"I think Hollis would be happy to spend the rest of his career exploring these ruins." He said. He turned in a large circle, taking it all in. "These timbers are enormous!" He ran over and felt one. "Slick, like it's been treated with something to keep the rot out." He wiped his hand on his shirt. "Makes sense. These buildings have been standing for what I would imagine is a very long time, centuries or more." He wandered around the carved columns, noting the pictographs, similar to what he'd seen before. He noticed Aziza looking at the carvings in another column. Noticing a cobblestoned path of sorts that was overgrown with moss and creeping vines, Tremain saw something that made him freeze. A stone or brick that seemed to be a border of some sort, almost completely covered by grass had a set of pictographs chiseled in its face. A hand, a swirl of lines, followed by a burst. Another brick was turned over next to it. Tremain nudged it with his shoe, turning it back upright so he could read the pictograph. It was a crude arrow, pointing away from the mountain. He looked away, in the direction the arrow was pointing, only to realize Aziza had been watching him the entire time. The look on her face was eager, almost enraptured. Her hand held the gun pointed directly at him.
Chapter 12
Christopher stopped and stared at the entrance in the rock wall. Vines had been pushed aside to make the opening more visible. He could see the stone was firmly back in place.
He stood there for what seemed like a long time. He knew he had to help his uncle. He wanted to help, but his feet wouldn't move. He took a deep breath and gathered himself.
He pushed at the stone. It moved inward much easier than last time, swinging to the side to reveal drifts of sand covered in footprints. Snapping on his flashlight, he stood at the entrance and examined the interior. He was breathing faster, his adrenaline kicking in as he realized what had possibly happened. He coughed in the dry, flinty atmosphere. In the pictures from the tablet, there was no sand, so obviously a trap had been sprung. That coupled with the wooden shafts that had impaled the goon made him hesitate.
What other traps are there that have yet to be encountered? He gulped hard as his flashlight beam found the entrance to the second room. He could make out the shape of a dirty hand sitting in the opening, not moving.
Christopher cautiously walked over to the doorway and shone his flashlight from the hand up the arm to see the face of the goon, eyes closed. The wooden shaft sticking out from his chest shifted with each breath. Good, he was still alive, Christopher thought. He had passed out. The wound glistened with blood in the flashlight beam.
Christopher gave a shuddering breath and looked around the room. There was an entrance on the other side, but he hesitated to follow it. He didn't want to leave his uncle to any other traps, but he also knew he must be well behind the others. There had to be a way to circumvent the hazards. In a flash, he realized one of the items he had shoved into his bag.
He quickly unslung the duffel and rummaged inside until he pulled out the "gun". It was what his uncle had used to look through things. Christopher hoped it worked here too. Backing out into the first room, Christopher unrolled the tablet, pointed the gadget at the wall and pulled the trigger. On the screen, an image of the rock wall appeared, then slowly faded to reveal the white room beyond it. That too, faded away to show more rock beyond that. Christopher couldn't make out what it all was, but he knew it couldn't be anything easy. So far, it seemed, whoever had built this . . . place, was intent on making people work hard to get through. He pointed the gadget at the sides of the wall, left first.
Nothing but rock.
To the right, there was more stone, but then he saw something else. Another room. Another trap? He followed the image until it ended at the wall in front of him. He walked over to it, the painted images on this wall slightly different than all the rest. He realized the images had a sort of geometric shape when seen as a whole. They outlined a hidden doorway.
He pushed at the stone, which hesitated at first, then slid away to reveal a dark corridor. Christopher pointed his flashlight into the darkness. A stone corridor was revealed in the beam of his light. Christopher pulled the gun up and checked the tablet. No traps that he could see. Was this the way around them?
He stared into the gloom, the flashlight revealing nothing more. He thought about cobwebs, spiders, other insects, unknown imaginary horrors that could be waiting for him in there. He also thought about his uncle, at the mercy of that woman and her men. His uncle who was facing this all without him. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath, let it out, and entered the corridor.
He didn't hear Leesa enter the sand room, following him.
Chapter 13
Christopher followed the corridor as it threaded its way through the mountain. It seemed almost a straight shot. He almost stumbled as he reached a small set of stairs, which ended in another long stretch of corridor, curving to the right, then back to the left. All the while, he kept his eyes trained ahead, the flashlight always moving. In his mind, he saw all sorts of horrors lying in wait for him, just looking for a teenager-sized snack. Not that he expected to see any of those things, but when you're in a dark underground corridor, your imagination does tend to work overtime.
Twice during his journey, he thought he heard a scuffing behind him, but when he turned, there was nothing there. He shook his head, thinking his imagination was playing tricks with the echoes of his own footsteps. He stumbled over a loose stone on the floor and almost lost his balance. Regaining his composure, he noticed the light was brighter. He rounded the next curve and saw the end of the corridor. A stone archway bordered the exit from the mountain. Through the trunks of trees, late afternoon sunlight bounced off the stone walls. He jogged to the exit and peered out. What he saw took his breath away.
Two large trees had grown on either side of the archway, almost blocking the exit. He squeezed through to find himself on an old path. The walkway before him was almost completely covered by fallen leaves. Creeping vines snaked among the cobblestones which the path had been constructed with. To his left, built out of the wall of rock, was what could only be described as a temple.
Vines and roots had partially obscured the structure over the years. Wooden beams, strong and thick jutted out of the roof, which was covered in mossy shingles. Thick wooded columns supported the joists, each one carved with ornate pictographs. Christopher stopped to run his hands over the carvings, awed at the grandeur of it all. Directly above him was a balcony of sorts, the wooden railing missing in many spots, but much of it still standing. He wondered what it would have been like to live here. What would he find if he explored? He snapped pictures with his uncle's tablet, just in case he didn't get that chance.
While he admired the ruins, he kept an ear open for sounds of his uncle and Aziza. Only hearing the jungle around him, he assumed the corridor had bypassed whatever other hazards there were in the mountain. He must have arrived here before the others. Good, he thought, it will give me time to plan what to do.
He had to find this weapon, or whatever it was, before the others arrived.
Turning away from the ruins of the temple, he carefully followed the path downhill, towards the sound of rushing water. As he approached, the sound steadily increased. Through the trees, Christopher could see a gap. The path curved away, but he kept walking towards the roar of water. He came to a drop-off, the chasm wider than he could easily jump. About twenty feet below him was the source of the noise. A rushing torrent of water spewed from a natural vent in the mountain and flowed away into a roiling river. He could see moss encrusted pipes jutting from the sides of the rock face and curving down into the water. The other side of the chasm, he could see, was a mass of hanging roots, vines and more thick jungle. With no way to cross, he turned back to the path and continued on his way.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he hoped he would see something that would stand out. Huge piles of stone, what may have been structures at one time, had tumbled across the walkway and became obstacles that he had to e
ither climb around or over. As he scrambled over one, something caught his eye. A stone beam, roughly six feet long stretched from the pile of rubble he was clambering over to a wooden construct. The beam itself wouldn't have been interesting, but for the pictographs chiseled into it. He saw a series of hands, a swirl, and a burst of lines. The pattern was repeated down the length of the stone. He gasped as the realization hit him. The weapon! Looking around, he tried to discern what the weapon was, or what it did, but all he could see was the wooden and metal scaffold that the piles of stone were crumbled around.
There were voices coming from behind him, back in the direction of the temple. While he couldn't make out any words, he could recognize his uncle's voice. He had to figure out what to do. If he were caught here by Aziza's goons, he'd be no help to his uncle at all. Looking around frantically, he spied another fallen stone structure just beyond the wooden scaffolding. He hefted his pack and heard the rattle of the nano blocks as they shifted around. Looking at the wooden contraption and back to the pile of stones, his eyes grew wide. He had an idea.
Chapter 14
Tremain stood, his hands instinctively raising. She gestured towards the path.
"We're going to find this weapon." She said in a low voice, one which brooked no argument. Tremain sighed and walked in front of her, acutely aware of the gun in her hand.
The background hiss of rushing water became a roar as they approached the drop-off. Tremain spared a glance to see the water gushing from the rock face, which curved away from them, across the ravine. The trees and vines were thick and hung over the side, making the footing treacherous. At a gesture from Aziza, Tremain kept on walking, coming around a large pile of rubble. He saw the construct and stopped. Aziza came up behind him.
"Why are you stopping?" She growled. Seeing the contraption in front of them, she quickly scanned the stones, looking for pictographs. Finding the repeated pattern at the base of the construct, she beamed. "This is it. I've found it." She quickly gave it a once-over, her confusion apparent.
"Can't figure out how to turn it on?" Tremain taunted her, sitting on a stone that had a conveniently flat side. She ignored him, seeing stone, metal and wood, but not understanding what she was looking at. She whirled on him, her eyes blazing. The gun came up to point at him again.
"You will help me." She commanded. "Get this working."
Tremain slowly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants.
"We don't even know how it's supposed to work, or if it'll work at all." He said calmly. He pointed to the structure. "We aren't even sure what it's supposed to do."
She grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the stone border, pointing towards the pictographs.
"This is the weapon!" she shouted as she pushed him towards it. "Figure out how it works or so help me, I'll use this." She brandished the gun. Tremain stared at her for a moment, as if he were gauging her sincerity, then turned to the contraption.
It was built into the stone of the mountain, the treated wooden pieces emerging from holes in the rock. He walked over to the edge and peered down, careful to keep hold of something, lest he fall. The spray from the rushing water was thick as fog, but he could see pipes coming from the water. Glancing at Aziza, he followed the line of the pipes as they entered the rock. He scratched his head, then went back to the wheel.
It was connected to an ingenious set of pulleys and gears, some of which was still intact. He could see right away where a rope or belt would have to go to link everything together. He grabbed a vine from the rock face and gave it a yank. It pulled free from the structure easily. He tied the ends together and fitted it to the pulleys and gears, replacing the few that had fallen.
The wood was in amazing shape, considering how long it had been sitting here untended to. All the wood had been treated with the same oily substance as the columns and the door of the storeroom. Tremain had a new-found respect for the ingenuity of the Mayflower people. Aziza watched all of this quietly, her gaze intense and unwavering.
Christopher spied on his uncle from his hiding place. Checking his tablet, he re-read the message from Senator Marcus that help would be here soon. He needed to stall for time. He half stood and shouted down towards the weapon.
"Don't touch it, Uncle -- I've rigged it to blow!"
Tremain's head whipped up at the sound.
"Christopher?" He walked a few steps towards the sound, but was blocked by Aziza. She held her gun at the ready. There was a scrabbling sound, and a figure dashed out towards them.
"Mom!"
Aziza whirled around. Tremain's mouth dropped open when he recognized the figure.
"Leesa?" He mouthed. His intern? He glanced at Aziza. Mom? As the realization hit him, he suddenly understood. Leesa had been Aziza's spy in the lab, feeding information to her mother. Leesa had stolen the pictograph. Leesa had injured Jenkins. He stood in astonishment as the two embraced. Seeing the two together, he could finally see the resemblance. He hadn't noticed it before, as he and Aziza hadn't seen each other in years. He had no reason to suspect a thing. He felt like a fool.
"She's your daughter?" Tremain had found his voice.
Aziza turned her head to look at him, her eyes mocking.
"The best thing that my husband," she fairly spat out the word, "ever gave me."
Leesa took the gun from her mother's hand.
"I followed that idiot," she waved her hand in the direction of Christopher's voice, "after he escaped me. He didn't think anyone could follow him with the transmitter, but he didn't realize I knew where I was going. Hold on, I'm going to take care of this." She took aim, and pulled the trigger.
Tremain had time to look up and see a figure behind the rocks. His face went white and fear clutched at his heart like a fist.
"Christo . . .” The deadly beam of energy hit the figure and the stones next to it. There was a flash of light, a thunderclapping sound, a cry of alarm and pain that was cut short. The dust cleared to show the top of the pile of stones had been cleanly blown away. Tremain's eyes went wide.
"CHRISTOPHER! NOOOO!" He fell to his knees. Aziza walked over to him. He looked up at her, his eyes full of despair. "What am I going to tell his mother?" He said in a small voice. His face hardening, he stood, coming right up to her, nose to nose. "Is this what you had intended, Aziza? Kill everyone who gets in your way? What did my nephew ever do to deserve that?!" The anger and grief overwhelming him. "Considering our history, why am I still alive then?" He whirled on Leesa, her eyes wide at the destruction she caused. "And you . . ." he stopped as she raised the gun at him, then kept walking forward. "Is life that worthless to you? Has she tainted your soul so much that you can so easily end someone else's existence?" He walked right up to the girl, his eyes locked onto hers, then closed his hand around the gun. He pulled it away from her trembling hand easily, then whirled and threw it as hard as he could over the edge of the ravine.
Aziza watched all this in silence, then beckoned to her daughter, who scurried into her mother's embrace.
"We're done with you anyway, Tremain." She said, a coldness in her voice. She cocked her head as another sound became audible; the drone of engines. Her eyes darted back to Tremain. "Looks like your cavalry is arriving. I'd better prepare their reception!" She took Leesa's arm and they went over to the gears.
Tremain watched as they walked away, his shoulders sagging in despair. He turned to the still smoking stones. Slowly, he walked over to them, not wanting to see the aftermath, but knowing he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he rounded the pile . . .
To see nothing. Of course. The energy would have vaporized whatever it hit. He saw a duffel sitting by a tree, just beyond the stones. He walked over to it and sat down, his hands cradling the pack. He lifted it and heard a rattle. Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of silver cubes, as his eyes started to fill with tears. There was a rustling next to him and a figure sat down at his left.
"I'm afraid the rest of those are toast, uncle." Tremain barely
heard the voice, but he took in a shuddering breath as he whirled to see Christopher, alive and well, a small grin on his face. The cubes and pack tossed aside, Tremain grabbed his nephew and pulled him into a tight embrace, relief flooding him. Just as suddenly, he pushed himself away, studying the teenager.
"So Leesa shot at what she thought was you, but instead was . . .”
"The nano blocks!" Christopher finished, holding up and shaking the tablet. The image on the screen was of a figure of himself, controlling the blocks' form. He juggled it a little as his uncle smothered him in another huge hug. Tremain pulled back, straightened his shirt and gave a sniff, getting himself under control.
"I thought I'd lost you." He said in a hoarse voice. "Your mother . . .” He trailed off.
Christopher's grin faded.
"Yeah. I get it." He took a glance over his shoulder. "Uncle, we have to stop them."
Tremain shook his head.
"They're going to stop themselves." He indicated the engine noise with a nod of his head. "The troops are arriving." Tremain stood up to see soldiers running over, guns drawn and trained on Aziza and her daughter. Senator Marcus strode behind them. He caught a glimpse of Tremain and Christopher.
Aziza calmly put her hand to the gears.
"STOP!" she yelled. The soldiers halted, their guns never wavering. "I will activate this weapon if you come any closer!" Her voice carried through the area, echoing off the rock walls. Marcus slowly walked over to Tremain.
"Are you hurt?" He asked in a low voice. He turned to Christopher. "Thanks for the tip about the homing signal in that tablet. It helped us find you." Christopher nodded in acknowledgment. "We've arrested her men and freed the professor and his students." He cocked his head towards Aziza, her hand still on the handle of the gears. "What about her?" He asked. "Did you know she had financed this expedition?"
The Purloined Pictograph Page 8