by J. R. Rain
* * *
The guard ushered Ricky off, and Tess glared at both Karakov and her ex-husband, Morrie. She took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the chamber. At the far wall, she ran a hand over the polished stone reliefs that beautifully depicted a lush garden.
She moved purposefully through the ornate stone chamber. Torches flickered on the walls, dust stirred on the floor. Karakov watched her from behind with eagle eyes. He was growing more gaunt and haggard by the day, perhaps by the hour.
Tess ignored them all. She was deep in thought, contemplating all that she knew. She searched her mind, going through her father’s research. They watched her with guarded interest.
“You’d better not be stalling for time, Miss Morgan,” Karakov said at one point.
“Quiet!” Tess spat. “I’m trying to think.”
Morrie understood, and placed a hand on Karakov’s arm.
All eyes were on Tess as she moved slowly through the intricately-carved Garden Chamber. She paused before a stone statue of a fierce-looking cherub, its fiery sword raised high. She studied the legendary Protector of Eden, and then reached up for its sword arm.
Behind her, Karakov stepped closer, watching carefully. Just as she was about to grab hold of the arm, a massive explosion rocked the entire chamber. Dust and rock shook loose from the ceiling. Tess was jolted forward into the statue.
* * *
Hidden behind a boulder, Jack and Zahir exchanged high-fives. Next to them lay the open crate of dynamite.
“That’s a hell of a distraction.” Zahir’s voice was filled with glee. “Let me try one.”
“No.” Jack shook his head firmly.
“C’mon! Revenge for destroying my gas station.” Zahir looked at Jack, pleading.
Jack didn’t like the idea; his newfound friend had a way of screwing things up. But Zahir had just saved their asses back there... “Fine,” Jack conceded. “Just be careful.”
With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Zahir touched a lighter to a stick of dynamite. Outside the temple, Karakov’s men poured out to investigate the explosion. Karakov appeared, too, frowning.
“Good,” Jack said. “We got their attention.” He glanced at the stick, then at Zahir. “Er...throw it, Zahir.”
But Zahir still had a wicked, crafty gleam in his eyes. “Not yet...”
Jack stared nervously at the burning fuse, which was rapidly diminishing.
“Zahir!”
The Iranian held the dynamite stick in such a way that the burning fuse actually singed his fingers. Zahir yelped and dropped the burning explosive. It bounced and rolled among some boulders just beneath them.
“Crap.” Jack grabbed Zahir. “Come on!”
The dynamite exploded just as they dove for cover. Boulders broke loose from the hillside, rolling and gathering momentum, until a massive landslide buried several of Karakov’s vehicles parked at the mountain temple’s base.
Zahir jumped up and down like a boy with a new toy. “Now that was a diversion!” he cried.
But Jack shook his head. He took off. “This way!” he hollered, not waiting to see if Zahir followed him. But, of course, Zahir did.
Chapter Fourteen
Tess held her son close, calming him from the explosion. She regarded her ex-husband with contempt. Two guards watched her, but they were distracted by the mayhem from the explosions.
Morrie tried to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know he would threaten Ricky?”
“I can’t believe you,” Tess hissed. “It was careless and reckless to bring him here, Morrie. Besides, you only did it to spite me.”
“I love that boy,” Morrie countered. “I couldn’t imagine my life without him.” He paused. “And my life was over in the States. You know that.”
Tessla’s eyes were full of contempt. “But you kidnapped him, and brought him to this hellhole. Good move, you asshole.”
“Look,” he said, “We’re on the threshold of Eden, Tess. I would hardly call this place a hellhole.”
* * *
Jack and Zahir cautiously approached the Garden Chamber entrance once again. “Careful,” Jack whispered.
“Careful is my middle name,” Zahir told him. “Along with Rashid, Hakim, Ali...”
Jack rolled his eyes and led the way forward.
* * *
The War Party of Keepers wound its way up the narrow mountain trail on camels and horses, led by a grim Chief Ramalah. Suddenly, he looked up, catching sight of a distant finger of black smoke rising up into the sky. The Chief smiled to himself, knowing full well that Jack Rome was indeed up there, and raising hell.
* * *
Tess was holding her son, still arguing with her ex-husband, when one of the guards stepped forward. He pointed his automatic rifle at them. Tess shielded her son behind her.
“Quiet!” the guard ordered in Russian.
“He said to be quiet,” Morrie translated quietly.
“I know what he said,” she hissed.
“Well, you two aren’t doing a very good job of it,” came a voice from behind them. Tess and Morrie both snapped their heads around, and so did the guards.
But Jack and Zahir had bigger guns now, confiscated from one of the storerooms. Jack leveled his at the guards. “Drop them!”
The guards, seeing that Jack was dead serious, dropped their weapons and fled.
And Tess smiled broadly at Jack. She knew he would come for her.
Zahir went to work tying up Morrie. He found an old rag and stuffed it into the man’s mouth.
Tess went immediately to the wall of the chamber. There, she carefully examined an intricate relief carving covering it.
“I don’t mean to put any pressure on you,” Jack said, looking over his shoulder, “but I’m pretty sure they won’t be gone for long.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she replied. She focused again on the monstrous cherub statue before her.
“There’s something about this, isn’t there?” Jack studied it as well.
Zahir, who was the assigned look-out, stifled a gasp. “They’re coming back,” he said, worried, “And they look pissed.”
Zahir looked down to see little Ricky staring up at him, mouth hanging open. Zahir corrected himself. “I mean, they appear perturbed.”
“Perhaps,” Tess responded to Jack. Now, she did reach up and take hold of the statue’s sword arm. She tugged on it, but nothing happened.
Zahir peeked around the hallway. Karakov and his men were rounding the corner. Zahir ducked back, but not in time. They spotted him and quickened their stride.
“Uh, guys, you’d better hurry,” the Iranian urged.
Tess continued to struggle with the statue’s arm. “Help me, Jack.” He reached up and together they pulled, hard.
The statue’s arm vibrated, then finally gave way, grinding slowly down as Tess and Jack used all their strength.
Zahir abandoned his post; they all knew they had to hurry. He took the boy’s hand and hurried over to Jack and Tess.
As the statue’s arm moved down, a low, ominous rumbling filled the chamber.
Zahir held Ricky’s hand tightly. “This can’t be good,” he said.
The floor began to shake. More dust sifted down from the old ceiling. The sound of grinding stone reverberated everywhere. Jack reached for Tess’s hand. She looked around for Ricky, relaxed when she saw him with Zahir. Morrie sat, bound and terrified.
The Garden Chamber, like an ancient stone elevator, began slowly sinking down. Zahir watched as Karakov’s armed men, just appearing at the chamber entrance, disappeared from view.
The Iranian waved to them mockingly. “’Bye, assholes,” he said.
Ricky mimicked him. “’Bye, assholes!” the boy shouted.
“Don’t say that!” Zahir was aghast.
“Don’t say that!” Ricky repeated. Zahir rolled his eyes, and so did the boy.
The group continued down into the bowels of the mountain. They had no way of knowing wher
e they were going, or what was happening. They huddled together, held on to each other and rode it out.
Still the room descended. Presently, a dark opening appeared in the wall, growing wider as the room dropped. Finally, the widening gap revealed itself to be a dark passageway into the unknown.
They came to a halt. Ricky had stopped his mimicking game, now eyes wide with wonder at the spectacle. They had little choice but to continue forward.
“Shall we?” Jack said, offering a hand to Tess.
* * *
Karakov watched in stunned disbelief and enraged silence as the entire chamber sank down before his eyes. The room left behind nothing but a dark opening.
Suddenly, the dying Russian heard the undeniable sound of war cries. Karakov and his men turned to find themselves face to face with a horde of charging warriors. They were under attack from the Keepers of Eden.
His men sprang into action, turning on the charging Keepers and opening fire.
Chief Ramalah was at the forefront. He used his pistols expertly, cross-drawing them from shoulder holsters. He grimly blew away anything that moved.
Karakov and Abdullah worked their way through the melee, clearly attempting to flee. Abdullah used his semi-automatic to blow away anyone who challenged them.
The Chief noticed them trying to flee. “Cowards,” he muttered angrily, and turned to follow them.
Boris Karakov and a handful of his men jumped into the black chopper that awaited them. The pilot flipped some switches, adjusted the cyclic, and soon, the helicopter was airborne.
A dirty and bloodstained Chief Ramalah looked up at the quickly disappearing chopper. Furious, he turned and stabbed his scimitar into the heart of a Russian mercenary, killing the man instantly.
The helicopter circled away, flying low to the ground. The pilot looked over at Karakov. “Where to, sir?”
Boris Karakov’s face was deadly. “We go back.”
With the last of the resistance gone, the Chief and his men stood victoriously at the temple entrance, exhausted. They raised their bloody weapons high and cheered loudly.
Chapter Fifteen
The group stepped out of the now-settled room through a stone archway and into a new tunnel. They were amazed that this tunnel was lit by many torches mounted in the wall, going on as far as the eye could see.
Ricky glanced back at his father. “Don’t leave him here, Mommy,” the boy pleaded.
Tess understood the boy’s fear. It was bad enough that he’d been tied up. She nodded to Jack, who crossed over and loosened Morrie.
“Thanks,” Morrie said.
“Just don’t try anything,” Jack warned, quietly enough so Ricky couldn’t hear.
Zahir stepped over to one of the gently flickering torches. “Okay, this is just weird,” he said.
The gang, led by Jack Rome, made their way through the wide tunnel. All appreciated the periodic flickering torches that lit their journey. Jack and Tess walked side by side. Little Ricky, who had apparently bonded with Zahir, held the Persian’s hand. Morrie kept up the rear.
“So, who do you think lit these torches?” Jack asked in wonder.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” Zahir answered. “It doesn’t look like much of a garden.”
The tunnel, wide enough for a big rig, was hewn from dark volcanic rock. The floor was dusted with soft sand, muffling their footfalls. The tip of Jack’s cane sank several inches into the sand.
“Just wait and see,” Tess said eagerly.
“‘Wait and see,’ she says,” Zahir said to Ricky. “Wait and see what? More tunnels? I’m sick of tunnels.”
Ricky giggled up at the man. “You talk a lot,” the boy said.
As the group continued through the tunnel, an exhausted Morrie finally stopped and leaned a shoulder against the wall. He dug into his shirt pocket for a cigarette and lighter.
“How about a rest, old boy?” he asked Jack.
“No resting,” Jack answered curtly. “We have to keep moving.”
Morrie glanced at him walking with his ex-wife. “So, who died and put you in charge?”
In one swift movement, Jack’s silver-tipped cane flashed through the air. Morrie’s legs were swept out from under him. The American fugitive found himself flat on his back. Jack pressed the metal tip of his cane onto Morrie’s jugular.
Jack was disgusted. Tess watched her hero with pride, and Zahir tried his best to distract little Ricky from the violent display. “Don’t forget, Old Boy,” Jack growled, “your greed is the reason we’re all in this mess.”
But Ricky broke away from Zahir and ran to his dad’s rescue. The boy started beating on Jack’s bad leg, screaming and wailing. “Leave my daddy alone!”
Jack stepped away from Morrie, who carefully found his feet again. Tess stepped in and pulled little Ricky away, holding the distraught boy close.
Morrie dusted himself off. “Easy, old boy. It was just a question.” Then he winked at Ricky to show his son he was all right. “Hey, now I’m clear. The angry man with the cane is in charge.”
The tunnel seemed endless. The gang hiked doggedly on and on. Zahir once again held the little boy’s hand. Morrie worked his way to the front, now matching stride with Jack.
“You know,” Morrie said, “because of you, my wife never truly loved me.”
“And why is that?” Jack asked, masking his interest.
“She’s been in love with you her entire life. Ever since you saved her.” Morrie sighed. “God help any man who tries to live up to your image.”
But Jack only quickened his pace, bum leg and all, and left Morrie behind.
* * *
In the temple above, the Chief personally tended to the wounded. He administered an unusual amber-colored liquid, which he poured from a small vial straight onto their injuries. The healing effects were miraculous: broken legs mended, bullet holes repaired themselves, and deep cuts and gashes sealed up.
The Keepers weren’t in the least surprised. They understood what the Chief was using, and they also understood how precious this liquid was. It was the rarest healing fluid in the world, and Ramalah took care of his people with it.
Suddenly, the Chief glanced toward the great entrance hole in the mountain. In the near distance, he could hear the whump-whump-whump of an approaching chopper. He stepped toward the entrance, shielding his eyes against the fierce afternoon sun.
The tiny speck in the distance rapidly approached, and he saw the helicopter moving quickly in his direction.
There was nothing he could do. There was nowhere for the Keepers to run, or even hide.
Chief Ramalah stood tall as he watched the Hellfire missiles blaze off the undercarriage launching pads. They appeared to suspend briefly in mid-air, then they blasted forward, gathering tremendous speed as they raced down to the temple entrance.
A handful of other Keepers gathered next to Ramalah, watching the twin fires in the sky speeding straight for them.
“God help us,” the Chief prayed.
The Hellfire missiles slammed home and detonated together in one massive explosion, sending a fireball into the sky. They obliterated anything and everything around, including the ever-faithful Keepers.
* * *
Karakov, Abdullah and five other armed men stepped out of the chopper. Karakov surveyed the damage. Dust hung heavy in the air. The place was charred and burned, including human bodies. The temple itself was still relatively unharmed, although the portico and several massive boulders now blocked the entrance.
“Clear the opening!” Karakov commanded.
Not long after, one of the Russian’s armed men stepped away from the partially destroyed temple and approached Karakov. “Sir, we’ve found an opening through the rubble. They’re clearing it as we speak.”
“How much longer?” Karakov asked. He was wheezing heavily now, trying to catch his breath.
“Two hours,” the man estimated.
“Do it in one and I double your salary.”
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A grin. “I’ll inform the men,” he replied.
Chapter Sixteen
The group below began to take a more relaxed pace. Indeed, as they made their way along the consistently lit tunnel, they all felt increasingly refreshed. Even Zahir, who had felt claustrophobic in the other numerous tunnels, was at ease.
Jack slipped back and walked together with Tess and little Ricky. He looked down at the handsome boy. “I’m so sorry about your father, buddy,” he said.
“That’s okay,” Ricky looked up at Jack Rome. “Mommy said he needed to be taught a lesson.”
The problem now resolved from the child’s point of view, Ricky ran off to walk with his new friend, Zahir, happily holding the Persian man’s hand.
“He really likes your friend,” Tess said, smiling at her son.
“Zahir’s all right once you get past all the noise,” Jack replied. “You never know what’s around the corner, do you? I mean, I’m sorry about his gas station, but I couldn’t have had a better partner, even with all his quirks.”
Tess laughed. “I know what you mean. In more ways than one,” she added. Then she became more serious. “I overheard what Morrie said to you, Jack. I hate to admit it, but he’s right. A childhood crush on you carried over into adulthood. And grew.”
Jack’s face reddened. “I’m flattered. Really, I am.”
“You must think I’m silly.” Tess smiled at Jack through tears. He reached over and gently wiped them away.
At that moment, a fist cracked Zahir across the face from out of nowhere. As the Persian collapsed, Morrie swiped Zahir’s assault rifle. He aimed it at Jack’s chest.
“Now, say goodbye to your hero, Tess.”
As he leveled the weapon, Zahir scrambled forward and lunged, tackling Morrie low. As Morrie toppled down, a single shot fired. The sound was deafening in the quiet tunnel.