Dark Light

by Randy Wayne White

  “What do you want, boss?” Matt said. “I already used the arson angle.”

  “I don’t want ordinary arson,” Runtley bellowed. “Give me arson caused by aliens. Which reminds me. Sierra, I need something more on the secret alien lab.”

  She looked at him. “I think we should hold off on that for a bit, sir.”

  Runtley’s brows shot skyward. “You’ve got inside information?”

  “Let’s just say that I’m hoping to have a major scoop for the Curtain within forty-eight hours.”

  “All right, sounds good. Meanwhile, you can work with Kay on the follow-up interview. Readers are really interested in the Guild boss’s jungle honeymoon story.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sierra said.

  Runtley stormed off down the hall toward Marketing.

  Sierra looked at Kay. “Any bright ideas?”

  “You’re the one who spent the night in the jungle with Fontana,” Kay reminded her. “Something exciting must have happened.”

  “Well, there was an incident with a lizard,” Sierra volunteered. She was not going to tell anyone about the crystal alien ruin, let alone what had happened inside. The ruin had been Fontana’s secret. Now it was hers.

  “Lizards are boring.” Kay tapped her pen on her notepad. “What do you say we go with a water feature this time? ‘Guild Boss and Wife Bathe Nude in Hidden Lagoon.’ ”

  “Oh, man,” Phil said. “Does that mean I get to do a photo shoot of Sierra in the buff?”

  Sierra gave him a warning glare. “Do not mess with me today. I am not in a good mood.”

  “Yeah,” Phil said. “We noticed.”

  She picked up her coffee and started across the room to join Kay. She was almost to her destination when she noticed two men hovering in the doorway. One of them was Simon Lugg.

  “Someone here to see you, Sierra,” Simon said. “Mitch let him through downstairs because he says he’s a relative. That right?”

  Her security detail, which consisted of Simon, Mitch, Jeff, and Andy from the Green Gate Tavern, had taken to their assignment with enthusiasm. They had all been more than happy to do the new Guild boss another favor. Make that thrilled, Sierra thought. The fact that the chief respected them enough to entrust his wife’s safety to their care had produced an immediate and transformational impact on the four. You could see it in the new spring in their step and the determination in their eyes.

  The only problem, as far as Sierra was concerned, was that in their zeal to prove themselves, they had gone overboard. She was not even allowed to walk down the hall to the ladies’ room without an escort.

  She looked at the man standing beside Simon. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in a high-end designer’s notion of casual. His expensive trousers, open-throated blue shirt, and slouchy, cream linen jacket would have looked at home at the local yacht club. He gave her a tentative smile.

  “There must be some mistake,” she said gently. “I don’t know you.”

  Simon’s expression hardened. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s go, pal.”

  “No, wait,” the stranger said quickly. “My name is Burns. Nick Burns. I’m Fontana’s brother.” He tried another smile. “That makes me your new brother-in-law.”

  Chapter 30

  “I THINK I’M SEEING THINGS.” RAY LOWERED THE BINOCULARS, eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t be the first time in the jungle.”

  “That’s no ghost river mirage.” Fontana kept his glasses focused on the amazing scene. “I’m seeing the same thing.”

  They were sitting about twelve feet off the ground in the cradling limbs of a thickly leafed tree. It was difficult to get a clear view because of the foliage in the way, but he could see figures moving purposefully about near a large quartz ruin. The structure was not made of the clear, emerald-tinted quartz that had been used to fashion his little pavilion, but rather the ubiquitous, solid green rock the aliens had used to construct all their cities and the catacombs.

  From the sliver-sized scenes he could see through the vine-clogged trees, he could tell that the ruin was fairly large. It was about the height of a single-story human building at the outside walls, but the roof was wholly alien in design, ethereally arched and domed. There were no windows—another typical feature of alien architecture—only a small doorway. From his position he could not see through the opening but the familiar glow of green quartz emanated from it.

  “The Curtain’s secret alien lab?” Ray asked.

  “Looks like my wife was right yet again,” Fontana said.

  “This could be a little embarrassing for the Guild.”

  “Time enough to worry about dealing with the PR problems after we figure out what the hell is going on.”

  “That’s why we made you boss.” Ray raised the glasses to his eyes again. “You know how to prioritize.”

  “I count five men.”

  “Got ’em. Number six is coming out of the building. He’s carrying something. Looks like a big plastic water jug on his shoulder.”

  “I see him. There’s another man behind him. Same kind of jug.”

  “Moving slowly,” Ray said.

  “Leg chains.”

  “Damn. Someone’s got prisoners working down there.”

  Fontana lowered the glasses. “We need to get closer.”

  He followed Ray down out of the tree and then waited while Ray recovered the rope ladder, coiled it, and attached it to his utility belt.

  The lively birdcalls and the fluttering in the canopy provided some cover for them as they made their way through the undergrowth. The familiar noises also indicated that the creatures in the vicinity had grown accustomed to the presence of humans. That meant the operation, whatever it was, had been going on for a while.

  When they drew closer, he uncoiled his own rope, snagged it on the wide branch of an emerald tree, and used it to climb up into the thick web of vines, limbs, and leaves. Ray followed him.

  They were close enough now to have an almost unimpeded view of the alien ruin and the men moving around it. He took out his glasses again and studied the scene. Ray did the same. After a few minutes, they lowered their glasses and looked at each other.

  He held up nine fingers. Ray nodded, confirming he had counted the same number. Four were obviously serving as guards. They were armed with knives and rez-ball bats. Not that they seemed to need them. The five prisoners all wore chains around their ankles that were secured to chains around their waists. No one would get far in the jungle dressed in that gear.

  “Ghost juice,” Ray said softly. “They’re making it inside that building. Using prisoners to bottle it.”

  “Probably to transport it, as well. No other way to get those jugs back to the surface except to carry them out by hand.”

  “Think this explains those alien abductions we’ve been hearing about?”

  “They needed labor. They took it off the streets of the Quarter. Men they thought no one would miss.”

  “Until a certain lady reporter came along,” Ray said. “Now what?”

  “We’ve got two options. Waste a full day going back to headquarters to put together a team and take the risk that Patterson will get wind of what’s going on, or we do this the old-fashioned way.”

  “Just like the old days, huh?”

  “We should be able to take the guards. Four of them, two of us.”

  “Odds change if they’ve all got those ultraviolet-generating gadgets you ran into in the tunnels,” Ray pointed out.

  “We’ve got this little thing called an element of surprise working for us. They aren’t expecting trouble, and they sure as hell aren’t expecting it to come at them from above.”

  “Probably more guards inside the building,” Ray warned.

  “If we work fast, they won’t know anything has happened outside until it’s too late.”

  “Right.” Ray took another look through the glasses. “Just out of curiosity, have we got a contingency plan?”

  “Sure
. A strategic retreat.”

  “Pretty basic sort of contingency plan,” Ray observed.

  “Usually the best kind. No way they can track us in the jungle. Their locators are useless. Doubt if they’d even try.”

  “But they’d probably manage to make all the evidence disappear while we’re busy retreating. The cheap labor as well. If we start this, we’d better finish it.”

  “That’s how we’ve always done things,” Fontana said.

  Ray slithered along the wide tree limb and disappeared into the mass of psi-green leaves. Fontana crawled out along his own limb until he found a place where he could transfer to another one that was even larger and closer to his targets.

  When he was within range, he pulled dark light, working hard and fast. The whirling waves of night coalesced quickly here in the jungle.

  He selected the nearest guard and sent the night ghost toward him from behind. At the last instant the man must have sensed the hot energy, because he tensed and started to turn around.

  “Hey, Tony, you feel anything—?” he began.

  He never finished the sentence. The dark whirlpool brushed against the back of his head. He jerked violently and crumpled, unconscious.

  “Shit, Mac.” The other man started forward. “What’s wrong?”

  Then he saw the whirling waves of night. He tried to run, but it was too late. The night fire touched him on the shoulder, a dark ghost come calling. He went down.

  The other two guards had begun to realize that there was a problem. One of them raised a small device, but while he was trying to decide where to aim it, Ray’s ghost, a bolt of green lightning took him out. He went down. The generator fell from his hands. Fontana quickly singed the other guard.

  None of the guards had tried to rez their own ghosts, Fontana noted. They were Riders, not hunters.

  He dropped from the tree and ran toward the two men he had fried. Ray did the same with his own targets.

  Working fast and keeping an eye on the entrance to the ruin, they yanked knives, bats, and any amber they could find off the fallen men. Fontana found a key on one of the victims that looked like it could de-rez leg irons.

  When he straightened, he saw the four chained prisoners watching him with expressions that ranged from amazement to wide grins. He motioned them to silence. They were hunters. They took his order immediately.

  One of them jerked a finger toward the glowing entrance of the ruin and held up two fingers, indicating the number of guards inside the ruin.

  Fontana tossed the key to the nearest prisoner and took up a position on one side of the opening. Ray flattened himself on the opposite wall.

  Two more prisoners emerged from the building, leg chains rattling. They saw the downed guards and halted for a couple of seconds in confusion. One of the other four prisoners outside beckoned to them and made a zipping motion across his mouth.

  The two men seemed to get the message immediately, just as the other four had. They started toward their companions.

  Sensing something amiss, one of the two remaining guards came to the narrow entrance. He saw the four guards on the ground. Instead of retreating into the relative safety of the ruin, he leaped to a false assumption.

  “You stupid juicers,” he snarled at the prisoners, “you think you can get away with this? In case you haven’t figured it out, you can all be replaced. Lots more where you came from.”

  He never noticed the shimmer of dark light in the air beside him, never saw Fontana and Ray.

  He jerked once and dropped to the ground. Fontana grabbed the generator. Ray moved through the entrance, low and fast. There was a muffled shout. Green energy flashed once inside the alien structure, and then there was silence.

  Ray reappeared. “All clear. Wait’ll you see what’s inside this place.”

  “Any more of these gizmos?” Fontana asked, holding up the two generators.

  “No.”

  One of the hunters had succeeded in freeing himself from the leg irons. He handed the key to another man and limped toward Fontana and Ray. When he got closer it was clear that he was shivering; not from reaction, Fontana realized, but from a high fever.

  “You’re Fontana, ain’t you?” he wheezed. “Heard ’em talkin’ about the new boss.”

  “I’m Fontana. Who are you?”

  “Arnie Lewis.” Arnie broke off, coughing. When he recovered, he looked at the device, grimacing. “Nasty gadgets. You can set ’em for high, medium, or low. Low setting knocks a man unconscious for a few hours. Worse yet, it zaps your psi senses for at least two, sometimes three days. Makes it impossible to rez any ghost light. They used those things on us every forty-eight hours to make sure none of us could surprise ’em with some green fire.”

  Fontana studied the generator. “What do the other settings do?”

  “Medium puts you into a coma.” Arnie shrugged. “Sometimes you come out of it. Sometimes you don’t. High kills you flat-out dead. They were fixing to use it on me in a day or two because I’m getting too sick to be of any use. Don’t have what you’d call a top-notch Guild medical plan down here.”

  Fontana looked at the four fallen men. “All of these guys are Riders?”

  “Yeah,” Arnie said.

  “How many of those ultraviolet generators are floating around?” Fontana asked.

  “From what we can tell, they found six of them when they opened up this place. There’s always two down here with the bastards who watch the bottling crew. The other two go with the sons of ghosts who guard the transport team. They’re on their way back to the surface now. In between times they use those two to pick up fresh labor.”

  Ray looked at Fontana. “Probably the same two they used to ambush you in the tunnels.”

  “That’s four,” Fontana said. “What about the other two?”

  A second man had unlocked his chains. His greasy, shoulder-length hair was tied back with a leather thong. Like the others, his clothes were ragged and filthy. But his eyes were clear and steady.

  “I’ve been keeping track,” he said. “The Riders have four in all. It was part of the deal Jenner cut with the gang. We’re sure that Jenner himself kept one generator. Don’t know what happened to it after he died, though.”

  “That’s five,” Fontana said. “What about the sixth?”

  The man looked at the others. They all shook their heads.

  Fontana examined the device. “Can anyone activate one of these things, or does it take a special kind of psi talent?”

  “Anyone who can rez a toaster can use one of those damn ray guns,” one of the men said. “The Riders love’em. Said it meant that for the first time folks who couldn’t work ghost light had some real firepower underground. Said it meant that the Guild no longer had a monopoly down here.”

  “The generators work aboveground, too,” one of the men added.

  “I know,” Fontana said. “Found that out the hard way. We’re going to have to find the rest of these things as fast as possible. But first we have to get Arnie some medical attention and secure this place. Then we have to make arrangements with the Crystal police to pick up the transport team.”

  The rest of the hunters, freed of their restraints, gathered around.

  “So you’re Fontana?” The man with the tied-back hair surveyed him closely.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m Tanner. Jake Tanner.”

  “Glad to meet you. The Guild owes you. If you hadn’t left those coordinates in that miniature dressing room, we’d still be searching for all of you.”

  Jake grinned. “I was living in a juice dream at the time, but I figured that if I went missing like the others, Elvis and Sierra would get someone to come looking for me. Never expected them to send the big boss, himself.”

  A SHORT TIME LATER FONTANA STOOD WITH RAY AND Jake inside the alien ruin. Together they studied the five tall, ethereally graceful green quartz fountains that occupied the space. Each fountain was surrounded by a wide pool of sparkling,
effervescent, psi-green water. There was so much hot psi in the chamber that the hair on the nape of Fontana’s neck lifted. All of his senses were rezzed.

  “What do you suppose the aliens did with the waters from those fountains?” Ray asked softly.

  Jake shrugged. “Maybe they used it for the same reason I did.”

  “Why did you use the juice?” Fontana asked.

  “To see things,” Jake said. “Incredible things.”

  Chapter 31

  “SORRY TO SURPRISE YOU LIKE THIS,” NICK BURNS SAID. “I can see that Fontana hasn’t told you much about his family.”

  “We haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other,” Sierra said, choosing her words cautiously. “Ours was what you might call a whirlwind courtship. As I recall, he said something about not having any family.”

  Nick exhaled wearily. “You could probably be married to him for fifty years and not hear anything about us, at least not from him.”

  They were sitting in the small conference room adjacent to the newsroom. The door was closed for privacy, but Sierra could see her colleagues through the windows. They all appeared to be hard at work, but she knew that you could hear a pin drop in the outer room. Everyone was straining so hard to eavesdrop it was a wonder people weren’t falling out of their chairs. The only one who appeared unconcerned was Elvis. He was in his balloon basket, floating toward the coffee-and-doughnuts table.

  She lowered her voice. “Maybe you should wait until Fontana is back in his office. He’s a little busy at the moment.”

  “I know. I went to Guild headquarters first. He’s been ignoring my phone calls for a couple of weeks. I hoped to catch him off guard. But his executive assistant told me that he was unavailable.”

  “He’s away on Guild business,” she said somberly.

  “Look, I’ll be honest with you, there’s a good chance he won’t give me the time of day when he does get back from wherever it is he went. That’s why I came here to see you.”

  “I really don’t think he would refuse to see someone from his own family,” she said quickly.