by James Axler
“What are you trying to say here, Doc?” Ryan asked, even though he wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear what the old man might have to say.
“Simply this. There have been occasions throughout history when migrations to particular spots have occurred, either through the hand of man or spontaneously. Many of these sites have circles of stone associated with them. Now, I know that there have been many theories, many of them far more crazy than I am generally thought to be, but what if…what if there were some grain of truth in at least some of them? What if there is a thread that runs through these?”
“You know,” Mildred said, “I don’t know if this place is making me as crazy as you, but that makes a kind of sense. Religions always need gathering places, a focus of some kind. Without that, the worship—whatever form it takes—has no real power.”
“Exactly. Power is the key, my dear Doctor. What if they have been attracted to this place because it is a focus not only for their power, but of some other power? A beacon, if you will, for some other entity or force, something that will come to take them.”
“What exactly are you saying, Doc? ’Cause I’m not sure I like where this is going,” Ryan said slowly. “It sounds like it’s going outside of the kind of shit we can deal with just with blasters and our wits.”
Doc sighed. “I fear it may be, my dear Ryan. That fool we dealt with last night was babbling on about the stars being in alignment. But alignment for what? Of course, all the major religions of the predark times had some affinity with the stars as a means of explaining the great beyond—that which is beyond explanation in essence…” He looked at Ryan’s baffled expression and laughed. “Forgive me. I speak aloud what I should be thinking. I should not speak until I have a conclusion, but…I fear to voice what I think will happen.”
“Doc, I think I’m with you, but I don’t want to be,” Mildred said softly. “I’m thinking about the dinosaurs and something I read once. Place in the east, too…Tunguska…must’ve been around the start of the last century before the nukecaust. Caused about as much damage as a single nuke, too. Why there, that was the question. Was it just chance?”
“I think not,” Doc said solemnly. “I fear that there are certain markers beneath the land. Perhaps it is some natural thing that we cannot understand, or perhaps they were put there by someone we cannot comprehend when the earth was young. Why else would sacred sites always be in the same places, no matter what the belief at any time in history? And this place? Why would a society build a place so beautiful and then just disappear for no apparent reason?”
“Unless they were taken,” Ryan said quietly. “He said that they needed energy, that’s why they had the young. Energy for it to feed…”
“Or for it to use as a homing signal on the beacon,” Mildred finished. “This is real bad. No wonder weird shit has been happening. No wonder we all feel so edgy. And it’s happening today.”
“Great.” Ryan swore as he moved to look out the window at the city beginning to wake. “As if it wasn’t going to be hard enough getting our guys back, now it looks like we’ve got to do it before some fucking space laser fries our asses.”
* * *
“DARK NIGHT, I wish they’d let us get on with finding the others and get rid of them,” J.B. grumbled as he, Krysty and Jak were led in front of the fat man by Delroy. As with the previous day, they found that the fat man was presiding over a meeting of elders. All gathered in the ornately carved room were looking intently at them as the fat man spoke.
“So, have you found them?”
“Not yet,” Krysty snapped. “They took out your men, which is no real surprise, and you sent us down there too late to catch them.”
“What do you mean, too late?” the fat man asked. “Did you check the place you told us about?”
“Of course not.” Krysty sighed. “They wouldn’t go back there. There was evidence that they had questioned one of your men, and that they headed back up here.”
“What?” The fat man’s voice rose—partly in anger and partly to be heard over the mutterings of discontent from the elders around him. “You mean that they are here?”
“Looks likely,” J.B. stated. “It’s what we’d do, too. Truth is, we were about to start searching for them when you hauled us in here. If you want us to do as you ask, then you should let us get the hell on with it.”
The look on the fat man’s face showed his displeasure at being spoken to in such a manner, but he held his tongue. There were greater measures at stake than his pride.
“Very well,” he said in a strangled tone as he attempted to rein in his temper. “Go find them. The preparations are under way. Time is short. They must not interfere. You chill on sight, understand?”
“Sure. What else,” Jak said coldly. He meant it. His thoughts were echoed by the other two companions who stood beside him. Yet inside, there was a part of each of them desperately fighting to overcome that feeling.
“Go, get out,” the fat man said dismissively, biting his lip. When they had gone, he faced a barrage of questions, fears and anxieties, gabbled so loud and so panicked that it was hard to just pick out one. He held up his hands. “It will be all right. We will achieve our goal. We have come too far for it to be any other way.”
Outside, the three companions caught the gist of the conversation as the door closed on them. Around them, and across the ledge, preparations were under way. In some senses, there was little to be done. The vast majority of the work had been completed by the previous day, and with the grand ascension set for the time when there was usually a sacrifice to the gods, there was no need to erect the altar. Despite that, the youth—unbidden by the elders who were still cloistered, but well schooled enough in their tasks—cleared the ledge, made last-minute adjustments to the path of painted symbols, and aligned the stones of the circle perfectly, building the construct so that not a pebble was out of place.
The ledge was, therefore, milling with people.
“Here somewhere, but where?” Jak mused.
“They must have gotten here before most of the kids were roused, so they’d be looking for somewhere that was empty,” J.B. reasoned. Then a sly grin crossed his face.
Krysty met his eye, and a smile crept across her own face. “Yeah…just about the only place that would be empty, right?”
With a renewed sense of purpose, they made their way through the crowds toward the room in one of the smaller palaces where they had been put on their arrival. It was the only place that they knew would have been empty when their former companions had climbed to the city. Empty because they had been down below on the canyon floor while everyone else was billeted for the hours of dark.
“Don’t take any chances,” J.B. said grimly as he shouldered and checked the mini-Uzi, setting it to short bursts.
“Don’t worry about that,” Krysty said as she made certain that the Smith & Wesson was cocked and loaded.
“Not expect us hit without talk,” Jak stated, a vulpine hunger showing on his otherwise bland, white features. “Got advantage.”
“So let’s use it,” J.B. said as he shouldered his way past the melee of young people. All three of them barged a path through the youth, who were so absorbed in their tasks that they appeared not to notice that they had been deflected in their path.
As they approached the building, Jak said, “Moved meat.” He waved at the shapeless cuts that now hung in view of the outside, obscuring the view inside. “Not there before.”
“Ryan, Ryan… What a giveaway.” J.B. chuckled. “Just what we’d do.”
The Armorer indicated that Jak should circle around a group of young women who were absorbed in painting on the ground. They would provide some kind of cover for him to come around so that he could take the window. Meanwhile, he and Krysty would take the door. He indicated to her tha
t she should approach at a crouch, to take the lower section of the room when the door was hit, while he would spray at head height. She indicated understanding.
They headed toward the door from an angle, so as to minimize any chance of being seen from the inside. Looking across, J.B. could see that Jak had made his approach in parallel, and was now in position. He took a breath and indicated to the albino teen that he should go…
In a blur of movement, the Armorer put a shoulder to the door to throw it open quickly. Despite its weight, it was on a smooth pivot and opened with ease as he straightened and began to fire across the expanse of the room. From below him, Krysty pumped shots into space. The roar of Jak’s Colt Python sounded as he crouched at the window space, using the ledge to pivot his own fire.
After several rounds, J.B. indicated that they cease, and he entered the room, whipping the SMG around so that anyone left standing would be caught in the arc.
“Dark night!” he cursed.
“What?” Krysty said as she followed him in. Then, as she took in the interior, she murmured, “Shit…”
“Where go?” Jak asked as he entered through the window.
J.B. shook his head. “I don’t know where the hell else they could have gone. There was nowhere that was empty. Fuck it, they must be around here someplace.” He kicked out at a pile of sacking on the floor, venting his fury.
* * *
“THIS IS VERY uncomfortable,” Doc whispered to Mildred, “but I think it is working.”
Mildred kissed her teeth. “You better hope it keeps working, Doc, otherwise we’re going to have to take on our own before we get them away from here.”
Doc nodded sagely. “I fear that their mesmeric influence is rather stronger than we could have wished for. It may come to something that we do not wish…but for the while, I thank Ryan for his idea and will try not to complain too much.”
With which he fingered the sacking that the three companions had used to camouflage their own clothes. Realizing that they were in a position where, although hidden, they were also sitting targets should they be discovered, they had opted to move out into the general populace of the city as soon as it stirred. They had agreed that their actions could be second-guessed by their friends, who knew them too well to be trusted while they were under a malign influence. So the best way to outwit them and try to gain the upper hand would be to simply do the opposite of what would be expected.
Thus, as soon as the young had started to crowd the area outside their hiding place, it seemed politic to slip out and join them, using their mass and movement as cover. They would be too noticeable and stand out too easily if they just moved as they were. But to use some of the old sacking to cover their usual clothes would enable them to hide in plain sight and blend more easily with the ill-dressed and ragged youth as they milled around. Would they be spotted as outsiders by anyone other than their erstwhile friends? If they stayed clear of the city elders, they figured that they were safe. The young were shuffling, brainwashed and addled automatons, moving only to the beat of the drum that had been planted in their skulls by the elders.
It was a calculated risk, and their boldness was repaid by the nonappearance of the elders. For whatever reason that may be, it was something for which they were thankful.
Their plan of action had been to move between the groups, to look as though they were taking part in any of the activities they had been close to, and to search for their companions.
That plan was soon challenged by the appearance of their friends. They emerged from one of the larger palaces with a mien of grim determination about them. Doc had been about to move toward them when he felt Ryan’s hand on his arm. It was a move that proved to be wise in view of their subsequent action. And now, as the three warriors watched, their former friends but now palpable enemies headed off to search the interiors of other palaces.
“How long before they figure we’re out here?” Mildred mused.
“As long as it takes them to comb the interiors, and that won’t be long. Question is, how do we tackle them? We can’t take them out, or leave them, but if they’re now against us…”
“They won’t hesitate to fire first and ask questions after, right?” Mildred said.
“Exactly,” Ryan said. “So how do we take them down and get them away without hurting them? We can try to break the hold once we’re clear, but…”
Doc looked up at the sky. “I fear we may have a more pressing concern than that,” he said softly. “That is no natural sun. Not unless there are two of them all of a sudden.”
Ryan and Mildred followed his gaze, and both cursed softly at the sight that greeted them. For it was as if the sun itself had grown a satellite, one that seemed to be growing with every second. Even as they watched, it grew in circumference. It was only marginally less bright than the orb it seemed to shadow, and would soon equal or exceed in size.
“What the fireblasted fuck is that?” Ryan asked.
“I would not assume to know,” Doc said hesitantly, “but I think it would be a fair guess that it is the vessel by which they hope to be taken to their better place. It is certainly fast, and considering the vast distance it may possibly have traveled—”
“How long have we got?” Mildred cut in.
“My dear Mildred, math is not my strong point,” Doc said. “I am not a physicist.”
“Neither am I, Doc, but I’m betting my math is better than yours,” Mildred mused. “At the rate it looks like it’s going, then I figure maybe a couple of hours at the outside.”
“Not that long. There’s no time to pussyfoot around them,” Ryan said. “We’re just going to have to take the firefight to them.”
“I rather feared that you would say that,” Doc said sadly. “I hope that we can make them see reason.”
“No time for that.” Ryan shook his head. “If only…”
* * *
“THE TIME HAS COME,” Gideon intoned as the elders prepared for their time of ascension. Once the three companions in thrall to them had been sent out to deal with the intruders, it had been relatively simple for the fat man to quell the fears of those left within the building. The young were preparing for the final ritual, as they had been directed, and it was simply a matter of three against three. What could they do to ruin the event that the city elders had worked so long and so hard for?
Within the building, while the world outside prepared in its own way, the elders began their own preparations for the event. Gideon intoned verses in the tongue that he had compiled from the many documents of old religions and beliefs that had been left behind by the original predark settlers. It was no wonder that Ryan and his people had been unable to make sense of it when they had first heard it several days previously. It wasn’t real language, but rather a bizarre amalgam of Sanskrit, Latin and Ancient Islamic tongues, spiced by the gnomic utterances purporting to be “Alien” languages as recorded by supposed UFO abductees, handed down through the generations.
While this continued, the elders anointed themselves with herbal mixtures and tinctures prepared by Martha. They dressed in robes that they had prepared and dyed over several months to be ready for the coming of the messenger, the one that would transport them to another world.
They knew this messenger was near. The air was beginning to crackle with static energy, superheated by a charged force that was beyond understanding. Although there was no rumble to betray a movement of the earth, small objects in the room began to rattle and hum as though an earthquake was taking place beneath them. This impression was then given lie by the fact that some of the objects began to levitate in the charged and changed atmosphere.
Not that the elders were aware of this. The art of self-hypnosis, the toxic effects of the herbs they had ingested or painted upon themselves, and the changed nature of the air around th
em had made them impervious to any of those things. All that they knew, once whipped up into an orgasmic frenzy by the rhythm and sound of the words intoned by the man who had shown them the path—and whom the changed nature of the air within the room had vindicated—was that their destiny was now upon them.
As the last notes of his intonation died away, they could hear the sounds of the young outside, echoing this chant, taken up as it had passed through the air and also into their minds by the escalating power of the elders’ mutie minds. They were ready to be led into the circle, to gather together and harness the power that would propel them to their destiny.
The elders rose to their feet, led by the fat man. His limp seemed miraculously to have diminished, as though the air was suddenly lighter and carried him upon it. He threw open the doors of the palace and led his people out to the young.
When the doors opened, neither Gideon nor any of the other elders truly saw the ledge as it was. The circle as it had been built, the path toward it as it had been painted so meticulously: all of that had vanished. They were there for the young, who used them as they had been taught to build up the power within themselves by the intensity of belief in the ritual. The groups of young snaked along the path, gradually reaching the circle as they chanted, crowding and jostling as they bunched into the stone outline, their bodies hot and sweaty, stinking of their dirt and also—miraculously—stinking of the beatific reverence with which they had been infused.
To the elders, the young weren’t people, but lines of energy and life, their separate physical bodies fading to nothing as the effects of the ritual and the changed atmosphere stripped away the corporeal plane and showed only the pure essence that would travel onward.
The sky was now unnaturally bright, the light approaching at a rate and range that seemed to fill all space. The sun was obscured, and all that filled the sky was the light from a distant star come to take its people home. The light was pure, and yet seemed to shimmer with life, flickering and shifting patterns of shapes that had no discernable form and yet were also unlike anything seen on this earth dancing in and out of the circle that was now so wide as to be nothing more than all-encompassing of the horizon. The heat was immense, and it felt as though any flesh left would be burned to the bone before the light had a chance to touch base with the earth and so diffuse itself.