by Richard Bard
“You lost the phones in the water, didn’t you? So we can’t call Mom.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“She’s probably in a panic about us both. Ahmed and Sarafina, too.”
“I know. But at least they’re safe.”
Father and son passed the next fifteen minutes in silence.
Finally Alex looked up at Jake. A tear spilled down his cheek. “Dad, why does this keep happening to us?”
How does a father tell his son that all the bad things in his life were his dad’s fault?
“Stop it,” Alex said, as if reading his mind. “You’re not to blame.”
Jake looked at him, and saw Francesca in his son’s eyes. The empathic gift mother and son shared was a constant challenge. “It’s hard to put anything past mom or you.”
“So stop trying. You’ll be happier. So will we.”
“Hey, who’s the dad here, anyway? Me or you?”
“I’m getting older every hour, remember?”
Jake tensed. It was the kind of gallows humor he’d have expected from Tony, not his son. But it was also the kind of humor he used himself in tough situations. He didn’t know why it helped, but it did. So he couldn’t very well begrudge Alex the same release.
Adopting an airline captain’s voice, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our descent. Please fasten your seat belts and straighten your chairs to their full and upright positions. Please stow any articles”—he cocked an eyebrow at the AA-12 on Alex’s lap—“or shotguns in the overhead bins, or beneath the seat in front of you. We’ll be landing on the murky waters of an unknown lake in the middle of nowhere in ten minutes.” He cleared his throat. “For elderly passengers needing a little extra assistance, we’ll have several four-hundred-pound caiman crocodiles standing by the pontoons to help guide you to shore.”
Alex’s smile was brief, but it was there. He passed the weapon to Jake, who placed it on the floor behind them, careful to avoid looking at Lucy’s face.
Five minutes later they were flying a racetrack pattern over a valley surrounded by forested peaks. Starlight reflected off a thick blanket of mist that spread from one end of the valley to the other. Three large waterfalls tumbled from the western cliffs to disappear into the thick fog below.
“This is it, right?” Jake asked.
“I feel it too, Dad. This is where we’re supposed to be. But how can we land? We can’t see anything.”
Jake checked the fuel gauge. The needle hovered just above EMPTY. He tapped the glass and the needle ticked lower. Alex noticed. They exchanged a look.
“There’s supposed to be a lake down there,” Jake said.
“But where? It’s a big valley. Do you think the mist is like a cloud layer? Something we’ll break through if we descend so we can spot the lake?”
“Afraid not. Mist clings to the ground. Once we dip into that soup, we’ll be blind. Plus, even though the pull I’m feeling is very specific, I doubt it’s pointing at a convenient landing spot on the water. It feels to me, more like it’s directing us to the underground chamber we’ve seen.”
“I agree. So what can we do?”
“We need help. We need—”
“Another vision,” Alex said.
“Exactly. I was able to create one before, back at the safe house. But I can’t do it while I’m piloting the plane.”
“I’ll do it. Tell me how.”
Jake didn’t like the idea of Alex tapping into the mini’s power, but what choice did he have? Reluctantly, he loosened the button on his cargo pants pocket and pulled out the device. “It worked for me by hovering it over my hands.”
“Hovering it?” Alex asked, taking the artifact. “How do I do that?”
How could he explain it? He wasn’t sure how he did it himself. It was a combination of things, the most prominent of which was focusing on the same tonal vibration he’d felt in the cavern in Afghanistan. “When you were in the visions, did you feel the vibration in the air?”
Alex frowned. “Yes. I remember that.”
“Okay, good. So, hold the mini in your open palms, close your eyes, and focus on the memory of those vibrations echoing through the cavern.”
Alex emptied his lungs, held up the mini, and closed his eyes. Jake braced himself, hoping whatever happened didn’t cause him to lose control of the aircraft. He sensed the small pyramid responding to his son’s call, and its energy slowly filled the cabin. The sensation was different from what Jake had felt when he’d wielded the device, and after several long seconds, he knew it wasn’t going to work. He waited a while longer to be sure, until finally Alex’s shoulders sagged.
“It’s not working,” his son said.
“I know. I’m going to have to do it myself. You’re going to have to pilot the plane.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Lucy said.
Alex yelped. Jake spun around so fast he caused a wing to dip sharply. He recovered the aircraft quickly, his mind racing.
“Lucy!” Alex cried out.
“Ouch,” she said, yanking the dart out of her shoulder. She tossed it on the floor. “I can’t believe you left that stuck in me!”
“Uh, sorry,” Alex said. “I thought you were—”
“Dead? Yes, I guess I could understand that. So you’re forgiven. But let’s steer away from this Alex-is-going-to-fly-the-airplane stuff.” She reached forward and gave Alex a gentle shove on the shoulder. “You nearly tipped us over when you spun us around to go back for your father. You can barely reach the pedals!”
Jake was incredulous. The girl had dozens of nasty-looking piranha bites on her legs, and one of the deadliest poisons in the Amazon coursing through her system. “How long have you been awake?”
“Since you two started talking about…visions.”
Alex said, “How are you alive? After the frog poison?”
“My mother has been injecting me with frog secretions since I was a baby.”
“To make you immune?” Alex asked.
Lucy nodded. “It’s a practice passed on to each of the shaman descendants of our tribe. Shamans have always been a powerful force in the community. A force for good, for healing, for reason. But warriors sometimes resented their power, so they turned to their darts. Death appears instantaneous.”
Alex said, “But then the shaman wakes up…”
“And takes her revenge. The inoculations are a secret that has been kept from the rest of the tribe for thousands of years.” She looked at them. “Until now.”
“We won’t tell,” Alex said. “Promise.”
Lucy smiled. As Jake banked the aircraft into the far turn of their racetrack pattern, she looked out her window. “You found the sacred waterfalls so easily. All from your visions?”
“Yes,” Jake said. “And the man behind those visions told us to bring you. That you would know the way.”
Lucy frowned. “What man?”
While Jake was considering how to best answer the question, Alex beat him to it. “The man your mother saw at the edge of the falls.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Mother told you her story? She’s never told anyone but me.”
Alex nodded.
Jake frowned. Alex hadn’t mentioned the story to him. But if his son said it was the same man, then he must be. “Is there a lake beneath the falls?” he asked Lucy.
“Yes.”
“Can you describe its position? Its length and breadth?”
She nodded and pointed out the window. “Do you see that sharp peak about a third of the way down the valley?”
“The taller one?”
“Yes, that’s where the lake ends. If you descend straight toward the falls, and land beyond that point, you will touch down on the water.”
“God bless you, Lucy. Now buckle up. Both of you. We’re goin’ in.”
Chapter 11
WHEN DAD LOWERED THE FLAPS in preparation for our water landing, I tightened my seat belt even more. We were in
the soup, as he had called it. The fog was so thick I could barely see the end of the wingtip, where the reflection from the green position light cast an eerie glow. Dad had switched on the front landing lights, but the beams simply bounced off the fog. We were flying blind. Lucy said there was a lake beneath us. I prayed she wasn’t mistaken.
“Steady, steady…” Dad said to himself as he reduced power and massaged the controls to slowly bring the nose up. His focus was zeroed in on the artificial horizon on the altitude indicator, and he used it as a reference point to make tiny adjustments on the stick to keep the wings level. He’d told us he’d be able to tell when the airplane was within a few feet of touching down from what he called ground effect—or in this case, water effect—which was the increased lift generated when the wings are close to a fixed surface.
“Gotcha!” he said. He cut the power and pulled back on the stick. The plane shuddered as the pontoons skimmed the water, and the next thing I knew, we were taxiing across the lake toward what had been pulling at us for the last several days. I glanced back at Lucy. Her mouth hung open in wonder.
“First time in a plane?” I asked.
She nodded.
“My dad knows his stuff, huh?”
Lucy smiled.
The mist thinned a little as we neared the edge of the lake, and the landing lights pierced through enough for us to spot the overgrown forest beyond. Dad paralleled the shore until he found a suitable landing spot. He pulled up to a small beach. Lucy and I jumped out and tied the pontoons to a tree. The roar of the waterfall echoed in the distance.
I flicked on my flashlight. Thick trees towered over us like timeless guardians, their trunks disappearing into the mist overhead. The ground rose ahead and the vegetation thinned farther up the hill, its growth inhibited by the hidden canopy. I suspected that during daylight hours, sunlight was a rare trespasser.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” Lucy said in a soft voice.
Dad frowned. “You haven’t been here? Then how did you know about the lake?”
“I’ve been to the ridge on the other side of the valley. With Mother. But no one is permitted beyond that point.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Spirits.” Her eyes narrowed. “Stories.” She shook her head as if to express her own uncertainty. “This ground has been blessed by The Great One. Tribal elders have allowed pilgrimages to the ridge for as long as anyone can remember. It is a ritual.” She pointed to the trees ahead. “But going into the dark forest beyond the lake has always been forbidden, and the warnings included hints of dire consequences for those who try. Is it true? No one knows for certain. But my mother didn’t think so, especially after encountering the old man on the day when The Great One’s net captured the sky.
The Great One’s net had to mean the grid. I exchanged a glance with my dad. We had our own suspicions about why somebody, or something, wanted to keep people away.
Dad had my backpack slung over one shoulder, and the shotgun over the other. He flicked on the flashlight he’d retrieved from the plane, and headed into the trees. Lucy and I followed.
The air was earthy and damp but not unpleasant. Even this late into the night, the forest was alive with the sounds of insects, birds, and small animals. The distant growl of a jungle cat made me tremble, and we walked faster. As we climbed toward the peak that pulled at us, we left the mist behind, and the vast forest surrounding us made me feel small. I aimed my flashlight at the canopy a hundred feet overhead. A dozen pairs of eyes reflected off the beam—a family of monkeys wondering about the interlopers.
Twenty minutes later, Dad slowed. “We’re close.”
I felt it, too, and pretty soon a vine-covered cliff face blocked our path.
“Are you certain this is the place?” Lucy asked. Her voice had an edge.
I was about to answer when the old man’s presence filled my mind. I didn’t see him, and he didn’t speak, but I sensed his gratitude that we’d heeded his call. My mind flashed on a vision of Dad and me standing before the entrance to a cave. And just as quickly the image was gone. I looked at my dad. He smiled back at me. We were in the right place. We’d both seen it. We panned our lights across the overgrowth, searching for the opening.
“I must leave,” Lucy said breathlessly. Dad and I turned around to see her face filled with wonder. “My path lies elsewhere.” With that, she spun on her heels and disappeared into the shadows.
I wanted to call out to her but Dad stopped me. “It’s all connected, son. Can’t you feel it?”
He was right. Lucy hadn’t been frightened. She seemed self-assured and driven, and I realized she must have had a vision of her own. “I think you’re right. I hope we see her again.”
“Me, too.”
When we turned back, it was our turn to stare in astonishment. The overgrowth had vanished and the cave entrance yawned in front of us, the familiar vibration pouring out of it.
Dad and I looked at each other and we both headed inside. The mini responded immediately, cocooning us in energy. It gave me strength to face the sight in front of us. The tunnel was unnatural. It was a perfectly round tube, with walls so smooth it gave the appearance of having been carved in the granite with a laser.
Dad spoke under his breath. “It’s just like the opening the first pyramid created before launching itself from the mountain in Afghanistan.”
The passage was the width of a bus. It traveled straight into the mountain without turns, the symmetry so exact it resembled the infinite image of two mirrors facing each other. A soft glow permeated the first fifty feet or so, though there were no apparent lights or fixtures. Beyond the glow the tunnel was pitch-black, but we had no choice but to travel it.
My heart raced. We stopped after a few paces and Dad ran his hand along the wall. “Smooth as a baby’s butt,” he said.
“It feels old in here. Ancient, but perfectly preserved.”
A whisk of air brushed my neck. When I turned around, I saw the entrance had closed behind us. Dad looked at me. “No turning back now, pal. Let’s do this.”
The shotgun was still slung across his shoulder. He didn’t bring it to bear in this strange place, even though he was probably as anxious as I was. We moved on, slowly at first, and with every step the illumination traveled with us. The pull from deep in the mountain grew stronger. I wanted to get to the end faster. After several more steps, we exchanged a look and started to jog. Before long I was running full out, our footsteps echoing like shouts in the Grand Canyon.
Three minutes later the tunnel opened into a spacious, well-lit cavern. We skidded to a stop. The circular space was the width of a high school gym, with ribbed symmetrical walls supporting a five-story domed ceiling that shone with a metallic brilliance. Three other tunnels led into the space from the remaining corners of the compass, and the center of the room was dominated by a rectangular platform the size of a basketball court. It was about ten feet tall, with steps cut into one side. At each end of the platform stood a crystalline pillar that stretched halfway to the ceiling. The air between them shimmered and shifted, and the familiar vibration seemed to be emanating from it.
Keeping a death grip on my dad’s hand, I whispered, “What do you think it’s for?”
We stepped closer, and Dad looked up at one of the pillars. It was pulsing with a power of some sort, and I sensed the mini’s energy ebb and flow in concert with each surge. Dad said, “I don’t have a clue.”
There was a console at the base of the steps leading up to the platform, and we moved over to check it out. It was the size of an office desk. Like the larger platform, it connected to the floor in a seamless fashion that made it look like the entire structure had been built at the same time by some gigantic 3D printer. The console was metallic like most everything else in the room. There were no drawers or a space to slide a chair under. It was just a rectangular block, giving us no clue about what it contained. There was a dome protruding from the top surface, about the size of a sala
d serving bowl turned upside down. It was crystalline like the pillars, and when I leaned closer, I saw the same glow pulsing from within.
There was no doubt in my mind it was connected to the grid and the alien culture that had nearly wiped out mankind. Here we were in the middle of one of the most remote places in the world, witnessing something that had likely never been seen by another human being. I wished my mom was here, even though she’d probably be pretty scared by now. On the other hand, she was a pretty tough lady when you got right down to it. She had to be, in order to deal with everything Dad put her through. Dad and me. Sarafina had inherited Mom’s courage, and so had my brother, Ahmed, who probably would’ve been ranting like crazy about now if he were here. Not out of fear, because lately he seemed more eager than ever to face any challenge that came his way, but out of pure joy and wonder.
The technology was like nothing I’d ever imagined. It didn’t take a genius, though, to guess the console controlled the apparatus on the platform. I figured it was worth a try, so I placed my hand on it.
“No!” Dad grabbed my wrist. But his hand froze when he touched me, and instantly the alien presence was in my mind. The dome brightened, my scalp tingled from the inside out, and my mind linked with my dad’s—just like when we’d connected with the grid eighteen months earlier. My thoughts were being probed, except this time I sensed no threat. It wasn’t an intrusion but a gentle melding, as if the presence was gauging my intentions. My dad’s tension eased somewhat, so I calmed myself and went with it. It lasted only a heartbeat, and what happened next stole my breath.
The space between the pillars filled with a live 3D view of my family and Uncle Marshall and Lacey in the safe house. Only Uncle Tony was missing. It was like being in the room with them on a virtual reality headset, except the scene was blown up to the size of an IMAX theater screen. They were gathered around the table eating dinner. Ahmed appeared angry. There was no sound so I couldn’t hear what they were talking about.
“You have good instincts, Alex,” a voice said behind us.
I peeled my hand from the dome. My family vanished.
