by Gabriel Hunt
“You will give me my heir now,” she said. Planting one foot solidly on either side of his torso, she lowered herself to her knees, straddling him. She leaned forward, her breasts hanging above his chest. The warm metal of the SS insignia scraped across Gabriel’s skin. Then he felt the wet length of the queen’s tongue run along his neck and the underside of his chin.
She reached behind her and took him in her fist. He bucked forcefully with his hips, arching upward, but she held on, squeezing hard with her knees against his sides like a bull rider. He twisted and bucked again, and this time she fell forward against him, chest to chest, her face landing next to his. “You are strong,” she said. “And vital.” Her voice rose exultantly. “You have more fight in you than the old man. And more of this—” She reached back and took hold of him again, in a grip that was almost painful. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps the feel of her lithe young body pressed against his, but he was, to his dismay, miraculously still tumescent.
She reared up, raised herself half a foot in the air using her knees for leverage, and plunged down, taking him deep inside her. “Now,” she said, “you shall fill me with your strong, vital American seed.”
He watched her lift the stone knife from where it lay beside the fifth stake. He strained to resist the climax he felt building in him. But it was hopeless. She held him clenched tight with muscles as thoroughly developed as those of her powerful arms and legs; he felt them squeeze rhythmically as she rocked upon him.
She threw her arms wide and he saw the blade stroke against the taut rope, fibers parting as it passed. He shot a glance over her shoulder, toward where Rue hung by her wrists in one chute and in the other, Velda—
But Velda wasn’t in the other.
The rope that had held her wrists dangled empty.
Had that one swipe of the blade been enough to release her into the maw of the machine? But no—he’d have heard it if she’d fallen, would have smelled the ozone stench.
“Now, Gabriel Hunt!” the queen shouted, raising the knife with one hand and pressing down on his belly with the other. “Now!”
And she would have gotten what she wanted, had not a pair of hands hauled her off him by the throat at that very instant.
The queen’s headdress tumbled from her head as Velda hurled her to the ground.
For just a moment, Velda locked eyes with Gabriel. He saw the depths of pain in them, the inconsolable rage contorting her features. “Get me loose,” he said quickly. “We have to free Rue before that rope breaks.” A glance to the side showed that the rope was fraying rapidly, the twined strands snapping one by one as fewer and fewer remained to bear her weight.
But Velda didn’t look at the rope or stoop to untie him. She strode the other way, away from Gabriel and toward Uta.
The queen was trying to rise to her knees. “That old man,” Velda growled, her voice low and savage, “was my father.” Velda laid her out with a vicious kick to the throat. Then she drew back her leg for another, but the queen snagged her ankle and pulled her down to the ground.
“Rue,” Gabriel called. “Hold on!” He strained to reach the fallen headdress, which lay on its side just inches from his right hand. He could feel the tip of one of the crimson feathers between his fingers. It took three tries before he was able to get a good enough grip on it to draw the headdress toward him, one slow millimeter at a time.
But eventually he had it—and rotating it between his fingers, he brought one of the sharp teeth with which the headdress was studded into contact with the rope. He began sawing.
As he did, Velda and Uta rolled past, clutched tightly in each other’s arms, both of them sweat-streaked and dirty and naked as the wild animals their struggle made them resemble. Gabriel saw Velda grab a fistful of platinum hair, wrenching it hard to the left; he was surprised Uta’s neck didn’t snap from the force. But it didn’t, and the queen responded by streaking a long-nailed hand across Velda’s throat, which erupted in furrows of blood.
Velda raised Uta two feet in the air with a kick to the stomach that sent the queen sprawling. An instant later, she was up again and slashing at Velda with the stone knife. Velda leapt back, out of the blade’s reach—and at that instant, the last knot around Gabriel’s right wrist parted. He swung his arm over and began tugging at the knots around his left. They had tightened from his struggles, but he could feel them begin to come apart as he worked at them.
He shot a glance at Rue and then at the dwindling rope holding her up. She was trying to wedge herself in the chute using her knees and heels, but it wasn’t working—she kept slipping. And her efforts were making the rope part faster. “Stay still,” Gabriel shouted. “I’m coming.”
He saw Velda throw a punch at the queen. Uta dodged, twisting out of the way and bringing the knife up to slash at Velda’s knuckles. Velda hissed and jumped back, shaking blood from her hand. She came back in with a low kick and the queen responded again with the knife, this time slashing at Velda’s calf. Velda swore, feinted right and then slipped in on the left, catching the queen by the wrist and disarming her with a brutal twist against the natural bend of the joint. The knife dropped from her grip.
Velda made a dive for the fallen knife and the queen instantly fell on her from behind, knocking Velda to the floor. She wrapped her legs around Velda’s chest, pinning Velda’s arms to her sides, then took hold of Velda’s hair and began bashing her face into the dirt. Velda managed to wrench one arm free and elbowed the queen in the kidney. She made another grab for the knife, but the queen brought her fist down, hard, on Velda’s wrist. Velda howled with pain.
Both women staggered to their knees, then unsteadily to their feet, but the queen lurched forward, butting Velda in the back with her head. Velda fell, landing at the edge of the fire pit. The queen dropped to the ground beside her, taking a fistful of hair and forcing her face toward the smoldering coals. Velda threw back a flurry of desperate elbows until finally one connected, knocking the queen to one side, but Uta came barreling back and shoved Velda onto the coals. Velda rolled across the burning surface, sending sparks flying. The queen spun, reaching for the fallen knife.
That was when Gabriel finally got his left arm free—and the last strands of the rope holding Rue up snapped.
With a lightning-fast lunge, Gabriel swung over toward the stake, grabbing at the rope as it sprang into the air. He caught its end and held tight. Rue’s weight yanked him to a standing position as she slid down the chute. He heard her moan when her feet came to a stop within inches of the deadly lens. Pulling hard with both hands, he dragged the rope toward him, coiling it around his fists. The muscles of his arms bulged with the effort. One more pull—
As Rue reached the top of the chute, her weight toppled the wooden scaffold, sending her sprawling on the ground.
The sound caught Uta’s attention and she looked over. As she did, Velda grabbed her from behind, wrapping one arm tightly around her throat and pressing fiercely against the back of her head with the heel of her other hand. The queen’s face began to go purple. She was struggling for breath.
“Velda, no!” Gabriel shouted. He raced to undo the ropes around his ankles. “You’ll kill her!”
Velda looked over at him. When she spoke, it was with utter disgust in her voice. “So?” she said, and shoved hard with the hand at the back of Uta’s skull. They all heard the queen’s neck break.
The struggling body went limp in Velda’s arms.
She carried it to the doorway and shoved it through. Moments later, armed guards began pouring in, spears held high. A robed, older woman came in behind them, Uta’s corpse held in her arms, its head lolling horribly. “Who,” she said, her voice halting, her accent heavy, “who…does this?”
For a tense moment, no one moved or spoke. Then Velda stepped forward, eyes blazing. “I did it.”
The woman holding Uta’s body lowered it to the ground and went down on one knee. One by one, each of the other women did the same. A low, rhythmic chant swept through the
crowd.
The older woman spoke again. Gabriel couldn’t understand the words, but their meaning became apparent when the woman took the oval feather headdress from where it lay on the ground and went over to place it on Velda’s head.
Chapter 22
“I am Anika,” the woman said to Velda. “Sister of…greatmother…of Uta. I have only small English, but I…serve you now, my queen.”
“Your queen,” Velda said.
“Yes,” Anika said.
Velda shook her head, almost as though trying to clear her ears. “Leave me. Now.”
“My queen?”
“Now,”Velda said. “Get out.” She pointed to Gabriel. “I wish to be alone with the man. To complete the ritual that Uta began. Leave us.”
Anika nodded and translated to the others. The villagers did as their new queen ordered and as soon as they were gone, Velda grabbed the stone knife and handed it to Gabriel. He made short work of the ropes around his ankles and then limped over to where Rue still lay, bound and gagged.
When she was free, Rue reached up and took the Nazi cap off his head. He hadn’t remembered he still had it on. She scaled it into a corner of the room. “You look better without that particular piece of clothing. Though we’ll need to get you some somewhere.”
“You, too,” Gabriel said. “Both of you.” There was an uncomfortable moment as they all looked at each other, naked as the day they were born, the old lover and the new, and the man they’d both shared.
And the newest lover, lying dead at their feet.
Velda went to where Gabriel’s kilt lay and picked it up. She handed it to him, unlatching her father’s pocket watch from it first. As Gabriel tied the kilt around his waist, Velda looped the watch chain around her bloody throat, wearing it like a necklace. She opened the watch and stared at the photo inside until tears began to run down her smeared cheeks.
Gabriel went over to her, tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away.
“They killed him,” she spat. “They finally killed him.”
“She said he killed himself,” Gabriel said. “Maybe he saw no way out. Under the circumstances…”
“They killed him!” Velda shouted. “They murdered him, just like they always wanted to. And they’ll pay for it.”
“I don’t think they wanted him dead,” Gabriel said. “And Uta at least has already paid as much as she’s ever going to.” He nodded toward the body.
“Uta?” Velda said. “You think I’m talking about Uta?” She pushed the body over with her foot so it was face down in the dirt. “She was nothing. A tool, manipulated by the men who built this machine.” Velda walked over to the steel device on its metal frame, looked with unfettered loathing on the eagle and the hateful symbol in its claws. She spat on it, and her saliva ran down the center of the swastika.
“They were the ones who tried to kill him. Sixty years ago they tried. But he beat them. He survived. They killed his entire family—every relative he had, every single one. His own brother, younger than him, a little child, they killed. Shot in the head. But they didn’t manage to kill my father. Oh, no. He was strong; he lived. And every day he lived was a repudiation of them and everything they tried to do, it was a…” She slapped the side of the machine. It rang like a bell, a low tolling sound. “It was a goddamn miracle. A victory over those bastards, every single goddamn day. But now…They finally got him. They got him, and they killed him. And they’re going to pay for it.”
“You can’t make someone pay,” Gabriel said quietly, “who’s been dead more than half a century.”
“Of course you can,” Velda said, her voice burning like acid. “Of course you can. You can make them pay by destroying what they cared about, what they loved. Their precious Fatherland, their blessed Aryan people. Two world wars because of those sons of bitches, millions of people killed, and now my father, tied down and raped by this Nazi whore—” Velda’s chest was heaving. She crouched beside the machine, looking at the dial Uta had turned. She spun it, and the coordinates went clattering to new settings.
“What are you doing?” Gabriel said.
“What do you think,” Velda said.
“You can’t set off that machine,” Gabriel said.
“I can’t? I can’t? Who do you think you’re talking to, Hunt?” She stood. “It’s my machine now, isn’t that what they said? I’m their queen and it’s my machine to use any way I want!”
“Velda, come on,” Gabriel said, “I know you’re angry, but—”
“Angry? Angry?” She realized she was shouting and lowered her voice. It was, Gabriel thought with horror, even more frightening when she spoke quietly. “I am not angry, Gabriel. I am merely…vengeful. I’m sure the coordinates for Berlin can be programmed in there somehow. Wonderfully appropriate, don’t you think? That the descendants of the men responsible for my father’s death will…” Her voice caught, and then she smiled, terribly. “Will feel…Unterg’s wrath.”
Gabriel stepped forward, but Velda shouted, “Anika! Guards! Come quick!” A half dozen women charged into the room, spears at the ready.
“Take them,” Velda said, and the women did, one pair grabbing Gabriel’s arms, another Rue’s.
“What do you…wish to do…at these?” Anika said, haltingly.
Velda thought for a moment. “Put the man back in that pit where he was before,” she said. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. But I have to. I can’t let you interfere.”
“Woman too?” Anika said.
“No,”Velda said. “No, not the woman. Rue, you are going to get that plane running again. So we can get out of this godforsaken hellhole.”
“You really think I’d help you?” Rue said.
“If you don’t want your boyfriend there to stay in that pit till he dies of starvation,”Velda said, “I do think so, yes. And you don’t really want to stay here any more than I do, do you?”
“You’re crazy, lady. Completely batshit insane.”
“Rue, Rue, your language,” Velda said. “There are young women present.”Then to Anika: “Take her away. To the plane in the jungle.”
“Plane?” Anika repeated with a quizzical expression.
“The thing that brought your, your mother’s grandfather or what ever the hell it was…the thing that brought the men here from the world above,” Velda said. “The first men.”
“Ah, the Father Bird,” Anika said, nodding.
“The Father Bird,” Velda said. “There you go. Take her to the Father Bird, give her what ever tools or help she asks for—but if she refuses to work or tries to escape…kill her.”
“If you kill me, you’re stuck here,” Rue said, twisting to get out of the guards’ grip. It didn’t work.
“You think you’re the only one who knows anything about airplanes, little Rue? I’ve flown a few in my day myself,” Velda said.
“From nineteen-fucking-forty-four?” Rue said. “Through a narrow hole in a sheet of ice?” Velda didn’t answer and Rue nodded with satisfaction. “You need me, and you know it.”
“Maybe so,” Velda said. “But you only need to be alive to fly the plane. You don’t need to be whole. Anika?” The older woman nodded. “Tell the guards to cut off her toes if she disobeys or causes any trouble. Start with the smallest toe on her left foot, then the next, and so on. If you run out of toes, let me know and we can start on Gabriel’s. That’ll make her work.”
“Yes, my queen,”Anika said, her face ashen but obedient. She translated the instructions and the guards began dragging Rue off.
“Are you out of your mind?” Rue shouted as they dragged her away. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Velda, please,” Gabriel said. “Please, think about what you’re doing.”
“I have thought about it,” Velda said. “And it makes me very happy.” She motioned to Anika. “Take him away. And…” She looked down at her nude and filthy body. “And bring some water. And something decent to wear.”
She turned her back on
Gabriel. The guard to his right stuffed a wad of sour-tasting leather into his mouth and strapped it in place with a hank of thick bark rope. Gabriel let out a sound of anger and frustration, but the gag reduced it to a muffled grunt. Surrounded by spear points, Gabriel was led out of the ritual chamber and away from Kahujiu’s new queen.
Outside, Gabriel was marched across the clearing to the pit where he had fought Millie. Where the hell was the big man anyway? Still doing his duty with the other women of the tribe? Looking around, Gabriel could see no sign of him anywhere. But he didn’t have time to wonder for long before being prodded over the edge.
He turned in mid air as he fell and managed to land on his feet, rolling backward and slapping his arms out to either side to dissipate the impact; even so, the jolt from the twenty-five-foot drop was still painful. He sat up as the pain slowly subsided. The pit was just as he’d left it, except that the loose stone he’d used to clobber Millie was gone. The murky half-light, the awful smell, the damp chill, all unchanged. The mossy stone walls just as impossible to climb.
Gabriel fought to remain calm. To think. He had to find a way out, a way to save Rue and stop Velda. There had to be one. But how?
Chapter 23
Gabriel’s thoughts circled helplessly in his head as he paced the perimeter of the pit. He still felt there had to be a way out—but if there was, he’d made no progress toward finding it.
He had made several failed attempts at scaling the slippery walls, jamming his fingers and toes into the narrow mossy cracks between the stones. Each time he’d barely gotten six or seven feet up before losing his grip. If only he had some basic climbing gear—even a pair of sturdy sticks that he could jam into those cracks and use as handles, like peg climbing back in high school gym class. But there was nothing, not a branch, not a bone.
He was about to try again with his bare hands when he heard a sound from above. The flat, dragging sound of something heavy sliding across the dirt at the edge of the pit. He looked up just in time to see his circular view of the crimson sky blotted out by a bulky shape. Someone else was being shoved into the pit—someone large.