Little Star switched off the ignition. When he killed the lights, we were absorbed by the darkness so completely that I felt my muscles stiffen. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Little Star flicked on his flashlight and aimed it at the glove box in front of me. “There’s a second light in there. Take it, then grab your things and follow me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Ahmed said from the back.
Little Star ignored him, shoved open his door, squeezed outside, and inched through the foliage to the back of the truck. After lowering the tailgate, he helped Sarafina to the ground. Ahmed jumped down beside them. I flicked on the second flashlight, grabbed my backpack, and kicked my door into the thick foliage. When it was open far enough, I slipped through and followed the others, twisting and high-stepping through the moist tangle of vegetation.
The ancient structure reminded me of a large gazebo, with vine-covered, stone arches that surrounded a statue of a crouching Buddha. The jungle had claimed the surrounding land, but there were signs that someone had cared for the interior of the small temple. The cobbled floor was swept and remnants of burnt candles were at the base of the pedestal.
“This shrine has been here for fifteen hundred years,” Little Star said. “Few remember it’s here, and even fewer visit. Long ago my ancestors took it upon themselves to care for the shrine, passing the responsibility down from one generation to the next. My grandfather explained that at some point along the way, the villagers stopped making the long trek through the jungle. They preferred to offer their prayers at the temple down below. All except for our family. Eventually, our forefathers came to think of it as our own private sanctuary, and its existence became a secret that was passed from father to son. Our family has maintained a monthly vigil to this Buddha ever since. Those candles were most certainly left by my mother.” He knelt before the statue and said a prayer. We bowed our heads, respecting the moment.
When he rose, he said, “Of course there was a second reason why my ancestors cared for this shrine.” He smiled and walked around the back of the statue. Crouching, he removed one of the stone cobbles. An iron lever was hidden beneath it. He wrapped his fingers around the lever and twisted. There was a loud click. He winked, pulled upward, and a square section of the floor swung open on a centered hinge. “The door is solid stone,” he said. “It probably weighs over three hundred pounds. But the builders hinged it so even a child could open it.”
I aimed my light down the black opening. A stepladder dropped ten feet to an earthen tunnel.
“No, no, nooo,” Sarafina mewed, moving backward.
Ahmed put his arm around her.
“It’s quite safe,” Little Star said. “The tunnels were dug through the sandstone over a millennia ago. There’s never been a cave-in. They were built as a final defense against raiders, providing the villagers with an escape route in the event their warriors failed to hold the invaders at bay. Those in the village have long since forgotten about the tunnels. But not me.” His eyes went distant. “My brother and I used to play in here as children.” He sighed. “My mother still uses it to make her monthly visits to the shrine.” He started down the ladder. “Follow me.”
***
Jake picked up the skullcap attached to the computer at de Vries’s bedside. “You believe I can help you,” he said. “Is that right?”
“I do.”
“Only this time around, you no longer hope to connect with your clone?”
De Vries’s reply was tentative. “Actually, I still believe we can make that happen.”
Something about the way he said it didn’t ring true. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, it’s complicated. It would be much easier to explain once we are...connected.”
Jake studied the skullcap. Holding it brought forth a rush of horrific memories. The last time he’d worn something like this, the world nearly came to an end.
“I promise,” de Vries said. “There is no danger to you here.”
This time, Jake sensed the truth in the man’s words, as he had when de Vries had described the torment he was experiencing. Jake hoped his own foggy brain wasn’t playing tricks on him. “Okay, I’m willing to give it a try.”
“But you will demand something in return first, won’t you?”
“That was my plan coming in here. But whether you help me or not, I’m going to do what I can. You ready?” He held the skullcap over his head. His hands trembled.
“Your wife is safe,” de Vries said.
Jake’s gaze snapped from the 3-D brain image to de Vries’s body and back again.
“I’m in neither of those places—and both of them,” de Vries said. “Trust me. It will all become clear when you lower the cap.”
Jake clenched his jaw and donned the cap. He immediately felt the old man’s presence in his mind. It was an odd feeling, but not intrusive.
De Vries projected his thoughts. Your friends Tony, Becker, and Jonesy are with her. They are being held at a home in the village.
Are they okay? Jake thought.
Yes. I have access to the cameras that are monitoring them.
More cameras, Jake thought.
Though he didn’t intend to communicate that last thought, it wasn’t missed by de Vries. Yes, the old man replied. It seems my grandson has a penchant for cameras. In fact, he’s monitoring us now.
Jake tensed. He knows I’m here?
He’s been watching since the moment you entered the facility.
Gotta go! Jake reached for the skullcap.
No, wait, de Vries urged. There’s a reason he hasn’t closed in on you yet. He very much wants you to be here right now. With me.
He’s been listening? Jake asked, slowly lowering his hands.
Yes. That’s why I lied a moment ago about connecting to my clone. I wanted him to believe you were still doing his bidding. But even though he can listen to our spoken words, he cannot eavesdrop on our thoughts. That’s why I needed you to use the cap. You see, you were right. I have no use for the clone. I only wish to die.
And if Jiaolong knew that, he’d come running.
His given name is Daniel, de Vries said. For all his faults, the boy still loves me. I’m his only surviving blood relative. When he was younger, we spent untold hours together playing Go. But we grew apart after the death of his parents...
There was a long pause before de Vries continued.
Until I hooked into this network, I’d had no idea what he was up to. I’d thought he’d found his calling in the video game world, and I was comforted in the belief that he was surrounded by a new family of like-minded individuals who would help him cope with the loss of his parents. He’s quite brilliant, you know. I’ve always been proud of him.
He blames me for his parents’ deaths, doesn’t he?
Quite so.
And the abductions of my friends and family—it’s all about payback?
As it turns out, that’s only a small part of it. I’m afraid there’s more.
***
Our run through the tunnel had taken only four or five minutes. We took the first stepladder exit we came across. It opened into the village in a storeroom attached to Little Star’s childhood home. We were welcomed by his mother. Her hair was white and her face was wrinkled, but her smile lit up the room. She offered us a bow, until Little Star rattled off something in Chinese that made her eyes go wide. She wrapped her arms around me before I realized it was happening.
“Welcome to our home,” she said in English, giving me a squeeze that made me think of my mom.
Little Star had promised he’d find out where Mom and Dad were, but he’d explained he needed to spend some alone time with his mom first. I understood why. She deserved to learn the news about her other son before he raised the issue of what was happening in the village.
Little Star’s mother gave Sarafina the same welcome hug, and my sister sighed at the warmth of the woman’s embrace. Ahmed was next. He’d had a phobia about being touc
hed when he was younger, but he accepted the woman’s hug. After she pulled away, she turned to the kitchen and started setting the table.
The rest of us moved to a cozy family area, where a boy about my age sat engrossed in a first-person-shooter game on a big-screen TV. My jaw dropped when I realized he was wearing a Spider just like mine. He glanced over when we stepped into view, and his surprised expression said he hadn’t realized there were visitors in his home. His face went glum for a moment, his eyes darting to the screen then back again, and I knew from experience that he was reluctant to quit in the middle of the game. He was currently at the top of the leader board. Even so, he sighed and removed the headset. On the screen, his avatar was shot dead by another player. The boy grimaced, then rose, turned his back on the screen, and bowed to his guests.
“This is my nephew, Ping,” Little Star said. He returned the boy’s bow.
I sensed Little Star’s pain and realized Ping must’ve been the boss man’s son, being raised here by his grandmother. If so, he was about to learn his father was dead. The thought sent a chill across my skin. We all bowed, too, and Ping sat back down. My brother and sister plopped into overstuffed chairs; their sore butts were probably happy at the change. I laid my backpack on the floor and sat beside Ping on the couch.
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“Yes. Most of the village has learned English out of respect for Mr. de Vries.” Ping seemed proud of the fact.
“That’s cool,” I said, nodding toward the TV. “Sorry about your game. You were winning.”
Ping’s face lit up. “Do you play?”
“A little.” I don’t know why I lied. I guess it had something to do with Uncle Marshall telling me to keep it a secret. But I felt bad about lying. “Actually, I’ve played plenty. I love this game.”
“Me, too! All the kids in the village got the game as part of a beta test, but I can beat most of them. Do you want to play?”
I glanced back to the kitchen, where Little Star was urging his mother to sit down with him at the table. Sarafina and Ahmed followed my gaze; they too knew what was going on. My sister motioned toward the screen and nodded. I turned back to Ping. “Let’s play.”
Chapter 23
Yóulóng Village
“I CAN’T STAND IT ANY LONGER!” Jonesy yelled, sweeping his arm across the counter to send the empty soup bowls flying across the kitchen and shattering to the floor.
Francesca jumped from the couch, clutching her throat. Even though she’d been expecting the outburst, it still startled her. Becker lurched toward the kitchen.
“Who the hell are these bastards?” Jonesy continued. “And what do they really want from us?” He kicked an open cupboard door clean off its hinges. Becker dodged.
“Operator Jones!” Becker shouted. “Get a hold of yourself, man. That’s an order!”
“Screw that,” Jonesy said. He stood his ground, his face red, chest heaving.
Francesca noticed the guards’ shadows shifting outside the front windows, but it didn’t seem as though they were preparing to barge in.
“What’s goin’ on out there?” Tony’s voice sounded muffled from behind the bathroom door. He’d been in and out of the room for several long stretches, pretending to be dealing with stomach issues.
“Bugger off, you bloody seppo,” Jonesy yelled, “and squeeze that foul crap out of you once and for all, because it’s smelling worse than a dead carcass in a swamp out here. For mercy’s sake, open the damn window.”
“Jonesy,” Becker said. “You need to settle—”
“To hell with that,” Jonesy said. He kicked through the shattered glassware and stormed down the hall. “I’ve had it!” He charged into the bedroom and slammed the door. Then the real noise began as his tantrum went into full swing. From the sounds, Francesca could imagine him tossing lamps, kicking walls, and heaving furniture on end.
And destroying the hidden camera.
She moved to Becker and took his arm. “Is he going to be alright?”
“He’s a bushie. Same as me. Raised in the outback with nothing but open space. Being confined between four walls doesn’t sit well with him. But he’s a good digger. He’ll get over it.”
The bathroom door slammed and Tony marched into the room. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “What’s got into him?”
“Stir crazy,” Becker said, wincing at a loud thud. “Best to steer clear.”
“You feeling better?” she asked Tony.
“Yeah. Much.”
She knew what that meant.
Five minutes later the three of them stood at the end of the hall outside the bedroom door. There was a lens hidden in the shadows of a ceiling vent directly overhead so they kept up the act. Jonesy had quieted. Becker knocked on the door. “We’re coming in, mate.”
“Understood...sir,” Jonesy said contritely. They entered to see him standing in the middle of a room so trashed that it would’ve made the Tasmanian Devil proud. Jonesy held up a broken pinhole camera and winked. His satisfied expression belied the somber tenor of his voice. “I’m terribly sorry if I offended you, Mrs. Bronson. My behavior was unacceptable.”
They were off camera now, but that didn’t mean their voices weren’t still being monitored by the camera in the hallway.
“Your conduct was unbefitting an operator in the regiment,” Becker said. He was speaking of the Australian Special Air Service Regiment, considered the best of the best.
“Yes, sir,” Jonesy said.
Tony crouched by the doorway and motioned Francesca to his side. As the others stacked up behind him, he said, “I’m gonna give you a one-and-only pass for the cracks you’ve been throwin’ in my direction. Next time there’s gonna be consequences.”
“Understood,” Jonesy said. “There won’t be a next time.”
Becker said, “Let’s cut the jabbering and get this place cleaned up. I suspect we’re going to be here a while, like it or not.” He gave a terse nod.
The clock was ticking. It would be only minutes before someone got suspicious about the sudden silence. Staying low, Tony hugged the back wall to remain out of view of the overhead vent camera, and slipped into the darkened bathroom. The others followed. Once inside, Jonesy closed the door behind them and Tony pulled aside the window curtain. Moonlight spilled into the room, and Francesca saw that the bottom half of the glass window had been slid open. The rotting wood had been dug out from around all four bolts securing the bars. Tony reached through the opening and grabbed the bars, his legs positioned like a grappling wrestler. With a muffled grunt he shoved outward, and the frame came free with barely a sound. He leaned over the ledge, laid the bars on the ground, and crawled through.
Ten seconds later, the four of them were huddled in the shadows of the narrow alley. Tony was about to peek his head around the corner when a lowered voice spoke from behind them.
“Ye sure made me life a lot easier,” Pete said.
Francesca’s lungs seized, and they all spun at the same time to see a hulking shape step from the shadows. Her mind struggled with the disconnect between the friendly Irish accent and the Chinese brute who stood before them. He was every bit as bulky as Tony and carried a submachine gun with a long silencer on its muzzle. But that didn’t stop Tony from stepping between them in a defensive stance, the paring knife gripped in his meaty fist.
Pete snorted, lowering his weapon. “It appears as though ye brought a wee blade to a gunfight. But ye won’t be needing it, big fella. Here, try this.” He reached under his tunic and his hand came out holding a pistol, butt first. “Greetings from Jake and the gang,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“I’ll be damned,” Tony said, accepting the weapon. He passed the knife to Becker.
“Gee, thanks,” Becker said, inspecting the tiny blade.
“Jake?” Francesca said.
“Ye betcha, lass. And Marshall and Lacey, too.” He pulled out his smartphone and showed them a satellite image of the village, p
ointing to two flashing icons on a nearby ridge. “That’s them there. That’s our egress point. And this here is Jake.” The flashing icon appeared to be inside a large structure outside the village. “He’s confirming the location of yer children, and then he’s going to meet back up with us.” He put the phone away. “Follow me.”
“The children—?”
“That’s all the time we have for explanations. Stay close.” Pete crept up to the end of the alley, looked both ways, and slid around the corner. Tony followed, with Francesca and the others close on his heels. They raced across the street and slipped into the next alleyway, the aroma of rice and fish assaulting her nostrils. Pete held up at the end of the next alley. The upcoming street was much wider than the previous one and the shadows were fewer. Becker moved forward and pointed at a large cloud moving toward the half moon. Pete nodded, then held up a fist to indicate they should wait.
She counted the seconds, her heart racing at the prospect of seeing Jake and her children.
That’s when the shouts sounded behind them.
Chapter 24
Yóulóng Village
BY THE TIME I UNZIPPED my backpack to retrieve my Spider, Ping had already pulled an extra one from beneath the end table. He handed it to me. “I’ll go back to the main menu,” he said, “so you can tune your headset to the game.” He donned his own and focused on the screen.
I watched as the game closed and the TV displayed a desktop menu. An icon glowed, an application opened, then a submenu flashed, and finally Ready to Tune was displayed on the screen. Ping had made the rash of entries using his headset. I was impressed. This was different from what I was used to back home, where the thought-control interface was limited to the game program only. Ping had used it to manipulate the operating system as well. What a great idea, I thought. Why bother with the hassle of a keyboard or a touch screen? I lowered the borrowed Spider onto my head and allowed my brain to do its thing.
Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral Page 13