by Tom Hunter
Wild shots ricocheted around them and Pediah was thankful none had yet hit its mark. His eyes scanned the area for a weapon he could use. He may have been a pacifist, but as he rationalized to himself, everyone has their breaking point.
When another shot rang out, too close to Pediah’s ear for comfort, he heard a great thud not too far from where he lay. He angled his head for a better look and noticed a broken stalactite. Stretching his arm toward it, he wrapped his long fingers around it, and weighted it. Good, it would work like a club, and he could handle its weight easily. As he began to swing it around toward him and rolled over on his side to push himself up, he caught a glimpse of Robbie. Pediah tilted his head in wonder.
The young man hadn’t moved from where he’d rolled for cover. Robbie hung back, his eyes wide with fear. “What are you waiting for, man!” he called. Robbie only shook his head and pointed at the battle before them.
“Go in there? Are you crazy?” he exclaimed. “Take a good look, Pediah! There are men with guns fighting giant lizards,” he offered, exasperated. Then, “What do you think we’ll bring to the table? It looks to me like – “ He was rambling, he knew. But, he was also terrified.
Taking special note of Pediah’s makeshift weapon, he knew what was coming. But, that didn’t mean he’d have to like it.
Pediah cut him off, and whispered through clenched teeth, “Gott, er God, will not let anything happen He didn’t intend.” The tall, lanky Amish man paused briefly, and reconsidered his phrasing. “In other words,” Pediah shouted, “Fight or flight. You must choose, but know He will see you through!”
Pediah’s last few words faded as the smell of blood hit his nostrils. He turned to see the more docile Kisgar bloodied and beaten. The creatures’ cries were like that of nails across a chalkboard, painful and irritating to hear. Pediah found himself suddenly cursing the souls of the men who had hurt these creatures. They weren’t helpless he knew, but there was no reason for them to be attacked the way they were and he wondered if it was to try to capture them or kill them for selling bits of them on the black market. He’d put neither idea past the veracity of Noah Ashbridge’s greed. Angered at the thought, Pediah’s eyes filled with rage and he ran toward the men with guns brandishing his stalactite club as a knight might his sword.
Robbie watched a shadow fall on happy-go-lucky Pediah and was taken aback at the rage the man was capable of. When he saw what Pediah saw, he felt the same and recalled Pediah’s words. “Easy for you to say, you’ve got God on your side. Me? I’m not so sure,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed the nearest weapon he could find and charged after Pediah into the fray.
Robbie’s heart dropped to his knees as he realized the two Kisgar which now lay on their sides were those he and Pediah had ridden. With a start, it hit him. Lt. Whipkey must have given them the more docile of the creatures knowing they were inexperienced riders. In a second hail of bullets, Robbie watched, horrified, as another Kisgar was felled. It was just the push he needed to put his heart into the battle.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized there were more Kisgar than there should have been. Were they what had come out of the shadows to distract Ramon’s men? Stupid question, he chastised himself. That had to be it. But, what was going on here? What happened to the tough creatures that had had him rooted to the spot in that first temple chamber? Or the creature Thomas had fought as they were rescued from the chamber they’d slid into? In a whirlwind of activity, he, Pediah, and Mochni fought as one unit. All with a single purpose.
Though he and Pediah were on foot, Mochni, the most skilled Kisgar rider, had remained atop his steed and boasted a unique vantage point and fighting angle than any of the others. From time to time, they’d look at the more docile creatures on their sides, groaning and yowling in pain as blood spilled from their grayish scaly skin, and their anger would ignite once more.
Pediah held his stalactite club much like a bat and used it as such against Ramon’s men. His aim was to knock their weapons from their hands, but sometimes, he was happy to see, his club struck home. Robbie found himself perched on the shoulders of a large stocky German man scrabbling to get his gun which was aimed directly at Mochni.
As the man worked to unshoulder Robbie from his back, the gun lifted, and Robbie reached for it. He grabbed the barrel with both hands and twisted his body first one way, then the other as he worked to pry the gun from the man’s grasp. From his vantage point, he could see Pediah make inroads as the men backed away from his wild swings. Those who hadn’t met the club’s pointy end began to retreat. Mochni used his Kisgar as an extension of himself and as a weapon. The great creature reared and aimed its deadly claws at anyone who came into its path. Hurt and broken bodies sprawled around them. Those who remained began to run for the small chamber entrance they had initially come through.
We won! Thought Robbie jubilantly, happy to be alive and unscathed. He mentally raised his arms above his head in victory and as he turned he noticed Mochni do something unusual. The large man-child youth, instead of letting the men go, rushed after them. To finish the job? Robbie wondered idly. “Mochni! No!” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He had to protect the boy, the youth. The kid was his ticket to get Abby back. Well, that and the safe return of the drum. But, he didn’t want to imagine what they would do if he and Pediah showed up with an injured Mochni or worse. Just near enough to reach out and try to grab him, Robbie was thrown back with the force of someone deep in battle rage, his strength exacerbated by anger.
None of them saw it coming.
The apparently slow motion event couldn’t be stopped.
“Robbie! You okay?” Pediah called out as he watched Mochni follow the retreating men. As Robbie nodded and his hands felt for any bruises, a single shot rang out. Pediah and Robbie looked up to see Mochni go limp and fall from his saddle, as a hole blown in his shoulder spilled blood.
Robbie scrambled up from the floor and rushed to Mochni to try to get him seated. “Pediah, the Kisgar! They’re getting away!” he shouted. Pediah grabbed the nearest creature to him, which happened to Mochni’s. He knew horses, and figured these creatures weren’t much different. “Robbie,” began Pediah in a low, even voice. “No one is going anywhere. See?” he pointed to the Kisgar that could stand and who had gathered around those Kisgar and the Woidnuk who’d just been shot. “They won’t leave them – the others and Mochni,” he explained gently.
Only half listening, Robbie searched frantically for something he could use to staunch the blood. He crawled to the abandoned bags of the fallen soldiers who’d gotten underfoot of the Kisgar and searched for medical supplies.
Scared and frustrated, he tore strips from his own shirt and wrapped them as best he could around Mochni’s shoulder. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, wondering if Mochni understood him. Then, “don’t you die on me or I’ll never hear the end of it. Never mind, I need you to help us get to Abby. You got her into this mess, you’re gonna help get her out of it!”
Twelve
The mood of the camp was somber as Ramon, Miss Welker, and Ramon’s small squad returned. Only the soft crunch of their footsteps and the rustle of uniforms as guards turned to salute Ramon. No radios crackled. No one spoke. And the only lights were the workers’ headlamps. The large field lights were off, Miss Welker noted. Curious, her eyes swiveled toward Noah’s RV, where a single bulb burned.
There should be more activity, Miss Welker realized. Then, with a quick shake of her head, she remembered. Now, that they had the drum, it was time to pick up stakes. Uniforms rustled nearby and she turned her head. Quietly, soldiers packed up the camp. As if by unspoken agreement, they all knew the time had come and for this, they did not need orders. She was the signal. Her return.
As she made mental notes about the general feeling that permeated the camp, her eyelids grew heavy. A filmy haze of sleep fought to smother her as her she walked, and caused her to stumble. Ramon deftly caught
her elbow to steady her, which she quickly cast aside. His touch burned through her giving her just the jolt of adrenaline she needed. It wasn’t a pleasant touch and when she broke free, the ghost of a touch that remained made her stomach retch. He didn’t like her and the feeling was mutual.
“Don’t act like you care,” she spit through clenched teeth. “I know my return and your… our... tolerance of each other ensures your paycheck.” He shrugged and raised an eyebrow. In the shadows, his face took on a twisted, evil countenance. Oh god, how she hated the man.
Miss Welker pursed her lips and debated whether or not to let fly words that would make a sailor blush. As they approached Noah’s RV, she noted once more the single lit bulb and realized with a start, Noah wasn’t in it. Or at least, he wasn’t bent over his desk like so many nights before. She stopped and whirled to face Ramon. “Where is he?”
“How the hell should I know?” Ramon shrugged. “I’m not his keeper.”
Miss Welker glared and repeated her question. Ramon replied, “Listen to me woman. I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes, then followed her gaze. “Maybe he finally decided to get some sleep. Weren’t you bugging him about that before you left?” Miss Welker narrowed her eyes to which Ramon added, “Yeah. I know…everything.”
“Still, you shouldn’t have left him to work through the night,” she scolded. Ramon sputtered, “I’m not his babysitter!” Their voices rose cutting into the silence of the night.
She glared at him and without another word turned on her heel marching toward Noah’s trailer. All thoughts of sleep had disappeared, and the adrenaline coursing through her system was worth its weight in cups of coffee. Something was wrong. She could feel it.
Just as she reached the door and raised her fist to knock, Ramon hot on her heels, they heard a thud. She twisted around to face Ramon, her eyes wide. He narrowed his eyes and listened.
“Noah!” she screamed, her panic slicing the air around them. Ramon put a hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back. She shook him off and jiggled the handle in an effort to displace the flimsy lock. Of all the things to chintz out on for this monstrosity, she thought in anger, why did you choose the lock of all things. Unless…another thought struck her. Could something be blocking the door? Was it Noah?
Ramon put his hand on her shoulder and said in a low voice, “Step away, Miss Welker. I’ll get the door.” Miss Welker nodded and backed down the single step. Once back on solid ground, she extended her hand as if to say, “after you.” Ramon looked at her and held up his hand in an effort to push her back further. “Give me some room,” he commanded. Miss Welker and her guards gave him a wide berth.
Ramon took a few steps back and like a bull charging the matador’s flag, he lowered his head, and charged the door. The force of his bulk and speed exploded the door inward. The door was destroyed, but at least they were inside, he reasoned.
“What the hell are you doing here!” Noah blustered as he looked up to see Ramon standing over him, Miss Welker hot on his heels. She glared at Noah, “What do you mean ‘what the hell’? Why didn’t you answer the effing door?”
Thirteen
“I…I fell asleep,” Noah rubbed at his eyes. He stared up at them from where he’d landed. “I was working. Reading. Then, dark. It got dark. Everything went…dark.” Who was he talking to? They’d interrupted his dream again. He heard a voice calling his name. Miss Welker? When did she get back? Who else is here? His mind wandered and thoughts tumbled one over the other as he tried to make sense of what had happened.
“I don’t think he’s with us, right now,” explained Ramon. “He’s –“
“Delirious.” Miss Welker cut him off and pointed to Noah’s desk. “Looks like he finally hit his limit of coffee. Now, it’s had the opposite effect of keeping him awake,” she reasoned. Ramon nodded. “The thud,” Miss Welker began. “I must have heard him falling out of his chair…” her voice trailed off as she noted the spilled coffee, the stacks of cups, and his notes scattered about him like angel’s wings.
Noah heard the voices. He knew they were talking about him and somewhere in the back of his mind, knew it was Ramon and Miss Welker who stood over him. He’d blustered something when they knocked down his door. Oh crap. No more door. It didn’t seem important just now. Only sleep. Not even his dreams could spoil his desire for sweet release. Utter exhaustion enveloped him and though his eyes fluttered open once more, they closed again just as quickly caught in a memory.
Fifteen years earlier
Noah looked down at well-manicured fingers and soft hands. The edges of a starched white longs sleeve peered out from under a black suit coat. Mother-of-pearl cufflinks held the sleeves in place. Black linen pants and spit-shined shoes completed his ensemble. A single white carnation in his suit pocket. Somber music permeated the air and the casket which passed him had cost more than his first car.
It was his father’s funeral and though it had been only several years ago, the feelings or lack thereof, remained. He’d been just old enough, at 26, to fully comprehend what his father had taught him and what his grandfather had tried to leave him. It was also a study in the greed of others. As an only child who never knew his mother, he was the only family.
Anyone else in a suit was a shareholder in the company, more interested in discussing business than paying their respects.
A young woman approached. Her cropped dark hair suited her face. Almond shaped green-gold eyes held his attention. She was beautiful and he was rooted where he stood. Her smart black dress hugged her curves, little flairs accentuated her hips and legs, and though its neckline was low, she somehow made it seem tasteful. She was…a lady.
The young woman lay a hand on his shoulder and touched a nerve. Before she could speak, he shook her off. “I don’t need empty condolences,” he muttered. She nodded in understanding. The chip on his shoulder would be difficult to crack. But, that was what she was trained to do.
She dropped her hand to her side and smiled. “I’m sorry. Of course.” She turned her feet as if to leave, her chest still facing him. She added, “Listen. I’d leave you alone right now. But, I don’t know if Clark ever told you about me…” Noah shook his head. Encouraged, she turned fully once more to face him and introduced herself. “I was Clark’s assistant. I wouldn’t bother you, but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
A slender finger reached out and lifted his chin. “Look at me Noah.” Her voice was soft, gentle. But, there was a hardness behind it that Noah couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her. Hell, he barely knew her. But, with the hardness came the feeling of warmth. He wanted her. And if his father had taught him anything, it was this: if you want something, you’ve got to reach out and take it. Don’t wait for it to come to you.
“What could we possibly have to talk about?” he asked. He watched her look around the room, then she leaned into his ear and whispered, “I can’t talk about it here.” Her lips brushed his ear and her scent started a fire only a cold shower could cure. With her other hand, she reached into the small purse strapped across her chest and withdrew her card.
Handing it to him, she simply smiled, and started to walk away. As he watched her go, he looked down at the card in his hand and read: Miss Amber Welker. Her phone number was below. Black writing on a white square card. He turned it over to see if it said anything else. Blank. Very mysterious, he’d thought.
“Amber,” he’d whispered. The woman materialized holding two cups and handed one to him. “Drink,” she commanded. Then, “Never call me by my first name. It is our little secret that I’ll trust only to you.”
He took the cup she offered and nodded. He understood secrets. It was part of his DNA.
Miss Welker smiled and tipped her own cup to her lips. Then, taking back her card, she tipped the liquid onto the back of her card, and as it revealed its secrets, she left. Noah watched as the once blank back of the card revealed more details. In a neat hand were written a hotel name and a room
number. Guess the cold shower can wait, young Noah had imagined. But, as excited as he was about impending possibilities, he was still curious and cautious. His grandfather had taught him that. And as he watched the young woman’s form exit, he wondered aloud, “Who are you Amber, and what do you want?”
Present day
Something strong filled his nostrils. Strange hands touched him. His RV was filled with people and Miss Welker could only watch as his medical team did their job. “He’s delirious,” she’d told them. “He’s had too much coffee. It’s not good for his heart. Can you bring his heart rate down?” she’d asked, then added, “I don’t know when he last slept...” She was worried, but she couldn’t let it show too much. Worry would show weakness and that she could not afford. Not now. Not when they were so close.
One of the medics uncorked a small vial and waved smelling salts under his nose. The other bandaged a small cut at this temple where his head hit the desk as he fell from his chair. And still another checked his pulse. Noah’s eyes fluttered open and widened at the activity in his small space. “Get that shit away from me!” he bellowed, batting at the smelling salts. He looked first to the medics, then Ramon and Miss Welker standing off to the side. Neither of them are bloodied, so they must have done this together, he thought idly. Now, he was awake he felt uncomfortably warm. Why? The door, when closed, held the cool air inside well. Except, now there was no door. The door hung from its top hinge and had been burst inward from the look of things. “Who broke the door?” he exploded. “It’s letting all the air out!”
“The door?” shouted Miss Welker. “We thought you were dead! We were trying to save your ass! That’s a fine how do you do…you’re worried about a door!” She was angry, Noah knew, but he heard the concern in her voice just the same. If he had been anyone else he would have smiled. But, he did so love to rile her up.
