by David Meyer
"Are you sure that's a mountain? There's something weird about it."
I turned my attention back to the formation. I studied the boulders. I observed their strange positions. Then I saw it. I'd seen others like it, but only in faraway places like Egypt, Mexico, and Peru. "That's no mountain," I said slowly. "It's a pyramid. A goddamn pyramid."
Chapter 79
The Sno-Cat slid to a halt. The ice continued for another twenty yards, ending at the foot of the giant pyramid. It towered above me, covering an area roughly equivalent to a Manhattan city block.
I opened my door and stepped out into the cold. Fierce wind threatened to knock me off my feet. Ice pellets assailed my face. Blowing snow formed a thick veil, obscuring my view of the structure.
Bending low, I noticed tread marks on the ice. They ended in deep gashes, surrounded by splattered snow. More marks lay just beyond them. It looked like a Sno-Cat had slid to a halt just shy of the pyramid.
I hiked across the ice. I kept waiting for the tracks to veer to the north or south but they continued forward, straight as an arrow. They ran all the way to the pyramid and vanished. It looked like the vehicle had driven right into the boulders.
Or right through them.
Graham hiked to a large boulder. He bent down and studied it closely. "It's definitely been worked. I can see the tool marks. Only …"
"Only what?"
"Only they're all recent."
My teeth chattered as I inspected the boulder. It stood three feet tall. I estimated its width at four and a half feet. It poked out of the pyramid like a small tumor. "It looks like fairly substantial working too." I ran my gloved fingers along the edge. "This is the worst attempt at an excavation I've ever seen. It's hard to know where the original carvings end and Roy's markings begin."
Beverly limped across the ice. She looked worn to the point of exhaustion. "Pat and I checked the tents. They're empty. Same goes for the rest of the field camp."
"Well, someone is here." I nodded at the tracks.
Her eyes shifted to the ground. Then they drifted into the air. "Amazing. Who do you think made it?"
I shrugged.
"They must've been protecting this for a long time. No wonder they wanted to kill Jeff and me."
I hiked to another boulder. It was shaped like a squashed triangle. Its edges were pressed tight against those of other boulders. "The Savalas are geologists right?"
Graham rubbed his jaw. "I think so."
I turned my attention to still more boulders. I saw ridges, cracks, clefts, and small peaks. I noticed long pointy icicles hanging from various outcroppings. I studied the way the snow collected in the crevices.
I walked a few steps to the north. My face felt frozen. My fingers were colder than icicles. My toes ached. Even my heart rate seemed to be slowing down.
I took off my gloves and ran my fingers across the surface of the boulders just above the tread marks. From all appearances, they seemed firm and unyielding. And yet, they couldn't be. The treads marks proved that. There had to be a way to get past them.
I placed my cheek against a boulder. Wind whistled past my ears. I moved down the length of the pyramid, scrutinizing every inch of its craggy surface. But I didn't see any way to access it.
I reached the north end of the pyramid. Seeing nothing significant, I backtracked and then walked all the way to the southern end. Again, I saw nothing of interest.
A gust of wind sent tiny icicles flying into my face. I turned my head and looked over my shoulder. Our Sno-Cat, just twenty yards away, stuck out like a beacon of beautiful light amidst the blank landscape. I was tempted to retreat into its cozy confines. I could turn on the engine, warm up a bit.
Reluctantly, I tore my head away from it. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to concentrate. Then I backed up a few feet.
From a certain angle, some of the snow on the ground appeared slightly different. I bent down and saw faint impressions near one of the ruts. They looked like footprints, partially filled in by newly fallen snow. I placed my boot next to one of them and pushed down. Then I compared the two prints. The other one was smaller and thinner than my own. Most likely, it belonged to Roy's female friend, Zoey Sanders.
I turned my attention back to the boulders. My teeth started to chatter. My reactions slowed. I became clumsy, nearly losing my balance on several occasions.
My mind started to wander. My movements became lethargic. Eventually, my hands stopped listening to my brain.
I snuck another peek over my shoulder. The Sno-Cat was barely visible. And yet, it called out to me, offering a refuge from the cold weather. Surely, I could afford a short stay in its warm interior.
I twisted back to the pyramid. The wind strengthened. It blasted me over and over again. I focused my attention on the area directly in front of the tread marks. Carefully, I used my hands to search the nooks, the crags.
I moved to another section. Then another one. Some parts of the pyramid felt smooth, others felt sharp. But I found nothing unusual.
Wait a second …
I maneuvered my left hand. My fingers brushed over a thin vertical ridge in the rock. A metal slab was embedded inside it. I traced the slab up the ridge. Then I grabbed the end of it and yanked.
The slab creaked.
Slowly, I pulled it down to a horizontal position.
A couple of the boulders trembled.
I stepped back.
The boulders started to move. They slid a few inches to the south, revealing a yawning black hole. A quick look indicated the boulders had been cut down and cemented together. Then they'd been placed on some kind of track to enable easy access.
I waved the others away from the rock gate. Then I darted to the side and pressed my back against the pyramid. Breathing heavily, I grabbed my pistol and machete.
I peeked into the dark interior. I saw a large grotto carved out of the mountain. Armored vehicles, covered in dust, were parked in the middle of the grotto. They looked old. Small pits lay underneath their engines. Charred wood and ashes filled the pits.
I crept toward the opening. But Beverly grabbed my sleeve and pointed into the grotto.
I followed her finger and saw two Sno-Cats. That cinched it. Roy, Zoey, and Davis were definitely inside the pyramid. I didn't particularly like the situation. They were shrouded in darkness. We were framed by the whiteout.
I edged around the curve and entered the grotto. Darkness engulfed me. It felt strangely warm.
"Any sign of them?" Beverly whispered.
I heard shuffling noises. I saw a flash of light. It illuminated the grotto.
Then the air exploded.
Chapter 80
With a violent scream, three figures raced toward us. Muzzles flared. Knives chopped at the darkness.
Beverly, Graham, Baxter, and I closed ranks. We fought back, using our guns like clubs. Flesh crunched. An anguished cry for help rang out.
Someone jostled me, knocked me over. I fell to the floor. I tried to get up but boots kicked at my head.
Through the frenzied turmoil, I saw Graham slump to a heap. His eyes looked dazed. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead.
I glanced to the side. Saw Beverly's knife slice at the air. She stabbed Zoey in the stomach, retracted the blade, and then stabbed Warren through his neck. They shrieked and simultaneously fell to the ground.
She coiled up and lunged at Roy. Roy stood his ground and delivered a harsh chop. Beverly sank to the floor. Her limbs convulsed for a moment. Then she went still.
He bent over and placed a gun to the back of her head. I didn't have time to grab my pistol. So, I dove at him.
He parried the blow and socked me in the jaw. My vision exploded into lights. I aimed a punch at his stomach. He jumped out of the way. Then he unleashed a vicious kick.
It slammed into my ribs. My parka absorbed some of the blow. But it still hurt like hell.
I tried to breathe, but no air entered my lungs. Darkness crept over
my eyes. I blinked a few times and saw Beverly stir. Baxter was with Graham, helping him rise to his feet.
Roy lifted his gun. "Time to die."
I struggled to normalize my breathing. "There's something I can't figure out."
"What's that?"
"How'd an experienced geologist like you get fooled by a pile of rock?"
He frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This isn't a pyramid. It's a mountain."
"You're crazy." He waved his arms. "Look around. Only a great civilization could've built this place."
"This is a mountain, steeped in fractures. That's why the outside boulders are all different shapes and sizes."
"No." His eyes clouded over. "That's not right. We've studied every inch of this place."
"That's not all you did. You shaped the rock."
His face lost color.
"I saw the tool marks," I said. "You were so desperate to find a pyramid, you shaped this mountain to look like one."
"No." He shook his head. "I would never do that."
"Maybe not. But your subconscious would."
"But what about this grotto? What about all this stuff?"
"The grotto is natural for the most part." I nodded at the old vehicles. "The Nazis came here a few decades ago. They probably blasted it out to make a little more space. Then they used the extra rock to build the gate."
"The Nazis?"
"They called this place Werwolfsschanze."
"Yeah? Well, there's a door over there. Looks like it leads to a tunnel." He jabbed his thumb at the east wall. "How do you explain that?"
"It's just another fracture," I replied. "The Nazis might've shaped it and widened it out. But still, just a fracture."
His eyes cleared. A look of horror came across his visage.
"Face it." I grinned wickedly. "You thought you were on the verge of a great discovery. But when this goes public—and it will go public—you'll be remembered as one of the biggest jokes in history."
Roy grimaced. He lifted his gun.
I dove to the ground. Grabbed my pistol. But even as it filled my hand, I knew the effort was futile.
I turned to face him, to face death.
A gunshot rang out. It reverberated in the grotto.
I waited a second. Then I felt my head and chest. I didn't feel any wounds.
Slowly, Roy sank to the ground. I didn't have to see his lifeless eyes or the gaping hole in the side of his head to know what had happened.
Roy Savala had taken his own life.
Chapter 81
"Do you hear that?" Baxter's voice rumbled through the grotto. "Sounds like engines."
I raced to the gate. Through the crack, I saw a Sno-Cat stop just short of the mountain. Moments later, two trucks pulled up next to it.
"Well, that explains the tire marks near the Desolation." I glanced at Beverly. "Aaron's got friends. Lots of friends."
"Terrific," she replied.
I pushed the gate, trying to close it. But it withstood my efforts. "I hope one of you has an idea."
"We could shoot it out," Graham hurried to my side. "Or maybe not. Jesus Christ, they've got almost as many vehicles as we've got people."
"I'll hold them off." Beverly checked her ammunition. "I should be able to buy you a few minutes."
"I'll help out," Baxter said.
"Where are we going to go?" I asked.
She tilted her head toward the east wall. "Didn't that dead guy say something about a tunnel?"
"If we go any deeper into this place, we might not come out again."
"Would you rather stay here?" She moved to the crack. Bullets spat out of her gun. Angry shouts filled the air.
"No thanks." I stowed my pistol and grabbed my flashlight out of my satchel. Then I darted across the grotto. The area around me acted as a sort of echo chamber. My footsteps crashed against the ground. Soft breaths hissed out of my lips. Wads of snow dripped down my parka, splashing noisily against the rock floor.
The sheer size of the grotto amazed me. Brief glimpses showed signs of its former inhabitants. Blankets hung limply from sturdy cords, separating the space into individual sections. Each section contained cots and pieces of furniture. Oddly enough, the space looked orderly. Sort of like the Nazis might arrive at any minute to reclaim it.
By the time I reached the east wall, the gunfire sounded distant. Swiftly, I cast my beam at it. "Look at that." My words came out in one quick breath. "They stacked the furniture."
"I guess that settles it," Graham remarked. "We might as well add interior decorating to the long list of Nazi failures."
I studied the furniture. There were two piles of it, one in front of the other. Each pile was carefully balanced and gathered in a tight space.
I pointed my beam at the smooth rock floor. It looked clean. There was no garbage or debris. However, I noticed something else. "The ground is marked up. They didn't even bother to carry the furniture. They just dragged it."
"Maybe they went stir crazy." Graham added his beam to mine. "I'd lose my mind too if I had to live here."
Numbness came over me as I strode to the furniture. I took off my glove and weaved my hand between some chairs and a cabinet. My fingers touched metal. Oddly enough, it felt slightly warmer than the rest of the room. "There's definitely a door back here."
"So, they barricaded their own door?"
"It sure looks that way."
He gave me a look of disbelief. "And you want to open it?"
"I don't think we have a choice."
Chapter 82
The sound of gunfire swept over the grotto. I ducked my head and scrambled toward the furniture pile.
Graham grabbed a chair and tossed it to one side of the room. I grabbed a second chair and hurled it in the opposite direction. For the next two minutes, we attacked the pile. Slowly, the outer layer began to thin. We cleared the rest of it away and then shifted our attention to the inner layer.
A series of loud popping noises penetrated my ears.
"Did you hear that?" Graham cocked his head. "They can't hold out much longer."
"Then we'd better pick up the pace."
I grabbed one end of a desk. He grabbed the other end and we hauled it to the side. He hurried back to the pile and picked up another chair. I waited for him to clear out of the way. Then I grabbed a giant cabinet and rocked it away from the wall. Just behind it, I saw a metal door.
I grabbed the knob. It turned easily enough but when I tried to pull it, the door held fast.
"There's a deadbolt." Graham crouched. "Actually, there are two of them."
I pointed my beam at the metal surface. "There's a third one up here. Why would the Nazis put deadbolts in the middle of nowhere?"
I didn't wait for an answer. Instead, I pushed the top deadbolt. Metal screeched against metal as it slid open.
The sound of crackling gunfire intensified.
Graham released the other two deadbolts. I yanked the knob again. The door opened. Stale air swept into my lungs.
"Beverly," I shouted as I pushed Graham through the gap. "Pat. Come on."
Footsteps pounded against rock. The gunfire grew louder.
I darted through the door. The temperature climbed a couple of degrees. A sweet scent wafted into my nostrils.
I shifted my beam. I saw Beverly and Baxter sprinting toward the door. Behind them, I noticed figures squeezing through the rock gate's small opening. "Hurry up," I whispered frantically.
They ran faster and darted past me. I swung the door shut. Graham swept his flashlight beam over the frame. Then he bent down and slid two bolts into place. I found another bolt at the top of the door and forced it into position.
I could hear footsteps in the adjoining room. They paused. Whispers rang out. Then the footsteps started again, albeit at a much slower pace. They crisscrossed the grotto. Furniture creaked. Sheets were tossed to the ground.
"Come on," Beverly said. "We can't stay here."
"Hang on a moment." Graham pointed his beam at the door. "Check that out."
The metal looked bruised as if someone had attempted to batter it open. Long scratches and dents were etched into its surface.
"The Nazis must've kept their prisoners here," Graham remarked. "They probably revolted. That explains the piled furniture."
"No. I've seen scratches like this before." Baxter knelt down. Slowly, he traced them with his finger. "I'll never forget them."
"You mean …?"
"Prisoners didn't make them." He exhaled. "Fenrir did."
Chapter 83
"Damn, it's warm." Graham wiped his brow. "What's down there anyway? Some kind of volcano?"
"God, I hope not." Beverly swept her flashlight in a circle. The tunnel was wide and sloped deep into the ground. "Well, it doesn't look like a lava tube."
Graham unzipped his parka. "How much do you know about this place?"
"Enough."
"Why'd the Nazis choose to build it here?"
"Secrecy and privacy, I suppose."
"There's no food source." His frown deepened. "And maybe this place gave them privacy. But it also isolated them. How could they possibly spread the Great Dying from this lifeless hunk of ice?"
Beverly didn't answer.
"Another door." Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead and I brushed them away. "Looks like it took a pounding too. But it wasn't bolted like the other one so it didn't stay shut."
Beverly gave it a gentle shove. Metal screeched and it swung open.
I pointed my flashlight into the void. I saw a massive cavern. A dull white light illuminated a small section of it.
"Where the hell is that light coming from?" Graham asked.
I glanced up. "There's a small aperture in the ceiling. A little bit of sunlight is shining through it."
Water dripped from the ceiling. I followed it downward. My eyes settled on the center of the room. Puzzle pieces clicked into place. "I know why it's so warm in here."
Graham cocked his head. "Well, let's hear it."
"Because of that lake." I pointed at a large pool of water in the middle of the cavern. "It's not a typical lake. It's a geothermal lake."