by Jeff Long
A silence follows. The angel finally speaks. “I am,” he says.
The disciple listens for the sound of rocks being lifted from his tomb. Instead he hears footsteps walking away.
ARTIFACTS
INTERNATIONAL WAR CRIMES TRIBUNAL
United States War Crimes Against China
Initial Complaint Charging:
(Members of the previous U.S. administration plus various generals) and members of U.S. Navy SEAL unit one who participated in the incident….
With:
Crimes Against Peace, War Crimes, Crimes Against Humanity and Other Criminal Acts, and High Crimes in Violation of the Charter of the United Nations Subplanetary Treaty and Laws made in Pursuance Thereof.
These charges have been prepared at the request of the People’s Republic of China following the killing of seventy-nine Chinese nationals by U.S. military personnel at the sub-Pacific location known as Green Barrens….
The Charges Include:
1. The United States knowingly and willfully engaged in the violation of UN Subplanetary Treaty that forbids military presence or action by any nation in the Subterrain.
2. The president ordered U.S. forces to invade the Subterrain with small special-operations commando teams, resulting in the deaths of seventy-nine Chinese nationals at the Green Barrens site.
7. The United States used prohibited weapons to inflict indiscriminate death and unnecessary suffering against both military and civilian targets.
10. The president obstructed justice and corrupted United Nations functions as a means of securing power to commit crimes against peace and war crimes.
11. The president usurped the constitutional power of Congress as a means of securing power to commit crimes against peace, war crimes, and other high crimes.
26
DAY TWENTY-THREE UNDER
Rebecca’s army came to a primitive footbridge. Made of nonstretch perlon rope, the cavers’ choice, it spanned a chasm thirty yards wide. A sign read:
THE BIFROST RIFT TOLL BRIDGE.
$100/HEAD
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT
NO LIE
Hunter called a halt. Rebecca went to the front of the line. Clemens was not far behind.
A curious slum waited over there. Aluminum ladders led up to holes in a honeycombed cave wall. The holes were fitted with doors. Spider walks made of rope linked various holes. Shapeless flags hung like laundry from a string running side to side. From this side of the bridge, the place looked deserted.
“These guys mean business,” Hunter said to Rebecca, glassing the village. “I count five rifles sticking out of concealments. That means there are probably twice that many or more. They’ve got total command of the crossing. So much for our alleged intelligence.”
Clemens—their “alleged intelligence”—stood to Rebecca’s left. “This is a surprise,” he said.
“I’m not sure we can stand many more surprises,” Hunter said. “Yesterday we had to deal with the salt columns you didn’t remember. The day before it was a waterfall you’d never seen. I’m wondering if you ever came this way at all.”
Clemens’s disfigurement and bizarre manner had already made him the scapegoat of choice among the majority. Rebecca had heard some of the nicknames: Tad, for his tadpole features; the Leper King; One-Nut; and other, coarser things. He never reacted, though. With that scar of a smile, he seemed almost happy with their abuse.
“Things change,” he said.
“Look, Clemens, I know you want to belong again,” said Hunter.
“How do you mean?”
“Fit in. Assimilate. Rejoin the human race.”
“Do you have a point?” said Clemens.
“Yeah. This is a rescue operation, not psychotherapy. Leading us into your nightmare isn’t helping us, and I don’t see how it’s helping you.”
Clemens looked at Rebecca. “Are we firing me?” he said.
He had saved her life once, and she was grateful. But this concerned her. They were putting their faith in a horribly scarred survivor. His recall was their compass. If it was broken, they needed to know.
“How did your group get across?” she said, shelving his question for the moment. The last thing she needed was more attrition.
Where the railroad ended at Electric City, they had started walking. Apparently half of her army had expected the war would walk to them. In just four days, almost five hundred men had turned around and gone home. Now this chasm and bridge were going to cost her more desertions. Even as she stood there, men were lining the chasm rim, dropping pebbles into the blackness below, shining their lights on the sorry excuse for a bridge, and shaking their heads. The longer they dallied, the weaker they got.
“Ten hours in that direction,” Clemens pointed, “there was a chain left from the old days. I sent one of our climbing monkeys over with a rope and we rigged a traverse. It took us two days to cross. We lost a man. Then it was another two days’ trek along the far rim to reach where this lovely village now sits.”
“We don’t have a week to spare,” she said. “This is where we cross. Today.”
“They’ve got us by the short hairs,” Hunter said. “Even if we could afford their toll, we’d only be setting ourselves up for every other pirate down the road.”
“Shoot some,” Clemens suggested. “Put the fear of God in them. It will give the men some practice.”
They had still not fired a shot in anger. Except for a few “mad minutes,” when the men chewed apart cave formations on full auto, their weapons were mostly macho accessories. So far no one had shot himself in the foot.
“We could take them out,” Hunter said. “Possibly all of them. We’ve got the firepower. But I’d bet the farm they’ve rigged this bridge. If they cut that loose, we’ll have to hoof it down to the chain anyway. If it even exists.”
Rebecca started for the bridge.
“Where are you going?” Hunter was a stride behind her.
“To negotiate,” she said. “This is their home. Their rope and labor count for something. So does our time. We’ll find a fair price.”
“Listen to me…”
She didn’t stop. He caught her arm.
“Rebecca…”His voice had a tone she hadn’t heard before.
Christ, she thought. He’s in love. “Stay with the men,” she said. “And, Mr. Hunter, keep your hands to yourself.”
Hunter dropped his hand and Rebecca started over the bridge.
For the first few steps, she actually felt graceful. Then the bridge began swaying in big arcs. It did not help that her army trained its lights on the rope bridge. Between the dancing lights and her wild shadow on the far wall, she nearly threw up.
The bridge sagged under her weight, lowering her into the rift. Setting her jaw, she went on with her miserable performance. So much for inspiring the men. They were probably leaving in droves.
At the midpoint, just as she was starting to ascend, a terrible sound yowled up from far below.
What on God’s earth? The howl jolted her. It didn’t belong. There were rules to this place, and they included hadals and bats and bugs. And glaciers and relic seas and even cannibal children. But what was this howl?
The bridge bobbed up and down. She clung to the ropes. The howl echoed away.
A moment later Rebecca heard the metal clatter of guns. She cast a look back. All along the edge, men lay on their stomachs aiming into the abyss. Flares were dropping into the depths, so many it looked like lava flowing. The flares sank and sank and not one bit of light reached the bottom.
That unearthly cry rose up again. Fists locked on the ropes, Rebecca peeked left and right around her feet. Whatever lived in that dark gash of night, it wanted out.
“Rebecca,” men called to her. “Come back.”
Come back, not go forward. That frightened her more than the creature that couldn’t seem to reach her anyway.
The howl guttered up again, plaintive this time. Frustrated. Famished.
This rift could easily be the end of them. She saw that clearly. The end of Sam.
Scooting her foot higher, Rebecca forced the next step. The bridge rocked and bobbed. She took another step, and another. The village drew closer.
She concentrated on the intricate catwalks and aluminum ladders and spider holes with doors. And the guns. She saw them clearly now. Rifle barrels poked from a dozen niches. The gunmen she could reason with. The gunmen she welcomed. Whatever lay below was pure hunger.
Hauling herself the last few feet of the bridge, she called out, “Don’t shoot.”
Touching solid ground, Rebecca almost fell away from the abyss. But she disciplined her trembling knees and went forward into the village, calling, “Hello? Don’t shoot. Hello?”
No one answered. Except for the flags swaying overhead, the place was motionless. “Someone come out. We need to talk.”
No one appeared. She went deeper. “Hello.”
Something—a cannonball—struck the small of her back. She slammed face-first against the wall. She felt hot breath against the back of her head, and heard her captor’s lungs and the quiet jingle of gear. He shoved his hips against her butt, gluing her flat to the stone.
From the corner of her eye, shapes glimmered. A red laser dot danced by her nose, then swung away. Footsteps beat the stone. Doors crashed open.
“Clear,” said a voice.
“Empty,” another.
“Nothing here.”
That weight of hot breath and hard hips let up. Her captor released her. She turned. It was Hunter. His men poured through the little alley of ropes and ladders, like dark water.
Rebecca pushed him. “I told you to stay with the men.”
“You’re brave as lions, but that was a damned stunt,” Hunter said. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”
“I had it under control.” She was furious and relieved. Tears rolled down her face, damn them. “Bring the men over. We need to keep going.”
“Not until we secure the place. And figure out what the hell is down in the rift.”
The Drop Zone operators went on probing the village.
A soldier approached. “You’ll love this.” He held out a piece of plastic pipe. The tip was painted black.
“Plumbing pipe?” Hunter took it. “These are the snipers?”
“That’s it, sir.”
“They stopped an entire army with pieces of plastic?”
“Nothing personal. I’d say they were shaking down the settlers.”
Hunter growled. “Where are these merry pranksters?”
“No one’s home, sir. They must have headed for the hills.”
Across the rift, the lights of her army twinkled. Rebecca followed Hunter through the narrow lane. Overhead, soldiers clambered back and forth on the spider walks.
“Roust the place,” Hunter said. “Turn it upside down.”
Boots clattered on the ladders.
“What are we looking for, sir?”
“Hell if I know. Teddy bears, orthodontics, iPods, Halloween costumes, whatever the kids might have had the night they were taken. Be thorough.”
“I doubt there’s anything here,” Rebecca said to him.
“Why’s that?” said Hunter.
“Because Mr. Beckwith found that Barbie doll down a different tunnel.” The elusive Ian Beckwith, she thought. In this land of stark shadows or no shadows at all, he flitted in and out of view, more out than in. Since the governor’s banquet in Travis, she had seen him a total of two times.
“Then why aren’t we down that tunnel?” Hunter was on his short fuse.
“Because Mr. Clemens told me this way was the shortcut.”
The veins wormed at Hunter’s temples. “You didn’t ask me?”
“I went with my gut.”
“Look,” he said. “You’ve got this thing for the wrong guys. Beckwith is damaged goods. The cave got him. He’s no different from Clemens, just another phantom of the opera. If I wanted to, I could snag a quick cash reward with a piece of flex cuff. He’s got a court-martial waiting for him. But that’s not part of my mission.”
“He brought us the doll,” she said. “That’s all the proof we have of the children.”
“And that’s what I’m after now. Proof. If we’re running down the wrong tube, let’s turn around and find the right one.”
“But we can’t turn around,” she said.
“Why is that?”
Because, she didn’t dare say, her house of cards was already falling to pieces. “Just bring them over.”
Hunter lowered his voice. “I’m not going to do that, Rebecca. They don’t belong here in the first place. But since they’re here, they deserve better than bad guesswork and sloppy thinking. If there’s no proof of the children, the merry-go-round stops now.”
“I’ll bring them over myself.”
Hunter stepped in front of her. “No, Rebecca. With all due respect, you will quit killing yourself and them and go back where you came from and deal with your losses.”
It was here. The mutiny. The end. “Get out of my way.”
“Ms. Coltrane, I am here to observe and advise your operation, to minimize your impact, and to protect the lives of American citizens. If necessary, I have the authority to impose martial law and forcibly evacuate…”
She wanted to cover her ears and close her eyes and make him disappear. He was the United States of America. It was more than that. He was the real world crashing this unreal one.
“Sir,” called a man. “Up here.”
Men were clustering by the laundry line with its odd banners.
“You need to see this, sir.”
Hunter didn’t invite her along. Rebecca followed anyway, climbing the ladders past doors that swung into little burrows and cells.
“What do we have?” Hunter said.
“I think we found the boys.”
Rebecca looked around. What about the girls?
The operator pointed at the banners on the line. Rebecca frowned. Then she saw the pubic hair. They were human skins rustling in the breeze.
“It could be anybody,” Hunter said.
“No, sir, it’s them,” said the operator. He held up a small booklet with names, photos, and information about each missing child.
A birthmark, a knee-surgery scar, and tattoos of a skate brand and a girlfriend’s name identified all the skins as those of the missing boys. Rebecca was exquisitely careful not to show the slightest hint of her relief. For now the girls were still unaccounted for. There was still hope for Sam.
Each skin bore fresh hadal markings, an honor of sorts according to Clemens. “Those are prayers,” he said. “Every time the flag flaps, prayers fly up to heaven.”
Rebecca asked for an honor guard to escort the remains (rolled like carpets) back to the surface. Over a hundred men volunteered. They would have left anyway, so the funeral detail helped her save face.
Chastened by this proof, Hunter withdrew into his Drop Zone isolation. Clemens had been right. The raiders had come this way.
Not a trace of the toll-taking villagers remained. It wasn’t hard to guess where the hadals had sent them. As the army crossed on the rope bridge, that prehistoric thing in the rift kept howling up at them. Begging, it seemed to Rebecca, for more.
ARTIFACTS
PRESS RELEASE
Critical Care Products for the Subterrain
Berberian Meds has launched, and is developing, a suite of products for medical emergencies in the Subterrain such as poisoning, overdose (pharmaceutical), subterranean cancers, respiratory diseases, cave sepsis, and life-threatening infections. Typically, these often life-saving medicines sell for a high price and are targeted at specialist clinicians in the expanding Subterrain critical-care setting. These medicines include:
TrogFabTM[Troglobitae Polyvalent Immune Fab (Ovine)]
TrogFabTM is a treatment for mild or moderate envenomation from North Sub-Pacific Troglobitic species includi
ng pit vipers and white snakes, some cave crustaceans (trilobites, glass lobster, etc.—see list), the Elbert octopus, some amphibians (camel toads, night darters, etc.—see list), rays, parasitic barnacles, terrestrial jellyfishes (not aquatic), some spiders (erect widowers, Korean tarantulas, etc.—see list), blue scorpions, and some insects (Vulcan ants, Hu and brittle dragonflies, etc.—see list). TrogFabTM was the first product entry into the Subterrain antivenin market, and rapidly established itself as the market leader.
It is estimated that there are around 733,000 venomous animal bites in the Subterrain each year, a number sure to rise with population influx, creating a market potential of up to US$3.8 billion per annum based on an assumed average treatment cost of US$5,000 per patient. There are 250 to 900 deaths each year, underlining the need for prompt and adequate treatment.
Berberian Meds was the first company to answer the mystery of why so many cave species have evolved a shared toxin, i.e., TTX (troglodotoxin), which, in small doses, causes paralysis of varying lengths of time. (Larger doses cause death.) By identifying the TTX-producing bacteria in salivary glands and nematocysts, the company jumped to the forefront in subterranean antivenin production. Other antivenin products in the R & D pipeline include…
Each packet of TrogFabTM contains up to 1 gram of total protein and sodium phosphate buffer. Gelatin is used as a preservative in the manufacturing process. Adipic acid and fumaric acid, plus artificial flavor, aid in the reconstitution process. Contains less than 2 percent of aspartame and red 40. Use 100 millimeters of boiling water for reconstitution, and fix with 100 milliliters of cold water.
27
Mommy?
Ali sweeps Maggie up in her arms.
She whirls her in a circle.
Maggie’s hair tickles her cheek.
Maggie puts her little hand on Ali’s arm.
I miss you, Mommy.
Ali woke.