by Tom Hunter
The minor tremors were getting rougher.
Returning to his old self, he beat on his chest, and exclaimed, “I’m alive and kicking, boys!” Then, with a quick look toward Pedro and Gunter, he added, “Knight got lucky, shooting the tire.”
“You went somewhere else for a little while, amigo,” said Pedro. “Glad to have you back, man.”
Then someone with a heavy southern accent added, “You had him dead to rights, you did!”
Ramon nodded trying to determine if it was the accent he didn’t understand or the sentence itself. Probably a bit of both, he thought.
Then, Gunter, in an effort to make the men focus, asked, “What are our orders?”
“Same as always,” he replied. “Protect Noah and the artifacts.”
Everyone waited, knowing Ramon had more to add. “Since Thomas Knight got away, it’s only a little while before he tells the park rangers and they begin hunting for our camp. We’ll need to move out sooner rather than later, though. I think we can buy some decent time against a slow government agency. What’s that phrase?” He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Oh yeah,” he smiled. “Hurry up and wait.”
Ramon snorted at his joke. “But since we’re here, pack up what you can.” He looked around, and added, “Demolish whatever could identify us and any paperwork you’ve got. If you’ve got a flash drive, use it. If you’ve got an iPhone, take pictures if you have to. Otherwise, start a fire and burn anything that can be used to trace us. You got me?”
“But, what if Noah” – began one of his soldiers.
“Never mind Noah. Never mind what he says, I meant.”
“And if Noah refuses?” pushed the voice.
“Leave Noah Ashbridge to me,” Ramon said through clenched teeth. “He hired me to…protect him, and that means from anyone. Even himself or that bitch, Miss Welker.” He spat the woman’s name out with a venomous bearing.
His face darkened, thinking of her. Then, to get his mind off her, he clapped his hands. “This iron beast isn’t going anywhere. So, looks like we’re hoofin’ it back to camp.”
Once everyone was out and heading back toward the camouflaged campsite, Ramon touched his earpiece once more. Into it, he spoke only two words, “It’s time.”
The call for a tactical withdrawal had been sounded.
Twenty-Three
In the wake of cries, tremors, and the sounds of destruction, the four of them raced into the passageway they had spotted earlier. Robbie led the way; Mochni, Abby, and Pediah grouped close by. The path beneath their feet trembled, shaking loose pebbles and stalagmites with equanimity. They dodged and weaved as they scrambled forward.
Mochni stopped and turned to look back. His whole world in ruins, he watched the flurry of Kisgar still in the throes of berserk, and sank to his knees. Abby and Pediah stood closest and moved to comfort him. The screams of villagers they couldn’t save echoed in the cavernous chamber.
“Robbie,” called Abby softly. “Wait a minute.” Robbie turned and saw the other three kneeling. Mochni’s head was bowed. Pediah’s, too. He turned back toward them as Abby whispered. “We need to take a break. We’re…exhausted,” she rasped with a quick glance toward Mochni.
Robbie nodded and joined the other three. He laid a hand on Mochni’s shoulder, who looked up at him and tried to smile through gritted teeth. Mochni fought to hold back tears, and Abby’s small hand clenched tight around his.
“I’m sorry,” she cooed. “I know it’s terrible to lose your family.” She looked at Robbie, and added, “We understand your pain.”
Pediah silently offered a prayer for Lt. Whipkey, and laid his own hand on Mochni’s to comfort him. “I’m sorry. I’ve never had the heart-wrenching suffering of losing a loved one like Robbie or Abby nor of the loss of a parent,” began Pediah. “But, I do understand loss…” he stopped.
Mochni snatched his arm back from Abby and wrapped his arms around himself.
Pediah looked back down the passageway, the tremors beneath his feet having made his voice shake. He was glad they weren’t on a land bridge this time, but his fear had disappeared as he listened to the echoes of a civilization now destroyed. He’d watched history being made and it moved him to be part of the story. This was why he’d left his own culture behind. To find his own way, his own story.
Sad eyes caught his and Pediah looked from Mochni to Abby to Robbie. “I do not know loss like you,” he repeated. “But, I do understand the loss of a way of life, of a community, of a culture. Leaving the Amish culture was my choice.” He stopped and choked back tears, then shook his head. “The choice was taken from you. From all of you. And all I can offer in condolence is this bumbling effort to put myself in your place; and offer a prayer to try to understand.”
Mochni’s sad eyes had grown wide. Robbie’s and Abby’s had filled with their own tears in echo to Pediah’s. After a while, Mochni nodded and smiled. “Did not understand…all,” he said slowly. “Understand you….” he added, as he lay a hand over his heart.
Abby offered a shaky smile and fingered the brooch at her neck as she thought of her late husband. Robbie twisted the band on his left ring finger, his eyes downcast. With a quick silent prayer thanking God for helping him to find the right words, Pediah asked, “So…what now?”
His eyes still downcast thinking of his deceased wife and father-in-law, Robbie scraped at the crumbling earth beneath him. “No idea,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. He suddenly felt much older than his twenty four years and wondered idly if this was how Thomas felt when faced with decisions like these. “We’re in this together,” he added. “So, I’m open to ideas…”
Mochni shrugged and Robbie shook his head. How much had the kid understood anyway? His head is very much someplace else right now.
“Abby?” he asked. “Ideas?”
“I’m just too exhausted to think straight,” she explained. “Plus, my mind’s blank at the moment,” she added.
“What would Thomas do?” Robbie mumbled to himself. Answering himself, he suggested, “Well, if Thomas were here he’d say ‘let’s reconvene at camp and figure out what happened.’
“That was pretty good,” laughed Pediah.
“Don’t let on to Thomas you’ve got a talent for mimicking his voice,” laughed Abby.
Laughter. It was how Robbie dealt with pain. He did it without even realizing it. But, it worked. The laughter was infectious and the three of them released their stress. Mochni stood nearby smoldering.
“And he’s right,” Pediah added. “We should get back as soon as we can.” His voice shook as the tremors rumbled beneath their feet. His arms outstretched, he found his balance and continued, “I hope he’s got the drum, though. Remember what Lt. Whipkey said it could do in the wrong hands?”
“Yeah,” said Robbie softly. “If he’s got it then we can at least bury it now….” Then remembering how suddenly the change from docile creature to crazed berserker had happened, he wondered aloud. “Problem is,” he began, “Somebody activated the thing. Why else would the gentle Kisgar we rode into the village have gone nuts so quickly?”
“I mean, it was one thing to hear the story being told, but to see it happen, be in it – that drum must warp their minds or something,” said Robbie still thinking out loud. He turned to Pediah. “It wasn’t in use when we first saw it down in the temple area, so things were cool, I guess. But, once activated is The Change permanent?” he asked looking at Mochni, who shook his head vehemently. Robbie went on without giving Mochni time to answer. “We’ve no idea how far the effect can reach. I mean, we’ve seen the damage it can do down here –“
“Robbie….” Abby warned. She’d sensed Mochni’s change in demeanor.
Her warning was too late. Mochni exploded in his broken English, which was quickly gaining ground as he listened to everyone talk. “You stole! Your fault!” Mochni pointed his finger first at Robbie, then waved it at Abby and Pediah, too. “You come here,” he tried to explain. “You don’t… understand. D
rum safe here.” He pointed above him. “Drum no more safe.” Then, he pointed to himself. “We no more safe.”
“Hey!” Robbie took a step forward. “We,” he waved his arm to include Pediah and Abby, then pointed above him, “didn’t know you existed, first of all.”
“Stone spears no sign?” taunted Mochni. They’d been trying to protect the drum ever since those first surfacers had come down all those years ago. Now he had no more family and no more village. There was nothing left to lose.
“You?” sputtered Robbie. “A girl nearly died because of your stone spears!”
“My parents die!” shouted Mochni. “Why? Because Kisgar drum.” His eyes were ablaze in fury.
“We’re doing the best we can!” volleyed Robbie. “I saved you, didn’t I?” he asked grasping for recognition. “I’m ‘new to the find an undiscovered civilization and not realize the implications of their artifacts’ game. Help me out, will ya?” Robbie exclaimed in frustration. Why was no one else talking? When did he get elected leader or, in this case, fodder for the fire? Regardless, they both left a bad taste in his mouth and he wanted to get back to the surface now more than ever.
Without realizing it, the two had gotten closer and closer. Mochni was nearly three times Robbie’s height, and with one good swipe he could cause serious damage. As both Pediah and Abby realized this, Pediah caught her eye. “We’ve got to stop them,” he mouthed, glad the two were so focused on each other they didn’t remember he and Abby were still there. Abby mouthed in return, “I’ve got this. Stand down.”
Pediah nodded, glad to watch this slowdown from the sidelines. He nearly fainted when he saw Abby step between the giant and her brash son-in-law. Any other time neither would have hurt Abby, but worried they were already in the throes of blood lust rage, Pediah offered a silent prayer for Abby’s safety.
Mochni looked down first at the woman’s hand on his chest. He followed its line to her other arm outstretched on Robbie’s chest. The shock stopped them both as Abby commanded, “Stop it. Both of you.” She looked up and caught each of them in the eye. “Now, listen to me, you two,” she began. “Mochni, on behalf of…all of us…we are sorry. We really had no idea what or who we had found,” she explained.
“Much of the time, the things we find go to a museum – a building open so people can see things from other places, other times, and try to understand another world. That was our plan. We did not know the drum was dangerous.” Her hand still on his chest, she could feel Mochni’s heart rate slowing. Good.
She took a deep breath and continued. “We cannot change the past,” she intoned. “But, we can work together to decide next steps.” She looked from Mochni to Robbie and back again. “Understand?” both nodded. “Good, now that’s been made clear. I agree with Robbie. Next step is to get back to camp. But, to do that we need to keep going. Okay?” she asked, one eyebrow raised daring them to question her.
Mochni nodded and Abby smiled. Pediah and Robbie relaxed. “Good,” Abby said happily, then, broke into her best impression of Humphrey Bogart, and added. “Stick with us kid and we’ll do all we can to set things right.”
“I don’t think he understands, Bogey, Abs,” said Robbie slowly.
“Bogey?” asked Pediah. “An old actor from the 40s. A classic,” explained Abby.
The large giant youth had been taking stock of his surroundings, mentally assessing where they were in the caves while the other three spoke. Finally, he broke into their conversation with a tremulous, “Ab-bee?”
“Yes, Mochni. What is it?” she answered.
“I know way out,” he began, his face twisted in contemplation as he searched for another word. He brightened as it came to him. “Fast.”
Robbie nodded and extended his hand. “Thank you.” Mochni nodded, shook it, and took his place in the lead. “Watch Kisgar,” he cautioned pointing at the walls.
The four were soon on their way. Minor tremors still rumbled underfoot from the Kisgar now released, but the screams of the villagers had long since faded. Now, their only task was to make it out alive.
Twenty-Four
Noah’s campsite was in shambles. The chase and ensuing gunfight had ripped holes in their camouflage. Noah’s RV still bore the brunt of Ramon’s work on the door, and shattered glass still sparkled, now embedded in the shag rug carpet surrounding is bed. Noah looked out the window and witnessed a flurry of activity as guards and workers raced to put things back to rights, with some deciding of their own accord to bring back Thomas Knight in chains.
Their meal ticket in the guise of Noah Ashbridge was foremost on their minds. Had he been hurt? Would they still get paid? But, the most rumbling they heard, aside from their own conversations was a slow tremor that was a precursor to an earthquake.
Stepping down from the few steps of his RV, Noah surveyed the damage. His only consolation was that the ancient drum an assistant had somehow rescued from its perilous journey and returned to him unscathed. He stroked the ancient artifact as though it were a pet, checking and rechecking it to see all was in order. Was the skin still pulled taut across its frame? Check. Were the stitches still strong? Check. Were there any scratches or gouges which might affect its tone? No. Good. Check.
A wild rumbling of the earth beneath his feet nearly made him lose his balance. Miss Welker, watching, caught him by the elbow. “You okay?”
“Mmm,” he offered noncommittally, his fingers once more plucking at the still tight stitching, and smoothing his hand over the hide stretched across it. He wondered suddenly what kind of hide it was. He hoped it wasn’t that of a Kisgar. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but the thought made him shiver.
Undeterred, Miss Welker continued, “Glad Knight didn’t hurt, you.” Her voice barely registered, so intent was he on his prize. Adjusting his arms, he now held the drum cradled like a baby. Miss Welker raise an eyebrow and pulled her lips inward.
“Noah,” she repeated. “Did you hear me? I’m glad you’re –“
“I heard you,” the little man confessed, sweating profusely from his brow, though his wide brimmed hat offered ample shade. Even it could not cut the stifling heat of the desert. He expelled a breath through his nose, which Miss Welker assumed was a chuckle. “Doubt he’s got it in him,” Noah stated. At Miss Welker’s curious expression, he continued, “Thomas Knight doesn’t have it in him to hurt anyone. He’s too damn… nice. Or has integrity. Or some shit like that.”
Spitting the words at her feet, he mumbled finally, “And that is why he will remain second best in all things. The gap will widen.” Cradling the drum in one hand, Noah pointed to himself, “Richer and better.” Then, waving a hand off in the distance, which Miss Welker guessed was a vague directional innuendo regarding Thomas Knight’s campsite. “Poorer and second best.”
“Why do you hate him so much?” Miss Welker asked, her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips. Before he could answer, she added, “Didn’t I hear somewhere that you stole from him?”
Noah waved his hand flippantly and changed the subject. “I’m glad the drum was recovered. That was quick thinking on what’s-his-name’s part.”
Miss Welker held back a laugh and thought to herself. One of your peons rescued your precious drum and you don’t know his name? Classic.
“You know,” he began slowly as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, his eyes never moving from the drum, Noah declared, “You should have gone after the drum instead of checking on me. The drum is all that matters.”
As she opened her mouth to disagree, the crunch and clatter of a hover vehicle in dire need of repair stopped her short. Ramon! Of course. What does he want now? Her eyes were determined, a flash of anger at the interruption. The vehicle squeaked to a stop, and Ramon and his team disembarked. The heavy crunch of their footsteps as they walked toward her and Noah were as bad as grating nails on a chalkboard. God, how she hated the man.
Ramon’s mercenary training was on full display as he barked orders. “Yo
u” – he waved a hand toward one of his soldiers who’d been left behind at Noah’s camp. “And you,” he barked. Before he could begin the orders, an echo of “yes, sirs” greeted him. He nodded once, stoically, and continued, “Shut down the camp!” he bellowed, so those farther away could hear him. “Pack up. Burn everything!” He flitted a quick glance at Noah, who seemed to be in shock.
“Burn everything?” he asked.
“Yeah, you heard me,” Ramon volleyed.
“Why?” asked Miss Welker. Ramon brushed past her and amended his previous statement to his soldiers. “Gather only necessities. Burn everything else. Move out now.”
Still lost in thought about the drum and Thomas and all that had led up to these moments, Noah hadn’t truly registered what Ramon had said.
When it sunk in, he exploded. “Who do you think you are, Ramon? Last I checked, I was the boss here. And I say we stay.” Noah held out a hand to the nearest soldier, then raised both his hands as if calming a tide. “Stop! Halten Sie!”
Gunther, one of Ramon’s confidantes happened to pass by just then and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, huh. So, it is like that. I see,” he said and smothered a smile.
“No can do,” Ramon answered. “Your boy Thomas Knight got away. And if my spies are right – hell, spies!” He laughed. “The man told me himself. Too soon for my taste, we’re going to have the state police and feds breathing down our necks. Now, if you want to stay for that shit show, then be my guest. But, I’m out and I’m takin’ my boys with me,” Ramon explained.
“But, you have a contract!” bellowed Noah.
“Screw your contract,” the large Brazilian retorted. “Show me where it says I – we – get paid extra for fighting state and federal agents, and I’ll show you a man dumber than dirt for signing said contract,” finished Ramon evenly.
The two men glared at each other and for a minute, Miss Welker thought she heard them growling like dogs at each other. Then, shook her head. It was those damn tremors again. Not enough to do any real damage, but enough to put people on edge wondering when the quake was going to hit.
