False Gods

by W. Glenn Duncan Jr.

  A few of them never got a second chance.

  “Mimi,” I said. “How’ve you been?”

  “Been quiet, Rafferty. Ain’t had no reason to shoot at nothin’ ’cept an old coyote here and there. Looks like you been gettin’ yourself into a mite of trouble, tho.”

  She winked and I tried to ignore it.

  “You’re sure this isn’t gonna be too boring? A little birdie told me that household chores were looking more exciting than a Rafferty case. I’ve got a couple of loads of washing that need doing if you’d rather stay here.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “And miss out on all the fun while you boys get caught between a religious cult and a bunch of gung-ho government types? No-siree.”

  “You ready to roll, boss-man?” Cowboy drawled.

  I nodded, reached down and hefted both sports bags.

  “Throw those in the back tray,” Cowboy said. “If’n you can find room.”

  As I walked around to the back, Mimi climbed up into the truck, like Jack finding a way to the top of the beanstalk.

  I popped open the cabin over the rear tray and saw that Cowboy hadn’t been kidding. It was filled with canvas bags, gun cases, ammo boxes, and backpacks.

  I looked up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You did say to bring it all.”

  The sun shimmered fire on the horizon as the Sierra gobbled up the miles to Lincoln. I wanted to get there faster, but Cowboy kept our speed under fifty-five.

  “Ain’t no point getting pulled over for speeding, boss-man. Once they’d checked out the truck we’d all be spending the night in a county jail. Thas no help to your girl.”

  “Where’d you boost it?” I asked.

  “A lil’ farm outside Oak Ridge. Friend of mine told me the owner’s away for a few weeks, over in Palm Springs. Won’t be missed.”

  Interstate 180 disappeared in the distance, arrowing straight into the heart of the blazing sun.

  I leaned my head back on the headrest.

  I didn’t want to sleep; I was too keyed up, but I wasn’t doing any of us any good by talking.

  Also I didn’t want to look nervous in front of Cowboy and Mimi. Other than having a truck tray full of weapons, they acted like we were out for a picnic.

  The road churned underneath us and the trucked swayed in time with the undulations.

  Up front, Mimi reached over and took Cowboy’s hand.

  I closed my eyes.

  Darkness retreats.

  Hall full of white-robes. Kneeling.

  Facing the raised throne.

  Fires burn on the perimeter.

  Hooded figure on throne. Shadowed face.

  Faint crackle of flames. Otherwise, quiet.

  As death.

  Closer to the throne.

  It rises above the sea of white robes.

  Black ship borne on a virgin ocean.

  The hood turns.

  “I am the Way.”

  White-robed response.

  “You are our Way.”

  Words burn into my brain.

  I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Move forward.

  Center of the hall. Base of throne revealed.

  Face down on the lowest step. Two figures.

  Gray cloth wrapping. Blood seeps.

  Drips on stone floor.

  Roll off the step. Hoods askew.

  Steve Wesson. Oswald. Mouths leaking blood.

  Hooded figure stands.

  Folds back the hood.

  Kimberly.

  And not Kimberly.

  Close. Not the same.

  Changing.

  Morphing.

  Becoming.

  Lucy.

  And not Lucy.

  Changing. Morphing. Becoming.

  Not Kimberly. Not Lucy.

  “I am …” Not-Lucy.

  “… the Truth.” Not-Kimberly.

  White-robes. “You are the Truth.”

  Not-Kimberly. Not-Lucy. “I am the Way.”

  “You are the Way.”

  “Follow the Way.”

  “Amen.”

  Not-Kimberly. Not-Lucy.

  Raised hands.

  A clap.

  Fires burn brighter than the sun.

  Everything disappears.

  I opened my eyes.

  The truck had stopped.

  Cowboy and Mimi were twisted in the front seats and looking back at me.

  “We’re here boss-man. Let’s git it on.”

  Chapter 34

  We roared along Private Road 5150, the rack of spotlights above the truck’s cab carving a bright tunnel through the dusty night.

  The .45 was a comforting weight under my armpit and I cradled the Ithaca on my lap. Mimi was kneeling on her seat, ready to bring her Uzi up from below the window sill. Cowboy drove one-handed as he tapped his giant Ruger Blackhawk against his leg in time with a song only he could hear. The Sierra shimmied and wobbled with the road’s corrugations but was otherwise sure-footed on the loose surface.

  We swung around a long left hand curve and I saw the road disappear between a narrow gap in the brush about fifty yards ahead.

  “Just past that gap,” I yelled over the gravel spatter on the underside of the truck.

  “Yep. I’m gonna bring it in fast, so’s we got the element of surprise.”

  I cranked down my window and brought the shotgun up, registering that Mimi was doing the same, then we were through the gap and Cowboy was bringing us sliding to a stop in front of the gated driveway.

  I was sighting down the barrel, had already taken up the trigger slack, and was ready to put down the first guy I saw with a weapon, when the truck lurched to a final halt and the trailing dust cloud swirled past us.

  The dark desert was silent.

  No trucks flanking the driveway.

  No men with guns.

  Nothing.

  I let out a breath.

  “Don’t that beat all,” Cowboy said. “They done gone and left their front gate open.”

  “If that’s not an invitation,” I said, “I don’t know what is. The only question is: walk, or drive.”

  “I say drive,” Cowboy said. “I sure would hate to leave this firepower behind, and I knows Mimi can’t carry it all.”

  Mimi chuckled.

  “This road goes into a tunnel,” I said. “I don’t like the idea of being trapped in there.”

  “Gonna be trapped anyways. ’Sides, if’n we gots to get out in a hurry, I’d ruther be drivin’ than walkin’.”

  “Good enough for me,” I said. “Lay on, Macduff.”

  Cowboy nosed the truck between the gate posts and killed the lights. We opened all the windows as he idled down the dirt driveway. Mimi held her Uzi out the passenger window and I slid across the rear seat to cover the driver’s side of the road.

  “Awful quiet out there,” Cowboy said.

  I had to agree with him.

  The driveway meandered through low bush, no different to the road we’d turned off of. After ten minutes of bumping along and a tight hairpin turn, the road dropped away, headed into the earth. The road-side brush was quickly up to window level and getting higher. Ahead the sky lightened.

  Mimi saw it too.

  “We’re getting close,” she said. “Stop here and let’s take a look-see.”

  Cowboy braked to a stop. Mimi reached up, clicked the overhead light switch into the off position, slipped out of the truck and disappeared like a wraith into the night. I stepped out of the cab and hopped into the front seat, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.

  Cowboy looked bored.

  “Now we’re gonna be bustin’ in through the front door,” he said, “how you wanna play it once we’re on the inside?”

  “I figured we’d have to shoot our way in.” I shrugged. “I thought that if Dariell could see Steve getting ready to make a move, he’d have his boys hunkered down on the perimeter.”

  “Tha
s the way we’d do it,” he said.

  I nodded in the dark. “I know. Which means I’m at a loss to guess what he might do next. Let’s stay focused on finding Kimberly first, and worry about him later. Oh, and staying alive.”

  “Never thought about doin’ nothin else.”

  We sat in silence for a few more minutes.

  The first thing I knew about Mimi getting back in the truck was when the rear door thunked shut.

  Damn, the girl was quiet.

  She spoke low. “This road goes straight ahead for a couple of hundred yards, and disappears into a tunnel.” She glanced at me. “There aren’t any lights in the tunnel and, based on the light in the sky, it looks to me like the other end might still be another few hundred yards away.”

  “You see anyone?” Cowboy asked.

  “Nope. It’s dead out there.”

  I hoped that wasn’t the case.

  Despite the lack of movement in the night, Cowboy rolled the truck forward even more slowly. The road-side walls rose higher until all we could see out the side windows was dirt and rocks. A narrow strip of starry blackness streaked overhead and the walls closed in leaving just enough room for a single vehicle.

  The end of the canyon approached and the mouth of the tunnel opened hungrily.

  “I don’t like it,” Cowboy said.

  “Any particular part?” I said. “I’m not too excited about the whole goddamned thing.”

  “The tunnel,” he said. “Those walls get any closer, we end up trapped in the car like sittin’ ducks.” I heard Mimi scrabbling in the back seat. “Rafferty, you drive. I’ll walk ahead with the night scope, jes’ to make sure we’re not gettin’ ourselves wedged ’tween a rock and a hard place.”

  The butt of a rifle appeared between the seats. Cowboy reached around and pulled the Winchester to his lap. His previous sight had been replaced with a night vision scope which would make the tunnel look like midday to him.

  Which made me think.

  “Okay, hotshot. You walking ahead is all fine and dandy. You’ll be able to see everything. How am I gonna be able to see enough to stop from running you down?”

  Mimi clapped me on the shoulder and handed me what looked like an optometrist’s mobile assessment centre.

  “Put these on.”

  I’d never worn night vision goggles before and for all the extra sight they gave me, I felt more restricted than before.

  They were heavier than I’d expected and kept pulling my head forward. It was an effort to keep my head up and I knew my neck would pay for it later. All the straps needed to keep them in place and allow my hands to be free doing other things bit into my skin whenever I turned.

  Beyond all this discomfort, I also knew I had to be ready to tear the goggles away from my eyes immediately if the outside world became brighter.

  The goggles worked on the basis of taking the available light, however little there was, concentrating and multiplying it, to enable me to “see” in the darkness. This was all great while it was pitch black out there, but the goggles didn’t care what the outside conditions were. They would do exactly the same thing in broad daylight: concentrate and multiply all available light. If anyone shone a flashlight in my direction, it would be like looking at the sun. Any night vision I had would be shot to hell and my head would throb for hours.

  If we got lit up with a spotlight rack, or more, it would be like a nuclear flash in my eyes and would do permanent damage.

  It was with these comforting thoughts that I eased the Sierra into the dark hole behind Cowboy. The tunnel shimmered green in my vision and I watched as he stalked forward, with a slight sideways stance, close to the left hand wall. He held the rifle against his shoulder, his eye to the sight, and his upper body remained rock steady while his boots crept forward.

  I looked in the rear view mirror and saw Mimi, crouched in a nest she’d created, peering into the darkness behind us, Uzi at the ready, covering our ass.

  Mimi sitting there, surrounded by more high powered weaponry than you could poke a stick at, she looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

  I almost laughed.

  Forced my eyes forward.

  Cowboy continued creeping down the tunnel and I kept the truck about twenty yards behind him. I didn’t want to restrict his room if he needed to move, but I also wanted to be close enough to get to him quickly if everything went downhill.

  We continued that way for a long time.

  Slow and careful.

  The truck’s odometer showed it had been less than a hundred yards since we’d entered the tunnel. It felt like ten thousand. A wonky green glow started to shimmy and pulse in the distance, while I still saw Cowboy left and in the foreground.

  A light? Isn’t that an oncoming train?

  I had no idea where these thoughts come from. Most people think that I deliberately act like a wise-ass. It’s not true. The things I say and the shit I do, it just happens. I don’t know where it comes from and right then I knew it like never before, because the last thing I wanted to be thinking about was being trapped in a black hole under the earth with catastrophe bearing down.

  I would have thought more about that, except a more pressing matter came to hand.

  Cowboy disappeared.

  Chapter 35

  I jerked the truck to a halt.

  “What?” Mimi hissed.

  “Not sure,” I whispered. “Hang on.”

  I peered forward, squinting in the goggles, willing them to make things clearer. I dropped a hand to the .45 in my lap and flicked the thumb safety off.

  My mind replayed the last twenty seconds, trying to assess the level of shit we were in. We were in it, no doubt, depth being the only variable.

  Cowboy had been doing his thing, creeping along the left hand wall of the tunnel, his mottled green shape clear and steady. And then it had winked out.

  No warning, no sudden movements.

  Like he’d been swallowed by the dark.

  “You see anything out the back, Mimi?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  My mouth went dry and I could hear the sound of blood raging in my ears.

  It sounded like Niagara Falls.

  “Wait here,” I said. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Will do.”

  I eased my way out of the truck, hypersensitive to every noise. The squeak of the seat as I took my weight off it. The metallic groan of the truck’s door. A scuff of my boot on the tunnel’s dirt floor. I had the Colt in both hands now, pointed down and right, cocked and ready, as I prepared to mimic Cowboy’s walk up the tunnel.

  Left side, or right side?

  I stayed left and covered the distance to where I’d last seen Cowboy. I only wished I could do it more quietly. I was sure anyone still awake in Lincoln could hear my heart whanging away.

  Probably Dallas, too.

  I crept forward.

  Three steps more to where I’d last seen Cowboy.

  I brought the gun up in front of me, its ghostly green outline pointed straight down the tunnel towards the distant green glow. There was nothing else.

  Two steps now.

  Where the fuck was he?

  One step.

  A deep breath.

  I took the step.

  And nearly had a heart attack when a green shape flashed out of the darkness, pushing both my arms down and my gun away. I twisted, trying to give myself space and bring the gun to bear, but a strong grip held my arm.

  “Careful with that,” Cowboy said quietly. “Yore liable to shoot someone.”

  “What the—”

  He didn’t let me get started. “You better see this, boss-man.”

  I turned towards Cowboy and saw the tunnel wall had disappeared.

  Not so much disappeared as moved back about ten feet, making the tunnel double width at this point. This alcove looked to be a hundred, hundred and fifty feet long, with squarish ends, like it had been excavated from the tunnel’s original shape.

&
nbsp; This had created the illusion of Cowboy’s disappearance. As he’d reached the nearest edge of the tunnel widening, he stepped sideways, keeping his body close to the wall of the tunnel.

  Good tradecraft.

  From my perspective, I couldn’t see the alcove. When he’d stepped into it, and out of the tunnel’s main section, it looked like he’d been swallowed up by the blackness.

  I could see tire tracks sweeping into, and out of, this alcove, which made sense. Having a place in the tunnel where cars could pass would save the headache of having to reverse a long way if two cars ever met in the middle.

  That wasn’t what Cowboy wanted to show me.

  “Over here,” he called softly and I looked up to see him standing against the long wall, next to a smooth rectangular shape. An industrial shaped handle and sturdy security lock bulged from the metal door. I could see another door ghosting in the darkness further down the alcove.

  “You gone in?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Wanted to wait for you. Feel better with you watchin’ my back.”

  I nodded and moved to the right of the first door. He flattened his back against the left hand side, reached out and grabbed the handle.

  “Locked.”

  “I saw another one further up,” I whispered.

  We took up the same positions around the next door. He stroked the handle and nodded at me.

  I brought the gun and my other hand up. Three fingers. Counted them down.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  Cowboy slammed the door handle down, pushed and stepped back.

  I crashed through the doorway, gun up. Shoved my shoulder against a wall running away from the door and swept my vision, and gun, through an arc in front of me. I was vaguely aware of Cowboy hitting the doorway behind me and leading right to mirror, and cover, my position on the left.

  A concrete hallway stretched out in front of us, silent and dark. Both sides were dotted with doorways six, eight feet apart.

  I moved to the near edge of the closest door. It was open, resting against a cross wall.

  I turned and nodded to Cowboy. He strode past me, flanked the doorway and aimed the rifle inside. I stepped across to the opposite side of the hallway to cover him.