“Well then…” I watch Carrack run his hands through his thinning hair. “I guess we’ll need to figure out a way to get you guys into the fire without being set ablaze.”
We perk up a little.
“It’s a shitstorm of epic proportions with everything going on in the world. We get threats against our facilities just about every hour but have very little actual action against us. Unless you go looking for it, that is.” He says the last part on purpose. It was intended as a warning for us.
Kane continues. “The enemy here is crafty but has very little it can do against a force the size of Camp Arifjan. We could probably flatten most of Iraq if we really wanted to.”
The general nods his agreement. “You see, Mr. Boyd… We don’t want to go out there unless we have to. If we drop you behind those lines…we may not be able to come back for you anytime soon.”
“We’d be cut off,” Kane says, letting it sink in. “We’d be on our own once our boots are on the ground.”
“In Iraq,” Nicole adds, sitting back, not looking as gung-ho as before.
“In Iraq,” Carrack says, restating the significance. “This isn’t a decision to take lightly.”
“General,” I say, shaking off the thought of being stranded, surrounded by the ruthless killers this part of the world is known for, “we don’t really have a choice. It’s more than just getting Dr. Fehr back. He wasn’t taken by a terrorist cell remember.” Carrack meets my eyes. “He was taken by the worst of them all. The people we’re up against use the world itself as their sword. They don’t use guns or bombs. They use the winds, water, fire, and earth against you.”
“Bullets don’t really work against tsunamis or earthquakes,” Kane says, sitting back like Nicole.
“I bet,” Carrack says, he himself looking beaten down. “How do you plan on fighting such an enemy—how did you fight it in Miami?”
I look at Kane, he nods. “You can trust him, Hank. He’s family.”
I simply hold up my hand and ignite my fire, telling it to remain in the center of my palm like a softball. It listens and the only noise in the room is Carrack cursing under his breath and the sound of a crackling flame.
“So it’s true that you found something extraordinary in Algeria,” Carrack says, staring at my hand.
“It is,” I say, closing my fist. The flames instantly go out. “I can fight them off for a while, but not against four of them. Your full support—whatever you can give us—is much appreciated.”
“Of course,” he says, standing, “especially if my nephew is involved.” He looks to Kane. “We’re all we have left. My wife took ill after Matt died and never mentally recovered. Losing your child can be a death sentence for the parent sometimes.”
“My parents died in a car accident the night I graduated high school,” Kane says, shocking both Nicole and I. “It was the major launching point for me to join the army. Uncle Steve here supported me the whole way. Matt had entered a year before me. We always dreamed of serving in the same unit together. I was trying to transfer to his unit at Fort Drum when he died.”
“When my son died…accidentally,” Carrack adds, not believing his own words, “I recommended Jeremy go to Ranger school instead. He was a natural fit for them.”
The small office goes silent except for what sounds like the rattle of an air conditioning kicking in. Carrack hears it too but doesn’t react as nonchalantly to it as I do.
“What?” I ask, seeing his face contort into one of worry. “Sounds like the air coming on.”
He shakes his head. “No, the AC is normally louder than that.”
“What then?”
I get my answer when a picture of Carrack and his son falls off the wall and shatters.
“Looks like your friends are here,” Carrack says, pounding his fist on his desk’s phone. “Louis, what the hell is going on outside?”
Louis is apparently the scrawny, overly nosey man who greeted us near the row of helicopters. He was put in his place by the general immediately following Kane’s threats. I won’t lie and say it didn’t feel good watching him get his balls ripped off by the two men. Nicole was next on the list of emotional outbursts for sure.
“We aren’t sure, sir,” the phone squeaks. “But it looks like the disturbance is coming from the border to the northwest.”
Carrack looks at me. I simply nod, my mind racing. The Judges must have figured out where we’d go and are trying to hit us before we can formulate an appropriate plan of action. It would make sense that people their age would know about the key military installations around the world.
“It’s a preemptive assault,” Kane says, looking at Carrack. “We need to be ready for anything.”
Carrack nods and speaks into his speaker phone. “Louis,” he says, slipping on his jacket and hat, “put Arifjan on high alert. We’re under attack.”
“Sir?” Louis asks, his voice crackling on the other line.
“Do it now!” Carrack yells, slamming a meaty fist into the phone’s plastic casing. It audibly snaps, the handset cracking in multiple places. He then glances to the three of us. “What do we do?”
When we finish giving him the details, I grab his arm and ask him softly. “I need something else from you.”
Carrack’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Like what?”
18
Location Unknown
He woke with a groan, clutching his head in pain. It felt like he’d been kicked by a rearing Clydesdale. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t, the pain was too intense. He needed to wait for the pulsing in his skull to subside first. So, instead of relying on his eyes to see, Ben used his other senses.
He calmed his breathing as best he could and listened. He heard nothing, but could sense a large space around him, like a cave of some kind. His mind went back to William’s notes about the Atlantean necropolis underneath Site A. The Boyds made detailed records about their experiences beneath the sand and Ben used them to the best of his abilities. But he wanted more. He wanted to see the necropolis for himself.
They’d tried several times to remove the rubble from the cavern’s entrance, but had to stop every time they touched the tiniest of stones. Seismic activity was prevalent in the area now, though those topside wouldn’t be able to feel it. It was a massive desert after all and they were deep beneath it.
“Once we catalog the tunnels,” Hank had said, “then we can try to re-enter the necropolis—if it wasn’t completely annihilated. But until then, we need to be smart about it and not jump to any rash decisions.”
Ben agreed of course. He wasn’t one to rush into anything. He and William worked very similarly, researching everything until their minds went numb. Then, they’d act, or more likely, Hank would. They let the younger man do most of the heavy lifting the last few years. In truth, Ben was jealous of the Boyds. He wanted to be the one to find something of that significance.
Okay, he thought, lowering his hands away from his head, one more time.
Ben again tried to open his eyes, fighting back the nausea associated with the knock he took. As he did, he noticed an ambient light overhead. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to see the faint objects around him.
They made no sense.
The floor around him was smooth and round, like a giant bowl. Thirty feet up the wall looked like giant upside down stairs. They themselves looked to be around five feet in height and another five deep. Ben continued his twilight scan of the strange space, seeing what may have been—
“Plants?” he asked himself. “Can’t be. There’s no sunlight.” He knew of some cave-dwelling plants and of those deep in the ocean that grew by other means, but these looked leafy and magnificent.
The faint glow increased, just out of his line of sight as he tilted his head up more. It’s then he saw it. An extraordinary, perfectly smooth stone of some kind protruded from the ceiling, its tip wickedly sharp like an oversized spike. It had to be close to thirty feet in length, growing wider as it att
ached above.
Like an inverted pyramid. It reminded him of the one he’d seen in the Louvre. Only, that was glass and much less threatening to look at.
Ben planted his hands on the ground and shoved, trying to stand, but couldn’t. He was stuck in a sitting position, leaning up against another stone of some kind. The movement caused him to howl in pain, falling over on his side. His legs wouldn’t follow his brain’s instructions and his body was on fire, protesting the act. So instead, Ben just lay there, now facing the large flat rock, panting like a thirsty dog, trying desperately to catch his breath.
“What…happened?” he asked himself, struggling against another wave of pain-induced nausea. He knew his back was broken, but how severe he couldn’t fathom. He wasn’t that kind of doctor.
“It would be unwise for you to try that again,” a voice said from behind. Ben tried to turn, but couldn’t. He instead just laid back down and focused on the world around.
“Who’s there?” he asked, starting to panic. “Where am I?”
“Be calm, Benjamin,” the voice hissed from the shadows. “You’ll only hurt yourself further.”
He—whatever it is—knows my name?
“As for who I am…” the voice chortled, coughing hard. “Well… I’ve been known by many names over the years, but most have come to call me…Master.”
Ben’s throat clenched. He’d heard the name used in the team’s transmissions. Supposedly, there was a ringleader behind the Judges, pulling their strings.
Not supposedly… Factually.
“The four Judges are yours then?”
“Yes, they are,” the voice whispered, getting closer. “They’re my chosen pupils.”
Ben tried to battle against the pain and put things together, but couldn’t focus enough to do so. So instead, he kept talking, vocalizing his questions to the master, instead of himself.
“Where am I?” he asked, studying the stone he’d been resting on. It didn’t resemble a naturally cut one. It was actually perfectly smooth and rectangular in shape, lining up perfectly with the dagger-like stalactite above.
“You are in the mighty Citadel, Dr. Fehr. Very few have seen it with their own eyes. Not in the last few millennia anyway.”
“The Citadel?” Ben asked aloud, his mind reeling. The word citadel had many possible meanings. It meant fortress, stronghold, refuge… His eyes widened. Can’t be… “You mean the tower, don’t you?”
“Once perhaps, yes. We’re in its ruins, in its most hallowed of chambers—the most sacred one, in fact.”
“So part of the Tower of Babel still exists?” Ben asked. He was excited, but his body was in agony. It continually spasmed, shaking with adrenaline, causing his muscles to twitch as a result. Each involuntary tremor sent another wave of nausea through his body. He tried to calm himself, but couldn’t, retching all over the side of the stone block in front of him.
A grating laughter filled his ears, echoing around the room. “You humans are weak, so easy to…damage. Breaking your bodies is easier than breaking your will.”
Ben only heard half of what the master said as he wiped the vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand. With a shout of agony, he rolled onto his back and lay there grinding his teeth as he fought yet another upsurge of pain.
He opened his eyes and took in the room some more, sensing a living shadow off to his right. The master hadn’t fully revealed himself yet, choosing to stay in the darkness. Ben reached up and tried to activate his glasses, but found them missing. So instead, he just lay there and stared in awestruck wonderment.
“Why…me?” Talking was becoming difficult and the words came out inbetween labored breaths.
More laughter filled his ears. “It wasn’t only you,” the voice replied. “We were content with any of you. You were just the easiest to apprehend…” Ben heard a growl of disapproval. “The others proved far more…elusive. We intended to kill you all, but knew Boyd would come for any of his friends. An overused ploy, I admit, but nevertheless a useful one. Very effective, I’d say.”
Ben could hear the revolt in the master’s voice. He loathed talking up Ben’s teammates. They all had apparently gotten away from the Judges. Except him, of course.
“My team endures when most don’t,” Ben said full of pride. “Especially Han—”
“You know nothing!”
Ben quickly turned as a hunched shape stepped out from the shadows of a lower hanging plant. It even smelled sweet in the otherwise musty room. The figure was covered head-to-toe in a filthy gray cloak, not even the master’s feet were showing. The only thing visible in the reflective light was his cold, dead, jet-black lifeless eyes. They had no whites, just completely black, irises and all. They radiated a primal malevolence, one that should have belonged to an ancient superpredator, not some man. Then again, Ben wasn’t so sure the master was actually a man. Regardless, he could feel the wickedness under his skin, gnawing at his soul.
The master’s face was still covered in darkness, concealed from the light of the magical stone. Then, a gangly hand, composed of impossibly long fingers, reached out and plucked a leaf from the lowest vine. The master brought it to his face, parting the cloth covering his mouth.
What Ben saw was incredible…in the worst way possible.
The master had no mouth.
What? Ben thought, his eyes growing wider. He’s using telepathy. Just like what Hank described. The priests did the same, also having no physical way of speaking.
Not being able to bite it, the master just crushed the palm-sized leaf in his gnarled hand and inhaled its fragrance. Ben could smell it from here and it calmed him some. What properties it held were unknown, but Ben could even feel his headache lessen too.
“Impressed, are you?” the master hissed again, the voice in Ben’s head. “The vegetation here is what you would say…unique. Its power, and life in general come from the source.”
“The source?” Ben asked, not understanding.
“The Source.” The master pointed overhead to the stone above them. “It has a supernatural influence over the Citadel’s gardens and—”
“Gardens?” Ben asked in shock, he only knew of one garden ever associated with Babel. “It can’t be!”
The master scratched out another laugh. “It is… This place is what inspired the fairy tale of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Only…these aren’t myth. These are quite real as you can plainly see.”
Through his dumbfounded bewilderment, Ben watched as the master stepped fully into the ambient light and de-robed, letting it fall to the floor below. He groaned and stood tall, adding another couple of feet to his hunched nude form.
“Now,” the creature said, its demonic stare growing more vehement, “all we have to do is wait for him to come. On this day…Hank Boyd will be mine.”
19
Camp Arifjan, Kuwait
Ceiling tiles fall as we burst through the doors out onto the tarmac, watching as everything within sight shakes like mad. The only things not bouncing around are the massive armor vehicles and aircraft parked along the wide expanse of asphalt.
I half-listen as the general continuously barks orders into his walkie-talkie, barely ever coming up for air. I gotta give the man some credit, he’s taking our recommendations and running within them, trusting our judgment wholly.
We told him what we honestly thought and he’d decide what to do with it. He’s running this outpost for a reason. I’d find it hard to believe that a man in his spot would be anything except the best at what he does.
“Get every available bird in the sky and defend this compound at all costs!” Carrack yells, about to crush his walkie-talkie in his ever-increasing white-knuckled grip. “I want tanks positioned around the perimeter facing east, guarding an attack from the water too—not just the north and west!”
He breathes and continues. “Every able body is armed and falls back into the center of the tarmac! All weapons are hot—I repeat all weapons are hot!”
He nods. “Jeremy turned me onto them a few years ago. Not exactly standard issue with somebody in my position, but what the hell, I don’t get to do this very often anymore. I might as well make every bullet count and use the heavy hitting ones.”
Kane, Nicole, and I follow suit and flick our safeties off, joining the large mass of soldiers forming near the camp’s centermost point. Machine gun mounted hummers zip by, escorting tanks and transporting pilots to their designated stations. One of them screeches to a halt next to us and Carrack motions for us to get in.
“In,” he says, opening the front passenger seat. “We’ll just waste time and energy. Plus, it’s just too damn hot to walk all the way across the burning runways.”
Agreeing, I climb in behind the driver, following Nicole in. She then stands and hefts her futuristic assault rifle up into the roof’s circular gunner’s cut out. Kane and I man the rear windows ready for anything.
“Quite the woman,” Carrack says, looking at me.
“Better than the lot of us in a fight too,” Kane says, smacking my shoulder.
“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Boy—”
Carrack’s complement is cut short as a siren starts to blare—just as the ground shakes again, throwing off the driver. We swerve and nearly collide with another hummer heading the opposite direction.
“Damnit!” the driver curses. “Sorry everyone.”
“Just get us there in one piece,” Carrack says.
Please, I think, looking out my window.
“Hank…” a nervous voice says from above.
Nicole’s current tone is uncharacteristically unsure. Normally, she has everything under control… Everything she has the ability to control, I mean.
“Oh, hell,” I say, seeing what she did.
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