Nero roared with arrogant laughter. “Feel my power. I am the great wizard. I am reborn!”
Jake’s head felt like it would explode as electrical energy heated inside his brain. He dropped to his knees and moaned loudly, slipping into semi-consciousness. In a moment, he went silent and fell flat on his face. His M4 rifle came loose from his harness and skittered on the slate floor. Swirls of white mist enveloped his motionless, depleted body as he disappeared in the fog.
Nero spun around and searched for the other defiant one — Rae Hart, symbol of the white law enforcement that had oppressed him all of his life. She had made her way around the cave perimeter toward the entrance tunnel and was just bending down to escape when he caught her. Nero screamed a war whoop as his supernatural power sliced through the air once again. He struck Rae in her backside with another jolt of invisible electricity. She screamed in pure agony as she was jarred against the wall. She then slumped silently down in the mist, disappearing.
Nero then looked around the cave for Anne Stanton, expecting her to still be kneeling in submission. He crouched and turned like a panther, his moves nimble and quick, searching for the last of his prey. He could sense her presence moving away from him, but she was nowhere to be found within the chamber. He figured she must have made her escape back out of the tunnel. He relaxed.
“You have served me well, woman,” he muttered to himself, not willing to pursue her just yet. “I shall have my way with you later.” He chuckled in a deep insane tone as long thin snakes groped his cheeks.
The chamber floor had now filled entirely with soupy whirlpools of fog. A rumble developed from the pit. Nero spun around to look. His silver eyes narrowed.
BOOM!
A gusher of water and flames exploded from the well. The wooden pole shattered into pieces. A overpowering baritone drum-like sound echoed through the room. Pieces of limestone slipped from the walls. The blast propelled Nero backward into the stone table of Jecumseh, the female corpse. His eyes fell upon the false-face mask of his ancient opponent. The carved, painted smile of the mask then came alive and transformed into a sinister grin. The small painted head she held in her hand twisted his way as her silver White Deer Society broach glowed brightly.
“JECUMSEH!” Nero roared. He spun his head in a moment of fright, buck antlers swooshing in the air, serpents flailing wildly. He backed off.
Another huge blast from the well blew him to his knees. He got up confused and stumbled over to the next corpse table. Standing over the male corpse, his eyes were drawn to the same silver broach around the mummy’s neck. It burned bright. Skeletal hands moved, shaking the turtle rattle they held. Nero cringed in paranoia. He barked his other ancient nemesis’s name. “HIAWATHA! No. You cannot be alive. No!”
Another rumble pulsated from behind him, this one much bigger. Nero leaped away from Hiawatha’s corpse. Bent on leaving the chamber, he searched for the entrance tunnel but could not find it in the fog. He became disorientated. The snakes on his head writhed in animation. He then heard a sound behind him. A scrape. He spun around.
The remaining corpse sat up from its table, its silver broach burned hot.
Nero gasped. His chest burned. He clutched the broach hanging around his own neck and scorched his hand.
The corpse raised an arm, its bony fingers grasping an eagle feather. A deep voice spoke inside Nero’s head. It uttered the ancient language of his ancestors, but he knew the meaning of the words. “I am Deganawida,” the voice said. “You are not worthy to wear the Crown.” The feather released from the corpse’s clutch and floated away into the mist.
Nero turned in terror. He ran.
A flash of bright steel.
The Halligan.
Rae swung it like a bat, the single curved prong searching for flesh. She caught Nero high in the side with a rib-shattering crunch. Nero howled. Rae yanked tool from his body, tearing open a large gash that streamed with bright red blood and torn muscle. Nero fell to his knees.
Rae raised the Halligan over her head for the finishing blow. “Now you bow down to me!”
She swung again.
Nero dodged.
The tool clanged against the rock floor. Nero lashed out and knocked the legs out from under Rae. She fell backward and bounced the back of her head on the stone floor. Sharp pain shot through her skull. Stars twinkled in her eyes. She lost her grip on the tool. It clamored away.
Nero rose above her, hunched in severe pain. He stretched his shaking hands toward Rae’s head. He focused his eyes — raging with a silver glow. His head of serpents quivered, their fanged-mouths biting the air.
The last thing Rae remembered was the silhouette of the crown against the bright backdrop of silver-blue flames. The outline of writhing snakes and two antlers marked her slide into darkness.
Jake careened into Nero just as his invisible shaft of energy shot toward Rae. It missed, bounced, and redirected against the cave wall. A large chunk of rock fell from where the blast struck. Another enormous gaseous boom suddenly shook the chamber. The concussive blast pushed the bodies of Rae, Jake, and Nero clear across the room. The three Indian corpses, however, remained as they were, seemingly untouched by the explosion of gas.
Tumbling, Jake and Nero groaned with injury, but both gathered enough strength to stand up and face each other. Nero’s lips curled in rage. He showed white teeth as if to bite. The snakes on his head wiggled and hissed. He circled Jake and directed his silvery gaze into Jake’s eyes.
“Once I finish plucking out your dreams I will steal your soul and enslave it for all of eternity. Then I will—”
Jake smashed Nero with a jab to the mouth. “Shut your pie hole.”
Nero was taken aback at the quickness of Jake’s strike and his audacity of defiance. He spit out a bloody tooth.
Jake mocked him. “You’re not worthy to wear the Crown. Your orenda is weak. You’re no God. You bleed. Just like a man!”
Nero countered with a backhanded slap across the Jake’s face. The blow felt like someone hit him with a brick. Jake’s head twisted to the side as saliva sprayed from of his mouth. He stumbled backward, knees weak, surprised at Nero’s physical strength.
Jake shook off the blow then cautiously moved back to within arm’s length of Nero. They circled slowly, sizing each other up. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out Rousseau’s knife.
“You fucking piece of jail trash,” Jake taunted. He lunged and sliced Nero across the bicep.
Nero wailed as blood squirted out of his arm. He balled his fist in rage and swung a roundhouse. Jake blocked the punch, slashed with the knife again and sliced Nero across his chest. Nero grunted but countered with a hard fist to Jake’s stomach, knocking the air out of him. Jake lost his grip on the knife. It scattered away lost in the fog. He staggered back, sucking wind, trying to breath.
CRUNCH!
A large rock smashed down upon Nero’s crown. It struck his skull directly between the antlers, flattening a handful of serpents. Nero wavered a moment, his eyes rolled in a daze. He then dropped to his knees.
Jake looked up. Anne Stanton stood across from him, grimacing. She clutched a large boulder between her hands. Nero swayed from the blow, moaning in agony. Stanton tossed the stone and grabbed a hold of each buck antler to keep him from falling. Snakes tore at her flesh. She grunted in pain from their bites.
Breathing heavily, Jake jumped over and grabbed the antlers too. Razor sharp fangs dug into his hands.
“Pull!” he shouted.
They lifted as one.
Nero screamed and reached up, locking his hands around Jake’s wrists to counter the tugging. The chamber pit rumbled again. The earth shook. Jake and Stanton regained their balance and pulled harder. Nero screamed. They gave one final tug.
The Crown of Serpents ripped free with a wet tear.
Jake released his grip and Stanton stumbled backward, holding the great treasure in front of her. The snakes immediately stopped moving before her eyes and
froze into hardened silver. But on the bottom side of the crown hung long strands of gray hair and bloody meaty flesh.
Nero cried out. His hands searched the top of his head.
Jake looked at the pitiful man. He had been scalped clean. A bloody, hairless patch of skin and skull was all that remained where Nero had worn his short-lived crown. Nero screamed again, the silver fading from his terrified eyes. Jake could care less. He turned and searched for Rae.
She was already up on her feet, leaning against Jecumseh’s funerary table. She pressed a hand on the back of her head to keep her wound from bleeding any further. She gave him a thumbs-up. Jake exhaled slowly, in pained relief.
The well behind her suddenly pulsated with light as water burped from its depths, the bowels rumbling again. Flames shot high in the air. Another explosion brewed from below.
Nero suddenly jumped up and bull-rushed Jake, knocking him aside. He made an unexpected dash toward Rae. She remained calm as the bloody bald wretch of a human being barreled toward her.
Jake shouted, “No!”
Nonchalantly reaching down into the fog, Rae found what she needed. Nero was upon her. She sprung up, gripping the Halligan tool horizontally, and then cross checked Nero’s face with it.
Nero’s jawbone shattered. His legs gave out. Rae stepped aside to let him fall. He stumbled like a drunkard and tripped into the pit with a flaming splash.
Jake ran over. Stanton followed, the crown still clutched in her grip. They looked into the well as Nero slowly submerged headfirst. Jake reached down through the flaming water and grabbed his ankle. The pit groaned. He saw light pulsate from below. A large bubble of gas rose from its depths. It would explode at any second.
“Take cover!” Jake shouted. He released Nero and dove for cover behind a corpse table. The two women followed suit. Stanton released the crown for just a moment as she scurried behind Hiawatha’s table.
The chamber instantly went black. The trio went blind in pure darkness. A tremor shook the room. They waited for the blast.
Seconds ticked by but the explosion never came. Instead, they heard a strange flushing of enormous quantities of water down inside the pit. The room then became eerily silent. A light switched on. It came from Jake’s rifle lying in the corner of the chamber. Another light flicked on, this time from a dropped helmet near the entrance passage. A third light illuminated from a flashlight left on the floor. In the splash of light the trio noticed the layer of fog had disappeared completely.
On hands and knees, Stanton searched the floor in front of her, groping to find the crown. But it was nowhere to be seen. “It’s gone! The crown is gone,” she cried. “It was just here!”
Jake scurried over and grabbed his weapon and the flashlight. Rae snatched the lit helmet then they both drew back close to Stanton and searched some more.
“The crown is gone,” Stanton whispered.
“I thought you had it?” asked Jake. He looked at his hands and all of the snake bite wounds vanished.
“I dropped it in the dark,” Stanton replied. “I can’t find it. Did Nero take it?”
“Not a chance,” replied Jake.
They walked over to the pit, Jake pointing his rifle in the hole. They stared down into emptiness. The pit was devoid of all flames, liquid, or any source of light.
“Nero’s dead,” said Rae. “He got sucked down that hole. There was no explosion to toss him out or he would be in this room.”
“Flushed,” Jake smirked.
“I’m getting the hell out of this place,” said Rae.
“10-4,” said Jake, still staring in the pit. “But first I need to check something out. I think I know where the crown might be. We need to know. To make sure it’s safe. Give me some light when I climb in.”
“Huh?” muttered Stanton.
“Oh no,” said Rae. “You’re not going down into another well.”
“Oh yes I am.”
Jake flung his legs over the edge and entered the pit. Hands pressed against the pit walls he scampered down the rock steps jutting from its sides. Below him was a bottomless black hole he refused to look into. Slipping slightly, he steadied himself on a firm ledge and peered under a rock lip to an open area in the wall. A silvery blue light suddenly illuminated his face. He smiled.
“The crown is down here! Everything’s good.” Jake squinted in the light and reached forward out of Rae and Stanton’s view. He grabbed an item, inspected it with a grin, and hung it around his neck. The silver guardian’s broach had found its new rightful owner. He climbed back up.
Pulling himself out, Jake told his two counterparts that the crown was indeed intact and safe down there under the rock lip. “It’s in its own sanctum sanctorum.” His backside was then suddenly cast in flickering blue and silver light emitting from the pit. He looked back. “I don’t know how it got back down there. Maybe had some help here from our three friends.” He pointed to the corpses. “But anyway, we are leaving it alone. Our business is done here. This whole damn escapade is over.”
“We have no choice,” said Rae. “Look behind you.”
The water had risen to the top of the pit again, bubbling and flaming. Wisps of white mist spilled from its surface.
“We are out of here,” Jake ordered. “Let’s find our gear before this place fills up with fog again. We’ve got a long, dangerous hike back and I’ve got an injured uncle to attend to. We’ll deal with protecting the location of this place once we get back topside and sort everything out.”
Toilet room.
Almost an hour later Jake squeezed through the hole in the toilet room wall and laid his rifle on the floor. The room was quiet. His uncle was no where in sight. Jake thought maybe Joe had attempted to make his way back up to the surface to seek help.
Jake helped the two women into the room and they collapsed in exhaustion without saying a word. As Rae and Stanton shared a bottle of water, Jake heard an odd sound up the flight of stairs, beyond the door. It sounded as if a can had been dropped. He stood up and directed his M4 rifle up the corridor.
“Big Bear?” he shouted. “That you up there?”
Silence.
Jake bounded up the steps two at a time and burst through the door. There, under a canopy of flashlight, sitting on a shiny Indian motorcycle, with a candy bar sticking out of his mouth, was Uncle Joe Big Bear. A gas can rolled at his feet. Jake lowered his rifle and sighed with joy. He smiled. Rae and Stanton appeared at Jake’s side.
Joe smiled at the trio, just shaking his head with relief. He then stood up and pressed down on the kick-start bar with his good ankle. The motorcycle sputtered to life with a puff of gray smoke. Joe torqued back on the handlebar grip and revved the engine to full capacity. It roared like a tiger. His stomach shook with laughter. He revved some more.
38
The next day. Yale Manor Bed and Breakfast.
JAKE STOOD AT the burnt out Indian grave at Cranberry Marsh. Nothing remained. Not one remnant of the past survived the blackened carnage all around him. Charred trees and soot-covered branches lay at twisted angles in a pile. A burned firefighter’s glove lay partially buried under a black rotted log. How can this be so real, Jake asked himself, his memory in a foggy haze. He hadn’t even revisited this site since hearing of the arsonist attack. Then he heard something behind him. Laughing. Muffled laughing from underground. His eyes wandered to the large iron slab covering the limestone well where he had attempted to rescue the ill-fated Derrick Blaylock. The heavy slab moved. It lifted, then slid to the side. Jake saw a quick glimpse of bony hands. The hands then grasped the edge of the hole. What came next sent a jolt of fear through Jake’s body. Silver snakes, alive with rage, emerged from the hole. They hissed and sought him out. Then buck’s antlers. No, it cannot be happening again, Jake pleaded as a tormented, laughing face appeared at the rim. It cannot be. Alex Nero. Risen from the dead, silver snakes molded into his scraggly, long gray hair. Back from the abyss. The Crown was his once again. His glowing silve
r eyes moved wildly about. And then all went black.
Jake stood motionless in the shower stall, both hands pressed against the tiled wall to support his naked, bruised body. His throbbing head was bent low as he blinked his eyes and tried to wipe the dreamy horror from his mind. As hot water soothed his tight muscles, he moaned with a mixture of pleasure, pain, and sheer relief. Opening his eyes wide, he watched the water splash at his feet like heavy rain. He wondered at the meaning of the nightmarish dream that had roused him out of bed so early.
Nero laughing under the mask — his hair turning into snakes, it was all so vivid in the dream. Was it a dream? Jake shook his head. Maybe the ruthless bastard had survived, retrieved the mask, and somehow found an escape route up through hundreds of feet of limestone and ended up in the Cranberry Marsh pit. No, clearly this couldn’t be, Jake tried to tell himself. That’s impossible. But maybe it was a message or a sign or some sort of telepathic threat. Clutching the silver broach dangling from his neck, he willed the negative thoughts from his mind. Then all was well. He stepped out of the shower and began to dry himself off.
An inviting female voice murmured softly. “Hey soldier. Now that’s the kind of uniform I like.”
Startled, Jake looked up. There stood Rae, admiring his wet body with mischievous eyes. She was dressed only in a white robe. She leaned against the bathroom door and looked him up and down, smiling admirably.
Jake grinned. He dropped his towel and walked up to her. He untied her robe. “It seems I didn’t tamper with your evidence enough last night?”
Rae opened her robe and pressed her warm naked body against his. She pulled him close and whispered in his ear. “Honey, you can mess up my crime scene any time you want.”
On the bedroom nightstand next to a bottle of wine, Rae’s cell phone blarred. She pulled herself away and uttered an obscenity at the bad timing. “I have to take it. Don’t you move, mister. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake grinned.
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