The Scrolls of Velia

by John McWilliams

  “Talk?”

  “They said they’d rather not deal with the fallout from killing a U.S. senator’s son. They want your cooperation.” She nodded in the direction of the screen door. “That guy out there—he’s just keeping you pinned down so the others can get away.”

  On cue, another shot blasted out another windowpane.

  I could feel my rage building. “And what will they do to Mary and Adella?”

  “They’ll question them—they’ll want to know where your information came from.” She looked at me gravely. “But they’re ruthless, Henry. You know that.”

  “Here,” I said, “keep pressure on that.” I went to the door and scanned the roof across the street. Where is this guy?

  I waited until the gunman’s head and rifle appeared above the roof, then I fired two rounds. He ducked.

  Now that I knew where he was, I took careful aim, using the doorjamb for support, and waited.

  He raised his head again. I fired. The bullet blew off part of his skull.

  “Let’s go.” I helped Isabella to her feet, and we ran across the street to where Antonio, Gabriel, and a handful of other Apollonians had gathered in front of the hardware store.

  “She needs to get to the hospital,” I said, handing Gabriel my gun.

  “We’ll take her,” a young man and woman said.

  “Go through the store,” Antonio instructed, holding the door. “Use the back exit.”

  “The Ravens have Mary and Adella,” I informed Antonio and Gabriel.

  “We heard that too—”

  A barrage of gunfire erupted, and we all dropped to the ground. The plate glass window above us shattered and bullets ripped into the store’s shelves. We covered our heads with our hands.

  When the shooting stopped, I looked through the window and saw that Isabella and the others had made it to the exit. I dusted myself free of broken glass.

  In the street, a man in a black suit walked away from us, slipping a fresh clip into his rifle.

  I grabbed the pickaxe from the gardening tool display, walked out into the center of the street, and swung the axe over my head lumberjack-style. “Heads up!” I hollered.

  The Raven spun around, ready to fire—just as the pickaxe, whooshing through the air end over end, sank into his chest.

  He took a full two steps back and collapsed.

  “Mio Dio!” Antonio covered his mouth, dropped to his knees, and vomited.

  A black Audi came flying out of a side road and screeched to a halt just beyond the skewered body. Three men hopped out.

  Gabriel patted Antonio on the shoulder and rushed over to my side. With shaky hands, he aimed the gun at the men.

  “Where are Mary and Adella?” I demanded.

  One of the men tossed a business card in my direction. It fluttered and landed well short of me. “I was supposed to give that to you.” He looked at the man with the pickaxe in his chest. “This little stunt’s going to cost you, Mr. Warland.”

  “Where are they?”

  “There’s an address on that card.” He pointed lazily at the business card with his pistol. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Monsieur Durant’s interrogations don’t usually end well.” He laughed. “And every second that passes,” he continued, “means Monsieur Durant has more time to—”

  I took the gun from Gabriel and shot that loudmouth Raven in the head.

  The other two Ravens immediately returned fire. Bullets whizzed past me as I took careful aim. I shot one low, but fatally, in the neck. I shot the other between the eyes.

  Four Ravens, dead on the road.

  I looked around, scanning the rooftops. All clear.

  Then I helped Gabriel, who had wisely dropped to the pavement, back to his feet.

  “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “You killed them all.”

  I looked at the bodies. On the road of the dead, who else would you expect to meet?

  Chapter 13

  I gazed across the sea of cars at the monstrous black building: Raven Entelechy World Security Headquarters, Naples. This was the address printed on the Raven’s business card.

  I got out of Antonio’s Fiat and left it running. I tossed my pistol onto the driver’s seat.

  “Change your mind?” Gabriel asked.

  “The guards in there’ll be armed, won’t they?” I said.

  “Absolutely,” Antonio said from the back seat.

  “Then there’ll be plenty of weapons inside.”

  I looked across the car’s roof, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw the building in flames. “You two better get out of here,” I said. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “May Olympus watch over you,” Gabriel said.

  I started for the entrance.

  As I passed the twin raven-ornamented fountain and walked up the front steps, I noticed no one else was coming or going. I opened one of the massive glass doors and entered a marble-floored lobby, empty except for a single row of security guards and two scanners.

  Six armed guards looked at me expectantly.

  “Mr. Warland, please…” One of the men, in an all-black, tight-fitting uniform, gestured at the scanners. “I’ll inform Mr. Durant of your arrival.”

  I moved through the scanners and stood patiently while a jittery-handed guard ran a wand over me. “He’s clean,” the man said, stepping back.

  “Mr. Durant’s office is on the fifth floor—room 501,” another Raven informed me. “Take the elevator over there and, when you exit, it’s the corner office on your right.”

  Four of the guards followed me.

  Images of what Mary might be enduring kept sneaking into my mind as I rode up in the elevator. I had to keep these thoughts at bay. Whatever the cost, I was getting Mary and Adella back today—unharmed.

  My contingent of guards and I got out on the fifth floor. They waited by the elevators while I went to the office some thirty feet away.

  The door to the office was open. I stepped inside. At the far end of the room, seated behind a stately cherry wood desk, was the bald man I had seen with Pierre Durant on the train. He was looking out the window at the setting sun. Coolly, he pretended not to notice me.

  “I’m looking for Pierre Durant,” I said.

  “You’ll be dealing with me today,” the bald man responded in a deep, raspy voice. “Mr. Durant has been sent to Velia to deal with another ‘situation.’ My name is Tycho Braun.” He turned from the window and looked at me across his empty desk—he didn’t even seem to own a pen. “Mr. Warland, you may have the Apollonians fooled. You may have Mr. Durant fooled. But you don’t fool me for a second. I don’t believe in any of that mythological hocus pocus crap.”

  “So, you don’t believe the Ravens are the Descendants?”

  He laughed. “What I believe is that Raven Entelechy is keeping the human race from tripping over its own two feet. Look at the acceleration of our technologies over the past two thousand years. You can’t have unbridled technological advancement unless your culture can keep up with it. And ours can’t. For God’s sake, we have tribal leaders a hair’s breadth away from acquiring nuclear weapons.” He raised an eyebrow. “And as far as this notion of the Descendants goes, whether it’s a metaphor or an outright lie, I personally don’t care. But be warned: these people—this cult—they do. They see you as the biggest existential threat they’ve ever faced. And not just you. You and your girlfriend.”

  He chuckled. “I know, I know, it sounds crazy to me too. I mean, what have you done, beat up a couple of men? Hell, I do that before breakfast.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing that you’ve done. It’s these damn rumors. I have no idea how they get started.” He leaned back in his luxurious leather chair and considered me. “But you and I, we know better, don’t we?” He smiled. “Take a seat, Mr. Warland. We’ve got plenty to discuss.”

  “We have one thing to discuss, Mr. Braun. Where are Mary and Adella?”

  “You know…” He took a green apple out o
f his desk and bit into it. “You might want to reconsider that tone. Mr. Durant and I are the only ones around here who seem to think killing a U.S. senator’s son isn’t worth the hassle. But to be honest, Mr. Warland, I could go either way.”

  I stepped up to the edge of his desk. “Where are Mary and Adella?”

  “All right, Mr. Warland.” Tycho Braun set his apple down and stood. The man had to be six foot four, two hundred and seventy pounds. “You really want to know? Your two lady friends will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. In a year, perhaps—if we see you’ve moved on to other things—we’ll let Mary go. Dr. Fortier, on the other hand, knows too much.”

  I came around the desk and grabbed the man by the lapels.

  He smiled. “Seriously? Mr. Warland, please. You’re out of your—”

  He took hold of my wrists and tried to budge them. He tried to drive my arms apart. He tried slamming his fists down on top of my forearms. Furious and bewildered, he stared at me.

  I dragged him across his desk, across the floor, and slammed him into one of the window panes, fogging the glass with fractures.

  “I believe that’s a five-story drop,” I said, pressing my fists into his chest, his suit jacket tearing.

  “I can’t breathe,” he said in a halting whisper.

  “Where. Are. They?”

  Tycho’s face was turning from red to blue, but he still seemed more confused than terrified.

  “Fine, then—” I peered down from the window at the lake below. “Time for a swim.”

  His eyes went wide.

  I eased the pressure enough for him to speak.

  “Okay… okay.” He breathed, then breathed again. “Mary’s in the third floor interrogation room. Room 326.”

  “What about Adella?”

  “She’s with Mr. Durant at the Velia site.” He grabbed my wrists again, tried to move my arms. “How can you be this strong?”

  I let him fall to the floor.

  I considered using Tycho as a hostage—but only for a moment. He wasn’t likely to be cooperative. And I figured the Raven guards might just enjoy shooting him to get to me. He certainly wasn’t one of the faithful.

  “You may be strong, Mr. Warland,” Tycho said, standing and rubbing his neck, “but you can’t outmuscle a bullet. You’ll never get past my guards.”

  “We’ll see.” I punched him on the chin. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he once again slumped to the floor.

  I searched him for weapons, but he was unarmed. His desk drawers were empty, too—not so much as a paper clip inside. I went to the center of the room and gave the place one final scan.

  At the foot of the drawn vertical blinds was Tycho’s big green apple—with a Tycho-sized bite taken out of it. I grabbed it and went to the door.

  The guards were still by the elevators, about thirty feet away.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the hall and threw the apple at the closest guard. It hit him in the head and exploded, spraying the other guards with pulp. As I ran down the hall in the opposite direction, the word shrapnapple came to mind.

  Gunfire erupted as I slid around the corner and into an office. No weapons here either. Ravens sure do like a sterile work environment.

  I moved behind the office door and waited.

  Footsteps in the hall came to a halt. The barrel of a gun peeked inside.

  I ripped the weapon out of the man’s hand and shot him.

  Another guard tried to duck around the corner, but I shot him too, the glass wall behind him fracturing into a million pieces.

  I retrieved the guards’ weapons. No doubt the facility was on high alert and I was about to be besieged by Ravens, but at least now I was armed.

  I ran to the stairwell at the end of the hall, opened the door, and listened. Silence above and below. Down the hall from where I came, however, I could hear the shuffling of boots.

  I raced down the stairs to the third floor. It took me only seconds to find room 326. Unfortunately, unlike the other doors I had seen so far in this building, this one was made of metal and featured a security keypad.

  Well, if I can’t get in, maybe I can get them to come out.

  I located a fire alarm just down the hall, and set it off. A long whooping sound began, but distantly, as if it was going off on every floor but this one.

  I waited in the doorway of the office across the hall from the metal door. Two women jogged past me—and then started sprinting when they saw I had a gun. But no one emerged from room 326.

  Any minute now, this place is going to be crawling with Ravens. I have to get Mary out of there.

  Focusing all my strength, and using the office across the hall to get a running start, I drove my boot into the metal door. I stepped back to survey the damage. My kick hadn’t taken the door down, but it had cracked the wall around the frame. Strong door, weak wall.

  I got into position and kicked the door again. This time, the frame actually broke free of the wall—forming a one-inch gap.

  Getting an even longer running start, I ran full speed at the door, ramming it with my shoulder. The door exploded into the room, collapsing onto a metal table with me on top of it.

  I looked up from the tangle of bent metal studs and crumbled sheetrock—and my eyes met Mary’s.

  “Holy crap, Henry,” she said. “I thought someone was knocking the door down with a wrecking ball.”

  “Are you all right?” I climbed off the door and rushed over to her. I picked her up and held her tightly.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assured me.

  I set her down. It was then that I noticed the three dead Ravens on the floor. They were covered in blood. Two had knives in their hands.

  “Um… Mary?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “You mean the dead guys?” She looked down at the blood-soaked Ravens. “I kind of started an argument.”

  I stared at the men.

  “Shouldn’t we be getting out of here?” Mary asked after a moment.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah.”

  Mary followed me to the hole in the wall where the door had been. I peeked out. Gunfire erupted from down the hall—in both directions. I returned fire, blindly, and ducked back inside.

  “What’s with the gown?” I asked. Mary was wearing a gown similar to the one she’d worn at the Celebration.

  “Oh.” She tugged at the fabric. “Adella and I were on our way to the beach when they grabbed us, and I guess the Ravens didn’t think a bikini was appropriate attire for, well, whatever they think I am. Fortunately, they happened to have my size.”

  “That’s creepy.”

  “Tell me about it. So, how are we getting out of here?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “This might help.” Mary reached into the breast pocket of one of the dead Ravens and pulled out a blood-speckled booklet. She handed it to me. “That’s a Raven Entelechy Facility Guide. It has floor plans and stuff. Look, that’s where we are, and that’s where they keep all their guns and stuff—right down the hall.”

  I studied the floor plan. Two doors down on the right was a small anteroom, and just through it was a room labeled “Special Tactical Arms Depot.”

  “They’ve got guns, grenades, and bulletproof vests in there,” Mary said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “That guy.” Mary pointed at one of the corpses. “Or maybe it was that one. Anyway, one of those guys told me.”

  Just then, the fire alarm stopped.

  “Mr. Warland,” came a voice from the hall. It was Tycho Braun, apparently no worse for wear. “Henry. James. Warland. Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

  “Here.” I handed Mary my two guns.

  “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Nothing, yet.”

  I ripped away the metal studs from the collapsed door’s frame and lifted the door off the table. “Two guns won’t be enough to suppress both ends of the hall. But we can use t
his door as a shield. You follow behind me, and just keep shooting—that way.” I pointed. “When we get to the armory, you slip inside and I’ll follow.” I looked at her. “You do actually know how to shoot a gun, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I’m just not used to the ‘getting shot at’ part.”

  “We could turn ourselves in if you want—”

  “Oh, no, no. Let’s do this.”

  “Ready?” I picked up the door and waited. “You need to fire a couple of shots before I can step into the hall.”

  “Oh, I get ya.” She reached around the broken wall and blindly fired several shots.

  “Good enough.” I hoisted the door into the hall, and immediately felt a hail of bullets pelting the other side.

  We marched toward the armory, Mary firing both weapons empty just before opening the door to the depot’s anteroom and diving in. Thank goodness it wasn’t locked. I let the metal door drop with a thunderous boom and followed her in.

  The door at the other end of the anteroom, the one to the actual weapons depot, burst open on my second kick.

  Inside, we found shelves upon shelves of assault gear. I handed Mary a grenade and took one for myself. We returned to the door to the hall.

  “You throw that way, I’ll throw this way,” I said.

  “I just pull this pin, like this?” Mary asked.

  “That’s it. Ready?”

  We pulled our pins and tossed the grenades. Mine flew the length of the hall. Mary’s hit a doorjamb about twenty feet away and bounced back.

  “Oh, crap,” she exclaimed.

  We dove into the depot.

  Her grenade went off, rattling the walls and toppling the shelves. Guns, vests, grenades, you name it, fell on us.

  “It slipped,” Mary exclaimed, emerging from under a pile of flak jackets. She shook out her golden curls.

  Unburying myself, I helped her to her feet.

  “Don’t say it,” she said.

  “Don’t say what?” I looked into the anteroom: nothing but smoke and debris. “You mean that you throw like a girl?”

  “Yeah, that.” She punched me in the arm. “It slipped.” She hit me again.

  “All right already, I get it.” I looked around the weapons depot. “Holy crap, look at that.”