The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  "Keypad just reset," Casey said, excitement in his voice. "But now all the buttons are showing zeros."

  Angie turned the tumblers to the factory setting—8274—each one clicking as it moved.

  "Numbers are back!" Casey said in excitement. "But random again."

  Angie stood, wiped the sweat from her hands, and entered the same combination on the keypad. The lights on the keypad flashed once, and the vault door disengaged with a soft hiss, opening several inches. Angie grinned in triumph and pulled the vault door the rest of the way open.

  Casey slapped her back. "Way to go, Angie-baby—I mean, Angela."

  On the other side of the door, a series of ceiling lights flickered on automatically, illuminating a long corridor with a series of passageways, the overhead fluorescent lighting coming to life. An underground complex lay open before them.

  Chapter 34

  "This is too weird," Angie said as the underground complex’s lights came on.

  Casey stepped past her, aiming his rifle down the corridor. "It sure looks like stepping back into Marshal's Bunker, doesn’t it?"

  "The Bunker was never Marshal's," said Rowan. "He was just the last commanding officer when the lights went out."

  Casey snorted. "Try telling him that."

  Casey was right about one thing, Angie mused. The walls and construction of this place were almost identical to those of the Bunker—the main difference being one of size. The Bunker was much larger, enormous, housing hundreds of workers with vast storerooms, hangars, offices, and quarters, with an entrance tunnel through which you could drive transport trucks. Its official role had been an electromagnetic vulnerability assessment facility, or EMVAF, and it had been built to evaluate and test next-generation aircraft—specifically the duo-rotor Shrike stealth helicopters.

  But on A-Day, minutes after dragons flew over Mount Fiji and the power went out across the planet, everything within the Bunker—and there had been a vast storehouse of equipment, vehicles, and weapons—had been protected against the backlash of magical energy that had not only plunged the planet into an unrecoverable blackout but had also blinded humanity to the forces of magic and invisible presence of Fey. Even now, eighteen years later, there was no consensus on the source of the disaster, with multiple hypotheses: global EMP detonation, mass coronal event, and yes, dragon magic. But what was indisputable was that in a single day, Marshal had become the most powerful man on the West Coast and maybe all of North America, possessing serviceable electronics, functioning aircraft, and a cadre of Special Forces troops who had been assigned to test it all.

  Angie had a special bond with the Bunker and Marshal. Her father had not only been Marshal's best friend but also his Operations Officer. All of them, the Seagraves and Angie, owed their lives to the twist of fate that tied them to Marshal's Bunker.

  And now here they were, standing before yet another bunker, this one hidden beneath a radar site.

  Rowan yelled up to Jay, explaining what they had found and telling him they were going inside. Then he followed Casey through the open hatch. Angie, Tavi, and Erin went next. They moved through the complex, passing storerooms filled with filing cabinets and banks of electronic equipment. Much of the equipment sat on carts, as if transitory. At the end of the hallway, stairs led down, winding in on a stairwell.

  "What is this place?" Angie asked as they descended, the air cooling noticeably.

  "Unfinished," Casey said at the bottom of the stairs as they stepped out into a large cavern carved out of the mountain filled with sophisticated electronic gear on carts.

  He was right, Angie saw. This chamber was little more than a cavern that had been improved upon. Steel support girders reinforced the rock ceiling to which florescent tubes had been bolted. Exposed cabling and wires ran in all directions. Several side tunnels, also cut out of the stone, led away. Massive generators on carts sat nearby.

  Tavi examined some of the gear, running her fingers over a monitor. "What is this?"

  Angie considered her for a moment. Growing up in the Democratic Republica Mexicana del Norte, even among the Brujas, she'd have had little exposure to electronics that still worked. Simple things like radios and generators could be rebuilt by those who understood the technology, but this gear would be far beyond anything she'd ever have seen before. Angie only recognized it because of her time in the Bunker. "I think it's an X-ray scanner," she said. "Maybe a wavelength monitoring device of some kind."

  Rowan snorted, picking up a handheld device and turning it over in his hand. "It's all science doodads." He set it back down. "Everything's covered in dust, though. Been here a while."

  They moved through one of the tunnels into another large cavern, this one filled with banks of computers and filing cabinets as well as a row of machines filled with digital tape. All the computers and machines sat silent, powered down. Tavi turned the power switch on one of the monitors, and it hummed to life, the digital monitor flashing. Stickers on the equipment read DARPA. "What's that?" Tavi asked.

  "Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency," Rowan answered, a trace of confusion in his voice. "But what's it all doing here?"

  Angie picked up a clipboard, glancing at the paper it held in place. "What's Project Grendel?"

  Rowan shook his head. "I was a door kicker. This is all way beyond my pay grade."

  The next chamber they entered raised even more questions. What looked like archaeological supplies and containers the size of footlockers filled this room. Casey knelt before one of the containers and, before anyone could stop him, undid the latches and lifted the lid. The air hissed out of the hermetically sealed container.

  Rowan's breath caught in his throat, and he glared at his brother. "Idiot, don't touch anything. It could be filled with anthrax for all you know."

  "Sorry, sorry," Casey said, looking sheepish. "Wasn't thinking." He grinned. "Not anthrax, though. Just old scrolls. No worry."

  Angie looked over his shoulder. Inside the container were what looked like individually sealed papyrus scrolls.

  "Anyone read old languages?" Casey asked.

  Angie reached past him, closed the lid, and set the latches back in place, hearing the air hiss as the container sealed itself once more. "Trust me. Reading ancient scrolls can be even more dangerous than anthrax."

  Casey mumbled something beneath his breath about pushy women.

  They moved on, following a rough corridor to another chamber, this one filled with storage shelves holding weapons of all kinds, an entire armory. Racks holding rifles, heavy machine guns, shotguns, and pistols sat about the rough-stone chamber. There were hundreds of weapons, all military spec, as well as much older weapons. It looks, she mused, like a gun nut's collection.

  "Goddamn," Casey said, his smile radiant. "It's like Christmas in August." He ran his hand over the barrel of a heavy machine gun. "Please, God, tell me there's ammo."

  "There's ammo," answered Rowan, standing at the doorway to another chamber.

  Angie looked past him and saw another storeroom stacked with ammunition crates as well as what looked like explosives, rocket launchers, and grenades. Rowan moved into the chamber and stopped before two dark-green plastic containers the size of an ammo box. He carefully and slowly unlatched one of the two containers, lifting the lid and peering inside.

  "Damn," he whispered. "Who was this guy?"

  Angie moved up behind him, looking over his shoulder. The box, lined with an inch of firm padding, contained meticulously stacked slabs six inches in length and two inches wide. Each slab was held in place with plastic straps. The green paper covering them was marked "CL-20."

  Angie's breath caught in her throat. "Is that..."

  "Hexa-nitro. Basically, super plastic explosives." Rowan carefully closed the lid, setting the latches back in place. "As I recall, it was always kind of sensitive to impact. Let's not drop it." He moved away, peering at other shelves in the chamber, nodding to himself, and finally picking up a small electronic device the siz
e of a remote control. "Explosive ordnance disposal guys would hate this room. Here's det cord and primers."

  "I think whatever else this place was," Angie said, "it's probably safe to assume we've found Tec's lair."

  "No kidding," answered Tavi softly, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the arsenal. "We had no idea he had all these weapons. If Mago Commandante Morgan—or Presidente Carter—had known…"

  "Maybe that's why he kept it hidden," Angie said. "So as not to upset the balance of power. These weapons could start a war."

  "More likely finish one," Rowan said bluntly.

  "This guy, Tec," said Erin, her voice filled with wonder as she looked inside another nearby storeroom. "He was a bit of a weird cookie, wasn't he?"

  "What do you mean?" Angie asked as she joined her.

  When she saw what was inside this storeroom, her breath caught in her throat. Rows of military equipment sat atop shelves: boots, uniforms, and body armor. There was even scuba-diving gear, tanks, flippers, and facemasks. Rowan and Casey brushed past Angie and Erin, and Rowan picked up a vest with a Kevlar plate inserted into it. Then he put it down and picked up a small helmet with night-vision goggles—NVGs—attached to its top.

  He shook his head, clearly impressed. "You could equip entire teams of assaulters with this stuff." He flicked on a radio set, and Angie heard it hiss with static. "Batteries all work. This place is shielded, just like the Bunker. He's got more weapons and gear than Marshal. This place is a game-changer."

  "It gets even weirder," said Casey, holding up a large two-handed sword.

  Angie rushed over and placed her fingertips against the blade, tracing the glyphs carved into the metal. "It's been hexed," she said in wonder. "He had a hexed blade. Why did he have a hexed blade?"

  "More than one," said Tavi, picking up the strangest sword Angie had ever seen. It resembled a two-handed bat built from dark, flat wood with chips of black stone inserted into the wooden edge of the weapon, like sharks’ teeth. "This thing is hexed as well."

  When Tavi tried to draw her finger over the edge of one of the stone chips, Rowan caught her wrist, his eyes stern.

  "What?" she asked.

  "It's a macahuitl," he said. "An Aztec weapon. The stone chips are obsidian, sharper than a surgeon's scalpel. It'll take your fingertips clean off."

  Tavi quickly set the weapon back down, stepping away from it. "How do you know about that?"

  "I know all about shit that kills people, Tavi. It was my business. It’s a macahuitl, and if the world wasn’t so fucked up, it’d be worth a fortune."

  "Why have something like that?" Tavi asked in confusion.

  "For killing mages," Angie answered. "But hexed weapons don’t work unless you’re a mage. These would be useless to Tec."

  Erin frowned, shaking her head. "I very much doubt he’s the kind of guy who keeps weapons he can’t use. There’s some weird shit going on with him."

  Rowan snorted. "We’re way past weird shit here." He looked to Tavi. "How much do you Brujas people really know about this guy—other than the fact he can shift into a were-jaguar whenever he feels like it?"

  Tavi sighed. "We knew he was a were-jaguar; he told us as much. Thing is, Morgan didn’t care. No one did, not really. After all, the Commonwealth had you guys, an entire family of werewolves." She looked around, clearly flabbergasted by all this gear. "Obviously, Tec had his own agenda. I don't think Morgan knew any of this."

  "How much do you think Elenaril knew?" Angie asked.

  Tavi bit her lip, a dejected look on her face. "More than she let on, I’d guess."

  They moved through the rest of the underground complex, rough-hewn stone corridors leading to other rough-hewn impromptu chambers, all with exposed wiring and ad hoc lighting systems. Everything had the look of a rush job, a temporary setup, yet the site had clearly been hidden away beneath the radar complex, making Angie wonder which had come first. Other chambers were filled with more treasures—shelves upon shelves of food, canned goods mostly but also boxes filled with vacuum-sealed packages, more than enough to feed hundreds of people for years.

  And then Casey stiffened, turning to grin at Rowan and Erin. "You smell that?"

  "Gasoline," Angie answered. Even she could smell it.

  They rushed down another corridor and into a garage a hundred paces wide. Parked inside was a small fleet of military vehicles as well as another chamber filled with full jerry cans of gasoline, thousands of liters. Angie stared in wonder, her pulse racing at the treasure. A half dozen motorcycles—she didn't know what kind—sat parked next to four large military transport trucks. There were even four armored vehicles with automatic turrets on their roofs. At the far end of the chamber, a sloping tunnel wide enough for the vehicles led up a ramp to a set of metal double doors in the ceiling, clearly automatic doors leading to the surface. "Oh my god," she whispered. "There must be another hidden entrance, one we didn't find. How could we have missed something like that?"

  "Probably camouflaged, like the Batcave," Rowan said.

  "Like the what?" Angie asked.

  "Never mind."

  Casey sat on one of the motorcycles and started it up. In a moment, it roared to life, filling the chamber with fumes and noise. A huge grin lit up his bearded face. "I really like this Tec guy," he yelled over the engine.

  Rowan reached past his brother and cut the engine. "How about we make sure we're alone first?"

  Casey grinned sheepishly but climbed off the motorcycle. He draped an arm over Rowan's shoulder. "Brother, trust me, we're alone. This is all ours now."

  Tavi shot him an angry glare. "The hell it is! This is our territory, and we'll need everything if the Aztalans attack."

  Casey ignored her. "We don't need to run anywhere. We can live right here."

  Rowan shook his head. "We can't hold a site like this, not once people learn about it. Be suicide to even try. Let's not be stupid and greedy. We'll take what we need, load up one of these trucks with supplies, and drive northeast, just as we planned." He turned to face Tavi, pointing a finger at her face. "And before you object, young lady, remember you'd be dead right now if not for us."

  Her face reddened, but she looked away, her mouth shut. Even if the Seagraves took a truck filled with supplies, they'd still be leaving an arsenal behind for Tavi and her people. She must have realized that.

  "He's got a point," said Angie to Tavi. "This is what Elenaril sent you here to find. You can spend as much time as you need searching it for clues to this Fey lord Q. You could use one of the radios to call Canyon City for help. We’re not that far."

  Tavi nodded once, quickly, still looking away. She must have seen the wisdom in not getting in the way of the Seagraves, because she mumbled, "Go ahead and take a truck."

  "And a motorcycle," Casey said.

  "Two motorcycles," Rowan agreed. "As well as all the food and fuel we can carry. It'll be more important than bullets."

  "Nothing's more important than bullets," Casey said with a sniff. "Except maybe explosives."

  Tavi walked away as Rowan and Casey made their plans, talking excitedly. Angie and Erin watched them, with Erin tapping her boot on the oil-splattered cement.

  "Boys," she finally said. "You'd think my brothers planned all this instead of just following us. Besides, if not for you, we’d still be looking at a vault door. Maybe they should thank you instead of argue about what to take."

  "It's fine. It is a lot of supplies. A treasure trove." The more Angie watched Rowan and Casey, the more she eased into the idea of pilfering what they needed. And why not? We came here to rescue Tavi. Mission accomplished. I'd say we're due some payback.

  So why did she feel guilty?

  Erin went to get Jay, leading him inside, while Casey worked out how to open the tunnel doors leading out of the garage. From inside, it was easy, no more than a button push, and the doors were opening with a grinding of gears and chains. Wherever this place's generator was, it was clearly still running. The doors had been
hidden beneath the ruins on the surface, and as they opened, a cascade of debris and rocks fell into the tunnel. Casey swore and began to haul away the rubble, making a path for one of the cargo trucks. He and Rowan had debated taking an armored vehicle but decided cargo space was more important.

  In minutes, the Seagraves were hurriedly loading one of the trucks with as much gasoline, food, weapons, and other supplies as they could manage. Tavi made a point of ignoring them. It didn't really matter, Angie knew; there was still a warehouse full of supplies and weapons down here.

  What other secrets had Tec been hiding?

  While they worked, Angie wandered through the tunnels. She found another stairwell at the far end of a corridor they hadn’t been down. This place has other levels? As she stared at the stairwell, her mouth turned dry. Don't be stupid, she told herself. There's nothing here. She closed her eyes and used her life-sense magic but detected no other life-forms than Tavi and the Seagraves behind her. They were alone. Her vision tunneled in on the stairwell. She still had her rifle but eased Nightfall from its sheath a few inches and then pushed it back in, sweat running in rivulets down her back despite the chill. There was nothing living here, certainly nothing she needed a hexed side-sword for. Then why are you ready to wet yourself, Angie?

  "There’s nothing here," she whispered to herself and then slipped down the corridor, intent only on seeing where the stairs went. A part of her knew she was being an idiot, exploring this place on her own, but she still found herself putting one foot in front of the other, unable to explain why she had to look. It was as if someone or something was calling to her. The next thing she knew, she was standing atop the metal stairs, peering over the banister. The stairs led down, twisting, leading into darkness below.

  RESIST, the voice in her head, the Shade King, urged, its concern clear.