by Mark Romang
As she dug the paddle deeply into the water at a 90-degree angle and swept the paddle blade back towards the stern of the canoe, Emily was struck by the irony of their situation. She often wondered why she grew up in a family that made their living guiding people on whitewater rafting trips. Although it had been a fun and adventurous life, it certainly wasn’t for the money. Her parents had teetered on the precipice of bankruptcy for as long as she remembered.
Now she knew the answer. It was simply preparation for this moment—a proving ground for her. Funny how the past can prepare you for the future, she thought.
The water velocity picked up, its roar filled her ears. Reactionary waves pounded against the bastion of lava rocks and sloshed water into the canoe as they sped by. Emily dearly wished the canoe came with a spray skirt to keep the water out. Frigid water had already collected on the canoe’s floor and would eventually swamp the canoe if they couldn’t portage somewhere and empty it.
The channel in the rapids narrowed significantly into what kayakers call a sluice. Emily fought to keep the canoe in control. The canoe wasn’t designed for water this difficult. It was more for slow-moving rivers and streams and lakes. Emily would give anything to be in a kayak right now. Lord, if you would calm the water I would really appreciate it.
But the water velocity only raged more, increasing to what she considered a class 4 rapid. The canoe shuddered and groaned. “Hang on tight, Spencer!” Emily shouted. She spotted an eddy ahead and paddled toward it with all her strength. She exhaled when they entered the calmer water of the eddy. They floated in place in the eddy’s center. Emily relaxed and used the rest time to scout the water ahead.
“Are you okay, Spencer?” The boy didn’t say anything, only nodded his head. “I don’t know when the water will calm down. But it has to spill into a pool somewhere,” Emily said. “We’ll rest a minute in this eddy. You’re doing well, Spence.”
Emily scouted ahead as far as she could see. The lantern cast a dim light on the undulating stream. Caleb Brennan told her and Adam a long time ago that he thought this cave was undiscovered. If that was true no one had ever run these rapids. She hated being the pioneer to traverse the stream first. If she had an experienced partner or a scouting report of the water ahead she would relish the challenge. But she had neither. And she had precious cargo on board. The responsibility made her wary and fearful.
“Okay, Spencer, here we go. Hang on to those handles.” Emily urged him, referring to the handles mounted just below the gunwales. She paddled the canoe at a 45-degree angle with the current to exit the eddy. When the canoe entered the main current she leaned her body to make the canoe turn downstream.
Emily used mostly correction strokes to keep the canoe traveling straight in the channel. Occasionally the canoe became unbalanced. She used a brace stroke when this happened to keep the canoe from tipping. Her head began to ache from concentrating so hard. It may only be her imagination, but this seemed like the longest rapid she’d ever run, and that was saying something.
Before she had time to react or prepare Spencer, the canoe dropped over the edge of a small waterfall. The bow splashed into the pool below and then the canoe’s stern followed suit. Emily heard a secondary plop. Her heart rose into her throat. “Spencer!”
“I’m okay, Mom,” he answered weakly. “But the lantern fell out the canoe.”
Emily looked over the portside and then the starboard. She spotted the sinking lantern. It made the frothy water glow as it descended. She plunged her hand into the stream, extended her arm as far as she could reach, and tried her best to grasp the lantern. Her fingers clutched at the submerged light, briefly wrapped around the lantern’s bail. But the current spirited the lifesaving luminescence away before she could fully clench it.
And then they were cast into total darkness.
Chapter 31
Drakon found Lucifer sitting on a large boulder inside the cavern. Blessed with majestic wings and radiant blonde locks infinitely more beautiful than any other angel, Lucifer preened himself often, as he did now. He proudly brushed his long hair with his fingers and fastidiously tidied his immense wings. Drakon allowed his master a few minutes to complete his beauty treatments. And when he finished, Lucifer’s supernatural aura made the lava cave shimmer like an exploding supernova.
Drakon wondered what the occasion was. It wasn’t often that he saw Lucifer parade around as an angel of light. He’d only seen him this way a few times. It could only mean something big was about to happen.
Drakon approached his master, dreading the chore of telling him the bad news, although he was sure Lucifer already knew how Andrew Maddix dispatched the hellhounds and Paymon, their handler. Regardless, his master always demanded his lieutenants, colonels and generals to check in and report mission results face to face.
Bowing low out of respect, Drakon said quickly, “Master, I regret to inform you that Paymon has failed to complete his assignment.”
Lucifer nodded his regal head. His reptilian eyes flashed underneath hooded lids. “I know. I can scarcely believe it. Paymon has never failed me before. His exploits are legendary among the demon brotherhood. This can mean only one thing.”
“And what would that be, Master?”
“Maddix is receiving divine assistance. It’s the only logical explanation.”
Drakon took a deep breath. He gathered his courage. “Master, I know how disappointed you are in Paymon’s performance. I am frustrated as well. But I think I’ve come up with a way to eliminate our nemesis once and for all.”
“You think you can succeed where others have failed?”
“I do, Master. I’ve come up with a subterfuge Maddix will never see coming. Physical force alone cannot defeat him.”
Lucifer stood to his full height. He looked Drakon in the eyes. “I see that you are maturing, Drakon. It wasn’t too long ago that you were all brute force and bravado. Are you finally appreciating the merits of cunning?”
Drakon nodded. “Courage and ferocity will always be my greatest attributes, but since I’ve been talking with Selachian I’ve come to appreciate the importance of careful planning.”
Lucifer nodded. “This is precisely why I asked Selachian to mentor you and temper your swagger. He is wise and battletested. I see his work is beginning to take hold.” Lucifer patted Drakon’s shoulder. “I will grant your request. And then should you fail, I will battle Andrew Maddix myself.”
“I will go at once, Master. Maddix isn’t far away.”
“Go with my blessing, Drakon. I look forward to watching you succeed. Meanwhile, I will pursue the mother and child. The boy mustn’t be allowed to leave the cave alive.”
****
Nikko Castellanos grimaced with each halting step. The skin on his bare feet hung in bloody tatters. He’d only been inside the cave for a few minutes, yet the sharp lava rocks making up the cave floor had sliced his shoeless feet to ribbons in no time. He could do no worse treading on a floor made up of razor blades and knives.
Every so often he spotted some bat guano. And when he did he picked it up and rubbed it onto his soles like a salve. He didn’t care that the guano might enter the cuts and infect him. The guano was cool and mud-like and soothed the cuts. It was probably a crazy thing to do, but not out-of-character given his state of mind. Panic scratched at his mind like a hungry rat. His lack of gear and preparedness for the elements caused worry to infiltrate his brain. He had no idea where he was in the cave; narrow passageways jutted off in all directions. And who knew how far they went. He kept thinking how lost he’d be if his headlamp went out.
Henrik Skymolt told him he’d find Maddix in here. But how in the world was he supposed to locate him in this tunnel-like cave system? Castellanos wasn’t even sure he could find his way back out. With his life hanging in the balance, he didn’t care as much about the seven million dollars Skymolt would pay him to kill Maddix. The big payday was as elusive as the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Maybe I’m getting too old for this black op stuff, he thought. But still a part of him detested the thought of giving up. He couldn’t pass up this much money.
Castellanos grew up in a poor family where food was often scarce. His father worked as a carpenter in Lansing, Michigan. But that was a hit and miss vocation at best. Castellanos could still remember the hunger pangs from his childhood, could remember the shame when he discovered his father and older brother resorted to thievery whenever the money dried up. They specialized in stealing copper wires. One night as a child, lying awake in bed and unable to sleep because his stomach wouldn’t stop growling, he swore to someday acquire wealth. Money motivated him then, just as it did now.
Castellanos gritted his teeth and moved forward, stepping lightly. The open cuts stung his feet. He swore under his breath as he hobbled. Soon his feet would resemble raw meat from a butcher shop. But worse than his aching feet, his parched throat begged for liquid refreshment. He’d finished off the last of his bottled water long ago. He had no choice but to drink cave water to stave off dehydration. And if he did that he’d run the risk of diarrhea, which could also lead to dehydration—a catch 22 situation.
If he was thankful for anything it would be that the cave ceiling finally increased. For much of the cave he’d been crawling on hands and knees, keeping his head low to avoid the overhanging slabs of dried lava.
On a whim, he stopped and pulled out his satellite phone. Maybe he could call Skymolt and ask him where in the cave he should go. Castellanos punched a button that speed-dialed Skymolt’s number. But the phone wouldn’t work. No signal. No feeds from satellites could beam through the tons of dirt and rock over his head. If his sat phone wouldn’t work, his GPS device wouldn’t work either. Modern technology couldn’t help him here in this subterranean world.
He was on his own. His brain and his will to survive were the only things that could help him stay alive now.
Castellanos started walking again. But he soon stopped when he felt something slither across his foot. He suppressed a gasp and shined his headlamp on the ground. He spotted a gecko not far away. The tiny reptile stared back at him curiously before skittering off. Castellanos allowed a grin to break across his handsome face. Geckos prefer to have easy access to water. So he was sure he would eventually find water somewhere in the cave, hopefully close. Maybe he would survive this trial after all.
Castellanos was about to resume his journey but froze in his tracks instead. He listened intently. He thought he heard something. It had been a scraping sound. He cocked his head, squinted his dark eyes. There, he heard the sound again. It sounded like someone taking a step.
Castellanos squatted down on his heels. He extinguished his headlamp. Darkness blacker than fresh asphalt settled over him, more than that, like black ink without even a hint of gray anywhere. He listened for another footstep but heard only his racing heart gallop in his chest.
A light suddenly poked a hole in the darkness and splashed the jagged walls a couple of dozen feet ahead. A man appeared, wearing a headlamp. He walked quickly and with a slight limp. Castellanos grinned. He’d found Maddix.
Chapter 32
For most of his life, especially when he’d been a Navy SEAL, Adam Thorn kept a tight rein on his emotions. During a SEAL mission he had to remain clearheaded or risk death to himself and his teammates. Unchecked emotions cloud judgment, sap physical and mental strength, and distract focus. But now, with his family’s welfare hanging in the balance, a grief like he’d never experienced before swept him far out into an ocean of despair.
Although not in water, he felt like he was drowning. He ached to see his family again. He wanted to hoist Spencer up into his arms and tousle his hair, and embrace Emily and feel her face press against his face, her silky skin unite with his skin.
Thorn pushed himself hard. He alternately walked/jogged through passageways he could stand up in, and bear-crawled in the low-ceilinged tunnels, ignoring the sharp lava rocks ripping skin off his hands, knees and elbows.
He couldn’t understand how they’d been discovered. They had been so careful following Caleb Brennan’s instructions. Like a talented actor or actress going deeply into character, they didn’t just portray their new roles, they became different people. Thorn rarely thought of himself as Andrew Maddix anymore. In his mind that person died when they left America for New Zealand.
He and Emily didn’t just change locations when they went off the grid. They changed everything: their physical appearances, their personalities, likes and dislikes, habits and tendencies. They banished electronics from their lives, hadn’t surfed on the internet, sent an email, tweeted or posted on Facebook in nearly six years. They used cash for all purchases, and kept their money squirreled away between their mattresses. They lived in near total isolation, rarely going to town.
And it still hadn’t been enough.
Thorn could hear the policemen pursue him. Every so often he heard muffled voices, a shoe scraping rock. Luckily, he no longer heard the bloodhounds. But in his haste to meet up with Spencer and Emily, Thorn knew he left tracks behind. There was just so much mud and bat guano he couldn’t help but disturb it during his flight.
It would have been faster for him and Emily and Spencer to forgo meeting up in the cave and rendezvous somewhere else. But he’d wanted to negate night-vision capabilities. Thermal cameras and night-vision goggles needed at least a little ambient light to function properly. The total darkness in the cave rendered night-vision worthless.
Thorn did his best to rein in his emotions, exchanging despair for determination. He pushed himself harder beyond his exhaustion, drawing on the power of his past training to overcome physical limitations. From the moment he entered the cave his microprocessor prosthetic had been giving him trouble. It needed recharging. He was back to walking on a peg leg.
Thorn embraced the jabbing pain around his stump. He told himself, “Pain is good. Pain is my friend.” He’d felt considerably more pain than this during his Buds/S training. Hell week had changed him forever. He experienced firsthand how the mind is so much weaker than the body. Caleb Brennan taught him this during the cruel physical regimen he forced on his SEAL candidates. The body can withstand far more abuse than the mind thinks it can. But reprogramming the mind to accept suffering is difficult and takes practice. Paul, the super apostle, had mastered this trick while chained in a Roman dungeon. Thorn prayed he could too.
The lava tube constricted. The passageway twisted and turned even as it descended. Thorn’s shoulders nearly brushed the passageway walls on both sides. At the same time the ceiling pressed in on him. He had to hunker down. He also had to slow down. Although he could sense an otherworldly presence shadowing him, Thorn kept the Eden sword in its scabbard. Jogging on uneven terrain with a drawn sword didn’t seem a wise move.
Thorn came up to a dead end. He stopped and shined his headlamp all around. Something about this spot seemed familiar. He was almost sure he’d been to this location before. Years ago when they first arrived to New Zealand and lived in the cave, he’d explored every nook and cranny. If he was where he thought he was, a cleft existed where he could pass through the rock partition.
Breathing hard, Thorn studied the wall. He knew it was only an illusion, but the way seemed hidden to him. Thorn dragged a hand along the wall for several feet but didn’t find the cleft, only surface irregularities. Worry seeped into his brain. It was possible he took a wrong passageway and walked into a bottleneck. If so, the policemen would surely meet him on his way back through the passageway and corner him. And then it would all be over in a heartbeat.
Thorn retraced his steps, only slower. Panic stiffened his limbs. And then he felt a tiny air draft brush his cheek. Thorn halted. He reached out his right hand parallel to his face and felt the cavern wall. His hand slipped into a fissure and disappeared.
He’d found the opening to the passageway. Thorn took off his backpack and held it in his hand. He would need to enter the narrow cleft si
deways to fit through. Thorn sucked in his stomach and wriggled into the opening. The last time he’d entered the cleft he’d been ten pounds lighter. Emily’s good cooking and married life added extra pounds he normally didn’t carry around.
For a moment he feared he’d wedged himself tight. But then after much squirming, Thorn scraped through and entered into another passageway. This was an even narrower tube, but he had more headroom. Thorn jogged the best he could on the uneven floor. He needed to make up time. If he had his bearings right, this particular passageway would eventually intersect with the stream Emily and Spencer floated on.
The passageway straightened out and became a long corridor. Thorn pushed himself faster. He risked twisting an ankle but didn’t care. Every urgent step on his prosthetic leg sent a stabbing pain into his stump. The knifing pain felt like shin splints, only magnified by ten. But the discomfort didn’t hinder his speed. All that mattered now was getting to his family. His jogging stride morphed into a running stride. Water dripped off the ceiling onto his head as he sped by. It was cool but humid in the cave, and condensation covered the walls and ceiling.
A few minutes later the passageway emptied into a small room. A short section of the stream cut through the room and then disappeared beneath an undercut. Thorn stopped and plunked his weary bones down on a boulder. He needed a blow and determined he could rest for a minute. He panted for lost breath and looked around.
His headlamp created milky shadows on the pitted walls and ceiling. Thorn glanced warily at the shadows. At any moment he expected a demon or hellhound to leap out at him. He wasn’t so naïve to think he’d battled his last otherworldly foe. He was sure more hell waited for him just around the bend.
As he sat on the lava boulder Thorn thought of his parents. He hadn’t seen or talked to them in nineteen years. Maybe they’d been right all along. Maybe he wouldn’t be here in this hopeless situation if he’d played it safe and followed their wishes. But in the end he followed his dreams, not theirs. He could still remember the heated argument like it happened only yesterday. He was seventeen at the time.
