I scrambled with the pick, my heart beating so hard, I barely heard the pair of them shouting at me.
“Faster!” Marcus yelled. He had a gun in his grip, his huge mitten dangling from a string on his jacket.
I worked the ice and tugged at the sack with my other hand, banging tirelessly until I could pull it free. At some point, I must have torn the bag with the sharp edge, and the Token slipped out, falling to the rocks. I grabbed it without looking and shoved it away, safely beside the other four.
We’d done the work, and now the cult was here to claim the prizes. I hated them with a passion, this group of devotees who claimed to await the Unknowns’ arrival. They’d lurked in the shadows for decades. Watching. Waiting.
But none of that mattered today. The Believers were here, and they wanted what I had resting inside my jacket. And they would stop at nothing to return to their Sovereign with the Tokens. But… the Case was with Hunter and Veronica on the plane, and I took a minor bit of solace in that.
“There are three of them,” Tripp told us. Even from this far, I could spot their dark outlines against the white backdrop. “Can’t recognize them with their ski masks on, but they’re armed.”
“What do we do?” Marcus’ voice shook.
Their plane began to roll over the snow-covered ground, turning before halting. This meant the pilot was still on the vessel, making four of them.
“Three against four. I can handle those odds,” Tripp said. “Time to hustle.”
It was too cold to be exposed for much longer, and I noticed that he was heading for the van. I really had no clue what a military-trained killer like Tripp Davis would do in this scenario, but I never in a million years expected him to run. We trailed after him as he dashed across the field. My lungs burned with the cold, each breath growing more and more painful. Marcus had slowed down too, his eyelashes caked in ice. Air escaped the mouth hole of his balaclava in a haze, and I nodded, trying to send him non-verbal support. When I saw our abandoned vehicle again, still billowing exhaust from the tailpipe, I realized Tripp did indeed have a plan—not that I’d doubted him.
The others were probably five minutes behind us, and I was grateful for the respite. “Climb inside,” Tripp said. “You have two minutes to warm up.”
I didn’t hesitate, opening the rear door for Marcus. I shoved in behind him and remembered we had a radio. It was toasty inside, and I unwrapped my scarf and lowered the protective neck shielding from my jacket. “Veronica! The Believers are here! They found us. We’re at the van.”
I paused, hearing something outside. Tripp was fiddling with the gas cap.
It was Hunter’s voice that carried through the speaker. “Did you retrieve the Token?”
That was the only thing that mattered to him. “I have it.”
“We’re going to land. You’ll need the backup,” Veronica said, and I heard Hunter protesting beside her.
I shoved the radio into my parka, and Tripp knocked on the window. “Time’s up!”
Marcus stared at me with fear painted on his face. “What the hell, Rex?” He still had the gun in his hand. “I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can. You remember what I taught you at the range.” I hated using the cliché, but it was all that came to mind as I exited the vehicle. “It’s us or them. I’m not dying today.” I took the other P226 and dropped my mitten, gripping the metal tight with the insulated glove underneath.
Tripp splashed a bottle of liquid across the vehicle, and I smelled the gasoline as we approached the cover of the ridge we’d driven around a half hour ago. Where he’d sourced a tube to start the siphoning remained a mystery.
We pressed our backs to the cold rock, and Tripp chuckled as the three Believers entered our line of sight. They moved like soldiers, cautiously resting their semi-automatics on their chests as they checked out the vehicle. They were close enough that I could hear their voices but not make out the words. I stared at the trio wearing matching black jackets, possibly obscuring Kevlar vests. Their faces were indistinguishable with the dark masks, but they looked confident as the lead soldier opened the driver’s door and turned the vehicle off.
Tripp grunted, aiming his rifle toward the group. “Ready?” he asked.
“For what?” Marcus asked.
“When it blows, we hit them. Got it?”
“Not really,” I murmured.
“Follow my lead. Point and shoot. They won’t expect this to work.” Tripp began firing, but not at the soldiers. The bullets struck the side of the modified van, and the men tried to dash away. One of them slipped, falling a few feet from the vehicle.
Tripp’s plan didn’t seem to work, and I noticed the cultist relax slightly as he growled a laugh in defiance. My ally fired again, and the tank exploded. The concussion was so loud, rushing toward us with the wind, and I barely saw Tripp leave our side. The nearest man was on the ground, unmoving, and Tripp fired at the other two. I joined him, trying not to stumble on the rocky ground as I held the gun up, crossing the open space.
His assault rifle barked out bullets, and I fired at the man on the right, seeing Tripp’s target was the adjacent soldier.
I missed the first three shots, and it gave my target enough time to return fire. I ducked, sliding on the snow as I fell. Tripp was still running, and I rolled around, taking aim again. I was facing the man, thirty yards away, and he was a much bigger bullseye than me.
His fire shot the ground a yard in front of me in a burst, and I stopped pulling the trigger, hoping he thought he’d hit me. I glanced to see Tripp’s target fall to the ground, a red spray misting the snow around him.
“Drop it!” Tripp called. The guy who’d just been trying to kill me spun to face Tripp, and he snarled a remark I couldn’t hear. “I said drop it!”
Another plane’s engines roared from above, and I took a second to peer at the sky. It was Hunter and Veronica.
Marcus arrived behind me, holding the gun as I’d taught him. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
Tripp was still yelling, but the man was unrelenting. Tripp jogged in the opposite direction, leaving us in the open. I took aim at the man’s chest, trying to compensate for the wind and distance, but really, it was dumb luck that made the second tap of the trigger strike home. The man’s gun went off as his other hand flung to his neck.
Marcus screamed as an errant bullet hit him, and I jumped to my feet, knocking my friend to the ground. The firing ceased, and I peeked to see the Believer drop his gun; blood soaked his hand as he pressed it to his collar.
Tripp was on him, kicking the weapon away and kneeling at the guy’s shoulders. He shook the man as he interrogated him, but the man’s chin lolled to the side. He was dead.
Marcus was hit, his leg bleeding at the thigh, and I wrapped my arm under his, helping him stay upright. He muttered and swore a few times, his thick layers of clothing blocking my view of the wound. “He shot me!” Marcus shrieked, and laughed, a hair-raising cackle.
“You’re going to be fine, Marcus. Look, Veronica landed.” I pointed to the plane directing toward us. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about the pilot of the other plane. I grabbed for my radio and tried to use it. Nothing. Then I spotted the hole in my pocket and inhaled the scent of burning electronics. “He shot me too.” Saved by a radio. I dropped it. “Tripp, we need to warn them. There’s still another…”
The gunshot rang out loudly, causing us all to spin around. The van still burned, and the cultist we’d assumed had been killed in the initial explosion was on his feet, stalking us with an assault rifle raised.
I quickly stole a glance at our airplane and saw the figure creeping up behind it. “Veronica!” I called, but they were too far away, the wind coming from the opposite direction.
“Drop your weapons,” the man near us said gruffly. He was limping, and a section of his jacket was singed. Despite the circumstances, my body was telling me I couldn’t last in this cold for much longer.
My breaths were labored, my feet and fingers numb. My friends didn’t look any better than I felt.
“Why would we do that?” Tripp asked.
“We can all leave here alive,” the guy said, and I thought his voice sounded recognizable. “My companion will be bringing your friends over, and we’ll make this trade.”
I saw Veronica and Hunter being ordered out of their plane by the fourth Believer, and hoped our pilot wouldn’t do anything rash. These guys meant business, and we’d already killed two of their allies. The fact that I’d shot and killed a man didn’t quite register in my brain. I was too cold, too concerned for my friends.
“We’re not giving you the Tokens,” I told him.
He hobbled closer, his gun unwavering in his grip. “I think you are.”
We stood in a stalemate as Hunter Madison and Veronica arrived a few minutes later. She offered me an apologetic glance, but Hunter’s eyes were wild as he surveyed the damage. Our gazes locked for an instant, and he finally spoke.
“You can have the Tokens,” Hunter said.
The two remaining cult members went to stand near one another, with Hunter and Veronica still under the gun. “Good. Then we’ll let you live.” I struggled to recall the voice.
Hunter seemed to clue in. He turned to face the man and slapped his own palms on his thighs. “Francois! How dare you betray me!”
And it all suddenly made sense. The fact that the Believers always seemed to know where we were, or perhaps where we’d been. Francois must have been in contact with Hunter, and he was working for the Believers.
“You’re surprised? I never was much of an actor.” Francois peeled his mask off; his normally slicked dark hair was messy and clotted with sweat despite the freezing cold.
“Twenty years. You’ve worked for me for two damned decades, and now you’re screwing me over,” Hunter muttered. “Did they pay you off?”
Francois laughed loudly. “You think I’ve been bribed? I’ve been with them this entire time. Did you trust the Believers would let you escape and not keep tabs on you? They knew this day would come. That your obsession would lead them to the Bridge.”
“Even if you take the Tokens, you won’t have the Bridge,” Hunter said. “You don’t know the location. Not to mention the sixth Token.”
Francois’ composure fractured for a moment, but he regained it. “That is all irrelevant, Hunter. You see… we only need to prevent you from accessing the Bridge. The Unknowns cannot be stopped, not with the Bridge sealed. But you were never a Believer, not in your heart. You were more interested in the theory of aliens than in our Unknowns. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Hunter obliged and shook his head.
“That’s your downfall. If you really understood what was about to happen, you’d have spent your life devoted to attuning and preparing for their return. The seas will boil, the people chosen for servitude. The skies will rain fire, and you, Hunter, will miss out on all of it.”
Francois lifted his gun and fired at Hunter. The old billionaire was killed instantly.
My breath caught, and Veronica screamed, a curt noise to match the ferocity of the freezing wind. “Sorry. I couldn’t let him live. Orders from the top.” Francois actually smiled, and my stomach twisted at the sight.
The Believer behind Veronica shoved her forward, and she almost stumbled on Hunter’s dead body. Tripp took the opportunity as the enemy soldier lowered his guard to catch her. Tripp shot him between the eyes.
Veronica fell to the ground, and Francois roared.
The servant angled his rifle up, aiming at Tripp as a report sounded from beside me. Francois was calm, peaceful even, before toppling over face-first into the snow. Marcus let the gun fall from his hand, his eyes barely visible through his frozen lashes.
“Hunter!” Veronica was at the old man’s side, rolling him onto his back. I ran to them while Tripp ensured the others were indeed dead. Marcus didn’t move.
“Veronica, he’s gone.” I tried to pull her away, but she reached into his jacket. Her gloves wrapped around a chain, and she tore it free.
“He told me to take this if anything happened to him. I can’t believe he’s gone.” She cried, tears instantly freezing under her eyes.
“Come on. We have to reach the plane!” I helped her up and took one last look at Hunter Madison. He’d been so excited for this adventure. He’d spent decades searching for the Bridge, and my father had abandoned him all that time ago. He’d beaten cancer once, but the illness had a way of returning with a vengeance. He didn’t deserve to go out like this. No one did.
“Rex, give me a hand with them.” Tripp had started dragging the dead cult members toward the fire of the burning vehicle.
“Why?”
“Burn the evidence. We don’t want anyone to know we were here,” he said as he dragged Francois through the snow, leaving a streak of pale pink behind him.
“Veronica, help Marcus onboard. We’ll be right there.” She stood holding a small thumb drive on the golden chain and stared at it. I put my hand on her shoulder and pointed to the waiting airplane.
She nodded, and they took off, stumbling for the warmth of the idle plane. Tripp and I did our best to haul the bodies into the fire, and at last we hovered over Hunter.
“What about him?” I asked.
Tripp rubbed at his nose with his parka sleeve. “I don’t know. I hate to be insensitive, but we can’t take him home with us. We’re going to have enough questions as it is.”
I couldn’t bring myself to burn him, so we lifted him away from the bloodshed and covered him as best we could. Tripp started away, muttering under his breath as he clutched his weapon to his chest, and I knelt next to Hunter.
He was just a mound of flakes, but I spoke out loud. “I’m sorry this was your fate, Hunter. I know what this means to you. I will find the Bridge. Mark my word. I’ll finish what you started, I promise you. Your life work won’t be wasted by these bastards.”
My toes ached, a dull throbbing in the bones of my feet, and every extremity burned with cold. It was time to leave the South Pole behind. I slowly rose and moved as quickly as I could for the waiting airplane.
We had the Case and five Tokens, but it felt like we were missing far too much to continue.
Part III
The Bridge
1
December 28th, 2025
The last three days were a blur, but my toes were finally starting to feel normal again. Beverly’s car pulled into the grocery store parking lot, and I stretched my hood over my head, stalking toward her as she exited the vehicle.
She let out a yelp as I arrived, her hands protectively moving onto her handbag as if I was a purse snatcher.
“It’s me, Bev,” I whispered.
“Rex? What the hell are you doing? I haven’t heard from you for days, and…”
I grabbed her wrist and squeezed harder than I’d intended. “Your life is in danger. You have to call Fred. Tell him to meet us with the kids at the truck stop twenty minutes east of town. You know the one, with the cartoon fried egg sign?”
“I know it… what’s going on?” Bev acted petrified, and I didn’t blame her one bit.
“I’ll tell you when we’re gone.” I looked around, wondering if we were being watched. “Have you noticed anyone following you? Parked outside your house?”
“No, Rex. Please, you’re scaring me. Fred can’t just leave—”
“Bev, listen to me,” I said, holding her hands. “Trust me on this. I’m into some dangerous business, and they know who you are. These guys… they killed Hunter.”
“Hunter?” Her eyes jumped open. “Madison? The rich guy Dad used to work for?”
“Shhhhh. Sis, bring the family and meet me at the truck stop. If you have to go home to convince Fred, do so physically, in case they’re listening to your phone too. On that note, ditch the phone and tell Fred the same thing.”
“What’s this all about?” she asked.
“The Bridge. I
t’s where they went.”
“Not that again. Dad’s gone, Rex.”
I forced a smile. “Dad is gone, but the Bridge is real. You’ve seen the Objects, right?”
“The asteroids?” she asked.
“Right. It’s all connected.” I didn’t have time for this, but I realized how insane it sounded as the words escaped my lips. “I know what you’re thinking, Beverly, but it’s real. Just pack them up and be there in an hour.”
To her credit, she didn’t freak out, which was better than I would have done if our roles were reversed. She climbed into the car and rolled the window down. “Rex, you won’t let anything happen to my kids, will you?”
That was my sister and her big heart. She was always worried about everyone else before herself. “No, Bev. I won’t.”
She drove off, and I returned to my rental car.
“Good news. Passports are done,” Marcus said from his makeshift workstation in the back seat. “We can pick them up in Boston.”
“You know, I’m glad you kept some unsavory friends from college, buddy,” I told him. “How’s the leg?”
He shrugged ambiguously. “Fine. Stitches tickle a bit.”
Lucky for him, the gunshot had grazed his leg, resulting in Tripp giving him a handful of sutures on the flight to Chile. It could have been far worse.
“Let’s tell Veronica we’re coming,” I said as I backed out of the parking spot.
“Done.”
The streets were busy in my hometown, with most of the residents still off for the holiday season. The restaurants and malls looked hectic, and I drove by them with little interest as we hit the interstate. The truck stop came quickly, and I took the turnoff, slowing as I skidded on the gravel lot.
“Do you mind checking the radio?” Marcus asked, and I tapped it on. We had a few minutes to spare, and I was tired of hearing myself overthink our plan.
“Bill, you don’t think we’re supposed to believe these Objects, as everyone is calling them, are actually stopping at Earth, do you?” a deep-voiced man asked across the radio waves.
Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) Page 25
