by Dalton Wolf
“Wait, you haven’t seen it either?” Athena asked.
Sarah shook her head.
“So the women don’t get to go to the garage to see your precious cars?”
“Is it a men’s only club?” Sarah chided.
“Yeah, are you hiding the entrance to the He Man Woman Haters Club?”
“No. It is nothing like that,” Hef explained calmly, unfazed by their ribbing.
“Then why haven’t we ever seen it?”
“Because you have never asked,” he said simply. “Each of the others asked at some point to see one or another of my creations. You showed absolutely no interest in seeing them, so I did not waste your time by inviting you.”
“Oh,” Athena mumbled.
Sarah’s face dropped in disappointment, knowing she couldn’t press the issue. It was fun to see Hephaestus get his feathers ruffled, because it was so rare. It had become a game to see if any in the group could get his blood up on something, anything, so much so that the winner always ate and drank for free at the next group night out on the town.
“So, let’s see it then!” Athena’s eyes lit with anticipation.
“Very well!” the handsome man bellowed with an added flourish. “You ask to see the wonders of the Dungeon Master! You dream of entering a world of darkness and—”
“—just open the door, dude,” Tripper said in exasperation, but Calvin put a hand on his shoulder and nodded for Hef to continue.
With a broad smile that weakened the new girls’ legs, Hephaestus snatched a brilliant, multicolored robe from the wall and threw it over his broad shoulders, then grabbed a silver dragonhead staff topped with a crown of glistening gems. Holding the magnificent staff high, he raised his hands and the first chords of Sprach Zarathustra burst forth from some massive speakers hidden in the rafters high overhead. At a wave of the staff, the lights lowered by half.
“Welcome to the Wizard’s Dungeon!” he announced with a flourish of grandeur and smacked the ground with the staff, sending out sparks and receiving a flash of lightning and an echoing crack of thunder. Then nothing happened for several seconds until some fans kicked on blowing his robes in a breeze as more lightning lit the big chamber. Other than that, nothing kept happening. Lowering his powerful arms, he turned and offered them a grimace of apology. They waited patiently as he waved his arms once. Nothing happened. He gestured again and tapped the floor once more. Nothing happened again. Nothing happened other than more thunder and lightning, that is.
“Damn it!” he hissed, examining the staff closely. But he couldn’t see what he was looking at in the dim lighting, so he had to reach into his other pocket and pull out a remote to turn the lights back up. He tried to say something, but the music was too loud. With a visible sigh, he turned off the music.
“Just a second, everyone,” he mumbled in an embarrassed aside and fumbled around the head of his staff for a few seconds as if he were pressing a button in it. There was an audible clank from the far wall.
“Whatcha doing, Scaggs? Oh nothing, just watching a Greek god examine his magic staff,” Scaggs whispered.
Felicia and Gus laughed. No one else seemed to have heard.
“Ah, the lock was on,” Hef’s black eyes gazed directly at Scaggs. The lights went out again and he put the controller back in his pocket. The music started again and on queue he shouted:
“Welcome to the Wizard’s Dungeon!”
He announced it with a flourish of nearly equal grandeur to his first attempt. This time after the lightning and thunder, squiggly lines of light appeared around what appeared to be the edges of a pair of fifteen foot high double doors. As everyone watched, the lines came together into clearly formed letters and the outline of large, arcing doors. Hephaestus clapped one hand on the staff and the doors flashed a brilliant light and slowly swung inward, and the breeze kicked in just at that moment to blow his robe out behind him as if the opening of the doors had released some pent up pressure from the chamber on the other side. The thunder and lightning was accompanied by teeth-jarring stone-on-stone grinding even though both doors were clearly stainless or polished steel and opened with as much noise and difficulty as any good bank vault.
The lights in the private garage lowered and blinked out and the Wizard’s Dungeon lights slowly increased to daylight levels in a dramatic well-timed rise to a crescendo along with the music. The room before them was likely originally the main floor of a manufacturing plant on a blueprint somewhere. But now it stretched about two-hundred feet into the distance to their left, and about fifty feet across to the wall opposite their location. The friends stood nearly at the end of the long wall, with perhaps ten feet to the corner on the right from their door. The magnificent floor was tiled in rune-carved decorated granite and marble designs and part of it seemed to be moving, though the newcomers couldn’t make out just how at first. As they watched, the optical illusion cleared up and they could discern that a large circular section, about one-third of the massive warehouse lazily revolved inside the rest of the floor. The circular area was large enough to hold about ten vehicles.
“There must be some large spinning plate under the foundation,” Athena noted.
“Wheelhouse,” Scaggs said with a knowing nod. But when the others looked at her for more, she added a quick qualification. “It’s a turntable for train engines and cars. You know, to turn them around.” She repeatedly made a circular motion with the finger of one hand and her other hand held an invisible train that she drove into, turned on the invisible turntable of her circling fingers, and then drove off. Felicia looked at her as if she had grown a second nose, but Athena and Sarah nodded in understanding. All of the newcomers gazed in wonder, and with good reason.
Despite the modern construction, foundation and superstructure, the interior walls were built from stacked pure white stone blocks, like some ancient roman palace. Instead of the steel girders that would normally fill the inside of such a large manufacturing plant or warehouse, this place was supported by intricately carved marble columns. And in place of the boring suspended-tile ceiling they were expecting, the chamber had a massive, domed ceiling of painted stone, with a hole at the apex from which the giant hanging glass and diamond chandelier spread out its rays with dozens of LED lights disguised as Suns and Galaxies pouring light from wall to wall. Throughout the enormous chamber, painted as if by a Michelangelo himself, numerous scenes of the night sky and several of the space ships and vehicles Hephaestus had designed for various famous movies were artfully enmeshed within a general tapestry that included many Historic, Scientific and Engineering marvels from ancient times to current days.
“Oh, and before you all go getting distracted,” he ripped their attention from intense appreciation of the immaculate ceiling.
“You were going to find this rope. And you were going to find what it controls. And you are probably going to want to pull the rope and explore deeper. Do not do this. No one can go through that door over there until I release the security on that room,” he pointed to where a large curtain hung and pulled a cord on the wall.
The curtain across from them slid aside to reveal a giant tile mural standing at least twice as tall as the doors they’d just come through. The intricately tiled mosaic depicted Mt. Olympus with all of the top gods and goddesses standing, floating or sitting in various poses on a patio cut into the mountain and spreading out from a doorway, which was also hacked from the mountainside and seemed to be shining forth a brilliant white light from within.
The girls oohed and aahed. All but Scaggs, who had been staring at a green ’68 Mustang practically from the moment she walked into the garage.
“That’s amazing, Hephaestus,” Calvin admitted about the wall mural.
The details were remarkable. The entire thing had been artfully worked with half-inch by half-inch tiles, some areas even smaller, but each tile had been intricately applied one at a time to match, in craftsmanship, a fresco that could have been done by any one of the ancie
nt masters. “It cost half as much as the rest of the building,” Hef admitted. “So I am happy people can enjoy it.”
“I love it!” “It’s beautiful!” “I think I just came.” Athena, Sarah and Felicia announced. No one could be certain who said what as they were all talking over each other so there was a brief pause.
Tripper didn’t like pauses, or maybe he just used them to garner a bit of attention whenever he could. “Out of curiosity, what happens if we go in there anyway?” he segued back to the mysterious room behind the fresco, which as far as he knew only Calvin had ever been allowed into.
“Well, Trip, if you are thinking about trying to get in there, I think it is important to tell you now that I have always liked you, and I am truly going to miss you.”
“You could have just said it’s booby trapped,” Tripper muttered.
“My way sounded more dramatic.”
“Ooh. What’s back there?” Felicia asked, eyes wide in curious wonder.
“You will not see that for a week at least,” he grimaced an apology that left her weak in the knees.
“Hey, Agamemnon, I don’t plan on being here in a week,” Scaggs stated firmly, finally almost immune to his magnificence, or at least tolerant of it. Though on reflection, she wasn’t sure if tolerant was the right word she wanted to use for a man that beautiful.
“Out of curiosity, how are you planning to escape?” Hephaestus asked, ignoring the hopefully-temporary impromptu name change.
“I thought that’s what we were doing?” she asked, looking around for agreement from the others and pointing at the assorted vehicles showing up under the steadily increasing lighting.
No one replied.
“Aren’t we getting together and driving out of here?”
Several of the strangers’ faces stared back, mostly blank, but some guilty. Feet that would rather be anywhere else shuffled and rolled from heel to toe.
“So, what? This is our big plan? We just sit here and use this as a base? What, we make little forays into the dead streets for supplies while things slowly fall apart around us and we die one at a time? Or we’re sitting here when the government gives the go-ahead for them to firebomb your city or any of a hundred other scenarios that slowly kill off everyone in those movies and TV shows? Guys, I have news for you, they never end well. Everyone always dies, OK? I know, because I was in several. Guster,” she begged. “I thought we were getting out of here?” She pleaded.
Gus looked to Scooter for help.
“Eventually,” Calvin offered hesitantly. He hadn’t thought to explain things to the girls, though he had been sure both had already heard them discussing the plan.
“What do you mean, eventually? I want to get out of here now. I loved the trip. The people were great. I laughed. I cried. A good time was had by all. But look around, people. This city isn’t dying. It’s already dead. If we stay here we’re going to die too. I want out, and I want to go now.”
“You must have known we would need to get supplies together and collect some other people before we left,” Calvin stated firmly. “You’ve been listening to us since joining the group.”
“No, I get that. I really do. But I don’t want to be here anymore. You said you were taking us to a guy who had a vehicle that could guarantee that we get out of here safely. Please, Gus, take me out of here?” she pleaded with her entire body.
“We will, I promise. But we have some things to do first.”
“No. This week you’re all talking about will give the government time to set up their bases to keep us trapped in here, or send some planes to blow us all to the sun or something. A week is too long to be stuck here. Anyone leaving now can still get out.”
“If this thing gets around there won’t be anyplace to go,” Gus pointed out.
“But there are places right now. We could go there and spend time with our families before the end. Maybe have a little time to get away to someplace secluded. Wouldn’t you rather do that than get stuck here without an exit?”
“But our families are here already. If we go now, we’re leaving our friends and family to survive on their own.”
“Your friends. Your family. I mean, I can relate, but I don’t like it here anymore.”
“Ooh. Their first fight,” Tripper chided.
“Shut up, Tripper,” Gus snapped, but instantly sent him an apology with his eyes.
“Look,” he held both of her hands in his. “You don’t need us to help you get out of here. You can go and I’ll look you up when we get out. We’ll pick a place to meet up later and if things really do fall apart, we’ll meet there.”
“How am I going to get out of here without you?”
“Hef will give you a car to take…won’t you, Hef?” he turned to his friend.
“You are welcome to take this car here and go now,” Hephaestus affirmed with a nod at the deep green ’68 Mustang. He walked back over to stand by the wall next to where they had entered.
“What?” She stepped back in surprise.
“It has a full tank. I have done some modifications to the engine so you can get about seventy miles to the gallon. You will not need to fill up again until you see California.” He pulled a set of keys from a silver peg on the wall.
She looked at Felicia, who shook her head.
“I think our chances are much better waiting with this group than on our own.”
“Gus?” she asked.
“Sorry. I’m staying here. I have friends and family to think about. But you should go. You don’t really belong here. As much as I’d like you to stay, it’s not your city and you don’t have any family to worry about here. I get it. You can just get in this car and jet out of town. No bad thoughts or regrets,” he promised. “Well, definitely some regrets, but no anger. You have to do what you have to do,” he acknowledged.
“Maybe you can even still find a clear road,” Calvin interjected. “I wouldn’t try I-70 westbound. It was already getting pretty messy before we left.”
“Come with me,” she begged, pulling on Gus’ shoulder, but he shook his head.
She looked around at the others with tears beginning to pool along the bottom lids of her almond-shaped, light-brown eyes.
“Then I can’t go either,” she admitted with a grimace. “And just so you all know, I’m not afraid to go by myself.” She turned and looked into Gus’ soft brown eyes. “But I still owe you for saving my life and I hate to leave without repaying you,” she punched him in the shoulder affectionately.
“I’ll take that Mustang, though, since you’re just giving it away,” she joked, wiping the unshed tears from her eyes.
Her surprise was total when Hephaestus tossed her the keys. “If you can come back and get it out some day, it is yours,” he promised.
“Great. As soon as the muckety-mucks above fix this, I’ll be back for you, sweetie” she whispered to the hood of the car, kissing it affectionately.
“Hey, I’ve asked you for a dozen cars over the years. How come you never gave me one?” Tripper demanded indignantly.
“You have never once looked at any of those vehicles the way she did the minute she saw the Bullitt car here.”
“This is really it?” Scaggs asked with wide eyes.
“It is one of them. I purchased her from a guy who kept her locked in a garage.”
Scaggs looked around and shot him an ironic glance.
“Yes, it is still in a garage, but his was much smaller…and dusty. I have done some modifications and I also have the other mustang from the junkyard they sold it to. It was pretty messed up, so I am keeping only the body and building it a lightweight frame and a fully electric drive system.”
“Yeah, I never liked many of the mustangs,” Trip admitted, unsolicited. “But I don’t hate them, either,” he held up his hands defensively as everyone stared. “It’s just that you seem to rebuild a lot of Stangs, Hef. You rebuild a sixty-seven Camero sometime and I’ll look at it like she just did.”
“He
ll, I wouldn’t mind that electric Mustang,” Athena added.
“Ha ha, deal,” Hephaestus agreed merrily, eying them both with matching twinkles from each of his black eyes. But a cloud quickly rolled over his features, darkening his brow and extinguishing the light of mirth.
“That is, if any of us survive this,” he added darkly.
“We’ll be ok,” Tripper said cheerfully, punching his friend lightly in the shoulder. “The Doc will get things sorted out for us. All we have to do is stick together and watch each others’ backs.”
“Speaking of your doctor, where is he?” Hef asked, eying the group again and seeing no one who looked like a doctor, though Scaggs was supposed to be pretty smart and maybe a scientist of some sort. The big red-bearded man, though clearly intelligent, seemed merely content to exist and watch the others. Hef wondered briefly if the rest could see the man, but then quickly remembered he was just very high, not mentally ill, and that he did not see delusions…unless this was his first one and none of these people were here and he had killed several innocent people thinking they were zombies and—
“—he’s talking to the government,” Calvin replied, unknowingly interrupting Hef’s minor paranoid delusion before it could launch into something dangerous. “He’s sending official warnings and getting orders on what we do next. Mostly he’s just waiting by the phone and radio for news or people calling for help while he talks back and forth to the CDC, Homeland and DOD and tries to get a ride out of town.”
“I imagine those places are getting far too many calls for him to get through.”
“I think he calls the people who don’t normally have to take calls.”
“He can get those numbers?”
“He works for the government. He knows the direct numbers. He’s hoping to get a chopper soon. I don’t think he wants to wait here, either. In fact, it’s probably the most important thing in our world right now to get him to a lab as fast as we can, but I think the government is more concerned about containment. I thought about just driving him straight out of town in the ambulance, but with things shutting down and the roads getting closed off as word spreads, there’s no certainty that we’d make it. I’d rather have something you’ve built for such circumstances if I have a choice, and I do. But we’re really hoping to get the doc on a chopper and clear first.”