have time to sneeze when he was dead.

  Twenty yards.

  Ethan fired more shots. It didn’t seem to slow them down, but Sam heard the screech of tires. He flicked a glance in the mirror. Still there.

  Ten yards.

  Five.

  The sneeze descended with a vengeance.

  Sam gulped it back, fighting hard. His eyes teared, blurring the road.

  He started to slow.

  Ethan swung to him. “Sam!”

  Sam blinked, choking, and wrenched the wheel.

  The car shrieked and roared up the narrow, picturesque ramp. It was a blur of blues and grays as they shot across the causeway.

  “Are they coming?!” he shouted, not daring to look.

  “Coming!” Ethan barked in full military mode. He was almost all the way out the car window, M4 trained on the hummer. “They’re-”

  A sickening crunch and crash as the guard rail broke.

  Sam lurched forward and took his foot off the gas.

  The world outside, spun.

  Chap
ter Forty-Three

  Sam rolled to a stop at the other end of the bridge. He sat in the car and willed his hands to unclench from the steering wheel, but they weren’t obeying him.

  The hummer had gone over, just as he’d planned. Shakily he opened the car door as Ethan did the same on the right and pushed himself out into the world.

  He went to the edge and peered over. The wreckage of the car was already sinking with great sucking, hissing noises of scalding steel. Gasoline made rainbows on the surface; flaming wreckage flickered, then went out. Sam tried to catch his breath.

  “We’ll go down. See if anyone survived. We…”

  “You think anyone survived that?” Ethan turned to him, skepticism, awe, and grudging admiration warring in his voice. Sam ran a hand through his hair.

  “I hope so,” he said, fighting his sneeze. He pressed his hand to his nose. “We can ask them…”

  Two heads bobbed to the surface. Thrashing. Sputtering. Too far away to get a close look but close enough to see them open their mouths to scream—

  An unexpected pop made him jump. Red spread from the first head into the rainbow swirls and smoke.

  The second pop shot the second head into the flaming body and Sam lost sight through his watering eyes.

  He wiped them, grainy, itchy… Ethan looked at him, stunned.

  “You’re crying?”

  Sam shook his head. “Allergies.” It sounded stupid, even to him. He gestured to the men in the water, already sunk, just the blood remaining. “They were our only link. Was that really nec—”

  He stifled his sneeze, gasping. “Necess—”

  He sneezed so hard his head felt rattled. He wiped his nose on his sleeve; wiped his streaming eyes. “Necessary?”

  Sam wiped his face again. When he emerged from beneath his shirt, he found Ethan’s eyes fixed on his, and with the piercing defiance of a trained killer.

  “Hey,” he said. “They’re the ones who came to me looking for a fight.” Ethan surveyed the wreck one last time, shouldered his weapon and made for the car.

  “All I did was finish it.”

  The gravel rumbled under the wheels and Queen Anne’s lace and goldenrod thumped the sides of the car. Sam pulled over, off the shoulder, and tilted down into the road that led under one of the small bridges that dotted the creeks and inlets of Kittridge. They’d driven into the tiny town to get away from the wreck. Ethan assured him there weren’t any security cameras on this particular bridge. When Sam demanded how he knew, Ethan surprisingly blushed and snapped, “Just do.”

  Kittridge felt like a movie set after the horrors of Ethan’s house and the mad chase along the bay. Sam drove through the quaint streets like he was in a dream.

  He pulled left when Ethan said ‘left’, following his lead. He saw the bridge up ahead. “Another one?”

  “And if they have drones watching?” Ethan snapped, gesturing at the structure. “Get under it!”

  It was a good idea. Sam could feel Ethan’s steel gaze watching him as he navigated the rough terrain, but kept his eyes on the windshield.

  Finally, he slowed, and the car rumbled to a stop, shaded beneath the rusty bridge. Sam craned his neck out the open window, squinting up.

  “Should be okay,” he said. “If there’s anyone tracking us via satellite, they’ll be—”

  Ethan laughed. “Yeah, I know. I have a question for you.”

  Sam steeled himself and faced Ethan’s glare as the other man folded his arms. He was still carrying the gun. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Sam gripped the steering wheel and met his eyes squarely. “No,” he said evenly. “And, I have a question for you.”

  “Go on.”

  Sam asked, “What do you know about the Labyrinth Key?”

  Ethan hid his surprise fast, but not fast enough. Sam had enough experience with men in dire situations to know that the ability to lie, well, was among one of the last skills to return after fighting for your life. If Ethan was going to slip up, it was going to be now.

  He didn't slip much, though.

  “What labyrinth key? Oh, you mean that key? The one you wanted from Palmyra?”

  Sam shook his head. “No. I mean the one you stole.” He glanced at the gun and the way Ethan’s hands clenched it and grinned. “The one you took—as a souvenir—from Palmyra.”

  Ethan wasn’t expecting the smile. He weighed Sam under his gaze, remembering what he’d just done, what he’d just seen.

  Hopefully, Sam thought, he’s remembering that without me and this Sam Reilly’s impeccable sense of timing and duty, he’d be worm food by now—or worse.

  Sam repeated the question. “What do you know about the Labyrinth Key?”

  Ethan shrugged a shoulder as if he couldn’t give a damn. “That it doesn’t look like it’s worth all this trouble. THAT’s what all this is about?”

  Sam shook his head. “Afraid so. Where did you hide it?”

  Ethan didn’t quite meet his eyes. “What makes you think after all this it’s not just stashed back at the house somewhere? Maybe in my sock drawer.”

  Sam allowed himself a wry grin. “Because you aren’t an idiot. Besides, those guys were still chasing us. They've been watching you, and if they thought it was in your house, they would still be back there, searching for it after we… left. If they had already known where it was, they’d give two shits about you.”

  “But they know I know. And they know it’s not there.” Ethan turned to him, a challenge in his eyes. “How the hell would THEY know that, Sam? Someone giving them intel?” He threw up his hands. “And frankly, how did you even know where I lived?!”

  Sam held up his hands and faced Ethan fully. “Listen. Ethan. You’ve saved my life; I’ve saved yours. This isn’t going to work if we keep not trusting each other. Despite what just happened, our lives are both still in danger because they don’t know where the key is, and the key is the most important thing to them. If you don’t want to end up like those men in the bay back there—” His voice rose and he couldn’t quite stop it. “Tell me now, and sooner is way better than later, where it is, so we can end this!”

  His shout echoed with anger inside the small car as he sat breathing hard in the driver’s seat. Outside, the Queen Anne’s lace waved in the breeze and he glanced in the rear view mirrors and the side mirrors. Still nothing. He wiped his running nose.

  “All right.” Sam turned in surprise at Ethan’s voice. It was soft, determined. “I’ve left it secured in a safety deposit box.” The voice hardened a bit. “I’m not telling you the location. Not yet.”

  It was the last thing Sam was expecting. Especially from a SEAL who probably didn’t have many valuables to begin with. He’d opened the box specifically for the key. “A safety deposit box? Really?” He scratched his forehead. “Why?”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Because I’m not an idiot! The image,” he relented, fiddling with the strap on the gun. “It was the same one I’d seen on the USB stick you and I buried all those years ago.”

  “You remembered that? After all these years?”

  Ethan bristled. “Have YOU forgotten it?”

  It was a fair point. “No. Sorry.” Sam sighed. “Listen. I don’t mean to—”

  “Ahh.” Ethan jerked his head and squished a gum wrapper in his fingers. “I figured there might be a connection, is all. Maybe it was nothing. But after you came all the way to Palmyra looking for it…” He shrugged. “Either way, I wanted to keep it safe.” Ethan held his gaze for another moment. “Good thing I did, I guess.”

  “Very good.” Sam flexed his grip on the wheel. “Why did you take me all the way out there, anyway? When you knew you had it all along?”

  Ethan looked at him like he was the stupid one. “I didn’t know you. I didn’t trust you. You want to learn about a man, take him to a war zone.”

  There was some logic to that, and Sam’s estimation of Ethan rose a notch. “And what?
You trust me now?”

  “That depends.” Ethan folded his arms. “You going to tell me what this is all about?”

  Sam sighed. “I suppose you have a right to know, seeing on how you have the key, right?”

  Ethan didn’t move, but Sam felt his eagerness. “Know what, exactly?”

  Sam glanced at him. “Well…” he said, and Ethan’s lip tucked in. Sam grinned, himself. Against all odds, he liked the boy. “Have you ever heard of the Black Pyramid?”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The dusty road gleamed under the dying summer sun’s waning rays. More Queen Anne’s lace waved from each side in the gentle breeze, but Sam didn't notice. He was seeing another field, at another time. This one was far away from here, even more remote than this. It had smelled of dust and gun smoke too, though, with the same distant cry of birds…

  Ethan sat beside him in the passenger seat, leaning against the window. He still held the gun in his lap and Sam thought it a mercy they hadn’t been pulled over. He didn’t know the conceal-carry laws of Virginia.

  He almost snorted. Like those were the only laws they’d broken today.

  Ethan’s hands were steady as he cleaned the assault rifle methodically, wiping it down without seeing it and stripping it with long, familiar practice.

  Sam watched his competence, remembering the men in the bay. He rubbed his lip with a sigh. “I suppose you want some answers?”

  Ethan’s focus shifted from the gun, slightly. “Be nice. Yeah. Just killed three men for you—betting that’s gotta be worth something.”

  “They were coming after you, son. Not me.” Sam fought to keep his voice calm, telling himself sarcasm wasn’t going to help right now. His stress level wasn’t Ethan’s fault. His brain disagreed—Ethan stole the key and didn’t tell me; Ethan’s a liar—and Sam couldn’t keep the coldness completely at bay, despite his best effort. “Wasn’t my house they ambushed.”

  The competent hands resumed their cleaning and Sam cautioned himself to tread carefully here. He didn’t know this man’s loyalties and he’d seen what those hands could do.