“Hello Jacob,” the face spoke from speakers built in on both sides. The voice was not familiar.
Jacob glared back, and as he did, spied multiple cameras now angling in on him. Of course, Jacob realized, in a heart-pounding admission. He was being monitored via surveillance. He decided to tempt fate, and stepped closer to the screen. “Where am I and where are my colleagues?” he asked.
The man in the screen rolled his pen between two long fingers and returned a smug grin. “Hmm. Two questions in one sentence. Now that’s bold.” He sat tauntingly back in his chair, allowing the silence to torment his young captor; it was an eloquent way of instilling fear. “But why not,” he finally spoke, content now to proceed. “You and your three friends are my guests at a provisional government facility known as Mole Hole Base. Like you, they are just waking up to their own little room—better than a concrete slab, don’t you think?”
“I don’t care. I just want to see them.”
“Patience, patience,” the man replied. “First things first.” He turned to a small stack of papers sitting on his desk. “My name is Tanner,” he announced with a croaky clearing of his throat. “I work for an unnamed agency which has been tracking you since . . .” he cocked his head awry and paused to recall a memory, “well, I suppose since before you left the GGRC.”
Jacob’s expression instantly darkened. The Nazi clinic was exterminated. Nothing was left of it but a dark, horrific memory. No one from the GGRC survived except the seven youths. And certainly no Nazis. They would all be dead by now anyway. Jacob was certain of this! “You are a liar, sir.”
Tanner chuckled. “I assure you, boy. I am not. Oh, I was much younger then too,” he went on, finally setting that annoying pen down. “In fact, I was just a year younger than you at the time.” He sat back and glared smugly.
Jacob felt a blast of heat burn through him, and he unintentionally gasped. “You were one of us. One of the children from the camps held at the clinic.”
Tanner’s eyebrows rose, curiously. “Close,” he replied spitefully. “There were other candidates there at the clinic besides those brought in from the camps. Chosen and honored candidates.”
Jacob imploded visibly as the realization hit him. His head fell downward, his knees trembled. Jacob’s voice became lost to him as the event tore through from that dark and forbidden abyss in his past.
It had been rumor only . . . those last horrifying weeks at the clinic: whispers among some that a group of Nazi youth—Hitler’s chosen—had volunteered for trial dosages at the clinic. These—the few left who had not been put on the front lines to fight and die—were the youngest of the Nazi assembly, chosen to serve their Fuhrer in another ways . . . and they had. Oh, the worst was done on Jewish children, to be sure. But the final testing of the synthesized drugs would go in the blood of the Fuhrer’s own—a last sacrifice to save Germany’s Third Reich.
“I may not have the unique gifts bestowed upon you and your friends, boy, but I have a few of my own engendered talents left over from my service at the GGRC.” Tanner’s voice was cold, and harbored a dark reincarnate from the past . . . an arrogant and unthinkable evil. “So. Let us dispense with the bartering chit-chat and cut to the chase, shall we? I’ll put it to you simply: you are the prize we seek, Jacob. The others of your group are valuable, yes, but you, dear boy, are the crux and quite indispensable. You will work for us in an unnamed military installation where you will alter the HOPE technology for defensive use. Then you will return to Los Alamos Laboratories, where—under the direction of our facilitators—you will continue your research and development on weapon technology. If you do as we ask, your precious colleagues can join you in this venture, and all of you will live in comfort and experience limited freedom. However, if you refuse us, or try any treachery against this agency, we will know, and your friends will be executed, systematically, before your eyes. Any questions?”
Jacob’s face remained down and hidden. He couldn’t let this man see the effects of his adolescent emotions . . . couldn’t let this monster see his lips quivering and his eyes welling-up uncontrollably. Tanner would bask in it.
“Well?” Tanner’s voice lashed out.
Jacob’s head motioned a beaten movement: up and down.
“Very good. I thought you might see it our way.”
“Jimmy . . .” the boy finally mumbled at the floor.
“What?” Tanner squawked.
“Jimmy knew about all this?” Jacob whispered.
“Of course,” Tanner replied. “We have a great debt to Doctor Reitman. And,”—he paused—“I have to say that Jim was only too thrilled to see the four of you—and his annoying mother—disappear.”
Jacob swallowed at the massive lump in his throat. “Gracie is dead then?”
“None of your concern,” Tanner cut him off. He pushed back on his chair and stood. “We’re done here.” He reached out and touched at something and the screen blipped off.
The room fell quiet. It was like a black fog which held no air. Jacob felt his knees buckle and give way. He managed to fall into a chair instead of collapsing onto the floor. How could this be happening? he cried to himself over and over again. Oh, how he now wished he had died in that clinic so long ago. It would have been merciful. So very merciful! He put his head down between his knees and sobbed; sobbed so hard that even those hardened guards monitoring him on camera, felt a pang of sorrow for this strange, unknown boy.
—
It was a moonless night, which, as Brant had earlier mentioned, was advantageous for the mission at hand. The Sandray was flying stealth, true, but something about the concealment of darkness just made everybody feel a little less vulnerable. The sly craft now scooted along the desert surface like a great flying fish on a midnight tide. Three-Of-Ten was at the controls. His four passengers—albeit terrified—felt like a pack of crusaders on some night raid. They sat very still and quiet, each trying to grasp the magnitude of the last twenty-four hours, that is all but Brant who couldn’t keep his eyes off the controls. The technology of the esoteric transport astounded him. He had a million questions, and with each of the android’s navigational maneuvers, fought back the desire to point and ask: now what does that button do? His excitement was definitely fueled more by intrigue than apprehension. He had even talked Jessie into letting him sit up front with Three-Of-Ten. Not an easy negotiation.
Jessie saw the request as one of those, show me how it works so I can take over issues—at least at first. But then again, she figured Brant was the father-figure of the group, and she knew how smart he was. If anyone could assist (or annoy) a robot, it was Brant.
Teresa—who sat next to Jessie and Sam in the seats just behind the controls—felt just the opposite. She, more than the rest, struggled with the reality of the moment. She wanted to tell herself that this was all a dream; that she would soon wake up drenched in perspiration; and that she could let out a long sigh of relief and hug her pillow, grateful that the nightmare was over. But now, as the engulfing black void of desolate landscape whizzed past her window, she knew that there would be no awaking from this adventure. That—along with her stomach wanting to erupt at any moment—kept this unwanted validation, ever aware within her. She felt the warmth of Sam’s body pushed up against her. It was a calming awareness which she not only loved, but needed in her rattled state of mind. As she rested a hand on his head and stroked at his hair, she felt, once again, the stab of fear and guilt at bringing someone so young along on what might be a very dangerous venture. But at this point in time, where could she take him? There had been no time to make arrangements. Besides, Jessie would never leave her brother behind. Sam was stuck to the girl like glue. And, Teresa considered—grasping at any absolution she could conscience up—at least with all of them together, she and Brant could keep both eyes riveted on the two of them. She glanced a sweeping look at Jessie, who sat staring motionless out into the darkness as if in a trance. Teresa could only imagine what those eyes had see
n.
“How much further, Jess?” Brant asked, looking down at the directional monitor.
Jessie startled. “Um. I think we’re pretty close,” she replied. “How about it Three-Of-Ten?”
The android turned and gave his response. “Destination is 3-9-2 point 7-7 meters directly ahead.”
“Ah,” she said. “I thought so.”
Brant snorted. “Oh come on. Pretty good memory for only having been out here once.”
Jessie eyed him ruthlessly. “I never said that. I’ve been out here many times.”
“Many?” Brant smiled curiously. “Oh to know what you know,” he teased.
“Can we get that distance in miles, please,” spoke up Teresa, poking her head over the seat. “I’m English to the marrow. The metric system was never my strong point.”
“Less than a quarter-mile,” Brant amended. “We should be coming up on Jacob’s secret entrance at any moment.” He gawked out into the darkness as if looking for some kind of beacon. There wasn’t one of course.
Soon the Sandray slowed. It circled in, hovered, and came to a complete stop.
Hearts began to pound.
“Is this it, then?” Brant was quick to speak up. “I don’t see an opening. I . . . I don’t see anything?”
“Oh you will,” grinned Jessie. “Just watch.” She nodded at the android.
Three-Of-Ten touched at a series of buttons on the panel. A thrumming sound began to reverb against the outside of the Sandray. It was neither loud nor alarming in volume, yet the effects tied to it were extreme. Even in the darkness, a sudden sensation of movement brought all eyes to the Sandray’s windows.
Outside, the desert floor had come alive! Rocks began to jump and tumble. They rolled down from a section of cliff just jetting up from the flat terrain in front of them. Shadows moved and danced across their view—all obscured through a veil of dust and darkness. Then all at once, there it was! A large cavern, black and abysmal, gaping open like some creature setup against the hill, its great jaws yawning, waiting anxiously for unsuspecting prey to enter.
“There it is!” blurted Jessie, pointing toward the opening.
“Unbelievable!” rattled off Brant. “Have I said that before?”
Jessie laughed. “Only about a hundred times!”
“And something tells me it won’t be the last,” added Teresa, her voice laced in uncertainty, her eyes marbled and wide.
Before another word could be said, Three-Of-Ten had maneuvered the Sandray into the cavity. Then, from behind, the aperture rumbled closed . . . the jaws had tightened. The android touched another spot on the panel. The Sandray’s powerful front beams kicked on. A brilliant display of sparkling salt crystals suddenly exploded all around them.
Sam jumped with excitement. “Diamonds!” he shouted. “We’re surrounded by diamonds!” It was a justifiable interpretation. For truly, it was a magnificent sight—a sparkling display of refracted light!
Teresa patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint, but that would be salt, kiddo.”
“Ahhh,” he deflated.
“It’s beautiful either way,” whispered Jessie in a nostalgic tone. She couldn’t help feel the sudden jump in her heart, recalling who she had been with the last time she viewed the dance of the salt crystals.
As they moved ahead, the tunnel continued to reveal its natural wonders. It was a massive cavern, still in its pristine formation. “This is one of the few areas which was left untouched when the underground structures were built. It’s why Jacob chose to hide his workshop here,” Jessie explained.
“And you’re certain we won’t be discovered?” Brant probed again, his tone smeared in a nervous tap.
Jessie assured him with a firm nod, but her expression bellied a touch of her own hesitation. “Jacob told me this area was off the grid. I have to trust that it still is.”
The Sandray made several more turns before its front lights suddenly opened up into a large salt arena. The bright beams instantly climbed high, up, up to a jagged, stalactite-covered ceiling glistening above.
“Well I’ll be,” uttered Brant on the intake. “Would you look at that. Salt stalactites . . . and they’re massive!”
Everyone’s eyes drew upward.
“I hope none of those killer icicles decide to come crashing down,” Teresa gulped nervously.
Brant pointed ahead. “It looks as though plenty of them already have.” As the powerful beams swept ahead, mounts of collapsed salt and clay could be seen on all sides—centuries of it. The arena was cluttered in salt rubble. Entire sections in the dome above had broken away; and in walls and overhangs, gapping fissures evidenced the scares of time. It should have been impossible to traverse such a terrain, yet as the Sandray crawled ahead, its lights illuminated a winding passageway which laid itself out as smooth and clear of debris as a newly carved road through high snows. Soon, the hovercraft made a final maneuver around a tight turn then stopped at the foot of a towering wall.
Three-Of-Ten was quick to tap at the panel. As he did, a portion of the crystalline bulwark folded away. In the next seconds, a single, arched entrance appeared. The craft darted through.
--
Deep within the HOPE complex, a group soldiers sat nervous at their newly assigned station: a security outpost located midsection of the Sandcastle underground. The men had replaced two android workers—the outpost’s previous occupants. These advanced machines, like many of their counterparts, now sat relegated and offline in a guarded remote bunker. The soldiers had been given little training on their task—the technology which they had commandeered was far advanced from their own, and existed nowhere else on the planet. There would be no manuals or textbooks for the operational procedures in this outpost. It would be a learn as they go, process, a sink or swim comprehension. Not an ideal training routine; but over time, an effective one.
It was after midnight when one of the men noticed a brief anomaly as it transferred in from one of the Goliath AD packs patrolling the underground tunnel systems.
“Oh man! Not again.” The soldier moaned, tossing his senior commander a frustrated look.
The commander walked over and leaned across his shoulder. “Let me guess. Our old buddy, Goliath-1-1-7?”
“You got it,” the soldier replied. “His proximity radius is way off again. By the looks of it, I’d say he has increased his range by a factor of three.”
“Great,” grumbled the commander. “That means we’ll be picking up residue motion on everything from owls to antelope—just like last night.” He sighed. “I’ll contact Colonel Briggs and see if we can just take him offline and get an exchange from another Goliath division.” He reached for his radio, but before he could call, something else beeped in which caused him to pause, and drew his surprised glance back toward the monitor. “What is that?”
His junior officer was already glaring intently at the signal. “Sir. I’d say we have intruders,” he replied, eyeing his superior, intently. He turned again to evaluate the strange anomaly bleeping on the screen. “These signatures are very odd, sir. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we have four unauthorized human signatures . . . and,” he paused with an intake of breath, “one android!”
“An android?”
“Yes, sir. They are just outside the HOPE perimeter, but definitely underground, and within the salt sub-tunnel labyrinth.” He turned back to the screen and touched the panel. “We’d never have seen them if old 1-1-7 hadn’t been malfunctioning.”
“Lucky break,” replied the commander with a firm shake of his head. We may have just found that fugitive android, Three-Of-Ten,” he continued, focusing his gaze keenly on the signals. “But who on earth has it recruited?”
“No idea, sir.”
“Well. We’ll know soon enough. Direct the nearest Goliath pack to intercept. Have them approach in stealth and investigate only. Do not initiate an attack sequence until I get confirmation from Colonel Briggs. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir,” replied the operator. He touched the screen on a group of white hovering dots. They immediately highlighted. He then dragged them on top of the unknown signals. An intercept line instantly appeared on the monitor connecting both groups. But now, instead of the Goliaths represented by white dots, they were flashing red, and heading fast toward the unknown signals.
Chapter 53:
The Sandray had only leaped forward a small distance when the craft came to an abrupt halt. Three-Of-Ten wasted no time in shutting down the pulsing engines. He powered down a few more systems then opened the door. An inviting illumination spilled in from the outside. Brant didn’t hesitated. He was up and heading for the door before anybody else had even unfastened their seatbelts. He stepped down onto the ramp and looked around. Then, as if on cue, he mumbled his illustrious word: “unbelievable!”
Jessie stood up next. She was anxious to join him, but first she had one very important request for Three-Of-Ten: “While we are here, I need you to try and find any information which might help us locate Gracie. Can you do that for me?”
The android nodded. “I will attempt to establish a link with the HOPE network; however, in so doing, Jessie Goodwin, there is an elevated probability of detection.”
“I understand,” Jessie replied. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Just be as sly as you can.”
Three-Of-Ten cocked his head askew and returned a puzzled look. “I have cross-referenced sly and accessed sneaky. Do you mean, sneaky?”
“Yes,” she nodded, smiling. “Sneaky will work just as well as sly.”
“Jacob has programmed me to engage most effectively in . . . sneaky.”
Of Salt and Sand Page 70