by K. T. Tomb
They approached the bar, where a few older men leaned without barstools. The bartender was a fifty-ish, overweight man wearing a filthy t-shirt that might have been white at one time. His scruffy red beard looked as if he’d been trying for years to grow it, but only succeeded in making his face look rusty.
The bartender immediately took issue with their presence.
“Bitte nehmen Sie sich die Argumentation nicht!” he snarled.
Before Jonathan could begin to make headway in German, the bartender pulled out a long stick still bearing the bark from when it was found, or torn from a tree. He held it menacingly, forcing the trio to leave.
“Shit! What are we going to do now?” Phoe lamented. Two other rough looking men moved in behind them, guarding the doorway once the trio reached the parking lot. “Well, Peter. It seems like we hit a nerve, just by our presence alone.”
Suddenly, her hotline to Simon rang. Bad timing, Simon! But with Peter and Jonathan’s urging, she took the call.
“What, Simon? What?”
“That’s the thanks I get for giving you vital information?” said Simon.
“I was in the middle of trying to get information from the locals!”
“Ha! I bet that’s going over like a mean, big stick, isn’t it?” he said, chuckling. “Phoe, I have information that will rival any dribble you can get from them. You’re going to have to learn to trust me. Trust me now!”
Chapter Twenty Three
Phoe finished her conversation with Simon, trying to take in all the details. Most she managed to retain, but the approach of a familiar face from behind the bar building distracted her. Especially, when the figure carried a sheathed sword.
“We’ll have to continue this call later, Simon,” she said into the phone, while pointing to the figure now trotting toward them. “Bye!”
“You three have a lot of nerve!” The figure removed the sword, the blade gleaming in the lone streetlight’s glow.
Jeremy Riddick’s angry face soon came into view. Dressed in a black trench coat, it appeared that he hadn’t shaved, bathed, or slept since their earlier encounter. But his blue eyes were on fire, adding to the frightful state of his greased-back hair and ashen complexion.
“Francis told me you were on your way here. How sad that you were foolish to pursue me!” he taunted. “Well, here I am. What the hell do you want from me?”
Phoe shot a wary glance at Peter, and his unsure response told her that they shared the same fear he would rather fight than answer their questions.
“All right, Jeremy,” said Phoe, after taking a deep breath. “How did you get here before us? And, what happened with the laptops back in Norway? I was recently informed there was a strong electrical surge through the computer room, as if it was hit by a bolt of lightning.”
This announcement caught Peter and Jonathan by surprise.
“Lightning? Where did you get that information?” asked Peter.
“Let me tell you later, please. Just trust me,” she whispered to him. “So, Jeremy? We’ll start with those two questions and go from there.”
Jeremy snickered. “I have access to things you wouldn’t understand.”
“That’s your answer? It’s not an answer!”
“Then maybe you would like me to answer you the way you seem to know best.”
Jeremy dropped the sheath and held the sword before him in preparation to attack. Meanwhile, the bartender, guards, and a handful of other scowling men crowded the entrance.
“Is this really necessary?” Peter asked, his tone even, calm, and cop-like effective...at least for the moment.
But the others stepped down into the parking lot, armed with clubs and knives. Death was in the air as Jeremy and his surly German buddies moved in to attack from all sides.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and the ancient sign above the bar entrance exploded. Everyone whirled around to face Jonathan. The barrel of a smoking thirty-eight special was smoking. A thirty-eight special held in Jonathan’s right hand.
“Back the hell up! Everyone!” he demanded, motioning for Phoe and Peter to stay close to him.
Everyone backed up except the bartender. As if hoping to call a bluff, the bartender kept walking toward the three Americans.
“I don’t think so, fatso!” Jonathan said, cocking the pistol. “Get your lard ass back there with the rest of the rats, or they can clean your bloody brains off their clothes!”
When he kept coming and Jeremy resumed his approach from the side, Phoe seized the moment.
“Where’d you get such a nice big stick?” she asked, seductively. But a moment later, she slid up to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved her knee into his groin. The big bad bartender crumpled to the ground. Then, she had the presence of mind to take the stick, and before Jeremy could lunge at Peter with the sword, she cracked him on the head. He, too, fell stunned to his knees on the asphalt.
“Tell the rest of them to go away,” she told Jonathan. “We just need Jeremy, who is going to lead us down into the basement.”
“What?” Jeremy had dropped his sword, which Peter kicked away once the rest of the patrons returned inside the bar.
“I have information from a reliable source that there is a basement entrance behind the building. Get up...you’re going to lead us there, or die trying!”
“Phoe? Are you all right?” Peter asked worriedly.
“I’m fine...just following Simon’s latest directive,” she explained. “Grab the sword, unless you’ve got a firearm you’ve been hiding like Jonathan.”
“I kept it inside my backpack, since customs never checked the plane after we boarded it in Taos,” said Jonathan. “I’ve got an extra box of ammo inside my computer’s battery compartment.”
“Good boy.”
Phoe smiled confidently as she led the way back behind the bar.
* * *
Peter and Jonathan seemed surprised by the sudden surge in her to take charge, though they had both seen it in the hostile jungle territory. Maybe she viewed this place like an urban jungle, reasoned Peter. He gripped the ear of Jeremy, who grimaced in pain. But the shithead soon learned that Peter wouldn’t make the pain excruciating as long as Jeremy didn’t put up a fight.
“Be ready for anything,” Phoe told them, as they came upon a waist-high doorway.
“Is this going to take us into a dungeon or that labyrinth that I read about?” asked Jonathan
“I hope this just leads to paydirt.” She said. “Anything else will be icing on the cake. Are we ready for this, guys?”
“Yep,” said Peter, and echoed by Jonathan. A sharp squeeze to the ear got an enthusiastic cry from Jeremy.
As had been the case for most of this trip, the door was locked. Jeremy shook his head when asked about a key. Peter nearly turned him upside down, thinking the miscreant was lying. But, this time it was the truth.
“Very well,” she said, launching a deadly kick into the door near its latch. It flung open on impact.
Peter added his flashlight to Phoe’s, revealing a spiral stone staircase descending into the earth.
“Well, well.” Phoe looked at Jonathan. “It looks like you might get that adventure you’re looking for with us. But this is for keeps, this time, Jonathan. There’s no way to know what to expect, so stay ready for anything.”
The look on Jonathan’s face surely told Phoe everything she needed to know. Peter was certain of it—especially when he saw the look of dread on Jeremy’s face.
We have definitely come to the right place!
Chapter Twenty Four
The stairs descended more than twenty feet into the earth. At the base of the stairs stood a sign carved in iron with the words written in German.
“I don’t think we’ll need your entire translations skills for this one, Jonathan,” Phoe remarked.
Jonathan looked closely at the German engraving that read, Die Bruderschaft der Hammer. “The Brotherhood of the Hammer? Hmm.”
He p
ulled on the sign and it gave way, surprising her and, from the looks of it, Peter as well. The rock wall in front of them turned ninety degrees to reveal a well-lit corridor. Caution and excitement ran through her core.
Roughly ten foot by ten foot, and likely measured in meters when it was built, the jagged walls pointed to hurried construction. Several large swastikas had been carved into the walls and appeared to run the passageway’s length, by her guess roughly a meter apart from one another.
“Frankly, I don’t know whether to be impressed by the architect of this place or be appalled by the purpose of its existence,” said Phoe, running her fingers across the symbols most recently associated with unspeakable evil.
“A little of each, I’d say,” said Jonathan. “Look, Phoe and Peter. It looks like we’re headed toward an old wooden door at the end of the corridor.”
“I’ll take point,” she advised. She slowed her pace as they approached the door, and testing the ground by stepping a foot or two ahead to check for booby traps.
They soon reached the wooden door. Phoe tapped on the metal handle to test for any other trap. Nothing happened.
“We’re dealing with a Nazi group that has an unusual obsession with Thor, so we’re going to continue to take things slow and easy,” she said. “I have a feeling that before we’re through, we’ll be dealing with unexpected electricity in one form or another.”
“There you go talking about that shit again,” said Peter, from behind, followed by a snicker from Jeremy. “And this asshole is up to his neck in it all!”
Phoe pulled on the handle. Expecting it to be locked or heavy, she was surprised when the door opened smoothly. She stepped beyond the threshold, and her flashlight’s beam landed on a large statue of Thor carved from gray marble.
“Bingo,” she said.
Jonathan gasped.
The statue of Thor held its hands in the air as if supporting something above it. Dressed in furs with long hair, Mjölnir was shoved into the deity’s Belt of Strength.
“The detail is amazing!” Phoe whispered, reverently.
Standing at least fifteen feet tall, the statue was the centerpiece in the small round room. Just big enough for five or six people. Phoe hoped to keep the door open, but as soon as Peter dragged Jeremy into the room, the door slammed shut.
“Duck!” Expecting a booby trap, Phoe lowered her head, and Jonathan followed suit, as if a spinning round blade would come out of the walls to decapitate them. Nothing like that happened. But Jeremy snickered.
“Boo!” he said.
“Better to be safe, asshole!” she retorted.
But he continued to laugh, until Peter wrenched his ear tighter. The howl turned painful.
Phoe joined Jonathan in examining the statue and, they soon determined that the hammer was sculpted from a different material than the rest of the marble statue. He soon discovered the damned thing was actually loose.
“Look, you guys!” He wiggled it free while Phoe and Peter watch, breathless. It moved within Thor’s belt along the length of the handle. But it couldn’t be lifted out, despite moving at least a foot in either direction. Notches line the length of the handle. “I guess we have to find the right notch.”
“Peter, what do you think? What do the notches represent and how are we supposed to find out?”
“Maybe we get unlimited chances to figure it out!” he joked. “Seriously, this is something Jeremy should explain.”
But despite the inflicted upgrade of pain to both ears, Jeremy shrieked but would not reveal anything.
Meanwhile, Jonathan returned to studying the statue’s hammer and belt. Phoe could tell he was on edge listening to Jeremy’s discomfort.
“Maybe the clue is in what he’s doing,” Jonathan observed.
Phoe rejoined him in examining the statue for a few minutes. When Phoe walked around the statue in search of some other clue, suddenly a loud rumble shook the ground below them. Sand began pouring down upon them from several sizable holes in the ceiling.
“Uh-oh,” said Jonathan.
“You all have trespassed and ruined everything!” shouted Jeremy “For that, you deserve to die!”
“Hey, speak for yourself asshole!” shouted Peter.
“Get him to tell us how to make it stop!” pleaded Phoe
“I will die first!” Jeremy said defiantly, ignoring fresh, furious twists to his ears. A kick to the gut and a fist to the face did no better.
“Jonathan—help me find a way to slow the sand and I’ll try to figure out the puzzle here!” cried Phoe. She took a closer inspection of the hammer and statue. There’s something odd about Thor’s positioning.
The sand had crept up beyond their shins, and Jonathan’s asthma had taken him out of the game. Think, Phoe, think! Think fast!
When realization hit her, the sand had climbed to their knees. “I’ve got it!”
“Hurry, please, Ms. Phoenix! I don’t want to die!” cried Jonathan, matching the look on Peter’s face, while he fought to subdue the maniacal Jeremy.
A sense of calm flowed through Phoe, and she drew upon her own courage in the face of adversity, realizing from here on out she was the leader. Their collective fate rested on her shoulders.
“Finish what you said earlier, Jonathan,” she told him. “He’s holding something which reminds you of what?”
“It reminds me of drowning in sand, Ms. Phoenix!” He was now beyond panicked
“Concentrate, Jonathan! If we’re going to get out, we have to work together!”
The sand was up to their waists. Peter released Jeremy so their captive could breathe.
“He’s holding something up! What does that tell you, Jonathan?” she repeated.
Jonathan looked confused...but then his face brightened with recognition. “The tasks! Thor performed tasks that he couldn’t do before!”
“Yes, that’s gotta be it! And there were three tasks, right?” Phoe grabbed the hammer and pulled it down all the way to the bottom, and then up three notches. The sand immediately stopped pouring in from the ceiling, and the statue started to slide over to one side, revealing yet another spiral stairway heading deeper into the earth. The sand descended into the darkness below.
Chapter Twenty Five
Phoe heard someone or something moving around on the lower level.
She asked Jonathan for the gun and put her index finger to her lips to make sure he didn’t make any noise, and Peter kept a muzzle on Jeremy, whose will to fight seemed to have disappeared. Sensitive ears? Sheesh! Crouched on the stairs, she could see the lower level without actually going all the way down. A cloaked figure presently struggled to get a piece of the wall to move without success, and whomever it was remained seemingly ignorant of their presence just above. Phoe quietly moved closer to her target, not noticing anything special about the room. Another ten foot by ten foot circular chamber, very similar to the one they had just left, and of course, full of sand. Shit! There are no obvious exits!
No doors or any obvious sign that there has ever been a way out of the room, except for the way they came in. She tried not to slip on the sand-covered stairs as she descended with the gun pointed at the mysterious figure. She managed to make it to the bottom with Jonathan right beyond her.
“Freeze!” ordered Phoe.
The cloaked figure stopped pushing on the wall and straightened. The voice said it was a male, and he emitted a menacing chuckle, raising his hands and slowly turning around to face her.
“Interesting. You’re not as stupid as I thought.”
Holy Shit! “Francis? How did you get here!”
“You’re just as stupid as I thought,” he said. He motioned to Jeremy who spoke to him in Norwegian. The two laughed. “Did you really think you could stop all of us from protecting what isn’t yours to take? Well, I had high hopes we would eliminate you before now. Your perseverance has been an unexpected nuisance. I have no time for you, stupid woman!”
Phoe approached him, determined to
hide the powerful rage building inside her. “Hey, asshole. Who’s holding the gun? You will make time for us!”
Jonathan and Peter joined them, with Jeremy’s arms pulled up behind him to a painful burn by Peter. Jeremy glared at Peter the entire time.
Peter frisked Jeremy and then Phoe pointed the gun closer to Francis’s head as Peter frisked him, too, removing a meat cleaver and butcher knife concealed inside his cloak. After handing both weapons to Jonathan, the three of them faced the pair of miscreants.
Jeremy began to laugh nervously, leaning against the wall closest to him and sliding down into the sand with his legs crossed.
“Now, we’re all stuck in here!” He whined, running his hands through the sand and watching the granules flow through his fingers.
Phoe looked back up the stairs, and her flashlight confirmed her sudden fear. The openings have closed? What in the....How?!
“How in the hell did the room close up without us hearing anything?” asked Peter. The color had drained from his face.
“What, were you expecting Thor to rumble again?” asked Jeremy, chuckling sadly. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. You can even shoot me if you want. I’ve never made it past this room before. Neither has Francis.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Peter demanded.
Jeremy responded with a blank expression. It appeared all of the fight had gone out of him. “It means that we are all stuck here together for eternity.”
Jonathan removed his glasses, squinting as he looked around the room. “I’m not ready to give up.”
“Neither am I,” said Phoe, moving to the nearest wall opposite the Norwegians. She began touching and lightly pounding on the rough rock. “This is a mistake. It’s illogical to make these other secret passageways to just end here.”
“Search all you want, but you will soon find it is useless,” said Francis.
“Where were you supposed to be going anyway, Francis?” Phoe glared at him while Peter and Jonathan joined in the search for any possible way out.