by Tom Hunter
Ramon sneered. His face carved into an evil mask of hate and anger and he motioned for his men to come nearer. He gathered them into a huddle. “Let’s play a little game, shall we?” he says loudly enough for Thomas to hear as well. “I’m not falling for any of his tricks, but let’s make him believe otherwise. Give him a running start, then…” Ramon backed away from his men and thrust his arm toward Thomas. “He’s all yours. Fire at will.”
Deafening silence fell thick and heavy between Ramon, Miss Welker, the mercenary band, Thomas, and Alexia. She had stopped when she heard Ramon’s rumbling threat. POP! The silence was shattered with the first shot and Thomas scrambled over the pile and through the damaged dig site as fast as possible. He knew these pathways well, but thanks to the Kisgar, the cover no longer existed.
Tents he could duck behind were now piles of fabric and he skidded over those with abandon, dodging and ducking the pops of the gunfire aimed at him whenever his dark head was visible. He hoped Alexia’s idea would be put into play soon. This was one hell of a deadly distraction.
Turning an unfamiliar corner, he saw something that looked a mirage. Could this be a way out? He raced toward it in hopes it would provide a short respite while he waited for Alexia to execute her plan.
As he scaled the next pile of rubble, he felt it give way beneath him and a powerful rumbling followed. “Oh God, please not now.” The rumbling grew even louder and shook Thomas to the ground.
He could hear the thud of combat boots behind him and the heat of frustration at being caught climbed up his neck. He heard them turn the corner and had squeezed his eyes shut ready for the last shot to be fired when the earth burst open in front of him. A Kisgar stood a few feet from him, but it seemed to have its mind on other prey. Its mighty jaws snapped in anticipation at the men behind him.
Twenty-Six
Like a cracked egg, the split in the earth created by the Kisgar lengthened and widened into a deep fissure. Thomas had been the closest and found himself hanging from the cliff’s edge. Though he was thankful the Kisgar had set its sights on the soldiers – he knew it was the guns that had angered it – he hoped it didn’t lose interest in them before he could escape. He worked to swing his legs up and over and prayed his clammy hands would dry out against the rough dirt. He felt it shift and widen slightly.
Thomas bit his lip as he struggled to hold on. He glanced over his shoulder at the deep canyon, then at the unearthly monster in front of him. It picked off the soldiers one by one. He wished for his spelunking gear but was glad to see he could manage a few finger and footholds. Thomas looked down at his hands for a moment to ensure the grip was strong, then looked up to gauge the distance to safety and into the eyes of the Kisgar. His greatest fear was being realized.
Bodies of soldiers lay cracked and broken around the creature and it now stood high on its hind legs. It crouched slightly and deliberately and Thomas knew he was next. It was ready to pounce.
Thomas gripped the edge and slowly turned his head to look behind him. Though it looked like unfathomable depths, he knew there was Earth several stories below. Would he survive the fall? Well, there might be a few broken bones, but I’d be alive.
BANG! The sound of cymbals? No, someone had crashed two metal pieces together and the Kisgar had turned from its prey. Just as these thoughts came to rest, a length of rope fell toward him and was being lowered over the side. Just as Thomas reached and grabbed hold of the rope, the Kisgar leapt toward him. In one fluid movement Thomas pushed back from the edge over the void, holding fast to the rope.
He watched as the Kisgar fell. Then, he found himself being pulled up. Pediah and Robbie were the first to greet him once he was safely on solid ground. “How did you…?” he looked from one to the other incredulously. The last he’d heard they were with Mochni. Then Abby stepped forward.
“Abby!” Thomas exclaimed. “How did you…? Where did you…?” Questions tumbled one over the other until he could catch his breath. “I thought you went to get a truck or something,” he told her, his eyes catching hers with thanks.
“Later,” Abby said with a smile. “Glad to see you. Now, where’s Alexia?”
The two had hardly been apart since they’d met, she thought. Thomas was about to answer when a voice exclaimed, “I’m here!”
“You missed all the fun,” exclaimed Abby. “You missed all the fun.” A shadow of foreboding flitted across Alexia’s face, but before she could ask any questions, Thomas interrupted her thoughts.
“Did you get what you needed done?” He looked at the sinkhole he’d recently been pulled free from. “I hope so because I pulled off one hell of a distraction.”
Alexia’s eyes narrowed then widened in alarm. “Did you…?” she pointed the great fissure behind him. Thomas nodded and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, Thomas. I…”
“Your mission?” Thomas prompted.
“Oh, right. Yes! It was a success!” Alexia declared proudly.
“Uh, we might want to take this discussion elsewhere, guys,” Robbie looked around them at the destruction and scattered bodies. “I don’t want to be here when another one shows up, do you?”
“Right.” He looked toward Abby then craned his neck, angling for a glimpse a little further behind her. “Wow, you have been busy Abs. Got the truck. Saved the captain.” He pointed proudly to himself, “Moi.”
The team rolled their eyes and Pediah remarked, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to get out of here.” He began walking toward the truck.
“Agreed.” Thomas slid into the driver’s seat while the others took their places in the remaining available seats. He turned the vehicle and pointed it away from the mangled and now sinking dig site. “Well, it’s not as dramatic as blowing it up, but it’s destroyed just the same.”
Twenty-Seven
Noah Ashbridge stood on the edge of his property and through his binoculars, he surveyed the scene before him. He wondered if he was in the company of kings. Had they felt this way when observing their domain; their warmongering and their desire to keep things in their control no matter the cost? Was this how generals felt when their troops returned to their camp victorious?
He dropped the binoculars to his chest and stood with his fists on his hips. A self-satisfied smile graced his lips and he wished in earnest that his father and grandfather stood before him now. He was at once the little boy who loved stories and the young man who defied his family, his father really, to seek and claim the fortune of his elders. And to exceed it. For the first time in a long time, he felt confident in his plans.
Like the general of any military service who was put into a desert climate, Noah wore beige and brown camouflage. He was a chameleon here, and sometimes a snake. He would blend and listen and strike when, and only when, he felt the time was right. The time was now.
He stepped to the side and peered into the latest recordings pulled from the video camera’s footage. Noah then manipulated the dials, and though the instrument continued recording, he could now see in real time what was happening. He twisted a dial and the powerful zoom lens brought the scene closer to him and monitored the actions of those in his employ.
A radio crackled nearby. “Yes? What do you have for me?”
“I succeeded. The big oaf is freed.” Miss Welker’s honeyed voice dripped with venom. She’d saved the very man she hated because she and Noah needed him. And she hated needing anyone, even Noah Ashbridge.
“Excellent. I’ll stop my end of the mission and will await pickup.” He switched the radio off and began preparing for his departure. He shut off the camera and began dismantling his instrument of destruction.
As he worked, he thought about what he had learned so far. He was getting to know the drum and was gaining a deeper understanding of its power. Noah had always believed that if you talked something out, even if was just to a wall, then somehow the knowledge would be more easily retained. So he began a one-sided conversation with his grandfather,
the man who had started it all, Reginald Ashbridge.
“I wish you were here,” Noah remarked wistfully. “Well, I guess you are in a way, and I could use your two cents on this one, Reggie. Here’s what I know so far.” Noah stopped to check that all transmissions had been switched to “off” on the various communications devices and opened a large soft-sided square bag. Inside was black padding with shapes cut out to match the pieces exactly.
“That Rosetta Stone tablet. That was the key to this whole thing,” he confided. “I spent night after night studying it and working with it. Now that I’ve put some of its teachings into practice, I’m sure I’m on the right path to restore the Ashbridge name to its former glory.” He stopped as a new thought occurred to him. “Your, ah, girlfriend, from below may have told you, but here’s what I know.” He waited as if expecting an answer and continued. “I was able to translate the scrolls, and they tell a story which explains the legend of this baby right here.” He reached to pat the drum and thought better of it. There was no need to cause a disturbance.
“It’s the legend of Eknom’s Folly. That’s the name of the drum,” he reminded his confidante. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You sly, old dog.”
“Anyway, it seems that if you can get certain pitch when you beat the drum, those beats can help direct the Kisgar in ways that old fool Eknom never saw coming!” He barked a laugh. “Knowing this, it’s insanely easy to control those brutish creatures from the depths. Right out of a sci-fi flick, they are. Wow!” He shook his head in near disbelief at his own discoveries.
“Well, grandfather. There is sadly a casualty in this endeavor – besides Thomas Knight – and that is the plan to sell the drum. That is definitely off the table and if you were here now, I’m sure you’d be glaring at me and bellyaching about it, so I’ll explain.” Noah paused dramatically. “I’m not selling it because the power I can wield with it will be unimaginable and the monies will flow into our coffers. You’ll see!” He snapped the final piece into its place in the bag, closed the lid, and pulled the zipper with a flourish.
Thomas Knight and his team had always been a thorn in his side, but now they were just too close. They were neck and neck in this race, and Noah had bet everything.
A twang of guilt he couldn’t place made him turn and look once more at the destruction below. Had he gone too far?
Noah tried to imagine what his grandfather would have said, what he would have done, and what he might have done differently. How would he have answered what Noah had told him? How would that conversation have gone? A memory washed over him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine (Flashback)
Twelve years ago
The black sedan rolled forward slowly.
The shiny gloss of the exterior paint had shown Noah an odd reflection:
dressed in a pressed, tailored suit fit for a young man, he thought he looked more like a ghost than he imagined his grandfather and father now were. His eyes weren’t red from crying. His father had forbidden it, so Noah wore the stoic expression of someone taught to keep their feelings bottled up inside.
Miss Welker’s long, polished red fingernails gleamed against the black leather seats and she slid her hand toward him. They’d only just met at the service, but their contract to work together had already begun. Noah was caught between too young and just old enough. It was time for him to be his own man, his father had predicted.
Noah kept his hands folded in his lap. The closeness of Miss Welker weighed on him like too-heavy perfume and his hands grew clammy. He wiped them inconspicuously on his pleated dark trousers and slowly laced his fingers together. It served to keep his hands cool and give the illusion they were folded in contemplative prayer. It was a little trick he’d picked up.
He felt…numb. There was no sadness in his father’s passing, but no relief, either. Noah was quiet on the ride toward his home and reflected idly how empty he felt. He’d hated his father and there was no love lost, but he still felt like a shell of his former self.
Miss Welker broke the silence. “Will you be alright?”
Noah stared intently at his hands in his lap and remained silent.
A long red-tipped finger poked him in the arm. “Hey!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.
Miss Welker prodded him gently with her elbow. “Do you want to talk? I’m a pretty good listener.” She smiled seductively and teased with gentle pokes and prods until Noah’s frustrations and fear overflowed into anger. His temper flared.
“I…said…STOP IT!” Noah exclaimed and aimed to slap her with the back of his hand.
Before his hand reached its destination, Miss Welker caught it in her grip. His eyes widened. And in another instant, she was driving her knee into his stomach which pushed his back into the seat cushion. “Do that again, and I will break you,” she hissed.
The car slammed to a stop. The driver got out of the car and rushed toward Noah’s side of the sedan. He threw the door open and leveled a gun at Miss Welker. She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease! Get that thing out of my face,” she growled, her steely eyes coming to meet his. “The old man isn’t here to protect you…this time.”
This time? Warning bells sounded in Noah’s brain.
“Stand down, Leo. I’ll be alright.” Noah nodded at the gun in the driver’s hand. Then he turned his attention to Miss Welker and in his most grown-up voice and clipped boarding school speech, he added, “Now, let me go, Miss Welker.”
The woman in a form-fitting pencil skirt and cowl-neck sweater raised one eyebrow curiously and released him. Then, and only then, did the driver lower his weapon. “We’ve arrived, Miss.”
“I’ll get out when I’m ready.” She turned back to Noah. “We need to talk.” Miss Welker shot a cursory glance to the driver and back to Noah. “Privately.”
Noah nodded and gave the order. It was obvious the driver still answered to his father and not to him. That needed to change right now and Noah said as much.
“Okay,” said Leo as he turned to leave. “But, don’t say I didn’t warn ya!” He pointed to a coffee shop on the corner. “I’ll be in there. Text me when you’re ready to go.” Noah nodded curtly and the driver turned on his heel.
As the driver entered the coffee shop, Noah swiveled his head to Miss Welker. “Now, just what…dealings…did you have with my father? How do you fit into this picture?”
Miss Welker held his gaze and considered the young man before her. He was a younger version, not of Clark, but of someone else. Reginald?
“Mmm…” she nodded, still trying to figure out the best way to proceed. “First, let’s get names out of the way. To the world, I am Miss Welker. To you in public, I am Miss Welker. But in private, you can call me…Amber.” It was a defense mechanism and they both knew it. She could see it in the way a corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile and he arched one eyebrow. Then, as if a curtain had dropped, Noah nodded. “Yes. Amber.”
Miss Welker answered with her own half-smile and began her story. “I was hired for two purposes. The first was more obvious. I was hired as a bodyguard.” Noah couldn’t help it and snorted a laugh. Miss Welker moved like wildfire and before he knew it, Noah was on the floor of the sedan, hogtied with rope produced seemingly from nowhere.
“As I was saying,” Miss Welker continued as she untied him and let him return to his seat in the car. “Bodyguard. But it was more of a cover than an actual duty. I mean, who would suspect…” she guided her hand down her lithe form and smiled seductively. “The other…job…was more my speed. I was also hired as an operative to act as Clark’s, um,” she searched for the right word, “lucky penny?”
“Lucky penny?”
“Let’s just say, I was the reason everyone said your father had the Midas touch. I…helped…sway decisions in his favor.” She paused. “You’re about to ask how. Well, by any means necessary.” Her eyes bore a hole into his. “Understand?”
Noah nodded dumbly.
“I’m quite good a
t my job. It’s why you never knew about me. Until I decided it was time,” Miss Welker confided. “And now with your father gone,” she sighed softly. “I still feel like there is some unfinished business and I have no plans or desire to give up on a project which has taken so much time in my life.” She reached for Noah’s hands and clasped them in her own. “You may still be a little too young to understand, but I want to help you. I want to make sure you find success to rival that of Clark Ashbridge.”
Outdo my father? Definitely. He could taste the sweet success; liquid gold on his tongue. “I’m in! I’m nothing like my father,” he warned. “Things’ll be different. Things’ll be better. I have a long view of the future and I’m not the bastard my father was.” Miss Welker nodded approvingly.
Caught up in his recollection, Noah breathed with finality. “Grandfather Reginald was right to return to Death Valley. And we’re not done there yet.”
Present day
“In my desire to be like my grandfather, did I become my father instead?” The question echoed in Noah’s mind as the soft hum of a hover vehicle approached. It was time for one more ride.
The hover vehicle stopped and Noah threw his equipment in its cargo hold. He whispered something in the driver’s ear and the vehicle jumped. The ride to his secret base was swift and he couldn’t help but think, what a wild ride, as he pondered recent events.
Twenty-Eight