Rye Ironstone: Mother Tesla's Death Ray

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Rye Ironstone: Mother Tesla's Death Ray Page 5

by John Wilkerson

The speaker seemed to be getting to the end of his sermon. He did a fine job, hands raised to the sky, lots of shaking and telling we were all sinners. Yep, he hit every highpoint. I expected the collection plate to follow.

  Animated conversation floated around the barn as people started arriving. It was obvious the main performer was about to speak.

  “I think we should stay and watch,” I said to Gael. “It would be rude to eat and run.”

  Gael poked me in the ribs and nodded her head toward the middle-aged woman talking center stage.

  She was fit, trim, and looked better than a Sears Catalog model. She was a fine thoroughbred version of Blondie, all grown up.

  The fez and bonnet wearers chanted as the woman in blue-robes took the dais. “Praise, Mother Mary.”

  Mary raised her hands and began her preacher show. “Welcome my children.”

  The crowd went silent.

  The lady in blue-velvet robes crackled with charisma. “We have opened our hearts and homes to you today. We have seen the righteousness of our cause, and forsaken the moral decline of our nation.”

  “Amen,” echoed from the assembled church members.

  Mary worked the room like a pro. She was a mixture of prideful strutting and humble subjugation. Her blue-velvet robes and matching bonnet shimmered with electric sparks as she delivered the fiery sermon. The room felt charged for an explosion. “My words speak of the Wise Men. The Christ Child was honored by the Wise Men. We too must return to honoring our savior.”

  Another amen reverberated.

  I leaned over to whisper to Gael. “Nothing odd yet. This might be a bust.”

  Gael was enthralled, but not with Mother Mary. I kept sneaking a peak at my travel buddy. She was watching the room, especially the backdoor where the guards were posted.

  Mother Mary entered through the backdoor, and when she did, Gael and I both saw the space beyond. Stairs led down. The barn was a single level workspace with a hay loft above. There should be no lower level unless it was a subterranean basement.

  Mary’s words become more insistent. “…No. I cannot ask. It is the Lord who asks. We as humble servants of the Lord’s path beg those who have joined us today. Bring the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart. We, a congregation of the devout, do the Lord’s work. We shall smite the wicked and return our nation to the words of wisdom from God.

  We were reaching the final segment of the show, and Mother Mary delivered it to perfection. Blue-lightning buzzed from her fingertips and shot toward the rafters of the barn. The crowd screamed in a mixture of fear and admiration.

  “We possess the power of the sky. The power of Moses. The power of God. We are the beacons of a new hope. We are the lightning and the sword.”

  The answer to the million dollar question wasn’t hard to miss. Mother Mary’s plans were big. They were also on the draconian side of my-way-or-the-highway.

  I was scared out of my skivvies, but it was still beautiful. Mother Mary finished the speech with arms outstretched. The woman was electrified stunning.

  Gael and I sat still for a couple of minutes and watched Mary be escorted to the back of the barn, and exit through the same door she’d entered.

  We slipped out the front of the barn and turned and headed for the rear. Locals and church stragglers were peering through every open crack or mingling in small groups. Being sneaky wasn’t a problem. We just acted like we should be there and kept moving.

  “What the heck?” I asked Gael as we moved further from the public gathering.

  “Tesla coil or Van De Graaff generator would be my guess.”

  “What?”

  “Did you ever play with one in school? Place you hand on top and it makes your hair stand up?”

  I slowed my pace as we reached the back corner of the barn. “Yeah, I did. It didn’t do much for me though, with all this thick dark hair. But the girls with fine blond hair…” Little light bulbs started to twinkle in the dark corners of my memories.

  Gael smiled. “It’s a guess, but if we put a couple of pieces together we can start to build a theory.”

  I liked what she was saying, but the obvious question was nibbling like a bear on my bacon flavored fingers. “Can they build one big enough to knock down a whole town?”

  Gael never batted an eye. “Maybe. There was a theory from Nicola Tesla before the war.”

  We circled the barn twice. There were no exits leading from underground. What looked like a vent pipe for fresh air protruded from the upper level of the hayloft roof. A curious thing we did find, the building was grounded for lightning. Big time grounded. Copper braided wire was clipped onto the metal roof and ran along the ridgeline. The bundles anchored to spikes driven in the ground. Whoever did the job was serious and ran triple the amount of cables typically used.

  “Watch my back,” I said to Gael as we rounded the back of the barn again. I pulled the monocular from my pocked and scanned the rolling countryside. It was mostly open ground except for some trees nestled in a small cut a ways further out. A squat antenna tower stood by itself further afield.

  I kept searching. We’d lost sight of Mother Mary, Blondie, and physics dude, Meeks. I doubted they were all holed up in a dark basement.

  Persistence paid off. About three hundred yards off, a cottage sat next to its own barn. It looked like a smaller or less prosperous version of the main house. A little smoke floated from the chimney, casting its soft grey shadow across the steel roof.

  I steadied my hands. “I think I have something.”

  Gael stepped in closer, and I realized she was blocking any outside view of our observation post. “Tell me slowly as you see it,” she said.

  “Okay. Cottage with a metal roof. Barn.”

  “Watch the barn.”

  “Why?”

  “You do your job and I’ll do mine. Watch the barn,” Gael’s firmness reminded me of the don’t-break-my-finger encounter.

  I fixed my view on the barn. “Nothing—nothing—something.” Gael really ticked me off sometimes. “Blue lady, Professor Meeks, and Blondie.” Dang, how’d she know.

  “What are they doing?”

  “They’re pointing at us.”

  “Don’t be funny,” she said.

  “They’re pointing at us, and Blondie’s talking into a radio.”

  I took a moment and opened my search pattern. Tom Jackson from the security office was on a walkie-talkie leading a group of nearly a dozen men. They were booking it toward us from across the yard. The distinctive flash of chrome-shinny pistols poked out from under their jackets.

  Chapter Five

  I unlocked the car and turned the key. Capri answered with a throaty roar. I rammed the stick into first, popped the clutch, and floored the big V8. The tires struggled for traction on the late-season grass as a double column of dirt erupted behind us.

  Gael rolled down her window and clicked a few frames from a little spy camera. “Slow down, I want to get this.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  Jackson led his troops in hot pursuit. A couple of three-wheelers the locals used for hunting bounced across the fields headed straight toward us. Rifles strapped to the front of the buggies.

  “Slow down. They saw us. So what. Let’s see where this goes.” Gael’s calming presence pulled me back from my panic.

  I eased off the accelerator and let the car cruise along in second gear. The red three-wheelers wove around the pumpkins, closing the distance.

  “Slower,” Gael said.

  I obliged the old gal. Don’t ask me why, but I did. “What are you going to do when they start shooting?”

  “Shoot back.”

  They started shooting at us. I could hear the crack of pistols.

  Gael opened her rucksack and pulled out an Uzi. It was mountain magic. Sweet Gael was an official, machine-pistol-wielding, kung fu, badass.

  She clicked a magazine in place, pulled back the charging lever, and pointed the pistol toward the sunroof. “Open that.”

/>   I didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, ma’am,” I said as I worked the lever to open up her new firing position.

  Gael stood up through the hatch.

  Oh, the joy. Bang, bang, bang—brass shell casings fell into my lap. Gael sprayed a full magazine toward the pursuing vehicles.

  I reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror. I didn’t want to miss the show. Soil erupted in front of our pursuers. It was grand—it was spectacular—it was over way too soon.

  The riders turned off, and we sped away.

  Gael dropped back into her seat and changed mags. “We will probably have issues getting back on the main road.”

  She was right. When we arrived, one of those flat-bed trucks with the church logo on the side was parked at the head of the driveway, along with a half dozen men.

  I throttled our speed way down and took the time to look for a second exit. Sure enough, a saw a farm gate not too far off the main drive. It would be a ride across open pasture, but I figured it was our best bet.

  I turned the wheel and angled down-slope. “Hang on.”

  Gael grabbed the door rail for support. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Me too.” The car struggled in the soft soil. “When we get to the gate, get out and open it.”

  “Roger that.”

  Our path took us around a small knoll. I worried if we were going to have a clean get away, or if the church truck was speeding toward us as we spoke. Gael didn’t seem troubled as I stopped Capri by the big metal gate.

  She jumped out, and I saw her fiddle with a chain and lock holding the gate closed. She casually pointed her Uzi at the padlock—bang. The report echoed. Gael kicked the chain free, and then used her shoulder to push open the gate.

  I slipped Capri back in to gear as Gael jumped in. “Smart shooting, cookie.”

  “Good idea about the second gate, kiddo. Let’s go.”

  In order to get back to town a choice needed to be made. Turn right and pass by the church’s driveway and their guard post, or turn left and go the long way around. I turned right. Yep, right into the breach. We needed more information, and besides, my hackles were up.

  Gael smiled her soft smile. “Floor-it, kiddo.”

  It took less than a minute for us to get to the driveway. The church group finished loading up and turned their truck toward us. It was like two bulls squaring off for a charge.

  “Hold tight.” I floored the gas and built speed. As we approached, I pulled the brake lever, and snapped the steering wheel, spinning Capri into a 180-degree reverse spin. We coasted backward past the truck.

  “What do ya’ think?” I asked.

  Gael didn’t have time to answer. The doors on the quad-cab truck burst open and an army of young men charged out, shotguns and rifles at the ready.

  Gael sent a magazine of bullets into the tailgate of the truck. “Answer your question?”

  I slipped the car into reverse, and gunned the engine. The tires chirped and once we built speed I snapped the brake lever and tickled the steering wheel. We slid back around to our original direction, headed for home.

  **

  “What did we learn?” Gael asked as we sped back into town.

  It was a rhetorical question, one I’d pondered for the past couple of minutes. A lot happened since the library fell down, and the more I considered it, the odder it was. I started to tick off points on my mental list and came back to one important point.

  The church knew the lighting was going to happen. Did they cause it? I wasn’t certain yet, but I would say it was probable. All the working radios and vehicles alluded to the fact they were prepared. Somebody was in the know, and that somebody was working with Mother Mary and the Blue Fez Boys. I would also venture to guess the university was involved, but how?

  Professor Meeks was my person of interest at this point, but I didn’t quite know how to proceed.

  Gael put away her Uzi, leaned the car seat back and bit, and slipped into a lotus position. Her breathing slowed, and her eyes closed. I swear she was part cat, a scary lioness with claws and a gun.

  I cruised to the university, and took a spin through the quad lawn. The grass and leaves were slick, but I didn’t care. A couple of members from the football team were standing guard near the home-econ building.

  I pulled Capri to a halt and stepped out. “You guys doing okay?”

  One of the team guys from yesterday stepped forward. “All’s good. How about you?”

  “Not too bad.” I flicked my chin at the recently filled hole. A fresh-cut board stood as a tombstone. “Thanks.”

  Football boy nodded his answer.

  “How’s the food and water situation?” I asked.

  Football guy stiffened his posture and looked a little defensive. “Good.”

  “Okay, let me know when it’s not. I’ll swing by every day or two.”

  “Will do. Have you heard anything yet?” Football guy asked.

  I rested a foot on the front bumper of the car. “Army’s trying to get into town. It wasn’t a nuclear bomb. No radiation to worry about.”

  My young friend seemed to melt into his shoes with relief.

  I changed topics. “Did you guys get an invitation to the church breakfast this morning?”

  “No,” he answered, shifting from foot to foot, nervous like.

  “Probably for the best. I’d stay away from there if I was you. They’re on the crazy side, and they like to shoot at people.”

  His eyeballs grew big. “Did you hear, someone said a church group was shooting people in the quad?”

  “Yeah.”

  We shared a quiet moment, simply watching the fluttering autumn leaves.

  He started the conversation again, this time more relaxed. “Chad, the guy you talked to yesterday? He wants us to get the master keys from you.”

  I considered the request and pulled the bundle from my belt ring. “No problem. I may need them sometime though.”

  “He said to tell you we’ll keep them in the desk by the door.”

  I turned to leave. “No problem. I’ll drop them off in a bit.”

  Gael unwound her legs and opened the car door. “I’ll wait here.”

  It wasn’t far to the physics building. I used my passkey to open the main door, and grabbed a flashlight from the broom closet. The labs and lecture halls were on the ground floor. I headed upstairs.

  At the top of the stairs I chose a direction at random, and started reading the door plaques.

  I found myself humming along to the rhythmic squeaks my feet made on the vinyl tile.

  Dean Meeks’ office was down on the left, a corner office.

  I unlocked the door, and stepped into an office filled with expensive walnut furniture. All the personal stuff was gone. Smudges lined the paneled walls where pictures once hung. Unused packing paper stood in a neat stack along with several empty moving boxes in one corner.

  Ornate stained glass rimmed the large windows. It felt like how a high-priced college should feel, respectable. I could see the quad, and what remained of the library. The view to the quad was fantastic. When the building was build it would have been the location of choice for the top honcho.

  It took a full ten minutes to go through the office. I found nothing of interest. I was letdown. Here I was on a grand adventure, crazy church people shooting at me, and even with a solid lead, the clue was still reluctant to be found. I took a seat in the fancy wingback chair, and kicked my feet up on a stool. Maybe I was approaching this wrong. If I were looking for something new I would look where new stuff was kept. But if I was looking for something old, where would I hide it?

  The stillness of the building was eerie. A sporadic creak or groan came for the bowels of the old structure, but for the most part, it was bone-dead quiet.

  Okay, the building was built like all the old buildings, tough.

  How tough, Tesla experimenting with lightning tough?

  I stepped to the window and opened the sash. Nestled n
ext to the corner blocks and downspout was a corroded bundle of copper wires. Three green braided bundles rose from behind the shrubs up to the eves and beyond. Bingo.

  Okay, the building was around for Tesla’s early experiments. Was this his office?

  If so, where would he hide something important? A safe seemed the reasonable answer, or the lab. Too obvious. I’d been in all the labs. Security checked them during evening rounds to make sure students didn’t leave dangerous experiments unattended.

  I paced around the room. It was here, I knew it. The stained glass? It was like a detective novel clue. I imagined Mickey Spillane cheering me on.

  Up in the left corner of the window border was a glass panel with the drawing of a key. It looked like an engineering sketch transcribed into the glass. Three profile-views were present along with a scale. Any reasonable locksmith could cut a duplicate key. Hallelujah.

  It was obvious, maybe too obvious. A key is easy to cut, but the location to use the key becomes the bigger question.

  I took out my camera and snapped a couple of pictures of the panel along with several of the whole window. I needed help and hoped Gael could provide a lead to the next clue.

  **

  Gael and a group of young ladies were sitting lotus style under a tree not far from the car. It jogged my memory, and I realized I’d actually seen Dr. Gale before. She’d been sitting under the same tree doing the same thing with some of those same girls. Maybe it was some study group for one of her classes.

  I decided not to interrupt and found a bench nearby.

  Although damaged, the university was still alive. Chad, the football captain, was doing a good job getting everybody organized. It eased one of my worries. If we broke into my food and water storage in the garage, Gael and I were covered for a couple of months as well.

  The army and Feds worried me.

  We were now on our third day and totally alone. Our meeting with Mr. Dallas approached. Granted, we could pass along a lot of good information, but what I didn’t have was a suggestion for what to do next. The holding pattern bothered me.

  Gael finished her session and walked back toward the car.

 

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