by Ryan Hartung
***
“Hello?” Dominic asked into the walkie-talkie. Moments of silence passed without a response. “What gives?” Dominic asked Colt while waiting for a reply. “They were there just a second ago.”
Colt shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe the reception just isn’t good enough down here. Maybe we’d have better luck at the top of the stairs.” They both looked up the long flight of stairs and sighed as they started climbing.
“Hey, where’s the Bobcat?” Dominic breathlessly exclaimed after reaching the top of the stairs a few moments later. He remembered exactly where he’d left the sweet compact ride and had been looking forward to driving it some more once they returned to the surface. “I’ll bet those dirty Russians took it,” he concluded
“You’re probably right. Their leader was in pretty bad shape. There’s no way I’d want to carry someone like that all the way back to the main road. I bet they used it to give him a ride and give their backs a break.”
Dominic tried calling the Italians on the radio again while Colt was still speaking, but still there was no response. “Hey, do you think they might have attacked the Italian checkpoint?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I guess. If they wanted to keep driving the Bobcat then they wouldn’t have much of a choice. As far as I know there’s only one road around this area.”
“So, what do we do then? I guess one of us has to get to the checkpoint and call for help, right?” Dominic said, not volunteering for the job. After the day he’d had an additional mile run on hilly terrain was the last thing he wanted to do.
At that moment, Hillary appeared behind them, marching up the white marble stairs with Leonardo’s cell phone in hand. “Did you guys get the soldiers at the Italian checkpoint on the radio?” she asked.
“We had them, but they’re not answering anymore,” Colt replied.
“I think the Russians got to them,” Dominic added, completely convinced the Russians were involved.
“Leonardo suggested we call his superiors on his cell phone. But like you two, I couldn’t get any reception down there, so I came up here to try it,” Hillary said. She turned the phone on and scrolled through his list of contacts until she found the one Leonardo had told her to call.
She pressed the call button and waited for someone to answer. Finally, a low speaking Italian voice said hello.
“Do you speak English?” she asked into the phone. The unknown person on the other side responded with a yes and asked her who she was.
“I’m with Leonardo Sava’s research team. A group of Russians and Chinese has attacked us, and we need medical assistance. Leonardo has been infected with something causing boils to form all over his skin, and there are two Chinese soldiers that are in extremely critical condition.”
Over a span of five minutes, she tried to answer the man’s questions. The stranger assured her that he had already alerted a helicopter with medical supplies and the appropriate personnel and they were en route to their location. All they could do now was wait.
Chapter
11
Pavel and Dmitry quickly dragged the three passed out Italian soldiers into the woods and yelled for Natalya to drive the Bobcat and Vladimir to their location. With their escape now unimpeded, Pavel and Dmitry jogged alongside the Bobcat the rest of the way to the bottom of the hill.
Once they reached their stashed vehicle, they loaded Vladimir into the back seat and discarded the Bobcat into the woods, out of view of the naked eye.
Pavel was careful to drive their car the speed limit to the airport, or only slightly above the posted speed, for fear of the police pulling him over. As they arrived at the tarmac, Pavel increased the car’s speed, driving toward the plane he knew was waiting for them. Once alongside the plane, they rushed to exit their vehicle at hearing sirens growing closer in the distance.
“Do you think those are for us?” Dmitry questioned as he threw their backpacks up the plane’s extended staircase.
“I wouldn’t bet against it,” Pavel replied. Unfortunately, for Vladimir there wasn’t any time left to be delicate with his aching body. In one fell swoop, Pavel picked up their ailing commander and carried him up the stairs like a baby. All the while, he was as careful as possible to keep the ancient artifact from touching any part of his skin.
The second they were aboard the Russian airplane, the pilots began jetting down the runway. There was now no doubt the sirens they had been hearing were for them as no less than ten police cars were trailing the accelerating airplane. The pilot pushed the throttle for maximum speed, leaving the police cars in its rear before they had a chance to catch them. Seconds later the Russians’ plane was in the air and rocketing for Moscow.
***
WHOMP, WHOMP, WHOMP
“Is that a helicopter?” Dominic questioned at hearing the approaching sound. A little over twenty minutes had passed since Hillary finished her call with Leonardo’s superior. Gradually the sound of the helicopter’s rotors increased until the three saw a lone copter emerge over the volcano’s rim.
Colt could see the pilot peering down at them as he gently lowered his craft into the volcano’s center. The craft’s swirling blades caused dust and debris to fly into the air, almost blinding them as they tried to watch their newly arrived ride land. Almost before the landing was complete, two medics hopped out of its insides, each carrying a large case full of medical equipment.
“They’re down here,” Hillary yelled over the swirling dust and deafening sounds of the helicopter’s engine and rotors. She jogged across the mix of rock and dirt to the marble stairs followed close behind by the two medical personnel.
Without a railing for support, Hillary descended the stairs as fast as possible without slipping on the slick marble. When she took a quick glance backward, the two medics were even further behind being extra careful due to their large plastic bins of supplies.
Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs where she flicked on her flashlight before entering the corridor. “They’re just in the next room,” she directed them once inside. Their pace slowed as each of their eyes slowly adjusted to the chamber’s darkness, using only Hillary’s small flashlight to guide their way.
Upon entering the actual chamber, which had only an hour ago housed Hades’ Sphere, Cliff solemnly stood. “We just lost another one of the Chinese soldiers a few minutes ago. This one is hanging on, but I don’t know how much longer he has.”
The first medic bent down and started his examination of the sick Asian, while Cliff led the other medic to Leonardo’s aching body.
“I’ve seen a lot of boils in my life, but never anything to this extent,” the medic said while digging in his box of medicine. He could see the pain on Leonardo’s face. Seconds later, he pulled out a hypodermic needle and a small vial of morphine.
“This will dull the pain,” he said. The medic wiped down a section of Leonardo’s arm, punctured morphine’s bottle with the tip of the needle, and stuck it into his raised vein. Leonardo groaned at being stuck, but within seconds started moving more easily. Hillary nervously watched his eyes glaze over from the shot’s narcotic effects but found comfort in knowing his pain was at least temporarily subsiding.
“Can you stand now?” the medic questioned his patient.
Leonardo tried to nod, but instead only moved his head around in a drunken circle.
“How much did you give him?” Hillary asked. She almost wanted to laugh at Leonardo’s ridiculous lack of muscle control but knew this wasn’t a laughing matter.
“I gave him enough to dull the pain until we can get him to a proper hospital. The pain this man was probably feeling was similar to being set on fire,” he responded unapologetic for his actions.
Leonardo, still thinking about standing in his drug-induced stupor, had begun crawling on the marble floor unable to pick his body upright. Gently Hillary and the medic each took a hold under one of his armpits and hoisted his welt covered body upright. Leonardo winc
ed at the initial human contact but relaxed again as soon as they let go. Wavering back and forth, they slowly guided him out of the chamber. Every second or third step, Leonardo would grimace or groan as his body’s weight mashed the boils on the soles of his feet against the ground.
As they were just leaving the room, the other medic yelled, “Bring down the portable gurney when you come back. This guy’s not going to be able to walk out of here on his own.”
“No problem,” the other medic replied, already in the adjoining corridor.
After loading Leonardo into the helicopter and strapping him in as loose as possible, the second medic returned with the requested gurney in tow. The first medic on the scene had stabilized the deathly ill Chinese soldier. With the help of the other medic, they carefully lifted the last Chinese soldier onto the large sheet of canvas.
Cliff led the way out of the room with his flashlight, followed by the medics, the sickly Asian, and finally Hillary. As soon as they reached the brightly lit opening leading to the stairs, Hillary remember something she had forgotten to do.
She dashed back inside of the chamber without a word and quickly scanned the lower section of the pedestal with her military grade flashlight. She searched the front and then the side of the marble stand, but there was nothing there. Rounding the side of the pedestal, facing the back of the chamber, she found what she was looking for. In large ancient Greek lettering were the words:
WIFE PERSEPHONE SLUMBERS IN NYSA
HERCULES AND CEREBUS SLEEP TOGETHER IN THE SEA OF LICHAS
She had found the locations of two more treasures! Quickly she snapped a picture on her cell phone and then raced out of the chamber; catching up to the slow procession in the middle of the marble staircase, as if she’d never left.
***
The next twenty-four hours were a sloshy mixture of anxiety and relief for the small American team. Within a few hours of the helicopter transporting them to the hospital, the doctors tested all four of the Americans for the plague. Within minutes, a quick dipstick test cleared them of having the Bubonic plague, for which the doctors were treating the ill Chinese soldier for around the clock.
The hospital’s chief of staff assured them that only in rare cases was the Bubonic plague transmitted from person to person, and that normally the illness was the result of an infected flea; although obviously not so this time. The Americans were overly relieved that their chances of contracting the almost eradicated illness were slim to none.
Eventually, the head doctor allowed them into Leonardo’s room to visit their Italian friend, but not before two armed guards whisked them to a vacant, windowless room in the hospital’s bowels. Inside the solitary area, the Italian version of the CIA asked them to recount the events leading to their medical rescue. Knowing that they had done no wrong and Leonardo Sava himself would be corroborating their truthful story, they cooperated to the fullest extent.
Initially Cliff refused to answer any questions in detail, but as Dominic, Hillary, and Colt revealed every minute aspect of their adventure, he felt compelled at certain points to correct their occasionally misremembered fact.
Once their mild interrogation had met its end, the officers finally allowed them to visit Leonardo Sava’s room. They were more than surprised to see that the intravenous medicines and body ointments his doctors had prescribed were already working wonders, as the redness was quickly subsiding from his body.
“How are you feeling?” Hillary asked the Italian while taking his swollen hand in hers. Moist bandages, covered in some sort of proprietary mixture of salve and aloe, littered his body.
“All things considered, not too bad. I guess that tour of the city is going to have to wait though,” he said with some of his charm returning. “The best part is when the good looking nurses come in and change my bandages. They rub that ointment into all the right places on my skin, and it feels like heaven. Quite the opposite of where we were yesterday,” he said with a snort.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Dominic said, in a chauvinistic tone agreeing with Leonardo’s vision of heaven.
Hillary shot Dominic a disapproving look and released Leonardo’s hand. Instinctively she wiped the gooey residue left behind on the side of his bed, slightly disgusted by his whole description. The American team then said their goodbyes and bid Leonardo a quick recovery.
Held in the room adjacent to Leonardo’s was the Chinese national, who had tried to kill them. Two armed guards were patrolling the doorway, letting no one enter except select medical staff. Through the small square window, Hillary, Colt, and Dominic could see multiple I.V. lines running into his veins. As they stared at the Chinese soldier, he opened his puffy, bloodshot eyes and smiled. It wasn’t an evil smile but that of a thank you.
After grabbing hold of the closest physician, he informed the four Americans that although the Chinese soldier was seriously ill, his condition had now stabilized enough that they expected him to fully recover in a few weeks’ time.
Finally, having had their medical questions answered about Leonardo and the last living Chinese soldier, an Italian escort drove them to the airport for the long flight home.
Colt sullenly boarded the airplane, aggravated that they would be leaving with only what they had brought with them. He found a seat alone, toward the rear of the aircraft, and let the glowing Lightning Staff drop to the floor. As he did so, the staff lost its energy and luster, appearing a dull grayish color on the plane’s orange runner as it waited for its master to once again wield its power.
Cliff and Dominic were more than happy to let Colt brood alone. However, as Hillary stepped up the ramp, she noticed his melancholy expression and ventured toward him in the rear of the plane. Stepping over the dormant staff and shimmying between Colt’s long legs and the seat in front of them, Hillary plopped down in the open seat to his left.
She knew why he was so blue. Without saying a word, she turned on her phone and scrolled to the picture she had taken of the pedestal’s backside. Colt looked at her with a puzzled expression as she handed him the device. As he used his fingers to zoom in, his eyes lit up with excitement.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked her.
“I knew the Italians were probably going to question us about everything that happened, so I decided the less who knew about this the better. And by less I mean only me,” she smiled.
Colt couldn’t contain his love and admiration for her at that moment. He turned in his seat and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. By the time he was done, her hair was a disheveled mess and her lipstick had smeared across his face. For the duration of their flight, he then thought of nothing but two things.
First and foremost, he was going to ask Hillary to be his wife. He was fairly certain she’d say yes, but what he feared most was the almost nonexistent chance she’d say no. And that scared him half to death. Secondly, thanks to Hillary’s quick thinking and her picture, there were now at least six treasures whose locations needed to be puzzled out. Colt loved puzzles.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my book.
One of the best ways to increase a fan base is by way of reviews, so if you liked the book please leave me a review; I would really appreciate it.
Thank you again, Ryan
Find out about upcoming stories and new releases from Ryan Hartung at www.ryanhartung.com
Please enjoy the following excerpt from Water, Book 3 in the World’s Divide series.
Available at your favorite E Book retailer
World’s Divide
Book 3: Water
Displeased at being swindled out of Hades’ Sphere, Colt and his team secretly begin searching for the next artifact. Colt wholeheartedly believes the Lightning Staff can lead them to Poseidon’s treasure, buried somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean in the lost city of Atlantis. While Vladimir is recovering from touching Hades’ Sphere and a conglomerate of Eastern nations begin the hunt for Demeter’s treasure, Colt and his American friends must navi
gate through the crumbling maze of Atlantis to find the treasure they seek.
Chapter
1
“Let’s grab a drink since we have a couple of hours to kill,” Pavel suggested to Dmitry, feeling the dryness in his mouth. He was glad to be back in Russia, where people drank mainly vodka, not fruity wines. Dmitry shook his head in agreement and left his laptop where it lay on a chair, in Vladimir Pavlov’s hospital room.
“Drink one for me boys,” Vladimir yelled after them, finally starting to regain some of his lost strength. His breathing and stamina were quickly returning to normal, while many of his other illnesses were recovering more slowly. Regardless of how fast his body was healing, he felt lucky to be alive, lying in a warm bed, and done traveling for the moment.
If having been thrown into the Bobcat’s metal scoop and bounced around like a basketball on rocks and cement hadn’t been painful enough, Vladimir had found himself wishing for death on the plane ride home. The air had been turbulent, and the plane was hardly equipped with the proper medical supplies to help him begin the recovery process. Without morphine or even a good bottle of vodka, the only recourse he had was to swallow handfuls of aspirin to ease his body’s pain during the seven-hour flight back home. Natalya watching over him had been the only redeeming aspect of the flight. Barely able to lift his hand, he had relied on her gentle care, and he would forever be in her debt.
After landing in Moscow, where an ambulance was already waiting for him, two doctors whisked Natalya and he away to the closest hospital. While Vladimir began receiving treatment for his numerous ailments, delivered to him by the very artifact President Aleksandrov had sent him to retrieve, another high-ranking official was debriefing Pavel and Dmitry on their highly successful mission.