by David Kernot
Emerson detected a change in the road noise, and he rubbed open his eyes. The road had narrowed during his nap. The car slowed, the surface now bumpier, and the whine of the tires fell away like the vegetation on one side of the road. Heavy clouds hung low, hugging the mountainside where slick wet leaves glistened in the dull light.
General Cobb's driver pulled the car up in a half-full parking lot. "General, we're here."
The General shook himself awake and rubbed his face. "Chiang Dao?"
"Yes, sir."
The general unclipped his seatbelt and twisted around. Emerson grinned. "Enjoyable sleep, sir?"
The man laughed. "I checked. You were asleep before me."
"Soldier's creed. Rest when you."
Andrew Stone shifted in his seat. He unfolded his arms and lifted his cap off his brow. "Where are we meeting the guide?"
"At the front entrance. We have to ask for Wira. We need to make sure they've been through that way first. This area is riddled with caverns. They will probably have a different entrance."
"I'll use the detector." Andrew Stone unclipped his belt and pushed open the door. "Humid, or what?"
Emerson did the same, stepped out, and caught his breath. Stone was right.
The heat wasn't what he'd expected.
The General joined them. "Chiang Dao is 1260 feet, 385 meters above sea level. About 1260 feet. The average temperature is 77 degrees, or 25 degrees Celsius. With over 50 inches of rain a year. It's 88 degrees."
"Impressive," said Emerson.
"I checked before my nap."
Stone removed his Geiger-counter from its case.
It looked nothing special. Just a black box with a digital readout.
"When do we arm ourselves, General?"
"Wait until we know where we're going."
◆◆◆
Andrew Stone stepped from the vehicle and stretched his arms high. He'd sat in a car and faced the worst kind of death for over a third of the time it would have taken him to travel by plane to many European capitals. Stuttgart came to mind and a quick train ride to Ulm by the Danube for some traditional Bavarian wheat beer and pig's trotters. Much less spicy than the breakfast he'd had over eight hours ago. The cathedral at Ulm was inspiring. The highest steeple in the world, and home of Albert Einstein, which Einsteinium was named in honour of. He grabbed his Geiger-counter and slung the wooden box over his shoulder. He owed Einstein a lot. By the car, he waited and hoped with all his heart that a chopper would come and fly them back, so they didn't have to drive and face the crazy traffic again.
He followed Emerson and the General to the tourist entrance. He plugged in an earpiece to the Geiger-counter and turned up the volume. As they approached the gigantic hole carved from solid rock, the machine remained silent. At the entrance, he pushed his way forward and entered a well-lit tunnel. He did a circle and then a figure eight, covering the area in several easy strides. The machine remained silent. He returned and stood near the General and shook his head.
"Nothing?" asked the General.
"Nothing. Not here, at least. Another less public entrance?"
Wira, their guide, arrived. A tanned old man. Wrinkled. Angry by the look of his snarl. He was tense about something. Perhaps he wasn't used to having to do private tours, but it could have been many things. Andrew's head itched. Maybe not all from the glass shards.
General Cobb said, "I'm Cobb, this cave is not what we're after. We'd like a tour of something else."
"You American?"
"We're a mash-up," said Emerson.
The man grinned. "I know about Americans. I know you always want to see something different. I show you something different."
Andrew stepped forward. "Really? How different?"
"In these parts, I am a Holy Man. People listen. They obey. You should too. I take you to a special cave that many don't get to see."
"So we're special?" said Andrew.
The man nodded. "Depending on water levels, you may have to swim unaided a short distance underground."
Andrew cringed. He hated being underground. Even more so after entering the Long Barrow near Avebury and discovering the Shoggoth. He coped with being anywhere except below the surface of the earth.
Andrew's head ached. He wasn't sure if it was the IED or the lengthy flight over. His gaze took in General Cobb and Emerson for advice. Cobb nodded.
Emerson stepped forward. "I've heard reports of strange men around here. Have you seen any?"
The man shook his head vigorously. "No, not here. Some other distant caves, maybe. Follow me."
They follow the guide across the car parking area and up a narrow winding track to a smaller cavern entrance. Andrew stood at the wooden door. The high-pitched squeal in his earpiece said enough: Einsteinium. Lots of it. He faced the General. "I think we should go back to the car and grab some waterproof clothes." He faced Wira. "If we will have to swim?"
"Sure," said Wira. "But the fat one might have problems. Can he stay?"
Andrew grinned. "General?"
Cobb humphed. "I suppose I could take a nap in the car, or visit the other cavern and do a brief tour."
Their guide nodded. Three people presented a problem, and not that their guide knew it. Still, a battle-hardened US Army veteran with over eight tours in areas of conflict around the world would have presented a serious problem to an adversary.
Emerson raised his arm. "What about me? I've got a prosthetic arm? I'm not sure that swimming underground is ideal?"
The man waved his arms profusely. He shook his head. "No, I'm sure you'll be fine. Just do as I say."
Emerson nodded. "We'll be back in a moment with food and torches. We leave him behind." He flicked his head in the General's direction.
The man Wira smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I wait. But be quick. Darkness is coming."
◆◆◆
Back at their car, Emerson chuckled. He liked the general more that he would ever let on. There was a gentle soul underneath all that shiny brass. "I think you frightened him, General."
General Cobb opened the vehicle's trunk. "I hope so."
In the back was a series of diplomatic bags. Emerson went straight to his bag and opened it. He pulled out a Browning GP-35 pistol.
"Like mine," said Andrew Stone. "Solid army weapon."
"Indeed," said Emerson. "Nine millimetre round, a velocity of 350 meters per second and thirteen deadly rounds."
The General pulled out his pistol. "Mine is a little older but nicer. A Baretta. Three hundred and eighty meters a second and fifteen rounds."
Emerson grabbed his spare magazines and pulled out the modified Steyr with a thirty-round magazine. "I've had it adjusted, so it's fully automatic. Don't know what we'll be up against. Close quarters and a dirty bomb. Might only get one chance." He assembled it. Thrust a loaded magazine into the gun and swung it over his shoulder. "I'm ready."
General Cobb shook his head. "I thought a pistol would be enough in these circumstances. Colonel Stone, this is for you." The General thrust a shoe-box size case at Andrew Stone.
Stone opened the box and grinned. "A Depleted Uranium weapon. You know that the Canadian government tried to cancel my citizenship and deport me back to England after what happened last time."
The General waved his hand and dismissed the idea. "A minor mishap. I smoothed it over. Just don't go using the beast unless you have to."
"Understood, General."
"Colonel," said General Cobb. "Take this bottle of liquid. Let a few drops fall every so often and mark your way. I'll give you three hours. After that, it's Plan B."
Emerson wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. An enormous box remained unopened in the trunk. Emerson nodded towards it. "That part of Plan B, General?"
The General grinned. "You worry too much, Sergeant."
"Ex-Sergeant, and if you remember, you pay me to worry."
The General laughed. "Three hours is plenty of time. I also had you recalled for duty,
so you are officially back in the army, Sergeant Ash. Normal rules of engagement apply."
"Normal ROE's, General?"
"Normal for my team. Shoot to kill. Ask questions later. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Emerson grinned. "It will be nice to be a sergeant again, even if only for a day or so."
"Let's just hope it's not a lifetime," said Andrew Stone.
"Any further instruction?" asked Emerson.
The General nodded. "Neutralise the group. Disarm the threat of the dirty bomb." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I hand-picked this team and I want it complete at the end. That includes Captain Denna Reed standing here with us. Agreed?"
"Yes, Sir." Emerson glanced at his watch. It'd be dark in three hours.
◆◆◆
Andrew Stone turned on his torch and followed their guide, Wira, into the side of the mountain. Instantly, the humid air from outside dissipated and cooled his sweaty brow. Breathing became easier, and a weight lifted from him. He dropped liquid from the General's bottle and watched it splatter the rocky ground with a dull green. Emerson had his back, so he focused on looking as far forward into the dull light that Wira's lantern offered.
He wanted to say that the kerosene would acidify the air and destroy the caves, but part of him didn't think Wira cared. The man wasn't what he said he was. Guide yes, Holy man? Maybe. But there was just something about him that made Andrew shiver.
Wira knew where he was going and he navigated the tunnels with ease, choosing one over the other whenever it branched. They walked through large open caverns where stalactites and stalagmites joined and where pools of water reflected centuries of growth. It was easy to see why people came to view them. Their shape and colour was as diverse as each cavern's landscape. No two looked similar.
The Geiger-counter continued to blip and scream louder in his earpiece, and as they made their way deeper into the mountainside.
What few lights there were, grew dim. Colder. More narrow. Stalactites and stalagmites
Wira slowed. It seemed they were close to where he wanted them. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder, raised a finger to his lips and beckoned them on.
A huge pond framed by stalactites. On the wall were etchings of snakes. A medusa from Greek mythology.
Wira stepped up to the pond and bowed. He placed his lantern down on a well-used flat area in the middle of the pond.
Two men appeared from the shadows. They stepped closer to the center of the enormous cavern. On the other side of the water, facing them.
Wira turned to them. "I am High Priest but here we are all their servant. Please kneel and bow your heads."
Andrew looked over at Emerson and shook his head. He dropped the General's bottle of solution and reached for his pistol. Off to the left were some bright yellow containers with uranium symbols on them. Not Einsteinium. Old soviet cases like that discovered in Afghanistan weeks before. He cringed. What was that? Stinking fresh horse manure?
◆◆◆
"I don't think so," said Emerson. Emerson grabbed his Steyr and levelled it at the man on the right. He relaxed a bit when Andrew Stone pulled out his pistol and aim it at the other man to their left of their guide.
Wira reached down and removed a silver cylindrical object from a crate by his feet. He held the device up in his outstretched hands above his head and laughed. "Here you will pay." He faced Andrew Stone. "We know about you from the Crusades. You were lucky to have survived our attack in Bangkok. Now you will not be so fortunate."
Andrew Stone shifted his aim from the man on the left to Wira.
"Shoot, it won't matter." Wira twisted the device in his hand, and the room hummed.
The rock pool in the middle bubbled. At its center, a shape formed.
Denna rose from the center of the pool, semi-naked, with red liquid flowing over her.
Her eyes were milky white, no pupils or iris. Her long brown hair, normally tied in a bun, hung loose. Snakes entwined her hair. They writhed about her. At the end of each, mouths formed. They snapped and morphed into bloodshot eyes and then back again to gnashing mouths. In each hand she held a silver elongated cylinder like Wira's.
"Denna, it's Emerson. Hang in—"
Bright light burst from the device Wira held like an explosion.
There was a rush of noise, and Wira opened his arms wide. Giddiness followed. The cavern shifted, twisted, and Emerson fell somewhere else.
◆◆◆
Chapter III
Central Australia
The floor under Colonel Andrew Stone's feet flexed as the Royal Australian Air Force AP-3C Orion bounced over the central Australian thermals. It loitered 200 meters over Uluru. From one of the airborne electronic analysts' crew stations in the middle of the aircraft, the heat shimmers contorted the landscape. What had just happened? Moments before he'd been in a cave in Thailand. A man, a priest, had stepped out holding one of the Old Ones' devices. It had flashed. He was sure of all that, but what was this? He rubbed his head, surprised by the lack of glass shards. The stitched had gone. How?
His stomach churned. He recalled the time had deployed on OP APOLLO, then like now, dressed in a Canadian Forces flying suit. Back then he'd been in a Lockheed CP-140 aircraft and flown over the Persian Gulf and Afghanistan. He closed his eyes from vertigo. He wished he were back in Kandahar, back to a time when he could play roller hockey on the Canadian rink at The Boardwalk after hours. The aircraft shook and rolled sideways. Andrew held his stomach. Boy, these Aussies knew how to conduct over-land surveillance.
"Sir, look at this," said the Australian sensor employment manager, Flight Lieutenant Liam Benson from the next station. The young air force officer took the aircraft's position in his stride. He grinned and ran his fingers through his short blonde fringe.
Andrew switched his display and peered at the screen, to the feed from the aircraft's nose-mounted Star Safire III electro-optical and infrared system. He leaned forward and frowned. "Is that snow?"
"Yes sir," said the Flight Lieutenant.
"In the middle of your summer?"
"Weird isn't it." His grin didn't waver. "And look at that purple sky."
Andrew stared out the P3's porthole window at Ayers Rock, to a twisted purple sky and snowfall. He closed his eyes. Now it made sense. He'd read the intel report about this. But how was he here, in the past? Was he in some alternate reality? A multiverse?
Soon cracks would appear, and the serpent would escape from it before it destroyed Alice Springs. "Flight Lieutenant, can you drop a bomb about two miles from here?"
The man paused.
"There's a serpent going to appear from deep underground."
"How do you know that?"
"I just do. It'll save a lot of lives."
"Okay then. Yes, we can drop a bomb."
"Great, get the pilot to head two miles north-east, and—"
A toilet at the back of the aircraft flushed, and a woman stepped out.
"Denna!"
"I was only gone for two minutes, Lieutenant Colonel. No need to make an issue when a woman goes to the bathroom."
"Absolutely, sorry," he said.
As she strode along the center of the aircraft toward him, there were no indications they'd spent time together. She stumbled, landed by his seat and rubbed her head. "Wow, the worlds a blur." She picked herself up. "God, I'm dizzy. Can you feel it, Andrew?"
He could, an ebb and flow surrounded him. Another time shift?
"That image isn't me. Watch the cave serpent's hands," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm right there, in its right hand." Then the world twisted in on itself. Andrew became caught in another one whirlpool.
◆◆◆
Chapter IV
Kandaharia Province, Afghanistan
A bomb exploded near Emerson.
"Contact right," yelled a soldier.
Emerson and his team snapped their infantryman's helmet visors shut. His heart pounded as bottled air streamed through his suit
and purged any of the accumulated poisonous gas. He gripped the stock of his recoilless pulse rifle and crouched onto the cobbled track. The radiant ground heat made him want to stand. Around him, the powdered Kandaharian dust stirred, red like a Martian landscape.
It covered his high tensile Kevlar uniform, and the outside coating morphed to the colour of the dust as if he was a chameleon. He scanned the area with his heads-up-display. There were indications, a red section ahead, low in the dip in the road. The readout highlighted a basic mustard gas concoction, simple but effective against anyone without his army-equipped protection. He switched the helmet's imaging sensors to GPR and the low-powered ground penetrating radar highlighted a large pressure plate across the cobbled road about two meters ahead.
Damn it! He had to give the Gandharans credit for being so effective with limited technology.
They'd have expected him and the team to run forward into an ambush. Emerson faced the two other men from his team, barely visible in the red dust, and signalled to show the Improvised Explosive Device. IED's were common and very effective against their high-tech suits.
Corporal Mike Smitt gave a thumbs up. Emerson nodded. Smitt was a lot like him and found he preferred the older ways, but Private First Class Zac Adams was the complete opposite and would text message you even if you stood close enough to touch each other. True to form, Zac's message scrolled across Emerson's display. A simple question. 'Dragonfly?'
Emerson faced Zac and nodded. He pointed his pulse rifle up out of the small valley, switched on his laser target indicator, and walked the laser out to the spot ahead where the pressure plate lay buried where he had seen the thin filaments of copper wire twist back alongside them. Emerson knew that off to his left, deadly homemade explosives buried alongside them, waiting to blow the narcotics team to bits. He looked at the low pile of rocks along the side of the road and cursed as he saw the markers. If it hadn't been for the mustard gas, used to kill, or at least create enough chaos and make anyone unaware of the EID and HME, conventional forces would have been annihilated. The Aryan tribal group to their west would have suffered the same fate. For now, all he could do was to wait for Zac to release the robotic AI-enhanced Dragonfly.
