The Purloined Pictograph

by Terry Marchion

  Tremain shook his head.

  "I had no idea. She even had a spy in my lab." He scratched his head, his eyes going wide. "I really need to screen my interns better." He shook himself and brushed past the senator. "Right. Let's end this, shall we?"

  Chapter 15

  Tremain walked out from behind the rocks. His face was grave, his hands held in front of him, gesturing for calm. Aziza's grip tightened on the handle of the gears.

  "Don't come any closer, Tremain." She shouted. "I will activate this weapon!"

  He stopped, nodding.

  "I have no doubt you will." He put his hands down. "But what will you be activating? Do you know what that is? What it does?" He shook his head. "No, you don't." He took a step or two closer. She tensed her arm, the gear rotating slightly. He stopped.

  "I will do it!" She yelled at him, her face contorting in rage. "Don't play games!"

  "Fine." He looked at her with pity. "Do it." The soldiers glanced up at Tremain. Marcus started to protest, but he stopped with a wave from Tremain. His eyes never left Aziza's. "Go ahead, Zee. Activate it. Let's see if you can really do it. Kill me, kill everyone here. Who knows, you may sterilize this half of the continent." He took another few steps towards her, daring her with his actions. Christopher held his breath. "Go ahead, Zee."

  Aziza stared at Tremain, her eyes both defiant and pleading. Without breaking eye contact, she gave a hard push to the gear, sending it turning.

  The vine Tremain had installed in the mechanism pulled taut. The soldiers stepped back as a grinding sound grew to deafening proportions. The ground underneath their feet shuddered with unseen forces. Aziza's eyes were wild as the gears picked up speed. She gave them another push, then turned to Tremain with a triumphant smile on her face.

  "Say your goodbyes." she yelled, her voice thick with emotion. The rumbling increased. The soldiers broke rank, running back to the relative safety of the cliffs. Openings appeared in the rock face in regular intervals. Tremain didn't flinch.

  A roaring sound emanated from the fresh gashes in the rocks. Christopher imagined every sort of horror that could be coming through those orifices, every sort of death known to man, frightened of the ones that were unknown. His worry was cut short, however, when the apertures released their contents.

  Water spewed from each vent in the rock face, arching across and over the valley. The purpose of the tumbles of rocks became apparent. The structures that were intact received the emanations from two or three of the water streams, quickly over-filling and flooding over the sides. Troughs, which weren't readily visible at first, filled with the spill-over, creating torrents of water that streamed around them.

  Aziza stared in shock. Above the rushing of the water came another sound. Laughter. She whirled around to see Tremain bowled over, hands clutching his middle, laughing uncontrollably. He pointed at her and erupted in more hysterical laughing.

  His laughter finally running its course, he caught his breath, gasping out;

  "You . . . should . . . have . . . seen . . . your . . . face!" He took a deep shuddering breath and grinned at her. Her face filled with rage and fury.

  "You knew this would happen." She yelled at him. Tremain nodded.

  "Yep. I had it figured out just after we saw it." He glanced around. "Pretty obvious when you think about it, what with water over there and pipes . . .” His sharp gaze pierced her. "The Mayflower people were peaceful. They had no need of weapons like you imagined. They were hunters, farmers, engineers." His hands swept the valley. "You activated their irrigation system. What did you think this was going to be?" He pointed at her. "Your single-minded, myopic viewpoint blinded you to the facts staring you in the face. You're finished." His words hung in the air. Aziza hung her head, Leesa clinging to her.

  "Mom . . . Use it." She held out a small device. It looked like a white baton, a green button at the end. Tremain's eyes widened as he saw it. Fear once again gripped his chest.

  "Aziza. That's not what I think it is?" Her hand closed around the device and triumph gleamed in her eyes.

  "You didn't think I wouldn't have an escape plan, Tremain?" She held up the device, the button illuminated in the sun. "Thanks to my daughter, and by proxy, you, I have my own transmitter." The fear that had gripped him twisted again. He grimaced. The old plans in the lab that had gone missing. Leesa had stolen them.

  "Don't push that button, Zee." Panic filled his voice. "Those plans were seriously flawed." He held his hands in front of her, pleading. "There's a reason they were to be thrown out. If you push that button, I don't know that you'll survive the trip." He took a step or two forward. His words had an effect on her. She looked at the button, doubt in her eyes. She glanced at Leesa, who looked up at her mother, eyes wide. She shook her head as if to say she didn't know. Aziza stood up straight, the button held out in front of her. She shook her head and laughed.

  "You didn't think I would fall for that, Tremain?"

  "We tested it!" Leesa shouted from behind her mother. Tremain stood, hands at his sides, water dripping from his face from the spray still spewing around them. He looked at her with sad eyes.

  "Did you test it on a live subject?" The look in their eyes was answer enough. "No. I would never try to deceive you, Zee. I'm in earnest. Push that button and you'll die." She hesitated, looked beyond to see Senator Marcus and Christopher coming up to Tremain, Christopher's eyes wide and his face pale. He shook his head at them, mouthing "don't do it" at them. Aziza held the button, not sure if she should believe Tremain. Leesa took the decision away from her.

  "To hell with this, Mom." She sneered and closed her hand over her mother's. Aziza had time to look up in fear as a coruscating light enveloped them.

  Tremain looked on, not blinking. The light surrounding the women started to fade, taking them with it, but then it hitched. There was a flicker, a skip. The light grew dim, then bright again, the figures inside looking different, distorted. Tremain took a gasping breath. The light skipped again, and again. With each hiccup in the light, the figures looked less and less recognizable. Then it, and they, were gone. Nothing remained but a dark burn mark on the stones where Aziza and Leesa had stood. Tremain's head dropped.

  "Goodbye." His whisper silent amid the sound of the falling water.

  Epilogue

  Tremain stood in his empty lab, staring at the transmitter. He ran his hands over the sides, feeling the coolness of the metal. The casing gleamed, the last remaining panel having been recently installed. He'd just heard from Senator Marcus. The audit of the Tyndall Foundation had concluded, the board having been found completely innocent of any wrong-doings. Aziza and her daughter seemed to be the beginning and the end of the criminal element. They were still trying to track down the warehouse where Christopher had been imprisoned. Presumably, that was where the flawed transmitter would be found as well.

  Christopher came in from the kitchen, a plated sandwich held in each hand. He glanced at his uncle's desk. For once it was clean and bare, save one item. An old beat-up notebook was open on it. Christopher recognized his uncle’s handwriting, with a passage or two written in a more feminine hand.

  "Ah. I see you anticipated me,” Tremain exclaimed as he spied the sandwiches. Grabbing one and leaving his nephew holding the plate, he took a huge bite. Chewing loudly, he sat down on a lab table, pushing aside some clutter. He grimaced, then pulled out from the pile a plate with a shriveled item on it. Upon closer examination it appeared to be the dessicated remains of a sandwich. "So that's where that one went." He turned his head and grimaced as he dumped it, plate and all, into the nearest garbage pail. Christopher sat next to the desk, eating with less abandon than his uncle.

  "Are you doing ok, Uncle?" He asked.

  Tremain gave a weak smile.

  "I'll be fine." He answered through a mouthful of food. "Seeing her again brought back many memories." He barked out a short laugh. "Most of them good." He gestured to the desk and the notebook. "I've been reviewing my old noteb
ooks and notes. Aziza had a brilliant mind at one time. Makes me wonder what she could have done with it."

  The computer behind Christopher gave a loud series of chimes, making him jump. Tremain rushed over to it.

  "It's Hollis." he said. "He's been updating me on their findings at the dig site." He stood up. "They've uncovered almost the entire settlement. Seems the Mayflower people lived in the valley, only coming up to hunt and scout. They've found utensils, cooking implements, all sorts of things." He gave his nephew a wink. "And not a single weapon of any kind." He stared at the images on the screen. "There's only one thing that's been bothering me,” he mused.

  "What would that be?" Christopher asked, shoving the last bit of food in his mouth. Tremain's sandwich sat to the side, on the bare table, only a few bites taken from it.

  "The puzzle rooms, the maze, the structures down in the valley. Hollis has found a whole network of tunnels and caverns constructed the same way. Some of those seemed much older than a few hundred years. They seemed thousands of years old, older than our presence here on the planet." He looked over at his nephew. "If the Mayflower people didn't build those things, who did?" He stared at the images on his screen. "Who indeed?"

  Dear Reader

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read The Purloined Pictograph.

  If you think things got hairy for Tremain and Christopher in this book, just wait until you see what what I have planeed for them. Visit me at www.terrymarchion.com, click on the contact page and follow the instructions for signing up to my list. I don’t spam you or sell your email. We’re friends!

  If you have yet to read any of the other adventures, Tremain and Christopher have had (and why haven’t you?) – they can be found on Amazon, just follow these links:

  The Missing Yesterdays:

  http://getbook.at/TheMissingYesterdays

  The Wrath of the Revenant:

  http://getbook.at/wrath

  Thanks so much once again – and if you want to be super mega awesome, please consider leaving a review – I very much appreciate it!

  Terry

  About the Author

  Terry Marchion lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with his wife, daughters and a lovable black lab. He once had dreams of being an astronaut, baseball player, Starfleet captain and Jedi knight, but reality hit so he settled on being a graphic designer. Throughout his life, though, he’d always written stories. Most were bad. Very, very bad. But some, like what you’ve just read, had promise. If you liked it, please leave a review. He promises to read each and every one. To get a free short story, join the club at: www.terrymarchion.com

  Acknowledgments

  Each work is a collaboration between individuals, the author being only one cog in the great machine. This book is no different. I have two people to thank for making my word-salad sound somewhat intelligent: Angelique Marchion and Mandy Walkden-Brown. Without their hard work reading my initial drafts, this wouldn’t be half as enjoyable as it is. I also have to thank my beta-readers. Their feed-back is awesome and much appreciated.

  Most of all, the ones who need the most thanking are my family. My wife, Pam, who puts up with my silliness (and a whole lot more, trust me on this) and my daughters, Annie and Molly, who also have had to deal with me and my antics.

  I have had tons of encouragement from my fellow author friends, many of whom I’ve met online in various facebook groups. Your help and advice keeps me sane.

  Thanks for reading! Please add a short review where you purchased this book and let me know what you thought!