Battle Siege (The Battle Series Book 3)

by Mark Romang

  An urge to investigate prompted him to reach his hand up to the branch. He was just tall enough to be able to reach it from the ground. He discovered the branch was also hollow. Standing on his tiptoes, he rubbed his fingers around the branch’s inner edge. When he brought his hand back his fingers were blackened.

  A frown darkened his already stern face. Stiggs sniffed his fingers. He smelled smoke residue on them.

  His curiosity piqued, Stiggs stalked through the thimbleberries until he came to a longer branch extending to the ground, a branch that enabled him to climb atop the dead tree.

  Stiggs walked gingerly along the slippery moss covering the tree. He halted at the stubby branch and peered inside. Charred wood inside the stubby branch told him all he needed to know. The hollow branch served as a natural chimney.

  Someone built a fire inside this tree. And I know who built it.

  Stiggs hopped down and studied the earth around the fallen tree. Even though the dead tree’s interior was plenty big enough to allow human travel, it was still too small to comfortably sit in and enjoy a fire.

  Stiggs had a hunch Banks dug out a burrow or bunker to live in underneath the tree. His heart racing with murderous intent, Stiggs considered wriggling through the tree and ambushing Banks. But a good chance remained that he might get himself stuck.

  His only other option was to observe the tree and wait for Banks to appear. Stiggs didn’t like this option. Banks may have abandoned his bunker already. The drone chased him to this area. He might think its unsafe now. I have to go inside. It’s really my best bet.

  Stiggs pulled out his .45 and racked a round. Time to go spelunking, he thought.

  Chapter 24

  Heaven—that same moment

  Thorgus stood tall and straight beside the seventh bowl.

  Always on guard, Thorgus never allowed his head to droop. Although he’d protected the seventh bowl for thousands of years, he remained ever vigilant, his cobalt eyes didn’t blink as they scanned the inner chamber of the temple of the tabernacle of testimony.

  Thorgus held a double-bladed sword in his right hand. He held the sword upright, its gleaming tip not far from his right ear. With just a flick of his wrist he could strike with the sword, disemboweling anyone foolish enough to enter the temple.

  Thorgus took his task seriously. Great responsibility had been placed upon his broad shoulders. He was the highest ranking guardian angel in all of Heaven, the captain of the Guardians, but he had never guarded a person.

  Thorgus guarded a bowl and nothing else. But this bowl, nestled on a golden stand and sitting on a golden table, was far from ordinary.

  The bowl he guarded was the seventh bowl of God’s wrath. At the precise moment Almighty God commanded, one of the four living creatures would present the bowl to Thorgus. At that moment the temple would open, and Thorgus would then travel with swiftness and purpose to the first heaven and pour out the bowl’s contents into the clouds.

  As soon as he emptied the bowl, a loud voice would reverberate from the throne and say, “It is done!” And then terrible and amazing things would happen on Earth.

  Flashes of lightning and booming thunderclaps would precede a great earthquake more powerful than any earthquake mankind has ever experienced. The mighty city, Babylon the great, would fall and split into three parts. Every island would flee and mountains would simply disappear. Hailstones weighing one-hundred pounds each would fall on the people of earth.

  These natural disasters would introduce his Lord Jesus, the risen Son of God, the King of the universe, who would leave his throne in Heaven and return to planet Earth riding a white horse, his army of saints following close behind him. The saints would also be arrayed in dazzling white linen, and they also would ride white horses.

  Trailing behind Jesus, the saints would appear as an endless bridal veil. What a sight that will be, thought Thorgus, allowing his mind to wander only briefly.

  Standing next to Thorgus and guarding the other six bowls were six more angels. All of these angels, like Thorgus, wore pure linen as bright as lightning, with golden sashes wrapped around their powerful chests. Each angel held a gleaming sword like his, upright and ready to strike and eviscerate, like him.

  Thorgus felt a kinship with the other six. Their responsibilities were similar, and they held each other accountable, first to God, and then to each other.

  Thorgus sensed movement. His Lord had left his throne and approached. Thorgus felt a hand touch him, felt a warm tingle travel up his large frame. He turned and faced Jesus. And then Thorgus dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

  Jesus looked at him and smiled kindly. Thorgus was continually amazed at how such immeasurable power could coexist with such immeasurable love. “Thorgus, your time of testing approaches,” Jesus said.

  “Yes, Lord, I know. Satan has already begun to whisper in my ears. But I assure you, Jesus, I will not betray you. My loyalty to you cannot be breached.”

  Jesus looked at the other six angels. “Help your captain when this terrible moment comes. Keep Thorgus accountable when he falls weak.”

  The other six all nodded solemnly.

  Jesus gestured for Thorgus to stand. Thorgus rose to his feet, stretching to his full height—twelve feet. He waited for Jesus to speak. “Thorgus, why does Satan persist in tempting you, even though he failed to persuade you to join him during the first rebellion?”

  Thorgus shook his head. “The reason escapes me, Lord.”

  “It is because you stand watch over the seventh bowl. Satan has desired this bowl since the moment Adam and Eve ate from the tree of good and evil while they lived in the garden.

  “But you, Thorgus, have been selected to guard the seventh bowl because your allegiance cannot be imperiled. Your heart is as pure as snow as it falls to the ground.”

  Jesus looked at him intensely, his dark eyes began to glow like embers. “Even though Satan knows he is already defeated, he will still approach you, Thorgus. He will beguile you with flattery and sly arguments, just as he did with me when I was in the desert, fasting for forty days and forty nights. He tried his best to get me to turn stones into bread to appease my hunger. But I wouldn’t do it. I told Satan, it is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

  “Satan then took me to Jerusalem, to the pinnacle of the temple. We were 300 feet above the ground. He tried to get me to throw myself down to the ground, telling me angels would bear me up with their hands, lest I strike my foot against a stone.

  “I said to him, “Again it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

  “And then Satan took me to a very high mountain and showed me all the kingdoms of the world and all their glory. He told me he would give me all these kingdoms if I would merely fall down and worship him.”

  “But you wouldn’t do it. And you told Satan to leave, and he left you,” Thorgus said, remembering the instance. Everyone in Heaven had watched it all play out.

  Jesus nodded. “But if Satan would try to tempt me, the Son of God, won’t he also try to tempt you, Thorgus?”

  Thorgus nodded soberly. “He will, and he has already started.”

  Jesus reached up and touched Thorgus on his left arm. “Even as I sit nearby on my throne, my spirit will be as a covering and protect you. And when Satan whispers his syrupy pleas in your ears, Thorgus, think back and remember how you resisted Satan the first time, when he took a third of the heavenly angels with him in his rebellion.

  “And if you remember nothing else, remember this: I am greater than he who is in the world.”

  “I will stand strong in your power, Lord,” Thorgus promised “The seventh bowl will not be abducted.”

  Chapter 25

  Olympic Peninsula

  “The bunker has to be here somewhere. We’re at the exact coordinates you gave me. And we’re standing in a rocky glade,” Banks said. His eyes roved over the glade, looking for an anomaly
that might lead him to a subterranean shelter.

  He studied the ground, looking for evidence of tire tracks from more than three years ago. Somehow Brooke’s dad had found a way to get supplies and building materials up here. But Banks saw no evidence of a road or trail. The beautiful setting appeared natural and pristine. And nothing suggested an abandoned gold mine/bunker existed here.

  What am I missing?

  The glade was only a little bigger than a front yard in a subdivision. Heavy timber surrounded the glade on three sides. They left the rainforest behind them a long time ago, and were now about 4,000 feet up, a sub-alpine forest of mature fir trees their only company. Mt. Deception peeked through the fir trees on the glade’s southern side. “Your dad must’ve really hidden it well.”

  Brooke stood a dozen feet away. She wore a perplexed look on her face. “We’re just not seeing it, Nathan. But it’s here, I can feel it.” Brooke walked up to a giant pile of boulders. Moss covered a good many of the boulders, and a dead tree draped its bulk across the top of them. She turned and looked at him. “I’m thinking the mine entrance is somewhere behind or under these boulders.”

  Banks walked up to the boulders. Once at the glade they hadn’t taken precautions to hide their tracks, but it was on his ‘to do’ list. He would work at wiping them out later, after they found this alleged bunker.

  Banks squatted down and examined one of the boulders, running his hand gently along it. He looked over his shoulder. “You said your dad was a building contractor, but did he ever do much landscaping work?”

  Brooke nodded. “He had experience in just about everything to do with construction, from foundations to finish work. Sometimes he got fed up with the sub-contractors and just did the work himself.”

  “You might be right about these boulders hiding the bunker. I think some of these boulders might be fake.”

  Brooke kneeled beside him. A mountain breeze whipped her long hair around. She studied the boulders closely. “Are you sure? They look and feel so real. How do you go about constructing fake boulders?”

  “You just take busted-up concrete, throw some Quikrete cement onto the pieces to add bulk and shape, and then you apply stucco mix and dye to them after the Quickrete has cured. While I was in high school I worked at a landscaping company. We sometimes made fake rocks and boulders for clients.”

  “Interesting. So you think these faux boulders are hiding the mine entrance?”

  Banks nodded. “I don’t think all of the boulders are fake, just a few. But yeah, somewhere under our nose is a way in.” He stood up and looked beyond the boulder pile. The glade’s northern edge ended at a small cliff. The boulders extended to this cliff. In all likelihood, the mine entrance tunneled into the cliff.

  Banks looked at Brooke. “Let’s search up by the cliff. The mine entrance is likely there. If not, we’re at the wrong glade.”

  Near the cliff they each took a side to search. Banks looked for a slot or opening in the boulders big enough for a human to enter. But after ten minutes of poking around they’d found nothing.

  “I’m stumped, Nathan. Why would my dad seal the bunker permanently shut?” Brooke asked.

  Bank’s looked at her and broke into a grin. Brooke’s choice of words—more specifically the word, stumped—gave him an idea. He pointed up at the dead tree lying across the boulders. “A fallen tree hid my bunker. I’m thinking a fallen tree hides this one too. Let’s check along the tree’s underside.”

  They climbed up to the top of the boulder pile and looked along the tree’s underside, feeling around with their fingers. “Nathan, I found a depression,” Brooke said excitedly after a minute or two of searching.

  Banks hurried over as fast as he dared atop the boulders. He didn’t want to twist an ankle. Injuries and illnesses in the wild can go south quickly. He joined Brooke at the spot and examined her find. Although promising, the depression wasn’t quite big enough for a human to slip through.

  Banks stood up. He noticed storm clouds moving in, clouds filled with rain or snow. “Help me move the tree over, will you?”

  They both grabbed a side of the tree and tried to move it to the side, but failed. “Forget that. It’s too heavy,” Banks muttered. Dejected, he watched Brooke move a couple of small boulders. After she moved the rocks, the depression nearly doubled in size and revealed a tunnel extending down under the tree.

  Brooke looked up at him. “I think we’re almost home.” Holding onto the tree, she wriggled her petite frame into the depression and disappeared.

  Banks waited a few seconds and then entered the hole. The width of the hole soon expanded to about three feet. Banks picked his way down through the tunnel. He couldn’t see much, and used his hands to guide him. His hands repeatedly brushed against a wire mesh or netting that secured the rocks from slipping and moving around.

  A moment later his shoes touched level ground. He saw Brooke’s murky form a few feet away. She dug into her backpack for something.

  A flashlight turned on. Banks saw a steel door. “Tell me you have the key to the lock.”

  Brooke giggled. “I have a key, and so does C.J. and Tanner.” She pulled a set of keys from her jean pocket and dangled them for him to hear.

  “Awesome. I can’t wait to see the inside.” He heard Brooke engage the lock. And then the steel door creaked open. He followed Brooke inside.

  Chapter 26

  It was incredibly dark inside the bunker. And it smelled musty like a root cellar. Brooke played her light off the walls and ceiling, checking for critters and bats, maybe even squatters or the ghosts of gold miners past, Banks thought as he took off his pack.

  “I need more light, like one of your homemade Tiki torches.”

  “There are candles sitting out here and there. We just need to light one or two,” Banks said.

  Brooke fished in her jean pocket and handed him a lighter.

  Banks took the lighter. “I didn’t take Brooke Mason for a smoker.”

  “I only use the lighter to start campfires. I’m not a survival expert like you. I can’t start a fire by rubbing sticks together.”

  Banks lit a candle, and then another one. The bunker took shape under the flickering illumination. The room they stood in measured perhaps ten feet by thirty feet. The ceiling had been reinforced with new beams, and the walls were adorned with corrugated metal panels like those found on a barn roof. Floor-to ceiling cabinets and shelves ran along both walls for perhaps fifteen feet. A picnic table sat in the middle of the room. The bunker gave off a strong bunkhouse vibe.

  Bunk beds took up the far space and butted up against pantry shelves filled with canned goods. Banks counted the beds. “Brooke, how many were in your family?”

  “Six.”

  “Then why are there eight bunks?”

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe Dad planned on helping others out.” She looked at the dirt floor. “I thought there would be a real floor.”

  Banks shrugged. “This place is luxurious to me. After what I’ve been living in, it’s like a resort condo.” He started nosing around in the plastic tubs sitting on the shelves. Everything was neatly categorized and labeled.

  He found a tub filled with tools, another with nails and screws, and another with ropes and cordage. There was a tub filled with flashlights and headlamps, two-way radios and unopened batteries to power everything. Banks found another tub filled with medicines and bandages, pain relievers and antibiotic creams. His admiration for Brook’s dad began to soar.

  Brooke squealed and clapped her hands. “I just found a tub with toothpaste and toothbrushes, and this one here has bar soap and razors and shaving cream. You can shave if you want to, Nathan.”

  “Your dad thought of just about everything,” Banks said. He spied coats and jackets hanging on the wall in a small space between cabinets. He ran an admiring hand along the coats. They were much nicer than the shabby one he currently wore.

  “I found a tub with brand new jeans and anoth
er with socks and shoes,” Brooke called out.

  Banks found a tub of ammo, and finding it spurred him on to locate the weapons to fire the ammo. It didn’t take him long. He opened a floor-to-ceiling cabinet. Shotguns, rifles, pistols and a compound bow stared back at him. He whistled. “I found an arsenal here in this cabinet. Do you know how to shoot, Brooke?”

  She came up to him and looked in the cabinet. “I’m pretty good with my Ruger. But it’s only a .22 caliber pistol. I’m also fair with a Glock. But I’m terrible with anything over a 9 millimeter. My dad used to take me to a range to practice. Funny thing was he never took my brothers. I guess he just worried more over me because I’m a girl.”

  Banks nodded and closed the gun cabinet. “Let’s find some food, I’m starving.”

  They walked to the end of the bunker where stacked canned goods lined the shelves. “Well, we have lots of beans to eat: green beans, baked beans, chili beans, black beans, lima beans and butter beans,” Brooke said.

  “Your dad must have a sense of humor, or he really likes beans,” Banks mumbled as he perused the cans. “And what’s the deal with all this Spam?”

  Brooke grabbed a can of Spam and a can of baked beans near one end of the shelf. “Who cares? Right now I could eat just about anything, even your funky roots and greens.”

  “Wait a second, Brooke. When you removed the can of beans the empty spot revealed some sort of mechanism.” Banks examined the area closer. “It’s a hidden latch mounted to the side of the shelf.” Banks pointed it out to her.

  “Pull the latch. See what happens.”

  Banks pulled out on the latch and the entire shelving unit swung into a large open area. Brooke held her candle up high and stepped into the cavernous room. Banks followed her. Their candles revealed more shelving and canned goods, and also more equipment.

  There was also a fire pit with Adirondack chairs positioned around it. “It’s like a commons area,” Banks said. He scanned the area and spotted three different mine shafts jutting off from the room.