“But it has nothing to do with me!”
She smiled, gently. “Oh but it does. There is a place set aside for your own written account. It is paramount that you leave your testament as we all have done, within the pages of the enclosed journal. Those who have touched the essence of Sandcastle, must never forget.”
Brant was beyond debate; beyond emotion, beyond even his own ability to deliberate any further. It was useless arguing. Those eyes were beyond resolve.
“Will you do this for me? For them?” Gracie pleaded. It was a request spoken in fleeting words.
Brant hesitated one more painful moment, then took hold of the case. He forced an accepting nod . . . only one.
Gracie sighed, and her expression eased as though the weight of the world had been lifted. Perhaps it had? “Someday, my Five will be justly venerated. When the world is ready to learn what transpired here. Then the Five’s technology can be safely be retrieved and used for good . . . and the world will be forever changed.” The emotion began to take its toll. Gracie’s words came slower and her head drooped, her frame seemed wounded. “Three-Of-Ten,” she directed. “Take these last remaining sentinels and escort Brant back to the Sandray. You will then take the Sandray and deliver Brant, Teresa, Jessie and Sam to the hidden sanctuary—the one prepared for the Four. As soon as you have done this, you, and this company of androids, will go directly to this Mole Hole Base. There, you will retrieve my Four!” she instructed, her last sentence spoken in an accent of rage. “Use all and any means necessary to rescue and safely deliver them to their new home. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mrs. Reitman.”
She smiled sweetly, and reached to pat the metal companion on his artificial cheek. “This is my last request of you. Thank you, my dear Three-Of-Ten.”
“Good bye, Mother Reitman,” the android spoke, sadly, and blinked his bright eyes.
The sincerity in Three-Of-Ten’s words took Brant by surprise. He would never see the android in the same light again.
“Now go. Go quickly,” she said, blowing them a final kiss. Then she whirled her chair about, and disappeared down the corridor.
Chapter 60:
Ruthanne’s emotion had intensified ten-fold since her original revelation. Gracie was not only alive, she was also not alone. Ruthanne had spent the next hours sitting motionless in her chair, casting her clairvoyant net out as far as her abilities would allow. She had focused her energy in the area where Gracie’s presence had first been felt: from Sandcastle Estate. And soon, like the fisherman who returns with a boat brimming of fish and a song of gratitude ringing out across the docks, so had her net fallen upon a prize so shocking that she had been instantly overcome with joy. She now knew that not only had Gracie returned to Sandcastle, but Jessie and Sam, and Teresa and Brant. Ruthanne felt all of them. Yet, amid her jubilation, there was a tempering flaw in her perfect moment. She sensed that the group was in some kind of danger, but could not determine more than this. She had to get to them!
As she sat there in her chair, her jaw clenched, her blood boiling, the reality of their deception hit her profoundly. Her friends were not dead! Tanner had lied to them! He had done this to dispel all hope from their hearts and souls, and it had worked! How dark . . . how evil was this man’s scheme! It all became clear to her now. He had known that together, the Four were a powerful entity; capable of things he did not know or understand . . . and he feared this ambiguity. But separate them; trample them down and take away all purpose for life and love, and they would become despondent, weak and easily conquered. With nothing left of hope; there would be no fight. And he had been shamefully successful. They had each surrendered to their captivity. They had submitted to a life of servitude—they should have chosen death!
Ruthanne felt a sudden surge building within her. It was foreign and frightening, yet powerful and enticing. She would not hold back . . . not this time! She opened her mind as never had before. It was like a great dam breaking forth. She felt the power explode within and through her like hot blood surging in cold veins. There was no mitigation; no reservation. Oh how she drew from it! All fear and submission vanished, replaced with purpose and resolve. She felt strong and focused now, more than she ever had, and the energy of it was euphoric! It was time for her and her companions to leave. They were done with Tanner and his threats. They were done with Jimmy Reitman. They were done with Mole Hole Base. And they were done being used, beaten and trodden underfoot! There was a fire storm coming, and Tanner’s little underground base was about to burn!
--
Tanner stepped from the elevator into the estate library. He paused, gazed around in an evaluating probe, then made an arrogant snort as though some ruthless monarch just setting foot into his captured castle. Having made his rounds in the underground facility below—and finding his men and machines in order—he now felt it prudent to appear topside, and check on his realm there.
A young lieutenant stood at the exit, waiting to give his report.
“Status,” Tanner spoke.
“Nothing, sir. The Goliath’s have been very thorough. We’ve covered every inch of the mansion and grounds as ordered. No one is here.”
Tanner absorbed the news without expression. He cleared his throat and drew out an annoyed breath. “Hmm,” was all he managed. “Fifteen men—of the mighty Fire Ants, no less—and over fifty Goliath sentinels,” he went on with irritated emphasis, “ . . . and nothing.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the lieutenant, his forehead beginning to bead from perspiration.
Tanner scanned the opulent library as though trying to pull some revealing essence from its walls, its furnishings—from the very air around him. With Jim Reitman gone unexpectedly AWOL, and the man’s fugitive mother, Gracie Reitman, also on the loose and as unpredictable as a fractured boiler, Tanner wasn’t about to just concede to ‘nothing’. Every fiber in his being told him that something was amiss in his captured kingdom.
“Here is the report, sir.” The soldier handed him an electronic tablet. “You’ll find a complete account of actions and events from all teams since the search began.”
Tanner took the device. His eyes drew immediately to it.
“You’ll find nothing unusual,” the soldier added in confidence.
Tanner perused the data. His keen eyes absorbed every line. The lieutenant appeared to be right. But . . . ? Tanner’s eyes suddenly changed. His gaze drew hard on the end of the display, his thick brows rose and his lips pursed. Whatever it was on the tablet display, it was profound, because the young solder saw Tanner see it. They had missed something.
“What is this entry, lieutenant?” Tanner demanded, his finger tapping on the glass surface.
The man leaned in nervously and eyed the screen. He saw the entry which had caused such an alarm in Tanner, and he puzzled. “That report came in topside, sir. From Team 4—about fifteen minutes ago. But it’s nothing. Control said they see this odd illumination coming from inside the solarium every time there is lightning, sir. It has caused by some kind of unnatural chemical in the flowers the old woman grew in there. We were briefed on it when we arrived and were told to ignore it.”
Tanner’s face went frigid. “Uh-huh. ‘Told to ignore it’,” he repeated each word decisively. “Do you see lightning out there tonight, lieutenant?”
The man withered and gulped nervously. “Um . . . well, no sir, I don’t.”
“You don’t. Good observation! Now get every team to that solarium! That’s where they are!”
“Yes sir!”
--
Section D9 of the Mole Hole sub-base was a unique area. It had taken more time for the construction drones to build this small block—nearly three times as long—as the rest of the base. The reasons were many, but most were related directly to the intricate workings of the EMR devices used in the construction. The area required singular specifications not necessary within the rest of the hidden facility. Fact was, most of Mole Hole was austere and plain,
lacking even the simple comforts and amenities—as any of the soldiers stationed there could attest. But Section D9 had been meticulously engineered to a fault. The salt walls had been transformed into solid iron, three-feet thick. The doors were reinforced steel; the security detail were heavily armed; and the surveillance system was as good or better than that of Sandcastle. But D9 wasn’t unique because of its reinforced construction. It was unique because this section comprised the apartments which were the temporary holding quarters for the Four. They were apartment-cells where seclusion and hopelessness were the weapons of choice—a preparatory breaking-down of the wild stallion before the harness and saddle.
It was an hour into the shift-change. The new guards were rested and fresh. They stood at their usual posts, each positioned just outside the apartment entrances. These same men had carried out this routine for nearly a week now, and found their mysterious quarry—three young adults (one of them blind) and an adolescent boy—strangely quiet and passive. Yet, it had been made very clear to them that these, the seemingly harmless, were potentially more dangerous than an entire division of enemy radicals. But this was just not believable. After just a few days, the soldiers were beginning to scoff at the very idea. It was like guarding the entrance of a country church-house.
This night was no different than any other, and the guards had engaged in an unprofessional game of making faces and finger gestures at each other. They knew just how far to take their horseplay, and usually settled in to a more professional stance within minutes of their shift. It was Nathan, who—after tossing a ball of rolled up paper down the corridor at his nearest comrade—suddenly noticed something strange. An eerie fog began to ooze from under the doorway of his assigned watch—the apartment of the woman known as Ruthanne. The odd haze stopped his comical activities instantly. He straightened himself and glared at the floor.
“Hey Nathan!” shouted his comrade. “Heads up, man!” A candy bar came flying down the corridor. It flew hard and fast, catching Nathan on the side of the face. But he didn’t move. It was as though he hadn’t felt it. “Hey, dude!” the guard shouted again, this time catching the attention of the other men positioned further down at the end station. “Nate!” he shouted again. “What’s up?”
But Nathan heard nothing, felt nothing. His eyes were transfixed as though a zombie. He watched as the cloud gathered and began to spin around and around, growing in size and speed.
“Nate!” came another call. Still nothing.
The churning haze rose from the floor. Higher and higher it drew up, growing like some living entity. Nathan dropped his weapon and took a step backwards. The shapeless form now began to illuminate in a subtle glow of amber. Then it changed again. This time from amber to a brilliant deep-orange. Nathan turned and started to back away. But as he did, the gaseous form exploded into a ball of fire! It leaped out with angry arms and fiery claws, consuming everything in its path! “Fire!” he screamed, falling backward and onto the ground. “Aaaah!” he shrieked in a terrible wail. “I’m burning! Help me!” He began to wreath and flounder as though the flames were consuming him.
His comrades down the corridor were glaring statues. They couldn’t grasp his humor? They watched in a stunned stupor. What was Nathan doing? This wasn’t funny, and it certainly wasn’t like Nathan? His little stunt was going to land him in a military tribunal. Everything was being watched and monitored by other eyes on surveillance. What was he trying to prove? Finally, the other men realized that something was wrong. This was no stunt.
The guard nearest to him, the one who had thrown the candy bar, ran toward him.
“Don’t leave your post!” shouted the senior guard from down the corroder, his finger purposeful and threatening. “Stay put!” He reached for his radio and was about to call in; about to report that one of his men had fallen into some kind of seizure . . . some mental breakdown. But then he too saw it! All of them saw it! Where Nathan lay, screaming and writhing, was now a wall of fire! It simply appeared as though a flame to gas, and was leaping and crawling along walls and ceilings, swallowing everything in its path. And it was coming . . . coming toward them! “Fire!” the senior guard shouted. “It’s fire!” He pushed his radio and screamed, “Fire in D9!” Then he turned to his station panel and hit the emergency release button. Alarms engaged, water began to spray and red lights flashed. “Get them out!” he screamed. “Get them out!”
Even the elusive Mole Hole Base had one vulnerability: fire. Every structure on earth is disposed to this single deadly hazard, and Ruthanne had cleverly seen this. It was the only way she could ensure that they would get out alive. She knew how vital and indispensable each of them were. She had gambled, correctly, that even Tanner would have made provisions for an emergency exit. A way to get his precious Four topside in the event of an unforeseen calamity.
As the alarms glared out, Colonel Briggs jumped from his office chair so abruptly that he almost knocked it to the floor. He punched on his console. The Mole Hole Control Center appeared. “What is going on!” he demanded.
“You better get up here, sir!” came the operator’s reply. “We have a fire in D9!”
Briggs went numb. He knew what was in D9. For several seconds he was paralyzed; the realization refusing to sink in. This could not be happening! He finally managed to scramble from his office. As he ran down the hallway. All he could think about was losing the Four. Tanner had left him in charge of Mole Hole. If any of the Four were injured, the recrimination would be unthinkable. Briggs finally pushed through the Control Center’s entrance. “Status!” he shouted.
The young lieutenant’s face was a mixture of confusion and panic.
“Well!” Briggs demanded.
“You better see this, sir,” the soldier replied, nodding toward a large monitor. “I . . . I can’t really explain it?”
Briggs hurried to the operator’s station. He glared in a desperate, almost painful scan. The screen would certainly be a horrific display of flames and smoke. The entire D9 section would be engulfed in death and ruin. How would he ever explain such a travesty to Tanner? But as he looked at the display, he felt strange, as confusion washed over him like a cold rain. Was he missing something? There were no flames? No smoke? No fire?
“Help us!” shrieked an awful voice through the audio. It was one of the four guards. He was clearly visible in the D9 corridor, his body seen pushed up against the wall, his eyes bulged and terrified. He coughed and spit, as if inhaling poisonous vapors.
“We’re burning alive!” screamed another of the men, not far from the first. He too was in shock and completely taken in fear. His face was placid, his frame wet and quaking.
They were all there in sight of the cameras. All four men—contorted in an abnormal twist as they lay kicking and screaming as though being consumed by an engulfing inferno.
“There is no fire, Colonel.” The operator’s voice came. “But they’ve already engaged the emergency release,” he continued. “I can’t explain why. They have released the Four!” he sputtered out. Then paused. “They are gone, sir. They have escaped topside through the emergency exit!”
The realization of the scheme hit Briggs as harshly as a gunshot to his head. And he knew. In that terrible instant, he knew. They had been played! “Would that the fire be real, and me in the mist of it,” he mumbled.
--
“Keep moving!” shouted Eli over his shoulder. “This crawlway has to lead topside! Come on, sis, keep up with me!”
“Keep up?” Ellen growled. “If it wasn’t for your big butt in my face, I would trod right over top of you! Like there’s room in this pipe to go side-by-side!”
Jacob chuckled from behind. “I just want to stop and hug you guys!”
“That would not be advisable, Jacob,” huffed Ruthanne. “I suggest we keep climbing.”
“Who would have thought there was a fire escape,” Jacob went on. “Ruthanne! You are wonderful!”
“Do not shower me with accolades just yet
,” she cautioned on the inhale. “The guards most certainly have started after us by now, realizing that the fire was just a deception of the mind. And I have since released the men who were affected. I am simply too weak.”
Ellen turned around and grasped her arm. “It’s okay, Ruthy. You gave us hope again, and a chance at freedom. No matter what happens, you really are something.”
Ruthanne smiled. “I just wish I knew what to do once we get above ground.”
“Looks like we’ll find out soon enough,” called down Eli. “I’ve reached some kind of hatch!”
“Open it! Hurry!” urged Ellen. “They’ll be on our heels any minute!”
Eli grunted and groaned. “It’s stuck!” he cried. “I don’t believe it! Typical substandard engineering—a fire escape that is unescapable!”
“Quite griping and get it open!” Ellen hollered.
“Um,” said Jacob from behind. “I suggest you do as Ellen says, Eli. I think they’re coming!”
Eli wrapped his hands firmly on the metal wheel. He heaved hard in the direction of the turn. He was strong enough, that wasn’t the problem. But his position on the rising foothold was precarious, and he didn’t want to fall and take out his companions on the way down.
“Come on, brother! Hurry!”
“Yup. It’s official. I can hear them coming!” called up Jacob.
“Got it!” Eli shouted.
A gush of fresh air poured into the outlet. It smelled of sage and washed out cedar. It was desert air! They scrambled out into the darkness.
“We must run!” cried Eli. “Come on! Come on!” But as he bolted forward, the rest of the group did not follow, but stood motionless. Eli stopped. “What’s the matter! Come on!” he waved them on. “We have to run! Hurry!” Then he saw Ellen’s hand raise and point toward the east, beyond his background. He whirled, and his heart sank. How could they have been so foolish? In their secluded apartments, time had become undefined and vague. So desperate were they to escape to the desert surface that none of them had thought about the environment which awaited them. Above the east horizon, their most deadly nemesis was awaking . . . the sun was on the rise.
Of Salt and Sand Page 81