by A. G. Riddle
Patrick led the way again, resuming a brisk, but somewhat slower pace. Up ahead, a set of double doors that had never opened before cracked and slid aside as they approached. “It’s exciting — opening passages that were closed yesterday. Listen to me, I sound like the fools who hired me during the War.”
David shook his head. “The War.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing. It’s just strange to hear ‘The War’ in reference to World War I. These days it means the war in Afghanistan.”
Patrick stopped. “The Soviets? We’re at war—”
“Oh, no, they’ve been gone since ‘89. Actually, the Soviet Union doesn’t even exist anymore.”
“Who then?”
“Al Qaeda, or actually, now it’s the Taliban, a… a radical Islamic tribe of sorts.”
“America is at war with an Afghan tribe…”
“Yeah, it’s a, uh, long story—”
The lights in the corridor flickered, then went out. Both men froze.
“Has that ever happened before?” David whispered.
“No.” Patrick took out an LED bar and snapped a switch. It threw light into the corridor and all around them. He felt like Indiana Jones striking a torch that illuminated some ancient corridor. He started to make a reference, but David wouldn’t know who Indiana Jones was.
The younger man raised his good arm to block his eyes and squinted.
Patrick paced ahead, taking each step with care. The lights in the corridor flickered again, almost coming on, before winking out. The door at the end of the corridor didn’t automatically open as they approached. Patrick extended his hand to the glass panel beside it. Sparse wisps of fog wafted out, and the pops at his hand were less intense. What was happening?
“I think there’s a problem with the power or something,” Patrick said. He thought he could work the door. He manipulated the controls and the door slid open slowly.
He held the LED bar up, casting light into the massive space. The chamber was bigger than any he had ever seen, down here or anywhere else. It looked as though it were miles long and miles wide.
Rows of long glass tubes were stacked to the ceiling, higher than he could see. They stretched into the distance, miles away, far into the darkness.
They were the same type of tubes Patrick had seen in Gibraltar so many years ago, with two exceptions: these tubes were full of bodies… and the white mist inside was changing. Clearing. The dissipating clouds inside the tubes revealed only brief glimpses of the people inside. If they were even people. They looked more like humans than the ape man in Gibraltar. Were these the Atlanteans? If not, who? And what was happening to them? Were they waking up?
Patrick’s fascination with the tubes was interrupted by a sound, deep inside the chamber: footsteps.
CHAPTER 132
The double doors to the room slid open, and Kate fought to hide her surprise when a tall, middle-aged man wearing a Nazi military uniform strode in. The man came to a halt, and stood still as stone, his back rigid. His eyes moved slowly over Kate and then the children.
Unconsciously, Kate took a step forward, placing herself between the man and her children. His lips curled slightly at the ends, as if her involuntary motion had revealed something, had told him a secret. Maybe the step had betrayed her, but his smile had done the same for him: she knew that cold smile. And she knew who the man was.
“Hello, Herr Kane,” Kate said in German. “We have been looking for you for a very long time.”
CHAPTER 133
Patrick listened as the footsteps somewhere in the darkness stopped. He and David both froze, looking at each other, waiting.
“What is this place?” David whispered.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’ve never been in here?”
“No. But I think, maybe… I have an idea,” Patrick said as he gazed at the tubes. The room was dark; the only light came from the tubes that hung in bunches on metal racks, like bananas hanging from a tree. Was it possible? Could the Immari have been right all along? “I think this could be a giant hibernation vessel. The door in Gibraltar — it was a portal to another place. Probably the structure in Antarctica. And that structure is… It’s what they thought it was.”
“Who?”
“Kane, the Immari. Their whole theory was that the structure in Gibraltar was a small outpost for the Atlantean Homeland, which they assumed was under Antarctica. They believed the Atlanteans were hibernational superhumans, waiting to return north and retake the Earth when the weather suited them.”
“Is there another possibility?”
Patrick looked around at the tubes and shook his head. “Hell if I know. I’m a coal miner from West Virginia.”
At that moment, the steps resumed.
Patrick glanced at David’s cane — the spear. The look on his face exposed his thoughts: if they walked to the footsteps, whoever it was would hear them coming.
“I can wait here,” David said. “Or we could call out.”
“No,” Patrick whispered quickly. “If the Immari have found an entrance in Antarctica… the footsteps could be… might not be friendlies. Or,” he glanced at the tubes. “Either way, we wait.”
Both men receded behind the closest bunch of tubes and crouched in the shadows as the footsteps coming toward them echoed loudly through the tombs.
CHAPTER 134
Dorian watched the Nazi soldiers march past him in the dimly lit corridor. It was true. Some of them were alive. His father could be alive.
He stepped out from behind the shadow, straightened his back, and spoke with force. “Ich heiße Dieter Kane.”
The two men spun and pointed their submachine guns at him. “Halten sie!” One man yelled.
“How dare you!” Dorian spat at him. “I am Konrad Kane’s only surviving son. You will lower your weapons and take me to him at once.”
CHAPTER 135
Konrad Kane crept closer to Kate, like a big cat studying its prey, calculating whether or when to strike. “Who are you?”
Kate’s mind raced. She needed a believable lie. “I am Dr. Carolina Knapp, lead scientist on a special Immari research project sent to find you, sir.”
Kane scrutinized her, then the children. “Impossible. I’ve been here less than three months. Launching another expedition would take far longer.”
Kate wondered if he was suspicious of her accent. She hadn’t spoken German in so long. A short answer would be better. “You’ve been here much longer than a few months, sir. But I’m afraid we’re out of time. We must go. I need to get these children out of these packs and off—”
Another Nazi soldier rushed in, speaking quickly in German. “Sir, we’ve found something, and more people.” He panted, and waited for Kane.
Kane looked from the man to Kate. “I will be back, “ he apprised her again, “Doctor.” He bent down to face the children and, to Kate’s surprise, spoke English. “Boys, I need your help. Please come with me.” He swept them into his arms and left the room before Kate could object.
CHAPTER 136
Fifteen minutes of discussion with the oafs had got Dorian nowhere. Their heads would roll when he told his father. Holding him at gunpoint like a captured cat burglar. Finally, he had exhaled and stood there, rocking onto his heels and waiting.
Every second felt like an eternity.
Then, slowly, the silence broke. The footfalls rounding the corner echoed with the rhythm of Dorian’s heart as the moment he had waited for his entire life arrived. The man he could barely remember, who had tucked his sickly body into a glass coffin, who had saved his life and would save the world, his father, turned the corner and marched up to him.
Dorian wanted so much to run to him, to embrace his father and tell him all the things he’d done, how he had saved him, just as he had saved Dorian almost 100 years ago. He wanted his father to know that he had grown up to be strong, as strong as his father was, that he was worthy of the sacrifices his father had made
. But Dorian kept still. The submachine guns were one reason, but not the biggest. His father’s eyes were cold, piercing. They seemed to analyze him, as if his eyes were gathering pieces of a puzzle.
“Papa,” Dieter whispered.
“Hello, Dieter.” His father spoke in German and the voice was lifeless, business like.
“There is much I must tell you. I was awakened in 197—”
“1978. Time moves slower here, Dieter. You are 40?”
“42,” Dieter said, amazed that his father had already made the leap.
“2013 outside. Here, 75 days. A day for every year. A 360 to 1 time differential.”
Dorian’s mind raced, trying to catch up. He wanted to say something insightful, to let his father know that he was smart enough to solve the mystery as well, but all he could manage was, “Yes. But why?”
“We’ve found their hibernation chamber, it is as we suspected,” his father said as he turned away and paced the length of the corridor. “Perhaps the Bell also distorts time inside the structure and generates the power they need for the hibernation. Perhaps the hibernation is not perfect. Perhaps they do age, if ever so gradually. Or maybe it is to benefit their machines, which would certainly endure some wear every year. Either way, slowing time would help them leapfrog through the ages. We have also found something else. The Atlanteans are not what we think they are. The truth is more bizarre than we imagined. It will take some time to explain.”
Dorian motioned to the packs. “The children are carrying—”
“Explosives. Yes. A clever move. I assume they could pass the Bell?” Konrad said.
“Yes. There was another woman who came through: Kate Warner. She is Patrick Pierce’s daughter. I was afraid she would get to them. But it doesn’t matter now. We’re almost out of time.”
Konrad checked the back of the pack. “Less than two hours. Warner did find them, but we have her. We’ll put them in the tombs. We’ll return if we need to finish the job.”
“We should leave soon after; it’s a thirty-minute walk from here to the portal door.” Dorian bent down to the children and spoke in English. “Hello again. I told you Kate would be down here. Did you enjoy the first game?”
The boys simply looked at him. They were as dumb as door nails, Dorian thought. “We’re going to play a new game. Would you like that?” Dorian waited, but the boys said nothing. “Ok… I’ll take that as a yes. This game is a race. Are you fast runners?”
The boys nodded.
CHAPTER 137
David watched the two Nazi soldiers wander deeper into the tombs, gawking at the tubes. They wore thick sweaters and no helmets: they were clearly Nazi marines. They would be very well-skilled at hand-to-hand combat in close quarters. Surprise was imperative for David and Patrick to take them down. David raised a hand to make signs, but Patrick was already signing to him: wait until they pass.
David tried to squat lower, but his leg burned. That he could squat at all was a miracle. The goo really worked. The goo — would they smell it? Patrick crouched beside him, between two other tubes in the banana cluster closest to the meandering soldiers. Two seconds.
One man stopped. Did he smell it?
Above David and Patrick’s hiding position, a burst of white fog spewed from the tubes, drawing the soldier’s attention. They swung their submachine guns off their backs and raised them, but David and Patrick were already up and on them, springing like snakes out of the tall grass onto their prey.
The force of David’s lunge took his target to the ground, and David slammed the heel of his hand into the man’s forehead. The soldier’s head hit the iron floor with a crack, and a pool of blood spread out around it.
Four feet away, Patrick was struggling with the other solider. The young soldier was on top of him. The Nazi had a knife and was pressing it into Patrick’s chest. David jumped on the man, and pulled him off of Patrick. David knocked the knife out of the soldier’s hand and pinned him to the ground. Patrick was there, beside him, holding the knife to the man’s throat. The Nazi stopped struggling in a silent surrender, but David still held his arms to the floor.
David didn’t speak German, but before he could open his mouth, Patrick began interrogating the man in German. “Wieviele männer?”
“Vier.”
Patrick tore the knife from his neck and dug it into the man’s left index finger.
“Zwölf,” the man cried.
“Herr Kane?”
The soldier nodded. He was sweating profusely now. “Töten Sie mich schnell,” he said.
Patrick questioned him a little more while David pinned him to the floor.
“Schnell,” the man pleaded.
Patrick drew the knife across his neck and the flow of blood and death followed in rapid succession after.
Patrick dropped the knife beside the man and collapsed onto the floor. Blood dripped from his own chest wound.
David crawled over the dead man and gathered the remains of the black goo from his own mostly-healed chest and shoulder wounds. He wiped the paste into Patrick’s wound, and the older man grimaced as it made contact.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be good as new within a few hours.” David grinned. “Maybe sooner.”
Patrick sat up. “If we have that long.” He motioned to a door in the direction the soldiers had come from. “There’s no question now, we’re in Antarctica.” He drew a few quick breaths.
“How many are there?”
Patrick looked at the dead soldiers. “Twelve. Ten now. Kane is with them. If they get in this chamber, it will be genocide, and after that, maybe… it will be… very bad news for the human race.”
David began scavenging the men’s bodies, gathering weapons and anything that might be useful. “Did they say anything else?”
Patrick looked at him, confused.
“Have they seen anyone else?” David said hopefully.
Patrick caught his meaning. “No. They haven’t seen anyone. They’ve been here for almost three months, which makes sense if they arrived around 1938. A year per day, a month for every two hours. They said they just found this chamber and a man had gone back to report it.”
David handed Patrick one of the machine guns and held his arm out to help Patrick up. “We should hurry then.”
Patrick grabbed David’s arm and struggled to his feet. He glanced back at the dead soldier who had overpowered him. “Look Vale, I haven’t been a soldier in 25 years—”
“We’ll be just fine,” David said.
CHAPTER 138
Dorian held the children by the shoulders as he marched behind his father.
This was the way of the world: life could turn on a dime. He and his father, reunited, on their way to finish their great work: to save the human race. All his sacrifices, all his decisions… He had been right.
Ahead of them, gunshots rang out.
CHAPTER 139
David dropped the two guards standing at the doors to the tombs before either could get a shot off. To his left, another guard rounded the corner and sprayed bullets into the iron wall beside him, but Patrick caught the soldier full in the chest with three quick shots, sending him quickly to the floor.
David swept the other way in the corridor. Clear. He turned and jogged to catch up with Patrick, who was inching around the corner from which the third soldier had emerged.
“I’ll take point,” David said. He peeked his head around and— a gunshot whizzed past his head.
“I’ll cover you,” Patrick said as he extended his handgun around the corner and fired several shots.
David stepped into the corridor and closed on the man who was pressing against the adjacent wall. David hit him with two shots in a tight grouping on his chest. Four down. Five plus Kane left. Still not great odds. And they’d lost the element of surprise. One step at a time.
Patrick was beside him, and both men eyed the double doors the soldier must have come from. They took up positions on each side of the door, and Patrick worked
the glass panel until the doors parted, revealing a room with twelve glass tubes holding… ape-men?
David had to focus. Patrick seemed less fazed. He stepped quickly into the room, sweeping his gun from side to side. David followed. The room was empty.
Then, from behind him, David sensed someone closing on them. He spun around and raised the machine gun to fire—
Kate. She had been hiding behind the control station.
He jerked his finger off the trigger and dropped the gun to his side. He moved toward her, ready to sweep her up. Just as he reached her, Kate’s eyes met Patrick’s. She turned from David. “Dad?”
The old man stood there, a look somewhere between remorse and disbelief on his face. “Katherine…”
A tear dropped from Kate’s eye as she walked to him and embraced him. He grunted as he hugged her back. She pushed back. “You’re alive.” She wrinkled her nose. “And you’re hurt, and what, is, that sme—”
“I’m ok, Katherine. I. Oh, God, you look so much like her.” Tears welled in his eyes. “I was so worried, but I know you… it’s… for me, only a few weeks have passed…”
Kate nodded. She seemed to have already put it together. David marveled at her as he stood there, a little awkwardly. She held her arm out, and he walked over and hugged her, pressing his face into the side of her head.
She released them and said, “How did you—”
“Gibraltar,” her father said. “A door in the chamber I found — it was a portal to Antarctica, to this larger structure. There are more men. We need to—”
“Yes,” Kate said. “They have the children. Dorian is making them carry backpacks with nuclear bombs.”
David looked around, thinking, and then said, “There’s a chamber with tubes; it goes on for miles. I bet that’s where they’re going. You stay—”
Kate shook her head. “No.” She walked to the dead man who had run out of her room and picked up his machine gun. She deadpanned at David. “I’m coming. And I get a gun this time. I’m not asking.”
