by Tom Hunter
Slowly, Thomas and his men approached. They stayed as much in shadow as they could.
Then, the flash of light which had caught Thomas’ eye from the drone’s point of view was revealed.
Noah’s first line of defense, as usual, was highly-trained military guards. Thomas silently thanked Dr. Cunningham for his forethought. Though no one at Thomas Knight’s camp knew it, there were a few veteran military warriors sprinkled into the mix on Thomas’ side. “All’s fair, etc.” Dr. Cunningham had explained when he told Thomas about his boosted guard detail.
Noah seemed to have boosted his own guard detail, Thomas noticed. Each man was laden with night vision goggles and high-powered rifles, either strapped to their back or cradled in their arms. Most were vigilant and on high alert. Thomas motioned to his men to avoid them as best they could and to search out other entry opportunities.
Something niggled at the back of his mind. When he heard chatter to his left, he realized what it was. The vigilant guards had been silent and moved like cats in the chill desert night air. Locals who left to join up, then returned after their tours?
He motioned to his guards to follow him as he moved toward the chatting enemy guards. He nearly laughed out loud as he caught snippets of their conversation and shook his head. If Noah only knew…
“Man, this girl. You should have seen her. A knockout,” said one, his night goggles pushed on top of his head.
“Nah, my girl back home has got anyone here beat,” crowed another.
“Mine is the best of both worlds – can cook the best food and will do it in a thong, if I ask her,” explained a third. All three men had let their rifles hang from their straps and, following the first man’s lead, had pushed their night vision goggles on top of their head. They were obviously just marking time and not expecting any danger. Ignoring the light which shone through the camouflaged cover, they continued their crude conversation as Thomas and his team slipped inside.
The light which had caught Thomas Knight’s eye just a few hours earlier nearly blinded him now. Field lights permeated the campground, but the thick canvas camouflaged tent, held fifty feet aloft by triangulated trusses, had done its job of rendering the place invisible from all angles outside.
Inside, Noah’s camp hummed with activity. Thomas wondered briefly how he and his team might best stay concealed in shadow, with the halogen lights bearing deeply into every dark corner. Though his first instinct was to find cover, as his gaze swept the area, he discovered something unexpected. A tunnel.
So that’s how they’re doing it. A burning question he’d had, now answered. The tunnel led directly into the mine. Though shadows did exist there, Thomas noted, it was illuminated from within. That’s how they’re getting in and getting out unnoticed. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw something else. Holy shit. They created this tunnel with that explosion we heard, and that’s why everything went pear-shaped when we landed in that chamber below.
He narrowed his eyes at a symbol etched into the entrance. At first glance, it seemed like some kind of hazmat symbol. But, on closer inspection, Thomas saw what it was – a cobra curled inside an upside-down triangle – like the Hippocratic oath symbol in reverse. Except, the difference here was the points of the triangle burst through a silver ring. “Idiot,” Thomas muttered to himself. “Not etched. Stuck.” It was some kind of patch or sticker, he now realized. Written beneath the symbol was something written in what looked like Spanish. He knew Ramon was Brazilian – were Portuguese and Spanish similar enough? Thomas took special note of the name, so he could ask Alexia later if she knew what it meant. But, one thing he was sure of was that this was the symbol of Ramon’s mercenary group. He wondered if there was any significance to it marking the entrance of the tunnel.
Thomas suddenly realized the chattering guards had gone quiet. He looked around and though they seemed to have wandered off to their next posting, more alert guards had taken their place. He reached into his back pocket for his pistol, though he knew it would be no match for the rifles. Then, he heard a buzz signal in his ear. A little late, Alexia dear, he thought idly. Then, he watched in awe as three of his guards rose as if from the dead and locked their arms around the necks of Noah’s guards. Their sleeper holds brought the guards down and they soon had them stuffed away in the shadows. Thomas was in awe, but he couldn’t let it show, so he simply nodded. A job well done. He motioned for them to follow him.
Though well-lit, and with workers still toiling at their tasks, there was an underlying tension. He realized with a start that except for the guards who had been chatting and the one now out of commission, no one else really spoke. Only quiet grumblings could be heard as he and his small crew snuck by. In a one eighty-degree turn around, the snippets he heard now seemed to be about “the boss.” Thomas assumed this meant Noah. But, it could just as easily have been Ramon. He shook his head at the thought. Nope. Had to be Noah.
A thick accent grated against his ear complaining he didn’t like “the boss” ordering them to stick around.
Another voice added, “There’s nothing here.”
While yet another chimed in, “He’s gone batshit crazy over these mines and that damn journal.”
And finally, the comment Thomas had been expecting to hear: “I’m ready to get home and cash in.” Ah, the inevitable payday. Capitalizing on my finds and endangering a civilization that has existed…hell, I don’t know…forever? Thomas barely noticed his guards with him, and Alexia had gone silent for some time.
He saw a light spilling through a window, illuminating what might have been a well-trodden path. Noah’s RV. And the light was on. Was anybody home?
A strange shadow of odd angles and bent shapes made Thomas squint. What the hell had happened here? As he approached the RV he saw the damage. Someone – or something – had utterly destroyed the door. It was completely bashed in. He raised an eyebrow. Somehow Noah had managed to finagle it shut. That must have taken some doing.
Thomas whistled softly, and motioned to the guards. He pointed to the door and in signals he assumed he’d picked up from television somewhere, he asked them to watch his back. Where had he learned that? He wasn’t a military man.
“Gut instinct,” he imagined he heard Abby say. God, he missed her. She was his Jiminy Cricket. His mentor, teacher, and guide. He hoped she was okay, and worried momentarily about Robbie and Pediah. He hoped they’d had some luck talking with Lt. Whipkey.
Inches from the door, his stream of conscious thought and worry ceased. Focus on the talk at hand took over. But, his heart rate increased. What would he do if Noah was home? You’ll do what needs to be done, son, to get the drum and then rescue Abby.
Thin strips of shadow hung from the trailer leaving little room for him to hide. It didn’t matter really, he thought. He’d be pushing the door open soon enough. Well, if it didn’t fall off its hinges first.
Thomas glanced behind him. The guards he’d brought with him nodded. Raising his hand to the slim chrome handle, he grasped it and pulled the door open.
Sixteen
Robbie wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up. He dried his hands on his pants. His heart raced. As much as he wanted the Woidnuk to be alright, his ulterior motive ate at him.
He hadn’t been prepared for what happened, but he was glad for the little training he’d had. He paced the length of the man-child who lay before him, willing him to open his eyes. He’d done everything he could think of he’d been taught over the years for basic survival medical care. Hours passed as he paced and glanced at Mochni from time to time, his thoughts suspended between fear and anger.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” asked Pediah.
“No idea,” Robbie snapped. “I’ve only had the barest of basic EMT training.” He took a deep breath. He was scared and taking it out on Pediah, and he knew it. “On a human? Sure, I’d be more confident and say ‘yes’. But, on a Woidnuk?” Robbie shrugged.
“Well, no need to snap, ya know,”
Pediah tut-tutted. “I was only trying to help.”
Robbie looked down at and scraped his toe against the sandy floor. Hands in his pockets, he looked now more like a child who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry. I just…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I just can’t relax until I know he’s okay.”
Pediah nodded, about to offer his support, when Robbie spoke again. “I mean, it’s up to him to help us save Abby, right? He got her into this mess, he can help get her out.”
Frowning, Pediah put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “You don’t mean that the way it sounded, do you?”
Robbie shook his head. “No, of course I want him to be okay. Duh, that goes without saying.”
Mochni opened his eyes and, much to everyone’s surprise, said “Shut up, Robbie.”
“Ach!” shouted Robbie pumping his fist in the air. “Yeah! Thank god you’re okay.” Robbie rushed to Mochni’s side as Pediah shushed him. “Quiet. The Kisgar are still antsy and we don’t have to skills to calm or control them if they get out of hand,” advised Pediah.
“No control…” began Mochni.
“What do you mean… no control?” asked Pediah, now even more worried. Mochni shook his head.
“No worry. Ped-iah. No control. Can’t control…Kisgar,” the large youth tried to explain. “Guide partner.” Mochni sucked in a deep breath of air and exhaled slowly. “Kisgar guided. Trusted partner.” It had been an effort to speak in a strange language and he still hurt. Robbie had done well, but Mochni knew he needed rest.
Robbie’s heart still raced, but in an effort to control his emotions, he joked. “Yeah, yeah,” he began, and patted the air as though patting the head of child. Then, lifted his fists to his chest, puffed forward, and began to beat a steady rhythm. “Heart of the beast and all that Tarzan stuff, right,” he laughed. “Have you seen these creatures lose their shit?” he asked as he remembered Thomas Knight’s narrow escape during a rescue attempt.
Something tickled the back of his mind and he spun to look down at Mochni. “Hold on. Your English wasn’t too good when we left your village. What changed?”
“You.” He pointed to Robbie. “You talk… much,” he explained. “Eyes closed. Resting. Listening,” Mochni added. Then, “Learn from father. Learn from you.” Mochni tapped his temple. “See?”
A loud guffaw from Pediah made Robbie spin on his heel. “What?”
Pediah, bent over, held up a hand. “For once, your talking too much actually helped.”
“Well, it’s not that funny,” Robbie said as he blushed crimson. Then, “oh, shut up.” Robbie put his hands in his pockets and looked down, a slow smile spreading. As much as he wanted Mochni to help them renegotiate Abby’s release, he was genuinely relieved the giant man-child was alive.
He held out a hand as Mochni raised his. “Need some help up?” Robbie asked. Mochni nodded and grasped his hand. “Mochni, okay,” he informed them as he staggered to his feet.
Pediah smiled as he watched Robbie and Mochni walk over to one of the Kisgar. He thought he heard Mochni lean down and say, “I teach you Kisgar.” Mochni shook his head, “No. I teach you command. In case…” He made a motion as if he might faint and smiled shyly, as Robbie and Pediah sucked air through their teeth. The potential for him to faint or pass out again hit too close to home and wasn’t a joke.
“Uh, sure. Thanks,” said Robbie. “But, maybe Pediah would be better. I mean, he knows horses and stuff…”
His voice trailed off as Pediah shook his head. “Nope,” the man deadpanned.
Pediah took a dramatic step back and added, “I’ll leave commanding giant creatures to you. I want no part.” He smiled. This’ll be fun to watch. Then he joined Mochni and Robbie as Mochni began the lessons. “But, maybe I should learn. Just in case,” he suggested.
Mochni nodded and stepped forward. To the Kisgar, he gave a single command. Robbie and Pediah looked at each other. Had the Kisgar just nodded its agreement to whatever Mochni had said?
There was a sharp sound, and they turned their attention back to Mochni. He was motioning his commands to let the men know what the command was for. Then with one hand poised palm down as if to tell the Kisgar to stay, he sounded out the words.
Pediah and Robbie repeated them until Mochni nodded he was satisfied it was correct. It must have been enough. They assumed this because Mochni then turned and began walking toward his village. With the Kisgar following behind, Pediah and Robbie flanked Mochni as he continued his instruction.
As Mochni paused to think of a word in English, Pediah turned to Robbie. “We should pay extra care, um, attention, to these lessons,” he suggested turning a slightly nervous eye toward the creatures behind them. “I think we’re gonna need it.”
Seventeen
Thomas had expected the door to screech and groan as it opened. But, he was glad it hadn’t. Stepping into Noah’s trailer, Thomas heard the rustling of papers, and realized his foot had sent some flying. Detachedly, he wondered why they were on the floor. But, papers weren’t just on the floor, he realized. They were scattered across Noah’s desk, on the bed, and had probably fallen on the floor quite by accident.
Whatever the case, Noah had been singularly focused and not even the coffee could keep him from his slumber, it seemed. Though the stacked cups on his desk and near his bed suggested otherwise.
A loud snoring caused Thomas to focus on the man on the bed. Noah must have been utterly exhausted, thought Thomas. But, he had taken precautions? Or maybe he always slept with a pistol by his bed. A grown man’s security blanket, Thomas decided as he took note of Noah’s hand across his chest. The man had fallen asleep studying. Too bad he wasn’t this dedicated when he was in my charge.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it. On a table in the center of Noah’s RV, lay Eknom’s Folly. Thomas exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. He was glad to see it was unharmed.
He moved toward the drum and clasped his hand around it, saying a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening. Lifting it from the table, he spied another treasure. A stone tablet acted as a paperweight on a small stack of papers. But, there was something about the writing on the tablet.
He paused, listening for signs of Noah’s snoring or breathing changing. It didn’t. Thomas wondered briefly how long the man had gone without sleep. It must have been a few days, if the mess in his RV was any indication.
With a start, he realized the tablet’s writing was similar to the writing he and Pediah had discovered in the chambers and on the cave walls just a few months before. It had three columns, each with slightly different writing. Had Noah found something like a Rosetta stone? Something to help translate the Woidnuk language?
Grasping the drum tighter, he reached out to take the stone tablet. Not only could it help him learn their language, but would help immensely in his own research in cataloguing their findings, he thought. As his fingers scraped at the corner of it, to lift it from its perch, Thomas thought better of it.
His task was to get the drum, Eknom’s Folly, and return it. The drum for Abby. That was the agreement. He had to focus.
Besides, carrying the drum and the stone tablet would be too much to deal with. The stone tablet was heavy and would be too much to carry. Maybe he could get one of his guards to carry it? After thinking for several long seconds, he shook his head. It was too risky.
He’d come here for one thing and one thing only. Thomas suddenly imagined the Woidnuk themselves teaching their language to museums and other anthropologists.
Would the humans be able to talk them into coming to the surface? Or would the academics be required to enter their world? The latter would probably be safer, he surmised.
But, Abby did have a way with words… and persuasion. Thomas allowed himself a small smile at the thought of Abby talking an entire civilization into bending to her will.
With a last wistful glance at the stone tablet, the Rosetta Stone of the Woidnuk
language, Thomas reached instead for Noah’s pistol. Better to be safe than sorry. Tucking Noah’s gun in his waistband, he readjusted his grasp, and held the drum tight. He’d just taken a step toward the door when it opened. While he was still partly in shadow, he heard Miss Welker call, “Noah,” in a soft voice.
Though alarm bells went off, he also had the most startling revelation that Noah Ashbridge and Miss Welker were an item. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the thought, his suspicions confirmed as he noted the bottle of wine in an ice bucket tucked under her arm and two wine glasses dangling from her practiced fingers.
When Noah answered with a snore, Thomas saw Miss Welker tense. Had she seen him?
He watched her expertly flip the wine glasses and set them gently on the nearest flat surface. It was Noah’s desk. Next to the wine glasses, she placed the wine bucket, heavy with wine and rapidly melting ice. With her hands now free of their burden, Miss Welker reached in her own waistband, and retrieved her pistol.
God, how he hated that pistol! In an instant, it had taken young Howard’s life and if he wasn’t quick, would soon take his as well.
Then, in even slower motion, it seemed, she smiled.
Thomas tilted his head, curious, and had a flash of memory to a scene in one of those Indiana Jones movies. Except it wasn’t in the movies. It was happening, here. Now. Miss Welker had the pistol trained on him and had called, “Alarm! Noah’s now!”
Eighteen
Without thinking, Thomas ducked his head, and with the drum tucked under his arm like a football, he raced toward Miss Welker. His ruse worked. In her surprise at his brazenness, she felt her grip loosen on the gun. With his free hand, Thomas gripped her wrist and tried to wrest the gun from her. But, years of training, even in exhaustion, made her clamp her hand more tightly around it.
The force of his blow knocked her back and she fell hard against the desk. The force also dumped whatever was at the edge of the surface onto the floor. In the confusion, the two wine glasses rolled onto the carpeted flooring as did the melting ice, and caused them both to slip. Miss Welker caught herself with her free hand, but Thomas’s misstep trying to hold Miss Welker off and hold on to the drum, landed his foot squarely on the wine glasses. It was the sound of the glass shattering that gave him the extra minute he needed to escape.
