by James Axler
Behind them, Jak and J.B. had already worked out that there was a strong chance of an ambush, and were wondering what Ryan’s plans might be for such a contingency. They were ready for any eventuality, but with two of their party being virtual passengers, and another concerned with tending to one of those passengers, they weren’t left with a lot of options.
Affinity and Krysty were those passengers. The young man was terrified. He had never experienced anything like this, and it was only the adrenaline rush of fear and excitement combined that were keeping him going. He had no idea what he was doing, hoping that the others would tell him. Blind terror had erased all capacity for rational thought. It was his desire to stay alive that was keeping him on his feet and still running. Paradoxically, part of him just wished that the world would fall in and kill him, ending this dreadful misery and gnawing of terror in his guts.
Krysty wasn’t thinking. Not much. And that which did pass through her brain, she wanted to blot out. She had been in physical danger before, but she had never been so completely at the mercy of someone as she had been with Odyssey. She had never been so aware of what was happening to her and yet so physically helpless to halt it, no matter how her mind cried out for her to act. It kept playing over and over in her mind, like a loop. It couldn’t change, no matter how much she wished it to, and the knowledge of that was driving her mad.
As mad as Doc? He had no problems with the coded locks now, and it was likely that he had known how to operate them all along. Yet his duplicity—for whatever reason she couldn’t guess—had led to Odyssey’s control of her. She wanted to break Doc’s stupe scrawny neck, yet at the same time she knew that whatever his aim, it hadn’t been what had actually happened. She could see that from the way that he had reacted when they had been rescued; from the determination he was now showing to get them out of here, even though his body wanted to shut down.
Doc had been mad, and this experience seemed to have snapped him back to sanity—or, at least, as near to sanity as he ever came. His desire to get them out showed that he wanted to make amends. The way he had looked at her showed that he felt guilt to the core of his being. Whatever had powered him to act as he did was gone, and he was the Doc that they had last known before they’d reached the icy wastes of the Alaskan tundra.
But was it too little, too late?
They reached the end of the final passage. The last stretch to the exit sec door was longer, straighter, than any other they had encountered. It had a slightly steeper incline to lift it to the mezzanine level they had just left. It had a door of a different shape and size at the end. There was no mistaking it.
It also had a series of hurdles thrown up by displaced floor slabs that had risen in the disturbance of the explosions beneath. This would require some nimble footing to traverse, particularly for Doc. The old man had shown immense determination to get this far, and to keep up with Ryan at the vanguard, let alone the rest of the party. But could he carry his weakened and trembling body over the slabs, which stood eighteen inches high in places? Relatively simple for Ryan, but for Doc?
Only too well aware of the movement in the stones surrounding them, Ryan slowed his pace to help Doc over the obstacles. J.B. and Jak caught up with them, the former showing no desire to guard the rear of the party anymore. The time for that had passed. They were alone in the temple, and if he didn’t lend assistance, then they would be the only ones buried beneath its remains.
The three men almost bodily lifted Doc over the slabs, while Affinity helped Mildred with Krysty. The red-haired woman was in better physical shape than Doc, but still had poor coordination as the deep hypnosis she had endured hadn’t completely left her. Try as she might, her limbs failed to respond quite how she wanted.
Even with the assistance of Jak and J.B., Ryan felt as though they had slowed to a crawl, and he felt the precious seconds tick away faster than ever. As they took the last slab, and placed Doc down for the final few yards to the exit door, Ryan quickly outlined his plan—such as it was—to the other two.
‘Triple stupe, Ryan,’ Jak replied. ‘Let me—faster, smaller, got more chance—’
‘No. I give most of the orders in this outfit, so I have to take the big chances. Goes with the territory.’
Before either Jak or J.B. had a chance to contradict him, Doc’s voice sounded from where he stood, bent over the lock, twisting the stones.
‘It may not be necessary for any of us to take such a chance.’
‘Doc, they’ve got to be waiting out there. Why else would they—’
‘They may have intended that, but I doubt very much whether they are thinking of their plans right now,’ Doc replied without looking up from the lock. His voice was halting, his concentration focused on the combination he keyed in. ‘Have you, perchance, noticed that there are recurring rumbles of explosive noise, and yet they seem to be distant? If they are so numerous, why have they not yet reduced us to rubble? And if they are beneath us alone, then why do they sound so distant?’
‘It couldn’t be,’ Ryan whispered, pausing to listen to the distant rumbles. ‘That mad bastard didn’t just have his temple booby-trapped.’
‘No, indeed,’ Doc agreed, twisting at the stones and hoping that the door would respond. ‘Such was the man’s megalomania that he extended the explosives to undermining the entirety of Atlantis. “Après moi, le deluge,” indeed.’
‘What?’ J.B. queried.
‘“After me, the flood,” my dear John Barrymore. One of those interminable French monarchs said it, just before the revolution. I can never remember which one of the Louises it was—not that it matters now. I am sorry, I am rambling. But you see, the notion of megalomania is something with which I’m all too familiar with. I may explain one day. Suffice to say that when I was in the company of those whitecoats, oh so long ago in so many ways, I learned more about such things—and not just from their high-handed behavior. Perhaps Dr. Wyeth may care to back me up on this, but I recall hearing of a man named Hitler, who was the cause of the greatest war before skydark. Such was this man’s overweaning ego that when his country fell in war, he destroyed all—land, people—before the enemy’s path rather than let them take it, before falling on his own sword. It seems to me that this Odyssey was such a man—small in intellect and heart, but large in ego.
‘If such is the case, then—curse these bastard stones—it would not be beyond him to wish to destroy the ville if he should also be destroyed. If he was not the one to fulfil the destiny of Atlantis, then no one should have the opportunity. Ah, at last.’
The door began to grind painfully as the lock was released. Unlike the internal doors, the lock on the exterior door worked on a pivot system, so that as soon as it was released, the door began to open. Usually smoothly, but with the distortion of the portal caused by the gradual collapse of the temple this became a halting, jerking progression.
‘Perhaps we shall find that the danger we face is not from an ambush,’ Doc said over his shoulder.
Whatever they may face, Ryan knew that they had to get out of the temple as quickly as was possible. The shuddering and crumbling of the stones incrementally increased with every minute, the previous shock wave from beneath hitting the apex and returning to base, where it met another wave on the way up. Down here, at ground zero, he found that he was adjusting his weight and balance to ride with the motion of the floor.
Whatever the Nightcrawlers had waiting for them outside, it had to be better than staying in here and being crushed when the force of the waves grew too great for the structure and collapsed it upon them.
‘Fireblast.’ Ryan wanted to say more, but his tongue was stilled by the sight that greeted them as the door finally gave out onto the ville beyond.
There was no ambush. There couldn’t be, not in an environment where it was impossible for any to hide. Even if the Nightcrawlers had been resolute in any original intent, and tried to wait in hiding, the events around them would have made combat almost impossible
.
For Atlantis was in chaos.
The streets were alive with people. In contrast to the sedate, ordered populace that was the norm in Atlantis, and to which the companions had grown accustomed through their knowledge of the Memphis exiles, the streets were now filled with people who were in the throes of panic. They ran without direction, some screaming in panic and terror, others mute with shock. They ran into one another, either ignoring the collision or starting a fight as a result, with no leeway in between. Men and women who would normally be the very models of polite civilization were now howling as they rained blows on one another. Domestic animals ran between them, headed in directions only they knew, but with a sense of purpose that was directly counter to the humans around them.
There were Crawlers visible, but they were taking little notice of the entrance to the temple. They, and other armed men who could only be members of the temple guard, were attempting to quell the population as it escalated from panic to full-scale riot. But they had little experience of a populace that didn’t respond, and their heavy-handed attempts only led to groups of outraged and terrified citizenry turning on them, swamping individuals beneath packs of howling men and women.
There were indications of the other booby traps going off beneath the ville. Some of the older roadways on which the ville had originally been built were showing damage, where the blasts had forced old asphalt and packed dirt to split asunder. Cracks from these fissures spread across the ground and under buildings.
It was the buildings that were showing the most signs of damage, and it was this that had undoubtedly triggered the panic among the populace. The squat houses and public buildings had been closer to the impact, and so had started to fall as their foundations were undermined. Porticoes and columns had tumbled, frontages showing signs of damage as plaster and stone began to crumble under the stresses. Doors had popped out of their lintels, and in some buildings these shifts had caused roofs and ceilings to collapse. Dust filled the air, and it was already possible to see some bodies trapped in wreckage. These were the occurrences that had undoubtedly driven the people into the streets, only to be greeted by a sight that was sure to drive them into a further frenzy.
The vessel: that which was to be the vehicle of their salvation. If Odyssey’s temple was shaking like jelly dumped haphazardly from a mold, then the vessel was like a vicious caricature of the smaller building. The tremors from the land underlying the building had set up a series of vibrations that had the towering edifice rocking and spinning like a top. It was a testament to the skills of the masons who had worked on the vessel that it was still virtually intact. However, at the first sign of shock waves, the scaffolding had collapsed, throwing those who were standing upon it onto the ground beneath. One of the first to be chilled, and to be tossed like a rag doll from the vessel, was sec chief Xerxes. His sudden demise was why the companions found no direct opposition at the head of the temple. It was also a bitter irony that his plan to cause the demise of Odyssey had been directly responsible for his own premature end. Not that this mattered for anything. All that mattered to those alive was that they stay that way.
As Ryan looked up at the vessel, spinning with a visibly increasing momentum that was beginning to throw loose slabs and stones from the upper levels, he could tell that it would soon come tumbling down—and they were directly in the path of any debris that may fall. Even as he watched, those stones flung loose rained on the streets below, some falling harmlessly with a crash on the houses and sidewalks, some hitting Atlanteans who were fleeing in blind panic.
They couldn’t stay where they were. The temple was close to collapse, let alone the rain of debris that would follow the collapse of the vessel. They had to move, yet in so doing they would be engaging with a terrified populace and those Nightcrawlers and sec who were attempting to control them.
It wasn’t quite the rock-and-a-hard-place situation that Ryan had imagined, but it was still perilous. Particularly as Doc and Krysty were still unsteady on their feet.
‘Head for the maze, shortest possible route,’ he barked over the noise of falling masonry and voices crying out in terror and pain.
‘I can do that,’ Affinity said promptly. ‘I can take us the shortest route, and find a way past any blockages.’
Ryan looked at the young man. He was obviously terrified, but Ryan could see a determination in his eyes that was intent on overcoming the fear. He clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good man,’ he said shortly. ‘I’ll take point with you, keep us covered. Jak, J.B., take defensive positions, and Mildred—you take good care of Krysty and Doc.’
‘No problem.’ Mildred grinned. ‘Falling buildings, collapsing streets, mad fuckers out for blood. Just another day, Ryan.’
Whatever else they may face, Ryan was sure that they still had the group spirit to see this through to the bitter end. Without another word, he moved out into the chaos, taking Affinity with him.
The young man was as good as his word, soon deviating from the path that they had taken when entering the ville, taking them away from the main streets and into side alleys that were narrow, but less populated with the scared citizens. They ran the risk of the buildings crumbling and falling on them, but this was nothing next to the time and risk in stopping to fight their way through the ordinary citizens, temple sec and Nightcrawlers.
One good thing, Ryan considered as he ran: the Nightcrawlers were too concerned with trying to keep their own people in order to worry about the party of outlanders.
There were other, more pressing concerns; one of which announced itself with a loud groan and the sound of rendering stone as the vessel succumbed to the forces of gravity that had been plucking at its coattails. The fleeing war party paused for a second and turned as one: the sound of a dream collapsing was something that couldn’t be ignored.
Many of the citizens of Atlantis had gravitated toward the vessel as it spun, some trying to force their way inside. The Crawlers and temple sec tried to stop them, but for many the catastrophe befalling the ville and the movement of the vessel weren’t about the destruction of the ville. Rather, they were indications that all was in alignment, and the time of the travelers’s return had come. They had to enter the vessel as they were about to be collected and taken on the journey. They were the chosen ones.
‘Sweet heaven, could it really be true?’ Affinity whispered, for one moment wondering if his doubts about Odyssey and the purpose of Atlantis had been wrong. Doubts that he knew were right as the vessel spun one last time before seeming to stop, frozen for one brief moment before starting to fall. Blocks of stone seemed to turn to dust, and those between either shot out in an arc or tumbled downward into the empty spaces that now existed beneath them.
With a slow, almost infinite majesty, the vessel imploded on itself, leaving nothing but an outline in dust proscribed in empty air that had been occupied just a moment before. An outline that disappeared in a cloud of stone dust that spewed out and up across the ville as the giant structure hit ground.
‘Dark night! Cover up!’ J.B. yelled, turning away from the scene of destruction.
The ground beneath them shook with the massive shock wave that followed the collapse of the vessel, the earth seeming to jump up at them in ripples as the dust cloud obscured all around, covering them with its choking thickness. The companions and Affinity had hit the ground, riding the shock, and covering their mouths, noses and eyes as best as they could to stop the dust clogging, stinging and stopping their breath. Despite their best efforts, it still choked them, but they were able to wait out the worst of the cloud.
As it began to lift, and they clambered to their feet, there was a relative silence that hung like a pall over the ville. A few scattered shouts, screams and cries broke this silence, but for the most part it was a heavy presence after the pandemonium they had just witnessed.
‘Shit, what the fuck is going on here?’ Ryan whispered as he turned to look at the empty space where the vessel had once stood. Ther
e was no telling how many Atlanteans had perished either in the collapsing building or under the spewing wreckage, but it seemed as though the ville was now deserted.
For as long as there would be a ville. There were still rumblings underneath the ground. The explosions had ceased, but other sounds spoke of incredible movements beneath their feet.
‘Come on, let’s move. Move it!’ Ryan yelled, rallying his stunned and bemused troops into action. Affinity looked at the space in the sky where the vessel had stood, then back at Ryan.
‘All over…all over,’ he said softly, before seeming to snap out of his trance. ‘No matter, we must get out quickly.’
With which, and without waiting for the others, he set off toward the end of the narrow road on which they stood. The companions followed him, Doc now able to walk without the shakes affecting him too much, Krysty still slow and stumbling but making good progress with Mildred’s support. They reached the junction when Affinity suddenly jumped back, colliding with Ryan.
‘What the—’ the one-eyed man began, before cursing softly when he saw over the young man’s shoulder what had caused him to halt so startlingly. The road in front of them began to dissolve in front of his eyes, the old asphalt seeming to melt into a hole that appeared in the center, spreading out in all directions, sucking in the substance of the road until it suddenly ceased, leaving a gaping maw with jagged edges where they would have been standing if Affinity’s reactions hadn’t been so sharp.
‘Now I understand,’ Affinity breathed softly. ‘The old ville on which Atlantis was originally built was riddled with tunnels and sewers from the days long before skydark. Odyssey had mined them all, so that when his temple went, all of Atlantis would follow. The whole of the land around us will slowly fall into such holes.’
‘Then not talking. Show way out,’ Jak snapped.
Affinity nodded, changing direction without a word and taking them on another path that would lead around the newly formed pit. They had to backtrack, and as they emerged briefly onto a main road, Ryan caught sight of some of the remaining inhabitants of the ville—civilians, Crawlers and temple guards—moving toward the wreck of the vessel. Whether they thought that they had missed the moment of truth, or whether they were in shock that the dream had ended, he couldn’t tell. Only that they seemed in a kind of shocked trance, falling to their knees. Some were walking up to fissures that opened in the earth, kneeling and waiting for the ground to swallow them up, as though there were nothing left to live for, and all they could countenance was sacrificing themselves to die with their ville, with their dreams.