Vapor

by David Meyer

  A guard walked through the opening. He carried a wooden crate. He walked across the tube and placed the crate on a small stack of other crates. Then he brushed off his hands.

  And turned toward us.

  His head cocked to one side. He reached for his pistol.

  Damn it.

  Blade extended, I rushed the man.

  His jaw dipped open.

  Then he screamed.

  Chapter 73

  My blade rammed through the man’s chest. His scream died in his throat. He gurgled softly as blood poured from his mouth. Then he slid to the ground in a heap.

  The other three guards rushed into the tube. Their guns swung toward my head. The air erupted with bullets.

  Grabbing Beverly, I sprinted back to the twisting section of tube. Plastering myself against the concrete, I drew my gun. Then I fired a few quick shots.

  The guards ducked behind the concrete slab. Sticking their guns out, they returned fire.

  “So, that was your plan?” Graham arched an eyebrow. “Make a ton of noise and retreat?”

  “That was just the first round,” I said.

  “What’s round two? Wearing bullseyes?”

  “Nope.” I checked my ammunition. “We play possum.”

  I stayed still. Bullets sprayed the area, chewing the concrete and spitting dust into the air.

  Footsteps sounded out.

  Reinforcements.

  I steeled myself for more gunfire. But instead, it grew sporadic.

  I chanced a peek. The oval-shaped concrete slab remained open. The boxes and crates were still in the hallway. But the guards were nowhere in sight.

  The dust began to settle. I perked my ears. But I heard nothing.

  Guess they’re playing dead, too.

  The air was sweltering. Sweat beaded up on my shoulders.

  “Cover me,” I whispered.

  Beverly shot me a nod and moved to the far left side of the tube. Crouching down, I hurried along the right side.

  I stopped near the oval-shaped slab. Taking a deep breath, I aimed my gun into the semi-dark interior. Then I lowered it.

  Where the hell did they go?

  Chapter 74

  “They just ran?” Graham said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Benigno frowned. “Maybe they went to get help.”

  “If there were other guards down here, we’d be fighting them by now.” I shook my head. “No, they’re regrouping somewhere.”

  “What were they doing anyway?” Carrie asked.

  “Good question.” I took another glance past the revolving oval slab.

  Good lord.

  We stood at the edge of what appeared to be a house of horrors. Full skeletons, mounted in display cases, hung from the walls. Paintings were situated between them. A quick scan showed a variety of images. A crowd carrying a casket. Dragons dueling across a countryside. A giant fireball, watched by gawkers, streaking across a night sky.

  More bones, carefully placed in separate display cases, took up part of the small floor space. I also noticed old tools, ancient tomes in boxes, and—strangest of all—ice cores displayed prominently in high-tech sub-zero container systems.

  Graham frowned. “What is this place?”

  “It looks like a museum.” Carrie walked to a display case. It contained an aged vase, discolored with time. Intricate drawings of dead people standing on top of clearly trembling ground covered its surface. “This stuff is real old.”

  Did that explain why Simona had taken the reliquary? Was she some kind of collector? Of what? The objects were bizarre with no obvious connection between them.

  After a moment, I discarded the collector theory. Lila hadn’t been worried about Simona possessing the reliquary. She’d been worried the woman might use it to hurt people.

  “How old?” Graham asked.

  Leaning close, Carrie read a card mounted on the case. “It dates to 1347,” she replied. “And was found outside of Athens.”

  Graham wandered to one of the sub-zero container systems. “These ice cores date to the mid-1300s,” he said slowly.

  Beverly studied a painting of strange objects, frogs by the looks of it, raining from the sky. “And this was made in 1349.”

  I scanned the area, searching for the reliquary. I didn’t see it, but I did notice the other objects also came from the mid-fourteenth century.

  How old was the reliquary?

  I didn’t know it’s exact age. But a fourteenth century origin date wasn’t out of the question.

  I tried to think, to recall what I knew about that time period. But I was nervous, edgy. I kept looking to the revolving slab, expecting more guards to appear.

  Finally, I waved at the others. We exited the small area. As we resumed our trek through the tube, a small part of my brain couldn’t stop thinking about the bizarre museum. Why had Simona obtained those particular objects? Why had she taken the reliquary?

  And most importantly, what did she intend to do with it?

  Chapter 75

  The tube widened by a considerable margin. Apprehensively, I strode into a large cavern, roughly thirty to forty feet wide and twice as long.

  I saw separate tubes, all lined with concrete, on the far side of the cavern. One tube ran northeast. The other two tubes took a slightly more northern course.

  I walked forward and turned around. I saw two tubes to the west. They ran southwest, parallel to the one we’d traversed.

  Instantly, I realized the room in which we stood was made up of three separate tubes. The walls between them had been knocked down. Pillars had been erected in their place.

  To the east, I noticed a cleanroom, virtually identical to the one used as a production facility. Large generators buzzed and crackled. Wires connected them to the cleanroom, the overhead light fixtures, and other machines. Still other wires veered into the connecting tubes, presumably providing electricity to the old tunnel system.

  “Body,” Beverly said tightly. “Over there.”

  I shifted my gaze. My eyes crinkled at the corners.

  A body lay in the corner. Its arms were stretched outward. Its legs were spread wide. The concrete floor underneath it was stained a crimson red.

  Gun drawn, I crept to the corpse. It belonged to a man. His face, torn apart by a gunshot, was unrecognizable. His hair, thick and black, was matted with blood and sweat. A pair of spectacles lay at his side, along with a smashed phone.

  “Do you recognize him?” Beverly asked Carrie.

  Carrie, holding her mouth with one hand, shook her head.

  I detected movement. Rotating my hips, I saw Benigno slowly approach the far northeastern tube. “Get back here,” I whispered. “We’ve got to stick together.”

  But he ignored me. Seconds later, he strode into the darkness.

  Gritting my teeth, I strode after him. Right away, I saw numerous glass structures sitting against the right wall. They looked like large, waterless fish tanks.

  Several chairs were situated in front of the glass tanks. Small desks were set up throughout the area, their surfaces covered with computer monitors, papers, and notebooks.

  My nostrils burned as I detected a strong odor of disinfectant. I smelled something else, too. But I couldn’t quite place it.

  Benigno fell to his knees. A loud wail filled the air.

  I swung toward him. He knelt in front of a glass tank. Looking inside it, I saw what had caused his reaction. A woman sat sprawled within it, her back against the far wall. Her eyes were closed. Her head lay on her shoulder.

  My nose wrinkled as I finally identified the scent.

  It was the scent of death.

  Chapter 76

  “I can’t believe she’s dead.” Beverly exhaled a long breath as we exited the tube. “I really thought we’d save her.”

  I knew how she felt. Adding to the pain, Rizzalyn wasn’t the only Pagan Nation member who’d perished at the hands of Eco-Trek.

  They were all dead.

&nbs
p; A few looked like they’d passed away in their sleep. But the rest had been executed with gunshots to their heads.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “They never stood a chance.” Graham’s lip curled in anger. “Simona must’ve ordered their deaths when she found out we’d gotten past her security guards.”

  I scanned the cavern as we crossed it. I didn’t see the guards from earlier. But I kept my gun ready just in case.

  We’d searched the rest of the tube after checking the other bodies. A collapse of rubble sealed off its far end. Then we’d left the tube, giving Benigno a few moments to grieve while Carrie comforted him. We couldn’t give them a lot of time.

  Unfortunately, it would have to be enough.

  While we waited, I strode to the cleanroom’s outer partition and peered through one of the many oval-shaped windows.

  Orange and yellow lights illuminated the room. To my right, I saw long tables, covered with computer monitors and various machines. They ran lengthwise across the lab. Wires poked out of the machines, connecting them to other machines as well as to the computers. Opened notebooks lay on some of the tables while clipboards were tucked into the small areas separating the machines. Squinting, I was able to make out two words on many of the papers.

  Project Miasma? What’s that?

  I shifted my gaze toward some metal shelves. They held various instruments and were pushed up against the right side wall. I didn’t recognize the instruments, but they looked far more sophisticated than the microscopes, beakers, and test tubes I’d played with back in high school.

  “It’s a lab,” Graham said slowly. “A big one.”

  “This is what you were looking for,” Beverly said to me. “They must do their research here.”

  My neck twisted to the left. My heart thumped against my chest. Slowly, I lifted my hand to the window. It was made of some kind of safety glass and felt cold against my fingertips.

  An oversized transportable hydraulic lift occupied the left side of the lab. Two objects rested on it. One object was a large statue, carved out of black and shiny rock. The other object was a stone box, seven feet long by four feet wide. Its lid, covered with familiar relief carvings, lay next to it.

  “We found it.” Electricity tingled through my joints. “We found the reliquary.”

  Chapter 77

  President Walters tilted his chair backward and glanced at one of the five ornate clocks mounted on the wall. It was 11:37 a.m. His eyes moved to his wristwatch. 11:37 a.m., as well.

  He glanced at the stack of file folders on his desk. They were crooked. Leaning forward, he rearranged them. Then he straightened his in-out box. And then he repositioned his water glass so it sat in the exact middle of the underlying coaster. Satisfied, he leaned back and rechecked the time.

  11:37 a.m.

  He grumbled to himself. He wasn’t used to waiting on others. What had happened to Hooper anyway? One minute they were talking on the phone. The next minute, all communications had ceased.

  Glancing at his desk, he saw the notations he’d made about Pagan. The island was fourteen hours ahead of Washington, D.C. That meant it was 1:37 a.m. on the island. In other words, the HyperMax was, almost certainly, on the ground.

  So, what the hell had happened to Hooper?

  He smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt and patted down his pants. He knew he was fidgeting, but he couldn’t help himself. He was President Wade Walters, damn it. He kept people waiting, not the other way around.

  But as the minutes ticked by, the president began to realize he wasn’t going to be hearing from Hooper anytime soon. And the thought unnerved him. Deep down, he hoped nothing was wrong. It wasn’t just that he liked Hooper, although that was certainly the case.

  No, the real problem was Senator’s Gar impromptu press conference.

  A few hours earlier, Senator Gar had announced a press conference for 1:00 p.m. Speculation among Washington’s elite was that the man was preparing to announce his presidential candidacy. And perhaps that was the case. But the president knew that wouldn’t be the only announcement. He was nearly positive the senator would blow the lid off the gigantic theft.

  The president still hadn’t made up his mind. Should he come clean and lose everything? Or should he swallow his pride, support the senator, and salvage what little remained of his reputation?

  The first option sorely tempted him. He could even call an emergency press conference and beat the senator to the punch. He could reveal the truth about Eco-Trek, about how the Separative had redirected money in order to shield the world from climate change. The public outcry would be immense. People would condemn him. But at least he could justify the Separative’s actions.

  But what if Samuels’ suspicions were right? What if Simona’s model was a fake? What if she’d kept the money for herself? Even worse, what if Eco-Trek really was causing all the destructive weather phenomena? If that were the case, the smart move would be to accept the senator’s demands. To quietly clean up the mess and pray no one else ever found out about it.

  Before he made his decision, he needed answers. And only one man could give them to him.

  “Come on, Ed.” President Walters whispered softly to himself. “You can do this. You have to do this.”

  Chapter 78

  As I stared at the reliquary, my initial excitement began to wane. Its lid, covered with relief carvings of a dragon, blazing fireballs, smoke-filled skies, and countless dead things, had been removed. So, I could see the stone box was empty.

  I shifted my gaze to the dragon statue. It wasn’t a masterful work, the kind that would be desired by museums around the world. Instead, it was roughly carved out of poor quality material. In fact, I wasn’t even sure it was a dragon.

  I came all this way … for that?

  “It’s creepy.” Beverly made a face. “No wonder someone boxed it up.”

  I didn’t disagree with her. But although it lacked aesthetic beauty, it was still an artifact. And I was determined to save it. Hell, if possible, I’d save the artifacts from the strange museum as well.

  Twisting my neck, I studied the transportable hydraulic lift. It appeared easy to operate. We just needed to roll it outside the lab and into one of the connecting tubes. Then we could head for Pagan Bay.

  I recalled the Pagan Bay hatch. It was large enough to fit the reliquary as well as its lid. The statue would be an even easier fit. We just needed a way to lift the artifacts to the surface. After storing them on a boat, we could find a way to disrupt Simona’s model and thus, its drones. Then we’d head for Saipan.

  But what about Simona?

  Would anyone believe us once we reached Saipan? Would anyone even care? And what if something happened to us on the way? What if we never reached our destination?

  I walked to a large pair of doors built into the far right end of the partition. They slid open with a swish and I entered a room with Beverly and Graham in tow. Blue cleanroom suits, complete with hoods and face protectors, hung from hooks. Boxes of cotton gloves, rubber gloves, plastic booties, rubber booties, and masking tape sat on a small shelving unit.

  I closed the doors. Ignoring the protective gear, I opened a wide door to my left and the three of us stepped into an air shower.

  Graham closed the door. Immediately, air shot out from a dozen nozzles, causing our clothes to flap wildly. Then a buzzer rang. The door in front of us cracked open.

  I strode into the cleanroom, skirted around the tables, and headed straight for the reliquary. It was as large as I remembered. Staring into it, I saw streaks of black where the statue had scraped the stone.

  “What’s wrong?” Beverly asked.

  I glanced at her.

  “I thought you’d be a little more excited.” She waved at the reliquary. “We went through a lot to find this thing.”

  “I know.” I hesitated. “What do you know about my dad?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Just what you’ve told me. He was some kind of develo
per, right?”

  “That’s right. But not an ordinary one. In the months before he died, he bought and tore down over a dozen historic structures in Manhattan. He destroyed decades, even centuries of history in the process.”

  She gave me a confused look.

  Graham exhaled. “You know?”

  “I found out a few weeks ago.” I glanced at him. “How come you never told me?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because it’s a big deal.”

  “Your dad was a good man.”

  “A good man doesn’t destroy history just for the hell of it.”

  “He had his reasons.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” His response was quick. Maybe too quick, although I didn’t really care. “But I knew him. And he didn’t have a bad bone in his body.”

  “Wait.” Beverly’s confusion melted away. “Is that why you’ve been so crazy about the reliquary? Are you trying to make up for what your dad did?”

  “Maybe. Hell, I don’t know.” I exhaled. “Look, history matters to me. Always has, always will. I’ve dedicated my life to finding it, saving it. But when I found out what dad had done, something changed. I can’t explain it. I … I guess I just had to do more.”

  Her face twisted in thought.

  Eager to change the subject, I glanced at the reliquary. “We can worry about this later. For now, let’s see if we can figure out why Simona wanted this thing.”

  Beverly picked up a clipboard. “This looks like historical information about the reliquary,” she said. “According to local legend, it contained the remains of a dragon that plagued Jerusalem during the fourteen century. It says here it caused much death and destruction, like the one slain by Saint George.”

  Fourteenth century, huh?

  Obviously, it wasn’t a real dragon. Still, I was pleased to hear the artifact came with a bit of history.

  Beverly continued to read. “You know, I don’t think Simona was after the dragon statue. She was after something else.”