Countdown

by Unknown Author

  “Look!” Harley pointed excitedly at a shadowy cleft at the base of a granite cliff face. Darkness swallowed up the sunlight just beyond the lip of the opening. “A cave! Just like you-know-who’s!”

  Holly knew whom Harley was referring to. Selina had been known to visit the Batcave on occasion, although 'Holly had never personally wangled an invite from the Dark Knight. She doubted, though, that the nameless cave ahead held anything half as impressive as Batman’s secret headquarters. “So?”

  Harley insisted on seeing for herself. “Let’s explore!” “You’re kidding, right?”

  Harley smartly saluted the cave opening. “Junior Spe-lunker Harleen Quinzel, present and accounted for!” “Not kidding,” Holly realized glumly. She tried in vain to sound a note of reason. “Just for the record, this is an incredibly bad idea. Two unarmed women entering a pitch-black cave.” She shook her head at the fact that they were actually contemplating such a foolhardy move. “That always goes well in the movies.”

  “See,” Harley replied. “So there’s no worries.” She marched briskly into the darkness. “C’mon.”

  Clearly, Harley had never seen The Descent. “Sarcasm’s completely lost on you, isn’t it?” Holly asked as she bowed to the inevitable and followed Harley into the cave. Probably full of bat guano or bears, she thought crankily. She strained her eyes to see into the gloom. All she could make out at first was a dimly lit grotto that ap-

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  peared to extend deep into the hillside. The sudden shade chilled her sweaty flesh. Goose bumps broke out across her skin.

  Harley seemed disappointed by Holly’s lack of enthusiasm. “What kind of a sidekick are you, red?”

  Sidekick? Holly thought indignantly. When did I become your sidekick? She let her eyes adjust to the murky interior of the cave. Stalactites jutted down from the ceiling like dragon’s teeth, and Holly had to duck to avoid bumping her head into one of the calcite fangs. Sleeping bats rustled overhead. She heard water dripping deeper within the cavern and debated whether it was worth looking for in the dark. Naturally, neither of them was equipped to go caving. They didn’t even have a matchbook between them, let alone a flashlight.

  She dimly glimpsed Harley’s outline ahead of her. •“You do realize we can’t go back now. We’ve been gone too long. They’ve got to know we’re missing by now.” Harley shrugged. “You worry too much. We’re on a magic island, Holly! Maybe we’ll find a flying carpet, or a lamp with one of those genie things inside!”

  “Wrong culture,” Holly pointed out, treading carefully over the uneven floor. “Try a winged horse, or Pandora’s box, or...” Her voice trailed off as she heard herself playing along with Harley’s magical treasure hunt fantasy. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you!” Harley gave no indication that she was listening to Holly. “Yowza!” she exclaimed. “Get a load of this!” Indirect sunlight, invading the cavern from outdoors, exposed a sizable cache of Amazonian gear. Swords, spears, shields, battle-axes, scrolls, a bedroll, armor, a quiver of arrows, a bow, and amphorae of various shapes and sizes were stacked haphazardly against the rugged wall of the cavern. Peering at the supplies, Holly saw at once these were no long-forgotten artifacts. Everything looked new and in excellent condition. The blades and arrowheads were freshly sharpened and free of rust. No dust had settled on the various pots and vases.

  Harley reached the obvious conclusion. “Somebody’s living here!”

  “Indeed.” A lurking figure lunged from the stygian depths of the cave. Striking with exceptional strength and speed, their attacker sent Holly flying across the grotto with a single blow, while simultaneously knocking Harley off her feet with a sweep of her arm. Armor jangled loudly. An unsheathed sword flashed in the dim lighting.

  “Holy—!” Harley gasped as she hit the ground hard. “Did somebody get the license number of that Bat-mobile?”

  “Harley, focus!” Holly snatched a sword from the piled gear and jumped to her feet. She tossed a spear to Harley, who wasn’t too dazed to snag it from the air. The two runaways took up defensive postures, raising their weapons against... who?

  * Their foe stepped into the light, revealing a striking, raven-haired woman clad in ornate golden armor and sandals. A cloak of imperial purple was clasped to her shoulders by a pair of intricately detailed gold brooches. An eagle motif was emblazoned upon the woman’s gleaming breastplate. A silver girdle circled her waist. A golden tiara, studded with rubies and sapphires, crowned her regal brow. Although she appeared older than either Holly or Harley, perhaps in her early fifties, her face had a timeless beauty that looked vaguely familiar. Nor had her age diminished her obvious fitness and vitality. Holly got the distinct impression that this woman could wipe up the floor with both of them without even trying.

  “Hades beckons, false Amazons!” she denounced them angrily. Her own sword stood poised for combat. “Soon you will know it all too well!”

  False Amazons?

  “Whoa! Time-out!” Holly protested. “We’re not with those Amazon chicks out there.”

  “Yeah!” Harley confirmed. “We kinda quit their stupid club!”

  The fury in the older woman’s eyes was replaced by a more thoughtful expression. She eyed Holly and Harley warily. The tip of her sword dipped slightly. She nodded toward the cave entrance—and the training grounds beyond. “Those are not Amazons.”

  “Yeah, we’re tumbling to that,” Holly said. She had been suspicious of this whole setup since day one. What kind of mythical sisterhood increased its ranks by putting homeless young women through hell? That hardly sounded like the kind of culture that would produce someone like Wonder Woman.

  “My own people have departed the mortal realm,” the armored stranger declared. “I alone remain in penance for past sins. I know not where these imposters hail from, but they are not of the sisterhood.”

  Okay, Holly thought. Now we’re getting somewhere. 'This woman sounded like she might be able to help them get some answers as to what was really going on here. She cautiously lowered her sword. “We cool?”

  The woman returned her blade to its scabbard. “Were you lying, I would know. Were you lying, you would be dead.”

  Holly gulped. “Good to know.”

  “What makes you so sure those Amazons are bogus?” Harley asked.

  The formidable stranger addressed them solemnly. “I am Hippolyta, Queen of Amazons. I know my own kin.” Of course! Holly realized why the woman’s face seemed so familiar. She’s Wonder Woman’s mother. Now that she knew what to look for, Holly could see the family resemblance. She thought she remembered reading that Hippolyta had died a few years back, but apparently the reports of the Amazon queen’s death had been somewhat exaggerated.

  But what’s she doing hiding out in a cave on her own island?

  “So even this Athena is bogus?” she asked.

  “Athena?” Hippolyta’s voice dripped with scorn. “She still calls herself Athena?”

  “Duh!” Harley answered. “Where you been, living in a cave?” She glanced around. “Oh. Right.”

  Hippolyta disregarded Harley’s babbling. “Athena,” she repeated darkly. “There is irony in that.”

  Holly didn’t get it. “How so?”

  A cold smile played upon Hippolyta’s lips. “She has taken the name of the goddess of wisdom.” Her hand rested on the pommel of her sword. “None who dares trespass against me can truly be called wise.”

  Holly was suddenly very glad to be on Hippolyta’s good side. The Queen of the Amazons was obviously no one you wanted to mess around with.

  “Hey!” Harley blurted. “If that’s not really Athena, then who’ve I been busting my hump for?”

  * Good question, Holly thought.

  Hippolyta held up her hand abruptly. “Quiet!” She swiftly retrieved the bow from her armory and plucked an arrow from the quiver. She spun to face the mouth of the cave, where an enormous black dog suddenly filled the entrance. Drool spilled from its massive s
nout as it sniffed at the ground. A spiked collar girded its thick neck. A low snarl reached Holly’s ears.

  Crap! Holly recognized the beast as one of the savage warhounds Athena’s lieutenants used to patrol their encampment. On occasion, the guard dogs had even been employed to “motivate” the initiates to run faster during training. Holly had vivid memories of the fierce canines nipping at her heels while heartless women warriors yelled at her to pick up the pace. No doubt the phony Amazons had set the dogs to track her and Harley down.

  Ami people wonder why I'm more of a cat person! Picking up their scent, the warhound bounded into the cave. Rubbery black lips peeled back, baring the beast’s yellow fangs. It charged at them like Ace the Bat-Hound’s meaner brother.

  Hippolyta let loose her arrow, which thwacked into the dog’s snout, narrowly missing its eye. The warhound growled in anger and kept on coming. Leaping at Hip-polyta, it clamped its jaws around the bow and wrenched it from her grip.

  “Bad doggie!” Harley scolded. “Bad! Bad!”

  The warhound snapped the bow in two and spit the pieces onto the floor of the cave. It whirled around to attack Hippolyta once more. Holly didn’t think she could get to the dog before it tore the queen’s throat out, so she hurled her sword like a throwing knife. The blade sank into the beast’s shoulders, eliciting a furious yelp from the enraged hound. Forgetting Hippolyta for the moment, it turned on Holly, who found herself unarmed against the bloodthirsty canine.

  “Oh, come on!” she complained to no one in particular. “How is this fair?”

  ' * But before the beast could lunge at her, Hippolyta snatched the spear from Harley’s grasp and vaulted across the cavern. Gravity added to the force of her thrust as she drove the point of the spear deep into the warhound’s skull while alighting upon the ground. The monstrous dog convulsed once before dropping lifelessly at the queen’s feet. She nodded in satisfaction as she wrested the spear from the dead hound’s corpse.

  “This breed has proven difficult to slay,” she observed calmly. Canine blood spattered her face and armor.

  “Not your first?” Holly guessed, grateful to be alive.

  A look of weariness came over the queen’s noble features. ‘There have been others,” she conceded. She nudged the bloody carcass. “This one was set on your trail. There will be more.”

  “There’s a piece of good news,” Holly said drily, not that she hadn’t figured the same. Wouldn’t you know it? I’m a fugitive again.

  Harley dropped to her knees beside the vicious brute that had nearly killed them. Her eyes were moist as she stroked the dead dog’s fur. “Poor puppy ..

  Hippolyta regarded Harley with puzzlement. “Is that one well?” she asked Holly. “She shows no outward sign of combat trauma, and yet...”

  “Let’s not go there,” Holly recommended. They had more urgent problems to deal with than Harley’s questionable sanity. “They’ve got a small army of those warhounds back at the camp. If they’re all after us... ?” She didn’t need to complete the thought. “Don’t suppose you have a boat handy?”

  Hippolyta shook her head. “You wouldn’t be the first to try to escape. It never ends happily.”

  Holly remembered the sea monsters prowling just beyond shore. “I’ll bet.” She glanced around the cave, which didn’t really seem large enough to hide all three of them on a permanent basis. “Any other ideas?”

  The Amazon queen pondered the matter. “Perhaps, if you are glib enough, there is a way you can return without fear of execution ... and be of some use to me.”

  “I’m listening,” Holly said.

  Hippolyta indicated the carcass on the floor. “Were you to return with this kill, and a thrilling tale of initiative taken ...” She peered into Holly’s eyes to ensure that the younger woman took her meaning. “The pretender and her acolytes tend to look favorably on blood sports. And I could make use of eyes that see from within her ranks.” She wants us to be her spies, Holly realized. Undercover Amazons.

  Harley contemplated the massive corpse. “I dunno. Looks awful heavy.”

  “You won’t need the entire carcass,” Hippolyta assured them.

  She raised her sword high....

  17 mm SHUNTING.

  • APOKOLIPS,

  Night, or what passed for night in the smoldering Ar-magetto, had fallen by the time a bizarre-looking figure furtively crawled out of the blazing Fire Pit. Dark green scales, each as thick as a tortoise’s shell, covered Jimmy’s body, shielding him from the all-consuming flames, just as they had for hours now while he hid within the pit. Gouts of bright orange flame escaped his lips every time he exhaled. Intricate designs, like circuit diagrams, were etched into his fireproof shell.

  How ’bout that? Jimmy thought. Looks like my crazy plan worked after all. Just as he’d hoped, his unpredictable powers had activated in time to spare him from total incineration. Granted, he hadn’t expected to transform into some sort of fire-breathing turtle-man, but he wasn’t about to complain. Better a reptile than a pile of ashes.

  Peering out through the smoke and flames, he scanned the ugly industrial complex beyond the pit. The overslavers and their wretched charges seemed to have retired for the evening, or perhaps they had simply moved on to feed another pit. In any event, the coast was clear. Jimmy took advantage of their absence to scuttle away from the smoky inferno behind him. Crouching low, and clinging to the shadows, he located a ventilation shaft leading into one of the megalopolis’s many weapons factories. His scaly hands pried open the hatch and he crawled inside the shaft. A low ceiling forced him to stoop uncomfortably as he made his way down the horizontal vent. His fiery exhalations lit his way through the darkness. He fretted about setting off some sort of sprinkler system, but then again, that assumed that Darkseid actually cared about the safety of his slave labor.

  Okay, first things first, he thought, as he paused to consider his next move. How do I get off this crummy planet-before Darke id’s goons find out that I’m still alive? The key was finding Forager. She brought me here. She can darn well get me home, if only I can find her.

  ' * Maybe this way? He started moving forward again, driven by an inexplicable certainty that he was heading in the right direction. He couldn’t explain how he knew this, but he felt strangely confident that Forager was up ahead somewhere. Another facet of his puzzling new abilities, or just wishful thinking on his part? The circuitry inscribed upon his shell began to emit a faint golden glow, which steadily increased in intensity the farther he proceeded. Jimmy chose to take that as a good sign.

  He crept stealthily through an intricate maze of vents, service tunnels, and other conduits. The rumble of heavy machinery reverberated ceaselessly in the background. Periodic gusts of hot air and exhaust made him grateful for his impervious exoskeleton. Occasionally he heard footsteps in the corridors outside the tunnels. Jimmy froze and held his breath until the unseen guards or servants passed. Alien rodents, twice the size of Terran rats, hissed angrily at the fire-breathing intruder before scurrying in retreat. Greasy lubricants and industrial waste dripped onto his head and shoulders, streaking his shell. The cramped passageways smelled like gasoline and brimstone.

  Jimmy recalled his nauseating trek through Project

  Cadmus’s sewers. How come I keep ending up as a tunnel rat?

  The booming machinery gradually receded into the distance. The glowing circuitry grew ever brighter. Jimmy sensed that he had progressed from the factories into Darkseid’s gloomy palace. But where was Forager? An itch at the back of his brain guided him to a vertical shaft that led to a rusty metal grate many yards above Jimmy’s head. A trickle of turquoise liquid dripped down the ladder before him.

  Forager’s blood?

  Jimmy climbed the ladder. The bars of the grate were slick with the alien fluid. Jimmy lifted it just enough to peek out into the chamber above. Please, he prayed. No Parademons or overslavers, please . . .

  “Forager!”

  ' 'His insectile traveling co
mpanion was shackled to a canted metal rack, like a butterfly mounted for display. Although scratched and blackened in places, her chitin-ous armor appeared more or less intact, suggesting that she hadn’t been tortured too severely yet, but fresh blood continued to seep from a wound in her shoulder. Jimmy remembered her being zapped by a Parademon’s laser-rifle during their initial battle with Darkseid’s strike force. He could hear her panting raggedly beneath her helmet. All six wings were retracted.

  To his relief, she appeared to be alone in the dismal torture chamber, which was crowded with elaborate metal apparatus whose sadistic functions Jimmy didn’t want to think too hard about. Being careful not to let the metal grate clang loudly onto the floor, he shoved it aside and hurried over to the upright rack. Forager’s helmet concealed her expression. Jimmy couldn’t tell if she was conscious or not.

  “Hang on!” he said. “Let me get you out of there!”

  He started to gently remove Forager’s helmet. “Thank God you’re still alive...

  And, he discovered to his surprise, strangely gorgeous.

  Glossy purple filaments, resembling human hair, swept 211 fiais cox

  across the top of her head. The elegant planes of her face had a lustrous vermilion sheen. Multifaceted compound eyes sparkled like polished yellow crystals. There was only the slightest hint of a nose, but her lilac-colored lips were plump and inviting. Slender antennae rose from her flowing purple locks.

  Her alien beauty threw Jimmy off balance. Cool your hormones, he scolded himself. She’s a human-sized bug for crying out loud!

  He rapidly undid the clasps binding her wrists and ankles. Weakened by her ordeal, she slumped forward. He reached out to catch her. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ve got you.”

  “O-Olsen?” she said weakly, sounding dazed and disoriented. Her antennae tilted toward him.

  “That’s right.” He propped her up as she tottered upon shaky legs. Their close contact made it hard to concentrate on the business at hand. A honeyed fragrance tantalized his senses. “It’s me, your pal Jimmy.”