PLAZA

by Shane M Brown

  Randerson found the object with his fingertips. Unfolding collapsible pliers, he extracted the sharp object from the gold. It was a seven-inches-long sliver of rigid wire. He found three more penetrating the gold. They studied the gold carefully and found wire-like shrapnel had scoured the gold's surface.

  Randerson studied the wire sliver in his pliers. Fontana held his light near the pliers. 'I don't know what just happened, but I think that whoever was pushing this trolley is dead. Imagine what these would do to human flesh.'

  Randerson's hand lingered on the gold. 'What should we do with it?'

  Fontana pulled a face like the answer was obvious. 'Take it, of course! What the hell are you even asking for? It's a giant piece of gold. We don't have a choice.'

  'It'll slow us down. I'm not sure we could even push it.'

  'Suck it up, Randy. I could push this baby out of here myself.' Fontana searched the trolley for the best place to push. 'Now I'm doubly motivated to escape. We'll get out of here alive and rich.'

  Surviving wasn't enough motivation for you before?'

  'Hey, there's living,' Fontana smacked the gold like a whore's ass, 'and there's living. Which way?’

  Randerson took position on the other side of the gold. 'How about away from all that screaming?'

  Fontana smirked over the gold. 'That's just crazy enough to work.'

  Both men put their heads down and pushed.

  Chapter 16

  Maria snatched up the phone.

  It was Captain Oloroso. He spoke quickly, obviously keen to discharge his obligation and get off the phone. 'Mrs. March, I just wanted to advise you that we've been authorized to use a helicopter. It will take us part way. We'll meet a boat for the second leg. It's not ideal, but it's the best we can do.'

  Maria felt suspicious. Why the sudden change of policy?

  She asked, 'I thought you said you didn't have a budget for a helicopter?'

  'Not normally,’ conceded the Captain, 'but new developments have emerged.'

  'What new developments? Have you contacted the Plaza?'

  'No. We followed up on your suggestion regarding the ecologists in the balloon. We tracked down their details. Apparently the University enforces strict guidelines about field communications. The balloon team were supposed to submit status reports every two hours during daylight hours. There’s been no reports from them since six am this morning.'

  Maria heard Oloroso checking his notes. 'The last recoded log was from Elizabeth Kirkpatrick. She reported tethering in the tree-tops and preparing to descend to the forest floor.'

  ‘They needed a letter of support from Ethan pledging assistance in an emergency,’ said Maria. ‘From memory, they planned to sample for a week and then walk out to the river using GPS. The entire platform deflates.'

  The Captain said, 'It looks like they descended from their balloon and haven't come back. Perhaps the balloon became untethered while they were all on the ground. Their comms equipment might have been carried away.’

  'No,' said Maria. 'They always leave someone in the raft. That's the first rule. Only two people ever go over the side to prevent that exact thing from happening.'

  The Captain sighed. 'I thought as much. It's just that I don't like the way this is sounding. Thankfully your tip about the researchers has given us the authority to reach the Plaza quickly. I'll contact you as soon as I'm on site. Hopefully you'll be speaking to your husband in less than an hour.'

  Maria hung up the phone and prayed the Captain was right.

  #

  Ethan was in so much pain.

  Steel penetrated his body. The exploding cable was worse than he'd imagined. He'd thought a direct impact from the wildly swinging ends would be the main danger. He hadn't accounted for the hundreds of individual wire strands curled together to form the cable.

  He now understood what Gordon meant when he'd said the cable would explode. He'd literally meant explode.

  Those individual wire strands hand flown everywhere. Hundreds of wire arrows. Like a shrapnel grenade. At least three pieces of wire had drilled into Ethan's flesh like blunt hypodermics.

  My God, I've been skewered. I've got pieces of metal going right through me.

  Ethan rolled carefully off Gordon, stifling a cry from the sharp agony that bolted through his upper back. A piece of the wire must have scraped the floor when he rolled. He hissed through the pain as quietly as possible. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, especially in his vulnerable position. He couldn't lie on his back. He'd have to stay on his side.

  Other things felt wrong with his body - something felt extremely wrong with his legs - but he needed to deal with the wire penetrating his back first.

  Half lying on his side to keep his weight off the wire, lying next to Gordon on the stone floor, he reached his right hand up to his neck. His fingertips found the sharp wire. Bracing himself, he tugged the wire experimentally, screwing his eyes shut against the agony. The join-the-dots pattern of pain diagnosed the injury. The wire had struck his back above his left shoulder blade, torn through the flesh and emerged above his collar bone out the front. He couldn't see how long it was. The wire had brushed the floor when he rolled, so at least ten inches long.

  With his right hand, he gripped the slippery end of wire emerging from his collarbone. He bit his shirtsleeve to prevent himself crying out when he did what he needed to do next.

  Do it.

  He pulled, but his fingers slipped from the wire. Not enough wire poked from the wound to properly grip.

  You know what you have to do.

  Steeling himself against the pain, Ethan pushed back hard against the floor with his back. It was impossible not to cry out this time. A ghastly internal tremor confirmed the wire sliding through his flesh and scraping against his collar-bone. When the pain became manageable, Ethan checked and found another three inches of wire poking out the front.

  He wiped the wire as best his could with his shirt, pinched it tightly and pulled.

  Mouth wide open in silent agony, Ethan dragged the wire from his flesh. Suddenly it came free. He held it up in the green light.

  Green light?

  Of course, the flare. The guard had been holding a flare. The flare still hissed on the floor. Ethan turned his head and scanned where the giant chameleon had been attacking the guard. The snapping cable had ended their conflict. The deadly steel whips had decapitated the lizard. Ethan saw human body parts spilling from the animal's ruptured stomach. He could only see half the guard, but the man's green-lit assemblage of twisted body parts would never sustain human life again.

  Without checking, Ethan knew that another pair of legs, still joined at the hips, lay further across the chamber. He'd witnessed that man being sliced in half by the moving barrier. He avoided looking for the legs, even though they were no worse than the pile of torn flesh lying closer at hand. Seeing the carnage around the chamber, Ethan realized it was a miracle he was alive at all.

  OK. Now for the wire through my hip.

  Reaching down, he found one end of wire skewered through the fleshy part of his hip. This piece had penetrated at a shallow angle, like on oversized piercing. It slid out far easier and less painfully than the wire in his back.

  Two down, one to go.

  He'd been trying not to think about his legs. He couldn't see them in the flare-light. His body cast a shadow down there. Cautiously, he tried bending his left leg. Pain shot through both his calves. He tried his right leg. Again, pain shot through both calves. He tried bending both legs together. Less pain this time. Very carefully, he rolled over onto his left-hand side. Now he was fully facing the flare with Gordon at his back. Holding that position, he bent both knees together and curled his boots towards his butt. He heard metal sliding over stone and felt a steady drag on his left leg. He stopped when he could reach down and feel the painful area with his right hand. He explored the area with his fingertips, already half-knowing what he'd find.

  His legs were pinned to
gether through his calf muscles.

  A long stretch of wire had speared right through the fleshy part of both calves, pinning his legs together like a giant staple. He hunted for the shortest end of the wire and swore. The shorter end had hit the stone floor and bent over at a right-angle. He couldn't pull that end back through his legs. He couldn't straighten it without doing further damage to his calves. His fingers searched the other way and felt wire stretching away as far as he could reach. From the weight, he guessed it was over a meter in length. The part he could feel was twisted and curly. He couldn't pull that section through his legs either.

  Ethan searched his pockets. He felt something in his back pocket. He pulled it out before he recognized the shape. His little notepad. The small spiral-bound pad he kept for the kids. When he thought of something he wanted to talk about, or ask them about, he jotted it in the pad. He read all the little notes before their afternoon sessions over the internet. It was a ritual, like the calendar Maria hung near the web-cam so the kids could mark off the days until he came home.

  Ethan slipped the pad into his pocket and then, with the same hand, reached out and checked Gordon's pockets.

  He found what he needed on Gordon's belt. A little pouch with a set of folding pliers. Ethan unfolded the pliers on his thigh. One handed, he reached down and pinched the shorter length of protruding wire flush up against the skin of his calf.

  Just do it.

  He squeezed the pliers hard. Nothing. They weren't cutting through the wire. He braced himself and squeezed again.

  Snick - the pliers severed the wire this time. Ethan felt the handles jerk together. He heard the bent wire fall to the stones. Before he let himself think about it, he grabbed the trailing end of wire and hauled it sideways. Minus its bent end, the wire slid effortlessly from his flesh.

  He was free.

  He climbed carefully to his knees and assessed the pain. Manageable, now the steel was out. Perhaps the shock was numbing him. He wasn't bleeding badly, so no arteries were damaged.

  Where did my flashlight go? Right, here it is.

  As Ethan reached for the flashlight, the flare's green light petered out, but not before he noticed the pool of blood, like an oil slick, creeping across the floor from the dead chameleon.

  By flashlight, Ethan saw a second pool of blood. He was kneeling in it. Ethan's wounds were hardly bleeding, so most of the blood had to be Gordon's.

  'We need to move you,' Ethan said.

  Gordon didn’t reply. In fact, he hadn't spoken since the cables failed. 'Hey, HEY!'

  Ethan crawled closer to Gordon. He shone the flashlight in Gordon's face. Gordon's eyes were open and lifeless. Ethan searched for a pulse and found nothing. He slumped back and looked at Gordon. His efforts to protect him from the cables had been for nothing - Gordon had died from his bullet wounds. Before he died, Gordon had turned his head to stare up at the carvings. His right-hand rested on the wall.

  Ethan leant forward and closed Gordon's eyes.

  'Is he dead?'

  Ethan recognized the voice without turning. It was Spader.

  He replied, 'I thought Rourke must have killed you.'

  'Is Gordon dead?'

  'See for yourself.' Ethan rose painfully to his feet, making room for Spader.

  Spader didn't approach his friend's body. 'What happened?'

  Ethan turned his flashlight slowly on Spader. 'You happened. He died following you.'

  'That's not what I asked,' said Spader tightly.

  'Bullet wounds,' answered Ethan, not the least bit intimidated by Spader anymore. 'He died from bullet wounds. He took two bullets in the side back there when Rourke ambushed us for the gold. I dragged him this far before the cables failed.'

  'I followed the trail of blood,' said Spader. 'I wasn't sure who was dragging whom.'

  Ethan's flashlight found the bloody smear Spader had tracked them by. 'I bet you were praying it was him dragging me. I guess this isn't the outcome you were hoping for.'

  Spader ignored the remark. 'We need to get moving.'

  'And just leave Gordon's body here?'

  'We don't have a choice. He would understand. Come on.'

  Spader's instructions had no effect on Ethan. Ethan realized that Gordon had been the bridge between himself and Spader. With Gordon gone, nothing bound Ethan to Spader. Whatever Spader wanted didn't matter anymore. Now it was all about what Ethan wanted. Spader could be damned.

  'I'm not going with you,' said Ethan. 'I'm not finished in here yet.'

  'You said it yourself before,' insisted Spader. 'If this place stops with us inside, we'll never get out. We'll be trapped in here.'

  Ethan shook his head. 'No we won't.'

  Spader asked suspiciously, 'How can you know that? Wait - you've interpreted the gold?'

  'I didn't have to interpret it. I could always read it. I've seen nearly all of those symbols before. They're instructions. They’re rules of how to conduct yourself once you’re inside the core chamber. Rourke never reached the core chamber. The gold was never inside the core chamber. The gold presented a final set of instructions that messengers needed to follow just before they entered the core chamber. If Rourke had spent more time interpreting the pictograms, he would have realized that. But he must have suspected something, and that's why he was bringing me here to see the artifact. He wanted to know if this was the real treasure, or if there was more.'

  'So the gold wasn't in the core chamber?'

  Ethan shook his head. 'The gold is just an elaborate doorknocker. A welcome mat. It's irrelevant. It's the last ritualistic milestone before you enter the real core chamber. Nothing more.'

  Spader's voice was cold. 'You knew all that before we even started moving it?'

  Ethan nodded.

  'Then why did you stay with us? You could have slipped away and gone back and found the core chamber yourself. Why help us move the gold if you didn't need to?'

  'I guess I was looking for some other answers,' replied Ethan truthfully. 'I wanted to understand why Gordon was here. I wanted to understand why he aligned himself with you.'

  'Did you get your answers?'

  'No. He tried to tell me something before he died, but I don’t know what he meant.'

  Spader stood quietly for a moment and then said, 'Check in his top pocket.'

  'What?'

  'His top shirt pocket. Left hand side. Check in there.'

  Ethan knelt and checked Gordon's pocket, sliding his hand under Gordon's body armor. His fingertips came up against the edge of something that felt like paper.

  Envelopes. Three envelopes. Ethan withdrew the envelopes and, by Spader's flashlight, recognized his own handwriting. These were the letters he'd posted to Gordon.

  Spader held the flashlight steady on the envelopes. 'Your letters. He carried them around everywhere. He read and re-read them. He thought he was keeping them a secret from me. It must have been torture for him not to accept your invitation. He'd been searching for this place a long time.'

  'You knew,' said Ethan, fingering the well-worn envelopes. 'You knew all along about me trying to contact him? You pretended you were surprised. You actually pretended to get angry with him - but you knew all along?'

  Spader gave a very small nod.

  'Why do you have to manipulate people like that? And now you're trying to manipulate me with these! What is it you want?'

  'I want you to come with me now and get out of this place. I want you to live.'

  Ethan lay the envelopes carefully back on Gordon's chest. 'Neither you nor Rourke had what it takes to crack this place. You both turned back one chamber too soon. I won't be making the same mistake.'

  Ethan picked up his flashlight, took one look around the chamber, then headed for the nearest open archway. Spader didn't follow. Two chambers removed from Spader, Ethan switched off his flashlight and looked back the way he'd come. By the light of Spader's flashlight, he saw Spader's silhouette kneeling over Gordon.

  #

&nbs
p; Fontana and Randerson straightened from pushing the trolley.

  'What do you think?' asked Randerson, nodding towards the triangle barrier.

  'You know my policy,' answered Fontana. 'When in doubt, stay the fuck out!'

  Their hearing was steadily improving. Fontana seemed about eighty-percent recovered. Besides a constant dull ringing, Randerson's hearing felt close to normal capacity. Navigation proved their biggest problem. Randerson had just found another piece of Rourke's cave code. By his best reckoning, they needed to continue straight ahead. Unfortunately, a triangle barrier blocked their path. Randerson didn't want to try another route. The gold was too damn heavy to start making unnecessary detours. Especially detours that could get them totally lost again.

  Fontana wanted to go around. His chief argument was that Bruce might lurk beyond the triangle barrier. Apparently 'Bruce' preferred lying in ambush near the triangle apertures waiting for someone to look or climb through. Fontana had discovered that the hard way.

  'I think we should use Mr. No Legs,' suggested Fontana.

  Randerson glanced back the way they'd come. Two chambers earlier they'd pushed the trolley past a guard with no legs. The man was sliced in half at the waist. From the way he laid, Randerson assumed he'd been chopped in half by the rotating barrier.

  'Alright,' conceded Randerson. 'Quick, let's grab him.'

  Dashing back two chambers, they found the top half of the guard's body face down.

  'How are we going to do this?' asked Randerson.

  'You take that arm. I'll take this one.'

  Randerson couldn't decide where to grip the arm. He made three abortive attempts but couldn't find a good way to grip.

  'What are you doing?' hissed Fontana. 'Pick him up already! He's not going to bite you!'

  Randerson grabbed the man's wrist, which turned out to be a bad choice. ‘Christ - he's still warm.'

  'Maybe you should check his pulse while you're there. He's in for a big surprise if he wakes up.'