One Last Con

by Rael Wissdorf

  “Gentlemen, it’s show time,” Briggs announced.

  The watercraft drifted slowly ahead through the misty water, as the two Specialists scanned for the barrier and took energy readings. Sergeant Briggs waited patiently, pondering the situation as he waited for their report. Soon a faint but pleasant humming could be detected emanating ahead of their position, which grew louder as the men approached the Shrouded Isle.

  The gentle sound rose and fell rhythmically, as if it were the heartbeat of the island itself. Finally, the mist they were traveling through lifted a bit, and they could finally see the land mass directly ahead of them. A moment later, a soft jolt hit the craft at it made contact with the island’s impenetrable force field. It resembled a large plate glass window which rose high and straight into the air from where they had come to rest. At a distance if the mists shifted just right, you could tell that it curved away toward the island’s interior. It had a slight bluish cast like the cellophane used to decorate popcorn balls.

  Briggs reached out with a hand and ran it across the smooth obstruction that only a few had ever touched. It displayed an oddly comforting warmth upon contact, and vibrated lightly and rhythmically, like a glass table would in a room filled with operating machinery. The two Specialists took this rare opportunity and touched the thrumming transparent barrier themselves, gasping in wonder at the contact. After a while, the duo murmured to themselves in technical jargon, checking and confirming the information they had garnered until finally reaching a consensus.

  “Alright men,” their commander spoke soberly. “Let’s have it.”

  Hull and Boyd looked at each other knowingly, before the thinner of the two spoke first.

  “Sarge, the Seer was definitely right. The field is shrinking at a rate of approximately 16.8 meters per hour. That means that it will make landfall in about 96 hours.”

  “Four days.” Briggs spoke aloud. “What about the power emanations?”

  Boyd spoke up this time. “Well I have confirmed that the amount of Proto CCE being produced from the island is diminishing at roughly the same rate. Something strange is definitely going on over there.”

  “Speculation? Any ideas as to the cause of this power drain?”

  Again, the two specialists murmured together for a moment, before turning back to the Sergeant Major.

  “We can only come up with two reasons for this phenomenon,” Nathaniel began. “One, the Guardian is drawing power to himself to conserve energy, for some unknown purpose, or…”

  “Or,” Walter continued. “What we see here is the result of the diminishing of residual energy.”

  Cyrus Briggs immediately knew where this was headed, and spoke aloud the words that they were all thinking.

  “…Meaning that the Guardian is no longer there. He is gone.”

  The two Specialists looked at each other, and nodded.

  “Affirmative Sarge. As crazy as it sounds, the Guardian may have left the Shrouded Isle,” finished Walter.

  “If that were true,” Nathaniel asked. “What would it mean Sarge? I mean, for all of us, and for life in our world?”

  Briggs fell silent, once again pondering the fantastic implications of this revelation. Finally, he sighed heavily before addressing his men.

  “Gentlemen, honestly I can’t say at this point. Keep in mind, even with the evidence we’ve gathered here, we really don’t know anything yet. This is still supposition on our part at this point. It’s pretty clear that there’s more to this mystery than we’ve been told, and that info is above our pay grade. We need to get this Intel to the Brass ASAP without attracting the attention of the Draconians.”

  Boyd spoke up. “Well, that means we can’t radio over water. The Dracs will pick it up for sure.”

  The Aeternus mission commander nodded soberly before drawing himself up to his full height. When he spoke again, his subordinates could hear the steel in his voice, and knew he meant business.

  “Assume your stations men. We’re going to sprint back to the mainland as fast as our legs can carry us, get this intel to the Towers, and let them figure out a course of action.”

  Briggs maneuvered the craft away from the barrier, pointing the bow back the way they came. His mouth set in a grim line. “Let’s see how fast this baby can go.”

  Chapter 8

  Laurina Hawks stood alone and disoriented in an empty hallway. She was slightly bent forward as she cradled her head in her hands, fighting to regain her equilibrium. Slowly the gray corridor came into focus. The spangling lights that attacked her eyes had faded, but she still felt a slight buzzing in her ears. A sensation of cool air enveloped her body, and as she looked down she saw her own nakedness. An instant later she was back to being fully clothed.

  What the hell? Did I just imagine losing my clothes? I must by more out of it than I realized.

  She had no idea what happened to her body after being teleported by Keren’s machine, but she knew she wasn’t anxious to repeat it.

  Bloody hell! It felt like being dragged through a fucking keyhole!

  Mercifully, the aural assault faded, and the young Brit was finally able to stand erect and take in her surroundings. The hall opened up at one end, to a large warehouse of some sort, while at the other end, it seemed to continue a good ways toward a series of offices. However, she also saw strange obstructions throughout the corridor, as if the very walls had sprouted and placed parts of itself throughout the opening. At one point a small area of the corridor was riddled with needle-like darts embedded into the walls on both sides like a pin cushion. Moving carefully, Laurina noticed that a twenty meter section of the floor was missing just ahead of her. Walking to the edge, she leaned over and saw that the smooth sides of this large opening descended to an equally smooth floor thirty meters down.

  What the hell is this? An uncovered trap? And why are sections of the wall projecting toward the center of the corridor? It couldn’t have been built that way!

  Once again she was getting that Alice in Wonderland feeling. Left with no other choice, Laurina headed toward the open area. A thick layer of dust coated the floor, leaving puffs of small gray clouds at every step. She noticed that as she walked, she was leaving very conspicuous looking footprints behind.

  She emerged from the hallway into the larger room, looking from side to side with surprise. Large chunks of concrete, shattered wooden crates, and other debris littered the floor, partially hiding what looked to be scorch marks from some sort of blast. Spatters of a viscous brown pigment were dribbled in haphazard patterns on the gritty floor, and as the young woman got closer, her nostrils wrinkled at a strong unmistakable odor.

  Blood! Gods, it looks like World War three broke out in here.

  Following the blast patterns with her eyes, she could see that some of the ashy smears covered several places along one wall, and seemed to be concentrated toward a grated stairwell on her right and the open office area upstairs. There were more stains of blood in this area, including several small pools of it in a circular pattern near the battered set of metal stairs. With curiosity getting the better of her, Laurina ascended them to the top of the metal catwalk, careful to step over several holes where the metal had been blasted through by some sort of weapon. Keeping a hand on the rail, she turned right toward the office, and marveled at the destruction in front of her. The wall that fronted the room, along with most of the door-jam was almost completely destroyed. Shattered glass, plaster and twisted metal were all that remained. Further inside, she saw evidence that a fire had taken place. It must have been quite hot since there was a lot of blackened plastic melted into a semblance of gobs of greasy wax; the remains of a mainframe computer console, monitors and a number of other larger pieces of equipment. There was no indication of power running through any of them, and the darkened hardware gave the appearance of being unused for a long time. A crusted tinge of blue fire retardant covered everything in the room. Smaller chunks of concrete were scattered about, and a thick layer of plast
er dust coated the shattered office as well. Curiously there was no blood on the floor here.

  Bloody glad I wasn’t here when this happened!

  Moving back down the stairs, Laurina couldn’t help but think that the ones being shot at may have been her sister and Major Flanagan.

  The warehouse brightened and she noticed that a shaft of sunlight was shining brightly through a large hole in the center of the ceiling, and through another on the wall on the right. She put a hand to her face to block out the light, as she looked up to examine both openings. The hole in the roof was perfectly circular, and it gave the appearance of being carved from the bottom up. Just what made the cut was anyone’s guess. The hole in the wall however, told its own story. It was obvious that someone had blown it open with explosives. Burned and shattered rubble lay scattered on the floor around it, and the wall was scorched black around its jagged edges like the dead remains of a giant campfire. The air was still, and dust motes floated lazily in the shafts of sunlight like miniature fireflies.

  Laurina walked over and lightly kicked at the debris. A few pieces of concrete cascaded down and dislodged a large metal pipe which crashed to the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust at its collapse. She had deftly leaped out of the way at its fall, but could not avoid the quickly moving particles now in the air. Set to coughing by the dust cloud, she moved toward the opening, seeking the clearer outdoor air. After a few tentative steps, she was through the breach in the wall, and away from the spreading haze. Taking refuge along the outer wall several meters away, she coughed hard, clearing her irritated lungs. After the redhead recovered her breath, she turned her attention to her surroundings.

  The redhead saw that she was standing near a gravel path that wound its way up from the entrance of the warehouse. Outside the gate lay a dusty road that was sparsely lined on one side by a few ancient storefronts, and what appeared to be an abandoned filling station. It continued on toward a very small and weather worn western town. A perfusion of sage brush and cacti marked the fields along the way, adding a bit of color to the drab landscape. Several grayish houses could be seen about a quarter mile away, but they looked lonely and forgotten.

  Curious, the redhead slowly walked toward the storefronts, stepping over piles of rusted gears and bolts lying atop the gravel. Carefully slipping through the dilapidated chain link fence that marked the warehouse complex property line, she made her way to the dirt road, stopping in front of an old abandoned diner. A warm desert breeze rattled the rusted screen door against the frame of the deserted eatery’s entrance, while a large tumbleweed freed itself from the hood of a broken down car parked in front, and rolled back toward the warehouse.

  This looks like a scene from the Twilight Zone.

  A rusty barbed wire fence ran behind the diner marking the boundaries of the property, while a metal sign hanging above the entrance that read “Mother’s Luncheonette” creaked eerily in the wind. Down the road to the south, a rusty white water tower stood like a silent sentinel guarding a scattering of rusted fifty gallon drums stacked nearby. Its weathered face which had once proudly heralded the name of the town had long since been scoured clean by wind, sand and time. Small drops of water trickled from the tower and collected into a large puddle below.

  She could see for kilometers in both directions, and not a single moving vehicle could be spotted. To the north she had a better view of the ancient gas station which was surrounded by several old cars that had clearly seen better days. Beyond the gas station lay a few stunted trees straining for nutrients in the sandy ground. She walked a bit further down the road before stopping in frustration to assess her options. Things were not making sense.

  Laurina wondered if she had been deceived by Colonel Keren.

  Why would the military send an operation here to this desolate place?

  “Galicia!” Laurina yelled, cupping her mouth with her hands. “Major Flanagan!” Her voice echoed slightly in the empty air, and the only reply was a slight gust of wind that threw particles of sand in her face.

  “Dammit Keren.” she muttered in a low voice while brushing away the grit. “You sent me to a bloody ghost town.”

  Turning south, she continued down the road towards the water tower. She failed to notice the ominous shadow trailing behind her. The black form flew over the dry ground on soundless feet, like a panther approaching its prey.

  Sensing no immediate danger, Laurina lazily strolled down the long road, gazing around at the scenery. Soon she realized she had stopped at the worn water tower. The cascading drops of clear water falling from its belly, made tiny splashing noises when they struck the surface of the puddle below it. Gingerly, she stepped into the puddle, walking toward its center. Cupping her hands, she gathered some of the liquid and splashed it on her face. Gathering more water, she rinsed her mouth and spit out the grit from the dust cloud in the warehouse. After tasting the cool liquid, she cupped her hands once more and hazarded a swallow. While it didn’t slake her growing thirst, the coolness did provide her a bit of mild relief from the hot desert sun.

  Gavrael ran lightly across the road like a wraith, stopping at the edge of a stand of scrub brush. His crystal blue eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, easily allowing him to observe the woman through the slit of his uniform’s face mask. She had an oval face with delicate lips, and high cheek bones, and as she lifted her head and parted her lips to drink a handful of water, he could see that her slim figure belied a reservoir of underlying strength.

  Under different circumstances, he would have considered her quite attractive.

  As the SpecOps officer carefully advanced closer, he regarded the woman curiously as she brushed back a bit of her long auburn hair, revealing her slender neck. Her skin looked soft and smooth, as if fashioned by a potter’s hand, and the gesture itself was hauntingly familiar. One he had seen countless times in the past.

  Quietly, he darted from his cover. As he moved, he caught sight of her eyes…

  Emerald eyes that sparkled against the sunlight.

  Suddenly he froze.

  She was the spitting image of…

  As Lieutenant Gavrael stopped his advance in wonder, he inadvertently kicked a small stone which flew through the air and struck against one of the rusted drums. Silently cursing his inattentiveness, he sprinted quickly toward his quarry.

  Laurina heard something strike metal behind her. A sudden tingling sensation made its presence known within her body. Reacting instinctively, she ducked and rolled to the side, taking moderate cover behind one of the fifty gallon drum lying nearby. As she rolled, she saw a black form fly past her, issuing a sidekick to the spot she had just vacated.

  “I knew you would come sooner or later,” the man in black said sadly, shaking his head. “How many terrorists will they send before they realize we will not let them destroy this place?”

  Laurina stared perplexed at her would be attacker.

  “Terrorist? I’m no bloody terrorist? What are you talking ab…”

  The young Brit felt something cold grip her left arm. Before she could react, she felt both her arms tighten against her torso, while the cold sensation spread to both legs. In another moment, they too were drawn together, until she could do nothing but fall to the ground immobile.

  “Just like clockwork,” the man in black muttered.

  As his SpecOp training dictated, his sidekick was actually a feint to distract his quarry, while he hurled a small metal ball at her, about the size of a marble. The SQD 30 was designed for close quarters use, to quickly subdue and immobilize an enemy. As it makes contact, six metal arms stronger than steel extend from its core, coiling tightly around the victim, to immediately restrict movement. While its use in the Aeternus military was still in the experimental stage, Gavrael was happy to see that the “Squid” performed as advertised.

  “Get this thing off me!” Laurina screamed as she rolled back and forth on the withered grass and gravel.

  The black clad officer smiled grimly as he ca
sually approached his squirming captive.

  “All in good time. But first, I have a few questions. Who are you, and what is your mission?”

  “Piss off, you bastard!” the redhead fired back. “Who the hell are you, and why are you doing this to me?” The tension of the metal arms around her body was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable, until she began to feel it bruising her skin. The thought of being squeezed to death was more than the young Brit could bear.

  “You’re hurting me! Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Calm yourself,” the Aeternus soldier soothed. “I mean you no harm. If I wanted you dead, you would be so.”

  “So you attack me without provocation, and now all of a sudden you ‘mean me no harm’? Yeah, rightie-o” she fired back sarcastically. Fully confined by the metal embrace of the strange device, the captive redhead stopped moving altogether, helpless and face down in the scrub grass.

  “The Squid is designed to become tighter the more you struggle. If you cooperate with me, I will reduce the tension to a more bearable level.”

  Seeing that she had no choice in the matter, she sighed.

  “You sure have a funny way of showing your peaceful intentions,” she said grudgingly. “My name is Laurina.”

  “Good choice.” Touching a small remote on his belt, he turned a tiny dial clockwise.

  The thin metal arms supplied a bit of slack, and she relaxed visible.

  “Better?”

  “Better,” she replied.

  “To answer your question, I am Lieutenant Gavrael of Aeternus. I am here in response to the terrorist activity that occurred within the warehouse.”

  “Well Gavrael, I’m not a terrorist I assure you,” Laurina said. “I’m just a messenger from Keren.”