Mayan Darkness (A Hank Boyd Adventure Book 2) (The Hank Boyd Adventures)

by Matthew James

  Looking up and over his reading glasses, he expected to see Ben walk in. But why would Sophia announce him? He had given her explicit instructions not to delay his friend by any means.

  Instead, the man who walked in was bigger and bulkier than Ben and had a stern, almost emotionless face. This guy had to have been military at one point but was now dressed in a simple black suit.

  “May I help you?” Boyd asked sternly, standing and taking off his glasses. He didn’t offer his hand, or invite the unknown guest to a seat. He was not used to having random people waltz into his office, and with everything going on, he’d been on edge.

  The man walked in and pulled out his credentials from his pants pocket, sitting in one of the plush office chairs. Annoyed, Boyd took the I.D. badge, reading it to himself. Steve Manke, DHS.

  “DHS?” Boyd asked eyebrow raised. “Why has the Department of Homeland Security paid me a visit?”

  He handed the I.D. back to the agent and sat back down at his desk, making sure not to erase the irritated look on his face. He even added to the act by crossing his arms in unspoken defiance.

  “Sorry to arrive unannounced Dr. Boyd, but we may have received a threat on the building, or more accurately D.C. itself.”

  This diffused Boyd’s anger as he uncrossed his arms and sat forward, now intent on listening to the man. The DHS agent then went on to explain that there was a potential bio-weapon in or around the White House. He said they had agents sweeping the surrounding buildings looking for clues or anything out of the ordinary.

  “Who knows about this?” Boyd asked, sweat rolling down his graying temples.

  “So far,” Manke answered. “We have only spoken to the heads of the various departments, like yourself. We don’t need a city-wide panic—especially if nothing turns up.”

  Boyd nodded his head. He knew that inciting a panic in the nation’s capital could cause riots across the country, causing more harm than good.

  “Also,” Manke added. “We’ve been in contact with Jeremy Kane and he’s gotten us up to speed on your team’s recent activities.”

  Boyd’s eyes went wide at the mention of the CIA agent’s name. He knew that only Kane and his bosses upstairs in Langley knew about his involvement with Harrison’s team out in the field. This was a shock that another governmental department knew about his son’s less-than-believable undertakings.

  The look of surprise on Boyd’s face was obvious, and Manke noticed. “It’s fine Dr. Boyd,” he said, trying to put Boyd at ease. “Mr. Kane was worried about the ancient biological weapon that was stolen from Campeche being transported back to the States by a man named, Frost—John Michael Frost. The man is ex-military, formerly in the army. Kane wanted us to keep a look out for him if he popped up anywhere. He is currently at the top of our watch list and will be apprehended on the spot—with force if necessary.”

  Boyd was semi-relieved in hearing this. He knew Kane would only have called it in if it was a dire situation, which this was. If this thing got loose in Washington, it would spread like a napalm-lit forest fire.

  Standing, Boyd motioned for Manke to follow him out of his office. “Please, would you join me? I have a colleague who’s been helping us on the hush-hush. He needs to be updated on these recent events.”

  Manke’s eyes narrowed and his lips frowned, causing his scarred face to bend at awkward angles. The skin that was repaired during the multiple surgeries he endured when being injured in the line of duty, was tight and inflexible.

  He stood and followed. “Please do. I would love to meet this friend of yours.”

  31

  Teotihuacan, Mexico

  “Where’s Frost!” Kane shouts, pointing his weapon at the one-armed serpent-woman. It’s the first time he or Nicole has seen the cauterizing of flesh when met by Atlantean fire. Unfortunately, this is the second time for me.

  Two times too many, I think, staring down at the charred handless wrist. The smell of roasted flesh lingers in the air too, not making this conversation any easier.

  Nicole gags, stepping back, but never lowers her Ruger. Her sense of smell may be getting assaulted, but her eyesight is sharp and true.

  “Where’s Frost!” Kane shouts again, stepping forward. “We know he is the one behind the theft of your asshole husband’s ashes. So why don’t you tell us where he is and I’ll promise to be merciful.”

  The look on Kane’s face is one that would make a crocodile whimper. It’s all business and business is booming.

  BOOM!

  He fires his weapon, sending a bullet into Coaxoch’s shoulder, blowing a large hole through her back. She winces, then screams as she’s knocked back. But as she heaves a heavy breath, the wound starts to close until it shrinks to nothing. Not even a scar is left.

  She laughs, looking up at Kane. “You idiot, I’m immortal. Shooting me will solve nothing.”

  Kane shrugs. “Maybe not, but it sure as shit makes me feel better.” He fingers the trigger again, but I stop him with a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t. We need answers.”

  I step forward to almost within striking distance. I kneel and hold up my sword, inspecting the blade, but talking to Coaxoch.

  “Do you know what this is?” I ask.

  “Of course, I do,” she says staring at the engraved blade. “It’s the weapon of Thoth. It’s what he used to destroy my husband’s mortal body before he entrapped him in that awful prison.”

  It is I who am surprised this time, but I don’t let it show. This was Thoth’s personal weapon? I knew it was symbolic to him, but I didn’t think it actually belonged to him. How the hell did it end up on Jaina Island?

  A question for another day.

  I look from the blade to her making sure we see each other clearly. “You see my eyes?” I ask, knowing she can. I left my glasses off, tucked away in a pocket during our fight.

  She nods.

  “And you see what I am capable of with this?” I add, looking down at her severed hand, knowing she does.

  “Good,” I say, watching her nod again. “Then you are going to tell me what is going on or I’m going to take the other hand like I did with Nannot. He made the mistake of screwing with me and my friends. A mistake he paid for with his life.”

  Her eyes go wide.

  “You get me?”

  She hisses and lunges at me, but is knocked back by another round from Kane’s Desert Eagle, the bullet passing right over my shoulder. She rolls ass-over-teakettle after getting knocked out of mid-air by the blast, a large hole in her chest.

  Coaxoch lands with a thud and a wet splat, as a fountain of blood gushes from the void in her sternum, dead center. I watch as more and more blood pumps through the void, but eventually, it slows and then stops, healing over once again.

  She tries to lift herself up, but her hand slips out from underneath her, sliding through the large puddle of crimson that will no doubt stain the stone altar for years to come. Apparently, blood loss is still a problem for those who can’t die. Falling to her back again, Coaxoch stays down breathing hard.

  Kane, Nicole, and I step towards her, weapons still drawn, expecting a fight. Instead, she does something unexpected. She laughs. Coaxoch, Queen of multiple Mesoamerican cultures, just lies there, in a pool of her own blood, and laughs.

  She answers, eyes to the sky above. “Mr. Frost,” she says, inbetween cackles. “He is no doubt meeting with his next target.”

  This time, the three of us yell in unison, “Who?”

  Laughing again, Coaxoch gingerly sits up. “Your father, Mr. Boyd. He is meeting with your father…right now.”

  My face pales as my bravado falters. I step back, unfocused on my enemy. Then, she hits me with another sucker punch, except this one leaves me confused more than angry.

  “My children will rise, soon, and be led by the worst of them. From under the ruins, they will come, at the beginning.”

  She lunges, claws bared, swiping at my face. But before she connects, I cal
mly take another step back, ignite the blade and swing. Her remaining hand comes free, gushing blood and gore everywhere.

  As she’s about to shout in pain, I spin and swipe across her neck, removing her head, thus ending her long and treacherous life.

  Even before her limp body falls to the stone and crumbles to dust, I’m already yelling at Kane to call in an EVAC and get us to D.C. as quickly as possible.

  I just hope it isn’t too late.

  * * *

  The Blackhawk helicopter lands, having been prepped and ready for us when needed. Kane’s bosses really had to pull some strings in order for us to have a US military aircraft parked and armed to the teeth on Mexican soil. Thankfully, they were onboard with the knowledge that we were trying to protect their country and the rest of the world. I guess there are some things politics actually take a back seat to after all.

  We board and are met by a soldier—a Ranger Kane has known for a long time.

  “Good to see you, Jeremy,” the man says, shaking Kane’s hand.

  Kane turns to me. “This is Hank Boyd and his team.” He gestures to me and then to Nicole and Olivia, who is holding an ice pack to her head. Then he motions to the soldier. “Hank, this is J.R. Brooks, my former number two. He’s the one that pulled me and Frost out of the jungle. I owe him my life.”

  “And Frost’s,” I say, being a little too brash, my emotions getting the best of me.

  “Look,” Brooks says, annoyed with my tone, “he was a Ranger and a teammate. It’s only after the disaster in Colombia that he went rogue.”

  I concede the point and move the conversation along. “Any word on if Frost is actually at the Smithsonian Castle?”

  Brooks shakes his head. “No confirmation that he is even in D.C. at this point, but when we do find out you better believe we’ll be there to stop him.”

  Both my eyebrows are perched high atop their respective eyes in surprise. “You’re coming with us?” I ask.

  “Yep,” he says, replying with a shrug. “Kane’s bosses shanghaied me into service and I’ll do whatever you need me to do, especially if it involves taking Frost down.”

  “You’re a good man, J.R.,” Kane says, clapping the man hard on his back.

  Kane sits next to me and gives me a bump with his elbow. “Don’t worry man. Your dad will be fine.”

  I meet his confident stare and give him one of my own, except mine, is one of doubt. Dad is a lot of things, but being an action hero is at the bottom of that list.

  He quickly became a recluse after Mom died and has only recently become halfway normal again. And to be frank, the events in Algeria had fully awakened him. As awful as the things that happened were, Dad was finally free of his self-hate. At the time, he believed he could have done more for Mom, but curing an inoperable tumor wasn’t exactly possible. Now, the very thing that has awakened his soul could actually be the thing that kills him, led by a man named John Frost.

  “Okay,” Brooks says, sitting across from me. “Tell me everything.”

  In the next few minutes, we retell the newest member of our little rag-tag team everything. And I mean…everything.

  I start by explaining what happened in the Algiers Airport and about the subsequent injury that led me to land in a hospital.

  Kane takes over and fills him in on how we met and the final leg to Djanet, where we eventually meet Nicole. He then recaps my near-death experience, almost falling into a thousand-foot-deep pit that doubled as a subterranean entrance.

  Nicole continues on, describing the cavern and the lava flow, along with the obsidian pyramid, and the stone tree forest.

  “Then Hank had a dream—” Nicole says.

  “You mean nightmare,” I correct, interrupting her.

  Brooks doesn’t say a word as we tell the tale of inhuman monsters, ancient Atlantean overlords, and a whole bunch more supernatural mumbo-jumbo. If the man is even listening it’s hard to tell, his face is stone—void of emotion. His eyes barely even blink.

  He hears of a zealot little snot, turned traitor, and of a psycho body snatcher.

  Kane chimes in quickly transcribing the events that just took place in Teotihuacan and the significance of the woman who attacked us, helping put the story together full circle.

  Nicole takes over again and describes the Minotaur-like creatures that confronted us in the courtyard surrounding the black pyramid. She then recounts the battle afterward and the emergence of Ares, the dump truck-sized stone polar bear.

  “It was pure chaos,” I say, telling him about the brawl I had with Nannot. How—like his wife after him—I dismembered him, removing both his hands. Then, I describe how I burnt the evil out his host body using the fires of Atlantis, the flames from within.

  I finish by saying, “It was the most incredible and the worst experience of my life and I will never forget it…” I look at Nicole, “For better…” And then out of the Blackhawk’s window. “…or worse.”

  Brooks sits back, expressionless, but thinking. He may even wear down the enamel on his teeth by clenching them so tightly.

  Finally, he sits forward, clearing his throat and says, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I repeat, expecting more of a reaction. Everything we just told him is straight out of a Robinson novel and the only thing this guy can say is okay?

  The Ranger sits forward, rubbing his hands together. “There’s a lot of weird shit out there, some we’ve never seen or heard and some we never want to see or hear.” He straightens and continues, “My job, regardless of the odds or of the…circumstances…is to provide assistance and or help take down the bastard responsible for this, which is in this case, a former teammate of mine. Plus… You wouldn’t believe some of the things Jeremy and I went through together in the army. Some of it was pretty freaky too.”

  I’m about to ask about the freaky stuff but now is definitely not the time.

  I think back to how he described his take on things. His attitude towards this life or death, real and yet unreal, situation is mind-blowing. He is truly a warrior in every sense of the word, Kane included. These guys are the real action heroes which is fine by me. I like being the normie of the group with the cute girlfriend.

  I feel a squeeze on my hand and squeeze back, instinctively knowing it’s Nicole.

  Kane and Brooks continue the conversation, going over strategy and what not, while I turn to Nicole who’s seated on my right.

  “Hi,” I say with a yawn. Damn, I’m tired.

  “Hi,” Nicole answers back, as I lose myself in her eyes. “You did well, Hank. I’m proud of you.”

  I smile, having nothing to say, which is okay.

  Nicole returns my smile and leans her head on my shoulder, closing her eyes. I follow her example and close mine and say a quick prayer for my father and to those who are inadvertently in Frost’s way.

  32

  Mexico City International Airport

  Mexico City, Mexico

  The chopper ride is short and sweet considering it only takes about forty-five minutes to reach Mexico City by car from Teotihuacan. We get there much quicker.

  We land on a secluded piece of tarmac, surrounded by the Mexican Army. It’s an impressive sight, especially since we are Americans—minus Nicole and Olivia of course—they are just here on the United States’ behalf.

  Technically, Nicole is still a Swede by residency, but we’ve been looking into that. A permanent move to the states is in the works. She couldn’t get herself to sell her and her husband’s home outside Uppsala. But now…she’s reconsidered. It’s a bold move and one I’m very flattered by. It really does mean that she sees us as a long term thing and frankly so do I. Plus, the crap that’s been going down lately is a pretty good reason to stick around as well.

  We exit the Blackhawk and make for the jet that is gassed up and ready to go, per the United States government. The flight from here to D.C. will take over four hours so it’s not like we can just rush in, we have time. Even if we don’t want it.
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  Where’s Scotty when you need him, I ponder to myself, thinking of the time wasted in the air. I could use a good beaming. BAM! Straight to Washington.

  But, we haven’t developed that type of transportation yet, so unfortunately for me, I’m stuck with travel by winged aircraft.

  Brooks stomps up behind the four of us in full Special Forces regalia. He’s even wearing the same stone determined look on his face as before.

  “You know you’re going to have to change, right?” I say, motioning to his get up.

  He stops, looking himself over. “Why?” He asks, confused.

  “Because you stick out like a sore thumb, J.R.,” Kane adds, understanding my comment. “We can’t have Frost’s people calling him when they see a guy in fatigues waltzing up to the Smithsonian Castle. You need to look like one of us.”

  Kane motions to us and then the ladies, all of whom are wearing your standard American attire, mostly t-shirt and jeans or shorts.

  Brooks frowns at the mention of changing but nods his agreement. “So,” he says, “going native are we?”

  Kane smiles, and claps the guy on the back again, getting a grunt of protest out of the hardened soldier. He then looks back-and-forth between Brooks and me, smiling broadly. “You have any extra clothes with you, Hank? My man is about your size.”

  I smile, then laugh a little, as we board the plane to D.C., sitting in the center-most section of seats. The forward and rear sections are completely full of gear. There’s an assortment of weapons, including a new AA-12 auto shotgun. Kane must see the smile on my face because he laughs hard and puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “I figured you could use another one with how well you handled the first.”

  I reach for the weapon, but freeze, thinking over the plan we laid out in the air. I shake my head in frustration and step away from the gun.

  “No dice,” I say, turning to everyone. “We need to be as inconspicuous as possible which means NO heavy hitting weapons.”

  Kane’s about to protest, but I beat him to it. “Unless,” I say, turning to him. “You can fit those heavy hitters in your pack.”