Upworld

by Ian Woodhead

  He walked the perimeter of the clearing and found disappointment sinking in once again. He saw nothing beyond this clearing, which pointed to more evidence that some ancient civilisation once lived close by. Vincent turned to face the hole he had made. Even though he wasn’t far from the boundary of this forbidden zone, the jungle had already swallowed up those monoliths. Vincent could be just metres away from more evidence of their presence, but thanks to all this vegetation, he could walk right past it without noticing. Maybe he should ring this in after all?

  With a larger, more experienced team, Vincent would make short work of clearing this area. If anything was hidden under all this growth, he would uncover it. He returned to where he found the blade and sat down. The existence of the terror birds alone should be enough for The Trust to believe that Vincent was more than capable of doing this. Once he showed them the blade, well, he just knew that they’d give him anything he cared to ask for.

  Time was no longer on his side either. It wouldn’t be long before darkness crept in, and Vincent had no intentions of staying here until dawn. He rubbed away some more of the vegetation until the tip of his finger found a long, straight groove. He got onto his knees and crawled along the floor, following the groove, and brushing away the green as he advanced. The groove turned left ninety degrees just before he reached the edge of the clearing. His heartbeat notched up again when he believed he might have found his way inside.

  He spent another twenty minutes clearing away the vegetation, grinning wider and wider each time the groove turned another ninety degrees. Vincent found himself back where he started, after exposing a square groove, twice the length of him.

  Standing, he turned around, and clambered up one of the smaller trees. From this position, he could clearly see another oddity exactly in the middle of the square. The ground was raised a few inches. He jumped down and hurried into the middle. He dropped on his knees and brushed away the vines and leaves, discovering a thick block of black stone. Unlike the rest of the material that he’d uncovered, this block wasn’t smooth. Writing of some type had been carved into all five sides of the stone. He leaned closer and attempted to dig out some of the mud from one of the shapes.

  The failing light made it difficult to make out the exact shape. Even if the sun was on his side, Vincent doubted that he’d be able to decipher the inscriptions. He took another couple of pictures, before once more, wondering if he should leave. The light was failing faster than he anticipated. Again, he swore at his team for getting themselves killed. If those idiots were still alive, they would have been able to stay right here.

  It was no good; Vincent would just have to call for the back-up before it got too dark to see. Did terror birds roost at night? If they did, then the chopper might not see them, meaning his discovery would be safe. After all, it’s not like there was anybody else left alive to open their big mouths.

  Vincent grinned to himself. He’d just have to say that his team had stolen all his equipment and left him here in the jungle. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before. Once he got back to The Trust, Vincent would show them his harmonic knife and tell them he’d even found the lost city. He might even tell them about the terror birds.

  He unslung the satchel, placed it on the floor, and pulled out his lifeline: a powerful short-wave radio. Vincent would be back at his main base within a couple of hours. He was already making a mental list on who he could use for the return trip.

  As he adjusted the dial, his arm smacked against the black block, causing it to shift a fraction. Did he just imagine that? Vincent let go of the radio and placed both hands on top of the block and tried to push it. “Come on, you blasted thing,” he muttered. It didn’t matter what he tried, the black block refused to move. Vincent was almost ready to believe that his mind was playing tricks.

  He sat cross-legged and reluctantly let go of the stone. He gently placed his elbow on the side of the stone, and pushed. The stone moved a couple of inches to the left. “That is incredible!” He pushed it again. This time, the block moved another inch before it sank into the smooth grey stone.

  The floor shook. He jumped to his feet and tried to move off, but the stone suddenly dropped, taking him with it.

  Vincent whimpered as the jungle floor receded. The grey stone square sank into the earth, taking him and his radio with it. His treasured satchel was still on the jungle floor. He must have inadvertently pushed it away when he was trying to move the stone block. Vincent felt like he’d just lost his best friend.

  The grey stone came to a sudden stop. Vincent spun around and found himself looking at a huge arched entrance. He slowly got to his feet and approached it, his hands gliding across the stone. It was made from the same substance as the black monoliths. Vincent saw nothing but utter blackness beyond the archway. He shivered in fear and had to avert his gaze. Staring at that blackness made his eyes hurt.

  It didn’t matter that he had no other choice but to walk through that archway. Deep within Vincent’s guts, he knew that only death awaited him in there. He hurried over to the smooth wall and looked up towards the surface. Vincent stretched his arms up, knowing it was a futile move. The only way he would be able to reach the edge was if he magically grew another ten feet.

  The sound of something brushing past rock froze him solid. He was no longer alone in this chamber. Vincent flattened his palms against the hard dirt and tried not to scream when he felt hot breath close to his left ear. The shriek did burst from him when something covered the top of his head. He saw three fingers double the thickness of his own press over his forehead. The contents of his bladder released when the creature pulled him away from the wall and dragged him backwards towards the archway.

  Chapter One

  London 1988

  Two sparrows fought over the remains of somebody’s discarded sandwich. Dane Gerous smiled to himself when one of the birds pushed its tiny beak into the middle, pulled out a slice of white meat before flying off, leaving the remaining sparrow with two pieces of buttered bread.

  He sat down in his usual spot and took out his own sandwich. “Don’t look too upset about it, dude,” he said to the sparrow. “You might have ended up with the crappy deal, but at least you’re not going to be scoffing a bit from another birdy.”

  The mid-afternoon November sun took the edge off that bitter temperature that had already threatened to freeze the surface of the lake. Dane sensed this was going to be a bad winter. He smiled at an elderly couple, who replied with a couple of tuts as they walked past the park bench. Dane wasn’t sure whether they objected to him chatting to the wildlife or that he was wearing a T-shirt in this weather. He watched the two of them head towards the bowling green, pausing to shout at a teenage boy skateboarding along the edge of the path.

  That pair obviously needed a double dose of joy injecting into their sad lives. He tipped an imaginary hat when the skateboarder rode passed him before he began to fight with the cellophane wrapper wrapped around his lunch.

  He had just over three hours before he was due back at the museum. Apparently, he was supposed to be giving a talk to a bunch of schoolkids about pre-Roman Britain. Dane hoped this crowd would be a little more receptive than the last lot from this morning.

  Dane didn’t so much mind the museum curator asking him to do the occasional talk for the school parties. It kept old Harry happy, as well as giving Dane a steady income. It also allowed him to use all of the museum’s extensive facilities for his own purposes. Unlike almost every other dome-brain who knew Dane, Harry hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when he mentioned aliens.

  A one-legged pigeon landed beside the sparrow, scooped up the bread, and flew off, leaving the little bird looking most upset. “Don’t you worry, my friend. You can share this with me.”

  “Am I to address you as Doctor Doolittle now, or are we sticking to the traditional Doctor Gerous?”

  Dane carefully peeled off the crust and threw it towards the sparrow, sighing when the bird took off witho
ut its prize. “How did you find me?” He didn’t turn around. Instead, he took a small bite of the beef salad sandwich, while idly wondering if anybody would notice if he quietly murdered the middle-aged man now sitting next to him. He put the sandwich on the bench, not surprised to discover that he wasn’t hungry anymore. Being in the presence of this odious individual did that to him.

  “Do you seriously want me to answer that, Dane?”

  He sat back and looked into the cloudless sky, still refusing to look at his face. “No, not really. Instead, why not answer this question? Do you want me to punch you so hard that you’ll end up witnessing your own birth, or are you going to stand up, walk out of this park, and never come anywhere me again? It’s your choice.”

  “Oh, so you’re still a little upset. I thought you’d be over that by now, Dane.”

  Finally, Dane spun around and glared at the other man. Nelson Adams was three decades older than Dane. If the man was part of normal society, he would be looking forward to receiving his pension next year. Nelson Adams had never been part of normal society, and he certainly didn’t need any pension money. Dane kept his hands by his side to avoid the temptation of punching this individual.

  Until three years ago, Dane never considered himself to be part of normal society either. That all changed though, thanks to what this bastard did. “I can’t believe you just said that, Nelson. No, wait. Yes, I can. After all, you sold your heart to Satan decades ago. The only thing you have ever loved is money.”

  The older man leaned back against the seat. He placed his own hands, both wrapped in his usual fox fur gloves, on his lap, then slowly turned to gaze intensely at Dane. “I was there too, you know, or did that fact conveniently slip your mind? If it wasn’t for me, it would have been you too falling down that shaft.”

  Dane closed his eyes and tried to force away the hurtful memories, but it did no good. Nelson’s words triggered the avalanche.

  He saw her terrified face, the girl who he’d sworn to keep safe, looking up at him, while she dangled over that stone shaft. His hands still slick with the hot blood belonging to the owner of this ancient building, but couldn’t keep a tight grip on Lindsey May’s skin. Dane remembered screaming for Nelson to help him. He remembered looking back and thinking the old man had run off, leaving him alone.

  Dane turned back, only to witness the twenty-three-year-old woman’s wrists slipping through his hands. He tried to hold on, to save her, but she just slid out. He vaguely remembered screaming while watching the woman fall to her death.

  “Where were you, Nelson? Where were you when I needed you the most? Lindsey was our responsibility, and you let her die.”

  The older man’s hand disappeared inside the pocket of his grey overcoat. “Is that what you think, Dane?”

  The younger man stood. “It’s what happened,” he growled. “Look, it’s been great, chewing over old times. It really has. Now though, I think you should go back to the rock you crawled from under.” He picked up his sandwich, emptied the contents on the grass verge, and dropped the packet into the little bin before walking off.

  This meant that he would have to disappear again. This time though, he’d have to make totally sure that The Trust wouldn’t be able to find him so easily. Dane’s father would be most annoyed at discovering that his only son had done a runner again, but he could live with that, even if Dad couldn’t.

  He turned around and saw that the bench was now empty. Good riddance to him as well. Talk about totally ruining his day. Dane paused when he spotted movement. A sparrow emerged from inside the litter bin with a strip of dark meat between its beak. “Well, it’s good to see that your day isn’t a total disaster, birdy.”

  The car was waiting directly in front of the park gate. As per usual, Dane ignored it and crossed over the road, intending to spend his remaining time in London browsing in one of the many shopping centres. A new toy store had opened west of Oxford Street. He could go there. It wouldn’t only take him twenty minutes by tube. That sounded like an excellent plan.

  He felt bad for having to let down old Harry and the school kids, but he had no other choice. It is highly likely that The Trust had found Dane through the museum. That organisation had contacts everywhere.

  Dane strolled up the road and headed towards the nearest tube station, fully aware that the car was following him. He stopped, turned around, and glared as it pulled in and stopped. The window wound down.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you back to the museum, Dane?”

  “No, thank you, Bradley. In fact, I don’t want you or any more of Dad’s stooges anywhere near me. Have you got that?”

  “I can relay that message to Mr. Gerous. If that’s what you want.”

  Dane nodded. “Yeah, I do want that. Now, why don’t you go make yourself scarce, buddy?” Having said his piece, he turned and strode away, hoping the bodyguard that Dad had assigned to him would take the hint.

  This was turning out to be a seriously crappy day. Dane blinked rapidly, feeling the tears already beginning to flow. God, after all this time, why did that bastard have to turn up and bring back all those terrible memories? He might have only known that poor woman for a couple of weeks, but Dane was beginning to fall in love with her. He stopped and gazed in a shop front window. He saw a man with a shock of unruly short blond hair lying on top of a thick set face, steel grey eyes, and a strong jaw line. He also saw a familiar car, parked up on the other side of the road. So much for the man leaving him alone.

  Bradley was married; the guy had been with his wife for almost ten years now. They had two daughters and lived in one of the nicer houses on the outskirts of the city. Bradley was ex-army, ex-special forces.

  Unlike Dane, he hadn’t destroyed his life. That man had a future. What did he have left? His hand instinctively went to the necklace which Lindsey had given to him two days before she died.

  The entrance to the tube station was just around the corner. Instead of carrying on, Dane doubled back and headed for a transport cafe that he passed a couple of minutes ago. The shopping trip could wait. Right now, he needed to eat. After all, it’s what he had intended to do before the appearance of that bad penny ruined his appetite. He might even save Bradley a sausage. It must be hungry, boring, and lonely work having to watch Dane all the time. Still, Dane could at least provide Bradley with a little excitement by playing cat and mouse through the streets of London. There was no way that Dane would allow his father’s main stooge see him leave the country.

  He pushed open the cafe door, smiling as the smell of sizzling bacon caressed his nose. Dane took a seat in the corner, away for the window, and watched the waitress take the order from the only other man in the café.

  This time tomorrow, he would be on the west coast of the US, probably tucking into a plate stacked with waffles and maple syrup. Dane would miss the good old British breakfast, but at least he wouldn’t have eyes following him everywhere he went.

  The waitress approached his table. Dane ordered a bacon sandwich, an extra sausage, and a large mug of tea. She smiled at him before vanishing into the back room behind the counter. Dane turned his thoughts back to getting away from here, trying to remember exactly how much money he had in the bank account that his dad didn’t know about. Enough to buy a one-way plane ticket, certainly. There wouldn’t be a lot left, though. Not enough to live on for more than a few weeks, meaning he’d have to find work.

  That would be tricky. There wasn’t a chance that Dane would be able to continue in his chosen career, not if he wanted to stay under The Trust’s radar. He could always get a job in security. Just like Bradley, he’d been trained up courtesy of Her Majesty’s armed forces. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony if he ended up with a job which involved following people around?

  The other man stood and walked towards the door. Dane silently groaned when he saw the grey overcoat and the fox fur gloves. Nelson pushed the bolt home, and spun the sign from open to closed before taking a seat
opposite Dane.

  “I’m not going to bother how you knew I would be in here.”

  The older man placed his hands on the table. He leaned forward. “Dane, I need you on this one.”

  “What part of I don’t want to see you again did you not comprehend?”

  “What part of you don’t have any other option do you not understand?”

  “Do you think that bolt is going to stop me from leaving, Nelson?” He leaned to one side. “I do believe that I can see my father’s car right outside.”

  The other man sighed. “This isn’t going how I planned.”

  “That’s you all over, isn’t it? I bet you didn’t plan to run off, leaving me holding onto Lindsey either.”

  Nelson’s eyes clouded over. He gazed down at the cracked pale blue Formica table. “I heard her scream as she fell, Dane. I also saw you running past me.” The older man looked up. “I didn’t leave you. No matter what else you think I might have done, I’m not a coward. I’d never run out on anyone.”

  “So where the fuck were you, Nelson?” he hissed. “I searched everywhere for you.”

  “The yeti that you shot fell on me. I had three hundred pounds of filthy white fur stuffed in my mouth. By the time I managed to get out from the under that corpse and get back to town, you had already gone.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s your decision, Dane. I respect that. Believe me, I do. After all, you’ve allowed this to fester in your mind for three long years instead of facing it like a real man.”

  “Don’t you dare try to psychoanalyse me, you jumped-up nobody. Not unless you want me to spread your nose across your face.” Dane bit his bottom lip and attempted to calm down. The last thing he needed right now was to allow this man to wind him up. “So you think I’m eaten up with self-pity. Well, you’re wrong.”