by Kevin George
If you leave, you’ll end up dead, like Father probably is, he told himself, wondering if that would truly be so awful. He sighed, a thin puff of steam emitting from his face mask. He glanced toward the top of The Mountain, but the storm had reduced visibility so he couldn’t see the top. Even in the clearest weather conditions—which occurred so infrequently—he could barely see the highest level’s famed ledge, which his father used to brag so often about tossing failed experiments off of. Maybe Father got whatever he deserved. . .
Damon headed toward the embankment on the left, finding the path cut into it by the facility’s original builders. Snow covered the start of the path—most of the snow in large, fresh clumps—but it wasn’t long before Damon climbed over it and found the rocky steps and rusty railing. He climbed the steps, which were slick and smooth after years of being pounded by bad weather. If he slipped and slid down, he might suffer bruises and broken bones but would probably survive; if he slipped and slid off the side of the steps, he wasn’t likely to survive plunging down the side of the rocky mountain.
Damon gasped for breath once he reached the top of the steps. He entered an enclosed battlement carved into the side of the mountain, one of several that had been built for protective purposes during The Mountain’s earliest years. He didn’t know if they’d ever been needed, but he’d never seen any evidence that the facility had been attacked, at least by outside forces. The battlement’s floor was covered with a dusting of snow that entered open slots along the outer wall. Wind whistled through the openings, but most wintry weather was kept out, making it surprisingly quiet.
Damon walked to the nearest slot and lowered his face mask. From this height, he could see miles into the distance, miles of snowy emptiness. If he squinted hard enough, he could just make out the cracks in the snow, which seemed inconsequential from up so high. He came to the conclusion that the shaking ground must not have been as big a deal as he’d originally feared. Damon was about to return to ground level when his eye spotted something in the distance, a faint glow of orange among the infinite white. When he tried to focus on the glow, he lost sight of it in the blizzard and wondered if it had been there in the first place.
Then he spotted it again, two of them in fact, brighter than before, undoubtedly coming closer, but not very quickly. Before his father and Kap had snowmobiled away from The Mountain, they’d raved about a mysterious vehicle glowing orange in the distance. Now, Damon’s mind raced with the thought of this vehicle having answers about their whereabouts. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the walkie, calling for reinforcements to come outside immediately.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Damon stared through the scope of his rifle, sweeping it from one approaching vehicle to the other. They were small and moving steadily forward, but neither seemed to be in much of a rush. He thought he saw only a few passengers in each. Strange tubes were attached to both sides of the vehicles, and those tubes seemed to be filled with the orange glow making them easy to spot. Damon saw no immediate weaponry from either vehicle, but that didn’t mean the passengers were unarmed.
He lowered the rifle, using his own two eyes to scan the area between The Mountain and the vehicles. A trio of security trucks sped out to intercept them. Damon’s pulse raced in anticipation, but the two glowing vehicles stopped without incident. Guards streamed out of the truck, raising their guns as they surrounded the vehicles. Part of Damon wished he were out there with them, but he wanted to interact with the guards even less than he wanted to interact with strangers. He appreciated the solitude of the battlement, and he was more than happy that his conversation with the guards involved him giving orders and them following what he said.
If that fool Elias has the stomach to do what’s needed, Damon thought. He watched Elias Kim take charge of the guards and couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. Elias was technically third-in-command, not that Damon thought such a position should even exist. Walda regularly threatened Damon with bumping Elias higher in the line of command. Damon doubted she’d follow through on such a threat, but from what Walda told him, Elias had the respect of the entire guard force. Not that he’s ever dealt with real adversity.
High-pitched buzzing cut through the shrill wind. Damon’s smile faded as he turned his eyes skyward. The buzzing could only mean one thing, and he only needed a few seconds to spot a drone flying toward the vehicles. This was supposed to be his operation. His face flushed with anger at the thought of higher-ups spying on his job detail.
Want to see if I can handle trouble? Then watch this!
“Treat them like the hostiles they are!” Damon yelled into the walkie. “My father and Kap followed a vehicle just like theirs and never returned. Consider them armed and dangerous.”
“Copy that,” Elias responded.
Damon aimed his scope toward the action, where he found Elias and the guards waving wildly to passengers from both vehicles, gesturing for them to get out. The passengers did as they were told, holding their hands up in surrender. Four people emerged from the first vehicle, including what appeared to be an older man, a woman and a teenager she seemed to be shielding. The second vehicle had a half-dozen or so passengers, all of whom appeared more intimidating, some of them pointing at the guards and stepping closer to the security trucks.
“How should we proceed, sir?” Elias asked.
Damon mashed the transmit button. “Demand they tell you what happened to Kap and my father.”
“Copy that.”
He watched Elias, with gun lowered, approach the passengers. After Elias finished speaking, the passengers took turns looking to each other, exchanging shrugs. Damon gripped the walkie tighter. Elias spoke to them again, this time more animatedly. He lifted his gun as the passengers raised their hands and shook their heads, several of them falling to their knees. Damon expected Elias to continue his questioning—maybe smash his gun into a few skulls to jog the intruders’ memories—but the damn fool nodded slowly and took a step back before raising his walkie.
“Sorry, sir, but nobody here seems to know anything about them,” Elias reported.
“They’re lying,” Damon yelled. “Ask again. Demand they tell you.”
He watched Elias’s shoulders slump. Damon considered using the rifle for more than just its scope. But Elias appeared to repeat the question to the intruders, even going so far as to swipe one of the intruders in the side of the leg and hold his gun against the man’s head. The intruders began to swarm Elias but stopped when other guards threatened them. Damon’s insides swelled at the potential for violence, but the situation defused, and the guards backed away.
“They swear they’ve never seen your father and don’t know what happened to him,” Elias said. “I think they’re telling the truth, sir.”
“Of course, you do,” Damon snapped.
He had no doubt the intruders were lying; in turn, he had no doubt that meant his father and Kap were dead. The intruders not only had the nerve to kill two of The Mountain’s longest-tenured residents, they also had the nerve to come back and lie about it. He started changing the channel on his walkie, intent on hailing Walda Lamb to figure out how to proceed, but he suddenly spotted several intruders pointing up at the drone hovering above.
Walda’s already watching, waiting to see if I can handle this on my own, he thought. If it’s resolution she wants, that’s what she’ll get.
“This is for you, Father,” Damon whispered to the wind before raising the walkie back to his mouth. “Bring the four intruders from the lead vehicle to The Mountain for questioning. Kill the others.”
He watched Elias turn from his walkie to the intruders, discreetly shaking his head. Damon could almost imagine the look of horror that must be on the weak guard’s face. Elias’s hesitation enraged Damon.
“But they’re people, like us,” Elias answered. “Whatever they may or may not have done, we could use more humans in The Mountain.”
“That’s not my problem,” Damon snapped.
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“It’s your problem as much as ours,” Elias argued, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice. “You’re human, too. The Board’s constant experiments have ensured our numbers have gone down, especially since our females have been treated as hosts and we are barely allowed to repopulate. For all we know, these people may have been sent to us by Him.”
“Him?” Damon asked with a mocking chuckle. “If you believe a dead man from the past could be responsible for anything, you’re as mindless as the rest of the morons praying to a ghost.”
“Believing in Him requires faith; I’m sorry if you aren’t as strong as so many other humans in The Mountain,” Elias said, his voice growing louder as he preached the same nonsense so many other Mountainers believed. Looking through the scope, Damon saw that Elias had attracted the attention of the intruders and other guards alike. He even heard one of the intruders asking what Elias meant by ‘Him.’ “He is the one that will return to us when the time is right; He is the one that will lead us into a future away from the snows; He is the one that will reward our faith with—”
Damon exhaled slowly, deeply, before gently squeezing the trigger. The crack of his rifle echoed across the Nothingness, shutting up Elias mid-explanation. Damon’s target—the intruder from the rear vehicle that had been talking to Elias—collapsed, his blood spraying across the snow.
“How’s that for faith?” Damon snapped into the walkie. “Now follow my orders.”
Elias stood there, staring in shock, as did the rest of the guards and intruders. But their collective surprise lasted only a second before chaos ensued. Damon watched with glee as Elias retreated and the intruders surged. The other guards didn’t hesitate to act, and in a matter of seconds, a hail of gunfire cut down the intruders from the second vehicle. Damon didn’t bother hanging around to see if the four passengers from the first vehicle tried to fight it; frankly, he didn’t care whether they were brought in for questioning or not.
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and left the battlement, carefully heading down the slick stairs. He stole a glance over to see the faint outline of guards dragging the remaining intruders toward the security trucks. Damon wondered if Walda would let him interrogate them; he also wondered if she’d let him punish them. Either way, he’d proven to outsiders that attacking The Mountain would be handled with harsh justice.
Just the way Father would’ve liked, Damon thought, hoping his old man was pleased in whatever afterlife existed.
By the time he reached solid ground and approached the open blast door, he heard the buzz of the approaching drone. He waved at the drone, smiling victoriously as it ascended into the clouds shrouding the top of The Mountain.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Howling wind faded into the background the moment Damon returned inside The Mountain. The echo of his footsteps welcomed him back into the huge, quiet hangar that he called home. He cringed at the thought of all the noise—and, hence, all the people—that would soon be invading his private space. With that in mind, he decided it might be best after all if the intruders were taken for questioning by Walda, or the Board, or anyone but him. He couldn’t wait until this situation was over and he could return to his normal—
He stopped in his tracks, sensing the presence of someone else nearby. Their footsteps may have halted, but he was certain he still heard the faint echo of someone moving. Damon grabbed the rifle from his shoulder and scurried to the side of the hangar, taking shelter among the shadows. He raised his weapon toward the darkened back section but suddenly heard the footsteps much closer, much louder, coming from the oversized closet that acted as his personal living space, a violation of his privacy he couldn’t possibly forgive.
Damon rushed toward the open door of his room, his finger putting slow, steady pressure on the trigger of his rifle as he saw a silhouette emerge from the darkness. The silhouette was stooped, obviously holding something large that worried Damon. He wanted to kill the intruder where he or she stood but managed to fight that urge.
“Stop right there!”
The person stopped and threw up her arms, dropping an armful of objects. Several cans of food rolled to Damon’s feet, cans he didn’t recognize as coming from his own stash. A woman stepped into the light, her hands still raised despite wearing a glare that would’ve killed Damon if it could. She was tall and lean, strong within her frayed guard’s uniform that had been passed down from one generation to the next.
“Put down that weapon and calm yourself,” Walda Lamb said with icy calmness. “You called me down here, remember? I had to see for myself that you actually left the hangar, though I should’ve known you’d keep yourself separated from the other guards.”
Damon lowered his rifle.
“Next time, you can retrieve your own food from the supply level,” she said. “Have you eaten anything since the last time I brought your rations?”
“I assumed you were flying the drone,” Damon said.
Walda shook her head. “Must’ve been the Board.”
“Bowie,” Damon spat, as if speaking the name tasted as bad as most of the canned food.
Walda shrugged, frowning dismissively. “The Board is very demanding of Quentin. I couldn’t imagine being part of them and part of us.”
“Yet you were just with them,” Damon said, his voice holding more than an edge of accusation. “What was that all about?”
Walda’s eyes narrowed and she stepped forward. Damon took a small, instinctive step of retreat, immediately hating himself for displaying deference to a woman. Still, Walda loomed tall over him. Damon was glad to still wear his face mask so she couldn’t see his cheeks blushing.
“My dealings with the Board do not concern you or your opinion,” Walda said. She glared at him, allowing a few seconds of silence to linger, as if daring him to refute her. He didn’t, and she looked toward the open hangar door. “Now tell me what happened.”
Damon explained that a routine perimeter check showed a pair of glowing vehicles, similar to those described by his father and Kap several months earlier. The guards—now on their way back—encountered nearly a dozen hostiles, who were ‘clearly lying’ and ‘potential threats.’
“Where are they from?” Walda asked, unable to hide excitement in her voice. “Did they say what else is out there? Did they say if they came to The Mountain looking for Him?”
Damon sighed loudly. Walda’s head snapped back toward him. She opened her mouth—ready to point out how Damon’s lack of faith would always create a divide between him and the rest of The Mountain’s believers—but she thought better of it. That was a conversation they’d had too many times in the past, and it never ended well for either of them.
“They didn’t say anything but lies,” Damon said. “I ordered their leaders to be brought here for questioning and the rest to be killed.”
Walda’s brow furrowed. Damon smiled within the face mask but hoped she couldn’t see the joy in his exposed eyes.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Walda said. Damon shrugged. She started to jog toward the open door, fumbling to retrieve her walkie.
“Too late to call it off now,” Damon called after her. “The job’s already done.”
Walda stopped, her shoulders sagging. She turned to Damon, shaking her head. “You bloody fool.”
“I’m not a fool,” Damon growled, stomping toward her, wondering if he could get to her throat before any other guards showed up.
“Those people could’ve had information about Love or the Descendant,” Walda said.
Damon shook his head. “Your faith in Love finding the Descendant is as foolish as your faith in Him returning from the dead.”
“We’re the foolish ones? While you live down here, alone? Do you ever remove that face mask?” she asked.
“I wear it because of the cold, though I’m the only one manning the battlements to keep us safe from outside invasion,” Damon said. “How long have I been warning everyone that we’re susceptible? And now look what�
�s happened.”
“You’re paranoid,” Walda said with disgust. “Those people you murdered were probably stray survivors, like those your father supposedly spotted months ago. I’m sure we’ll learn they meant no harm to The Mountain.” She sighed. “I can’t decide whether The Board will want to punish you for your ruthlessness or reward you because of it.”
“I couldn’t care less if you like me, or if the Board likes me, or if anyone inside The Mountain likes me,” Damon said. “My only duty is to keep outsiders away, and I’ll continue doing that by whatever means I find appropriate. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have taken any survivors, but I figured someone would want to question them. Still, I hope nobody believes the lies I’m sure they’ll tell. My father and Kap never returned after spotting a vehicle like theirs. For that matter, Love never returned after learning the Descendant’s whereabouts. If that doesn’t convince you to close off The Mountain forever, I don’t know what will.”
“I. . . I can’t argue with some of that,” Walda said, exhaling some of her building anger. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Damon nodding smugly. “But there are a lot of possible explanations for what could’ve happened to Kap and your father. I’m sorry about your father, but he was an old man in poor health and refused medical treatment for a long time. Kap grew softer over time from dealing with the stress of his job. . . the experiments. I don’t know what they were responsible for on the upper level, but lots of people—scientifically inexperienced people—slowly lost their minds trying to recreate those experiments of hundreds of years ago.”
Damon ground his teeth so intensely that his jaw ached. He shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her. “Science isn’t my concern. It’s the security of—”
“We have more problems within The Mountain to worry about,” Walda said. She blushed and turned away, realizing she’d said too much.
“The Board unhappy? Quentin Bowie not the best selection to represent humans’ interests?” Damon asked.