by Bryan Davis
Earlier she expressed joy that she hadn’t “messed him up” by being so mean, but maybe she had, just not in the way she guessed. Somehow he still dangled from a window clutching a lifeline that Darcy controlled from a precipice. To this day her dark laugh cast a shadow over every glimmer of light. He was still her prisoner, swinging back and forth in the frosty air.
He shivered. It seemed that cold air finally drilled into his bones in spite of his normally impenetrable shell.
Darcy laid a hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
Matt glanced at the rearview mirror. Thomas and Mariel both appeared to be nodding off. “Just thinking about some things. I’ll be fine.”
“Painful things?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Want to tell me about them? I’m a good listener.” She smiled. “Maybe not the listener you want sitting next to you, but I’m here. I’ll take good care of your secrets.”
Darcy’s words stabbed his heart like a rusty dagger. But why? How could such kind words hurt so much? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.
Tears welled. Stop it! Don’t cry in front of her! Be strong! Control yourself.
He bit his lip and swallowed. A single tear dripped, and he quickly brushed it away. “I think . . .” His voice nearly squeaked. He took a deep breath and stuffed the emotions down where they belonged. “I think I’d better keep my secrets to myself, if that’s all right.”
“Perfectly all right.” She drew her hand away. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He swallowed again. Change his mind? It seemed that a rope bound his mind, twisted and knotted, a rope that plunged into his soul and wrapped around his heart while he looked up into the mocking eyes of his betrayer.
He slowly clenched a fist. Why couldn’t a trained fighter with a disciplined mind cast off this binding rope? It just hung on, ever tightening, like a hangman’s noose. It seemed that no one could cut it and set him free. No one. Not even Darcy herself.
And soon they would again venture out together to meet another red dawn, maybe the most dangerous dawn yet. They had to be strong, an unbreakable unit. Otherwise, they might fail to locate the final keys, fail to unravel Tamiel’s plot, and fail to save his mother. Somehow he had to break that wall of division and fully embrace Darcy. For Mom’s sake, nothing else mattered.
Chapter 17
THE SIXTH DOOR
Leaning on his cane, Jared walked on Cordelle Road with Marilyn at his side and Mardon following a step behind. A new moon and powerless streetlamps left the neighborhood in near total darkness. Only a few stars peeked through a thin layer of clouds, and a chilly breeze drifted along his home street, making no sound to disturb the silence. It seemed that the neighbors huddled in their houses and shivered, both from the cold and from fear. With nuclear war possible and with the danger of radioactive fallout looming, who would be crazy enough to venture outside? At least the Enforcers had probably been stymied. The targeted children and their parents could rest more comfortably for a while.
Marilyn carried Excalibur under her arm, wrapped in a blanket. She pointed a flashlight at house after house, trying to find address numbers. Their own house, 1545 Cordelle, lay about two blocks ahead, not far to go.
Jared lifted his cane and tried to walk without it. Pain shot up one leg and into his back. Catching a ride on a National Guard truck to a nearby base had helped a lot, but walking two miles from there had taken a toll.
“Look.” Marilyn set the beam on an ivy-covered mailbox with script numerals on the side. “Fourteen oh three. We’re almost there.”
“Time to douse the light,” Jared said. “Familiarity should guide us the rest of the way.”
A click sounded, and the beam disappeared, leaving the street in darkness. Mardon whispered, “Kindly lead the way, and I will listen for your footsteps.”
“I’ll tap my cane on the pavement. You’ll hear that.” Jared and Marilyn walked hand in hand, taking slow, careful steps. After a few minutes, he stopped and whispered, “I think we’re in front of it.”
“Stay here. I’ll check it out.” Marilyn pulled her hand away. Her footsteps clopped and soon faded. After about a minute, they returned, along with her voice. “You’re right. There’s one car in the driveway, Adam’s Mazda. The window blinds are closed except for a small gap. I saw a tiny light moving around, like a penlight.”
“Adam has a penlight on his key ring. If the government agents were still here, they’d have more powerful flashlights.” Jared scanned the street for any sign of a moving car. “Maybe they flew the coop when the power went out. No need to monitor a computer that can’t run.”
“True, but we’d still better be careful. They might have left an agent behind in case the power returns.”
Jared took her hand again. “Lead the way.”
They walked up the driveway, bypassed Adam’s car, and stepped in front of the door. To the rear, Mardon’s footsteps clicked on the stone porch and fell silent.
Keys jingled. “Here goes,” Marilyn whispered.
A muffled click rode the dark air. Hinges creaked.
A bright beam flashed on, blinding them. “Who’s there?”
Jared blocked the light with a hand. “Adam?”
“Mr. Bannister!” The beam shifted to the entry room floor. “Get in here! Hurry!”
Jared and Marilyn followed the beam inside. Marilyn set Excalibur, still wrapped, on a nearby sofa.
As soon as all three had entered, Adam closed the door with a thump and focused the beam on Mardon’s face. “Who are you?”
Mardon bowed his head. “A scientist the Bannisters are employing to help with a project they have in mind.”
“Good enough for me.” Adam waved the beam around the foyer. “I don’t want to leave this on. It might attract attention.” He clicked it off, darkening the room. A smaller light came on and illuminated his face. “They left one of their goon squad here. I tied him up in the hallway.”
Marilyn touched a bruise on Adam’s cheek. “You fought him?”
“Yeah. He’s got a decent right jab, but I had a baseball bat, so . . .” Adam shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll wake up anytime soon.”
“Good work.” Jared shook Adam’s hand. “How’s Larry doing?”
“I’m not sure. We had a huge power surge and then everything went out. I tried to start the generator, but when I turned the key, nothing happened. That’s when the other two agents decided to leave.”
Mardon lifted a finger. “I assume the generator was not in a shielded room.”
Adam shook his head. “It’s on the screened back porch. It needs ventilation for exhaust.”
“Then the electromagnetic pulse probably disabled the electronic ignition.”
Adam squinted. “What kind of pulse?”
“Electromagnetic,” Marilyn said. “From a nuclear explosion in the atmosphere.”
“Yeah. Everyone knows about the bomb. Before it got dark, people in the neighborhood were buzzing about it, going door to door to let everyone know about a fallout warning. Not everyone has a battery-operated radio to hear the official statements. Later, a National Guard unit came by and told everyone to stay inside, so the streets are deserted.”
“A blessing in disguise,” Jared said. “The other two agents probably won’t return to bother us when we try to turn Larry back on.”
“How are you going to do that?” Adam asked.
Jared walked to the window and peeked through the blinds. “Does your car still run?”
“Yeah. I started it right after I tied up the agent, but since fallout’s coming, I decided it was best to stay here.”
“Well, if you don’t mind letting us borrow a couple of parts, between you and me and our scientist, I think we can rig the generator to use your car’s ignition.”
“Perfect! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Probably because
your mind was on guarding that agent.” Jared nodded toward the garage. “Shall we get my tools?”
Jared, Adam, and Mardon removed the Mazda’s ignition, fashioned an adapter for it, and installed it on the generator. During the process, Marilyn held Adam’s baseball bat and shadowed Mardon’s every move. At first Mardon worked with jittery hands, but he soon calmed down.
When they finished, Jared turned the generator’s key. The engine chugged to life, and the porch light flashed on. Adam lunged to the switch and turned it off. “Let’s hope no one can hear the generator,” he said. “Otherwise we’ll have a line of neighborhood folks dragging extension cords over here.”
Jared closed his toolbox. “Let’s see if Larry’s waking up.”
All four entered the house and walked through the hallway alongside the computer room, heading toward the access door. Without windows in the corridor, no one on the outside could tell what was going on behind the thick walls that protected Larry.
Using his cane for support, Jared stepped into the dimly lit room, followed by the others. Power-supply cooling fans hummed, as if the room’s collection of metal boxes and glass enclosures were warming up to sing a song.
Jared took a seat at the main control station’s desk and looked at a flat panel screen mounted on the side of Larry’s outer wall.
“Someone has entered,” Larry said in his unflappable tone. “Identify yourself.”
Jared spoke toward the computer. “Larry, this is Jared Bannister. I request special security clearance alpha, zeta, six.”
“Voice print for Jared Bannister verified. Stand by for challenge questions.”
Jared straightened in his seat. “I’m ready.”
“Question number one of three. Where did you reside in the year twelve fourteen?”
“Dublin, Ireland.”
“Correct. When you killed Andrew the merchant, what were his last words?”
“I need a drink.”
“Correct. Where is your wife’s birthmark?”
Marilyn raised her brow, her cheeks reddening.
“On her . . .” Jared smiled. “Posterior.”
“Synonym accepted. You now have security clearance alpha, zeta, six. One moment while I load the required software. Would you like some music while you wait?”
“Uh . . . sure. Just not loud.”
“Volume setting, level two.”
While a soft piano played, accompanied by a bass and drums, Jared turned to Mardon. “How do you want to see the file?”
Mardon stepped closer. “A mapped image of both your human and dragon genome, please. Since I am well acquainted with both species’ genetics, I will be able to identify what I need.”
“Jared.” Marilyn touched his shoulder. “Did you put this music into Larry’s entertainment database?”
“No. Never heard it before.” Jared turned to Adam. “Did you?”
Adam half closed an eye. “It sounds like jazz. I wouldn’t have loaded it. I’m a heavy metal guy.”
“I’m seeing red flags,” Marilyn said. “Larry hasn’t cracked a single joke.”
Jared looked at the screen—blank except for a slight flicker now and then. “Why is he taking so long?”
The music ended abruptly. Larry’s voice returned. “I am now ready.”
“I guess he’s okay.” Jared scooted the chair closer. “Larry, since you’re on generator power, let’s skip any pleasantries. I’ll just say that I’m grateful for your help, and I’m looking forward to working with you again.”
“Before you proceed, my AI algorithms have generated a warning. If not for your clearance, which forced my main processor to load a secure checkpoint version of my operating system, I would not have noticed the software patch installed two days ago by user M one thousand. That user attempted to access your files seventy-two times during a three-hour period and also created a database that captured all incoming and outgoing communications.”
Mardon raised a hand. “I did that from a remote site. Tamiel asked me to set up the monitoring system for the government agents.”
“A different remote user installed the music I played for you,” Larry continued. “I now realize that it sounded like diseased alley cats imitating Bob Dylan gargling with hot sauce.”
An image appeared on the monitor showing a trio of singing cats. After a few seconds, an old boot flew at them, making them scatter.
Marilyn grinned. “Larry’s back.”
“Great.” Jared adjusted a smaller monitor on the desk. “Larry, switch your communications to screen number two, then access my file and display the genome maps on the main screen.”
“One moment.” Both screens flashed. Two seconds later, a complex diagram appeared on the flat panel. Filled with labeled boxes within a colorful circle, it appeared to be gibberish.
Mardon leaned close to the screen and studied the map. As his eyes shifted, he nodded every few seconds. “Uh-huh. . . . Yes, I see. . . . This is quite enlightening.”
Finally, he turned to Jared. “I have identified what I need. Now if you will agree to the terms we discussed earlier, I will help you restore the mighty Clefspeare.”
* * *
Matt aimed the flashlight at the pavement, Darcy at his side. As they walked along the two-lane back road that led to the sixth door, barred owls hooted now and then, muffled by dense fog in the vast darkness. “Who blew the fuse?” one owl seemed to ask. Another asked the same question, but no one had an answer.
Something snapped in the woods. Matt stopped and swung the beam that way. The light fell on trees and dense underbrush. As he kept the radiant circle in place, nothing moved.
Darcy touched his arm. “Spooky, isn’t it?”
“Especially when we don’t know what we’re heading into.”
“Want me to turn on the phone and check the distance?”
“No. We can’t risk it.” He turned around and shone the beam in the opposite direction. Again it illuminated nothing but fog and pavement. Somewhere back there, Thomas and Mariel sat in the Mustang, parked on a side trail, waiting, as instructed. Since Mariel now held the micro-thin tracker she found on Darcy’s skin, Tamiel would think everyone sat in the car waiting for the right time to drive closer. The phone might also carry a tracking device, so they had to leave it off unless absolutely necessary.
Fortunately, Mariel had allowed them to borrow her watch so they could keep track of time. The Mustang radio’s clock was sufficient for her and Thomas. “Based on the distance when we parked,” Matt said, “I’m guessing the sixth door is about two hundred yards ahead. It’s a straight shot, so we shouldn’t need the GPS.”
Darcy pushed back her sleeve and looked at her wrist. “I can’t see the watch.”
Matt shone the beam on the face.
“Five forty-eight.” She slid her sleeve in place. “We don’t have much time.”
He nodded. That meant they had barely more than an hour till they were supposed to arrive. When they powered up the phone earlier to check for messages, a text came in telling them to arrive at seven. “Let’s get moving.”
Matt flicked off the light. Darkness flooded everything. Even Darcy faded from view. “You’d better hold on to me.”
She touched his elbow and ran her fingers down his arm until she reached his hand and grasped it. “Ready.”
Keeping his stare straight ahead, Matt walked toward an imaginary point in the distance. At least the sound of shoes on pavement would keep them from veering off the path.
After about a hundred steps, several lights up ahead pierced the fog, apparently streetlamps. Soon, a building took shape on the right, then a driveway leading from the road through a gate attached to a tall fence topped with barbed wire. The building, a one-story brick structure, stood several feet inside the fence, no lights visible in a window on its front wall.
Matt stopped and pulled Darcy shoulder to shoulder. The streetlamps cast a dim light across her face.
“A prison,” he whispered. “Like the sixth circle.”
She nodded. “How are we going to get in? Especially without being seen?”
“Not sure yet.” He scanned the area. The lights were, indeed, simple lamps mounted on telephone poles rather than movable searchlights in watchtowers. No guards perched on rooftops or strolled the grounds. A generator was probably running somewhere, so an attendant of some kind might be inside, and he or she probably didn’t expect any visitors.
Matt touched his stomach. No danger alert. Maybe a bold approach would be best.
“Let’s go.” He marched along the driveway and stopped at the gate. A professionally printed sign spelled out, Enter and Register at the Window. Customers Serviced Beginning at 7:00 am.
Matt gave the chain-link gate a slight pull. It dragged an inch or two along the pavement before stopping. A latch with a red LED clock held the gate closed. The clock displayed 5:59. When it changed to 6:00, something clicked, and the gate swung ajar.
“It’s like an invitation,” Darcy said. “Shall we?”
“I don’t trust invitations from the enemy.” Matt checked his danger sense again. Still nothing. “I guess we don’t have much choice.”
He and Darcy sidestepped through the gap and followed the driveway to a window at the side of the building. With a cash register on the inside, it looked like a ticket counter at a theme park. Just beneath a horizontal gap in the glass, a protruding wooden counter held a clipboard with a pen lodged under the clip.
Matt picked up the board and scanned the attached page while Darcy looked on. The column headings read, Name, Arrival Time, First-time Customer? Attendant Preference.
“Attendant?” he whispered.
Darcy shrugged. “Someone who takes you to visit a prisoner?”
“Then it would say Visitors instead of Customers.”
“Good point.” As Darcy stared at the page, her expression turned grim.
“What’s wrong?”