by Mark Lingane
“This is ominous,” Peter said.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Peter looked over at Nikola. “If I answer that question, you’ll know too much about me that I don’t want you to know.”
They walked down the aisle between the pews, examining the marks on the wall. Nikola stopped. He looked back down the aisle at the beginning of the symbols.
“What is it?” hissed Peter.
“It’s a message. It seems familiar. I’ll see if I can decode it.” Nikola stood back and peered along the wall. He started at the far end and read each symbol as he passed. “I … am … the … beginning. I … am … the … end. You … will … watch … him … fall. You … will … fall … and … you … will … burn.”
“That’s not a message,” Peter said. “It’s a warning. Pass me the lantern. Oh, look at this.” He pointed to a piece of mosaic showing the familiar forlorn deity nailed to a cross. He ran his fingers over the image and sensed roughly applied paint. He stood back and raised the lantern further. His eyes blinked in disbelief. “Does this look familiar to you?”
Nikola looked up at the desecrated image. “Not really.”
“It doesn’t look like Sebastian to you?”
Nikola ran his hand over the tiles. The crude painting covered the effigy of the long-deceased deity, but it was unmistakable. He stood back and shook his head. “Not to me.”
“You’re a good liar, I’ll give you that.”
“Think about it logically. Who would paint a picture of Sebastian? And why?”
“A deranged groupie. Have you seen some of the things the No Bearing fans do?”
“But you have to actually do something to have groupies. It’s not enough to simply exist and occasionally fart.”
“Do you think this image is part of the message here?”
“I certainly hope not.” Nikola turned away and started to examine the rest of the church. He discovered a wall covered with partially empty shelves. He picked up a book, dusted the spine, and flicked it open.
Peter focused his attention on the lectern. The wooden structure looked and felt hundreds of years old. There was a large and excessively dusty leather-bound book resting on it, closed. He ran his hand over the dust to reveal the title.
Peter looked up. “I just heard something out the back.”
“Yeah, I heard it scuttling around,” Nikola replied. He didn’t bother to turn around. He continued looking through the old books.
“Should we be worried?”
“Probably. If we have time.”
Peter looked down at the book on the lectern. “This is a Bible. You remember those?” Peter picked up the weighty tome and opened the cover. Dust billowed about him, but the inside pages were clean. “King James. It’s an old one.”
He flicked through the pages and something fell out. He bent over and picked it up. It was a key. With a thump, he dropped the Bible back onto the lectern. He ran his hand along the top of the podium. His fingers brushed against a slight depression. He pushed it down and a small wooden hatch clicked open. Inside was a keyhole. He slipped in the key and turned. There was a deep click. The podium shifted slightly. He heaved on it, and it swung wide, revealing a small stairwell leading down beneath the lectern.
“Hey, Nikola,” Peter said, “are you feeling brave?”
Melanie examined her bandages. They were tight and clean. They comforted her. She turned her attention to Angel, who was sorting through the medical supplies.
“How have you been settling into the Academy?”
“Great.” Angel’s smile nearly glowed with appreciation. “Everyone’s been so helpful and considerate.”
“Where are you from?”
“A small place called Carranbine.”
“Like our mayor. You were lucky to survive the attacks. I understand not many did.”
“It was a difficult time. My family didn’t survive.”
“Well, the Academy has people you can talk to.”
“Yes, Peter and I have been having some great conversations.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, quite a few of late. He’s been charming. He’s really helping me get over the difficult times.”
Melanie gave her a suspicious look.
Sebastian burst in through the door. “Melanie, there you are. Nikola and Peter have been ages. Do you think they’re all right?”
“Yes. Because if I answer no, you’ll want to go there and have a look. I am not skulking around in some creepy church.”
“But …”
“But what?”
“I can sort of feel another source nearby,” Sebastian said. “I think. It’s different but the same, if you know what I mean.”
Melanie stood up. “A tesla? Gavin?” Sweat beads appeared on her forehead as her face flushed. Her hands started to shake. She clutched at her stomach and bent over in pain at the recollection of his inflictions.
Sebastian shook his head. “There’s no way it could be Gavin. There was a whole class of teslas, remember? He wasn’t the only one.”
Angel watched Melanie carefully as fear leapt over her body. “I’m sure Peter will be able to protect you,” she said, “like he has me.”
34
A FEW STEPS down into the narrow, curving stairwell, Peter found a large oil lamp and a set of matches stored in a small alcove. He discarded the gas lantern, which was beginning to dim. A moment later, the smell of burning oil filled the small space, and a soft glow illuminated the rough stone stairs that were darkened with age and smoothed through use.
They emerged from the stairwell into a moderate-sized room. On one side was an old oak table. Opposite hung dark curtains that absorbed light and sound. Light glinted off metal on the far wall.
“A lab under a church,” Peter muttered. “This won’t lead to good things.”
He examined the pieces of chemical equipment on the bench. Circular tubing was strung together tightly around great beakers containing foul-looking fluids.
Nikola examined the far wall. Thick, ancient bolts secured several sets of manacles to the stone wall. Dark blood ringed the edge of each one, most of which had dried to a flaky crust. He ran his finger around the inside of one, to find it was relatively fresh.
“There are some notes here,” Peter said, then read aloud. “‘I wander in a foreign land, alone and shunned by its gods and people. The temples stand empty, toppling into ruin. It is a land of mist and rain with soul-freezing iron winters, angry gray seas and pale sunlight seeping through hurrying clouds.’”
“Reminds me of a holiday I once had,” Nikola said.
“‘We fly too close to a bloated sun.’ That’s it. Then the letter ‘I’ at the bottom.” Peter ran his fingers down the page, smoothing out the creases and tears. “Someone is definitely crying out for help.”
“You know, I’m not sure this was a lab,” Nikola said. “It looks more like a torture chamber to me, with some human experimentation thrown in for good measure.”
He bumped into the set of velvet drapes. Something behind it tinkled. He pulled back the drapes and exposed a veritable wall of glass made up of vials stacked in vertical rows from floor to ceiling within a wire framework. The vials were the same as the one the boy had handed Melanie.
The wall was in the shape of a horizontal arrow, with the point at waist height. Nikola studied the last few rows that made up the tip of the arrow. Four vials were stacked one upon the other, all containing the same dark liquid; then three, glinting in the dim light of the oil lamp; then two, both with faded writing. The space at the very tip of the arrow was empty; the vial was missing.
“Someone made an important discovery here,” Nikola said. “I’m not sure if it was for good or evil, but I’m guessing the latter.”
“I agree,” Peter said. “These notes are full of regret. People have done some pretty despicable things in the name of science.”
“And religion,” Nikola added. “Mix the
two together and you mostly get bad results.”
Peter continued his exploration of the room, taking the light with him.
Nikola let the darkness wrap around him, waiting to see if anyone or anything moved. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, letting his deprived senses awaken.
A moment later, Peter said, “Hey, look at this, Nikola.”
The sound snapped Nikola out of his meditative state, to his annoyance. He cautiously made his way through the darkness, following the light. And he heard and felt the stillness and absolute quiet of something being expertly un-present, watching him from the pit of the corners. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled with primeval insecurities honed by eons of facing an unknown growl at the back of a dark cave.
He felt his way forward and pushed through an ancient doorway. The massive door slammed shut behind him, giving him some relief. Peter stood a few paces ahead with the lantern raised above his head.
Peter was staring straight ahead. Nikola peered into the darkness. They were standing in a large subterranean cavern. A path, worn down by wheels and footsteps, stretched straight ahead of them. On each side of the path were a series of cages stacked three high, each large enough to take a moderate-sized animal.
“Or a child,” Peter said. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“What I was thinking was that this is a small town, and this is a lot of cages.”
Nikola scratched at a dark patch on the floor. His gaze drifted slowly upward. He nudged Peter and indicated the ceiling. Dozens of adult bodies were hanging from the roof of the cave. Chained by their feet, they hung upside down with their arms thrown wide, matted hair clumped on the crown of their heads, swaying gently in the mild breeze flowing through the cave. Their eyes were rolled back in their heads, and each face was contorted and frozen in pain.
The two men were lost in their thoughts. The oil burned on, filling the air with a musky odor that drifted back toward the closed door.
“Whatever we heard upstairs came down into that room,” Nikola said. “Are you sure you want to go back that way?”
“Looking at these cages, there must be another entrance. They couldn’t have been brought in down the stairway. The three rivers this town is named after run near here. What if this cave runs all the way to the rivers?”
“That would be too far to walk, possibly hours. I wouldn’t want to leave the others for that long without letting them know. Let’s get back.”
Nikola opened the great door. It squeaked. He sighed. They had lost the element of surprise. They went back into the laboratory.
There was a rustle on one side, a black streak, and Peter found himself sprawled on the floor. The lantern crashed to the ground, the glass shattering. The oil spilled out and spread over the floor. A large beam caught the side of his head, dazing him. The oil caught alight. Fire flared and caught the velvety drapes. The flames licked their way up the fabric, lighting the room with a faint, dancing glow.
There was a scraping sound behind Nikola. He twisted quickly and was smacked in the face by a shovel. He tumbled backward, tripping on the beam and collapsing to the floor, hitting his head against a table on the way down.
Peter tried to focus his vision, but it was blurry from the light and the impact to his head. He could make out a lithe, feminine figure against the flaming curtains. He staggered to his feet and crept into a dark corner, scouring the room for their attacker. Hands encircled his throat from behind, clutching tightly. He struggled for breath as the hands gripped his neck harder. He tried to call out, but couldn’t make a sound.
Smoke filled the room as the heat began to build.
Nikola stirred and groggily got up. He stared into the darkness behind Peter. There was a sudden intake of air, and the hands around Peter’s throat disappeared.
There was a moment of stillness as the fire hung in the air on the drapes before the burning remnants fell to the floor, cutting the amount of light in the room to half.
A bag dropped over Nikola’s head. He felt it draw tightly around his throat. There was a swift movement to his left. He stuck out his left arm and intercepted the blow coming in. He kicked out blindly and connected with a leg. He twisted and kicked with his other leg. Also blocked. He felt movement from the right and blocked the punch coming in. He punched forward, and impacted. He sent out a rapid flurry of punches at his target, each one connecting.
He heard his assailant jump away. He struggled with the drawstring around his neck, ripped it off, and threw it in front of him, where it fluttered to the floor. His attacker was gone. He spun around, looking deep into the dancing light.
He caught sight of an angry face reflected in the vials. He ducked, grabbed the incoming hand, and thrust the attacker away. The sound of cracking glass cut through the air. He glanced at the vials. The liquid within was bubbling. Another vial cracked, spewing its contents onto the floor. Then there was a loud crunch as all the vials fractured. The wall hung for a moment, unsupported, then exploded. As it collapsed, the liquid from the ruptured vials spread across the floor. The glass fell as fine rain.
Nikola dived for cover.
Their attacker jumped free, twisted, and felt Peter’s hand land solidly on her shoulder. The liquid spat over him and he turned his head to avoid the noxious fluid. The figure twisted and kicked out, slipping free from his grip, but Peter’s fingers lunged out again, wrapping around her throat. She thrashed and spat against his strength, but could not escape. He lifted up the remnants of the lamp and held it to the female’s face. The light flicked over her features before her leg shot out and kicked him between the legs.
Peter groaned and dropped the lantern.
The figure flashed between the shadows and was gone.
“Crikey, she sure can fight.”
“What was it?” Nikola asked.
“It looked like a young female cyborg.”
“I used to know one of those.”
The smoke had thickened, making it difficult to see. Another punch came in out of the smoke and knocked Peter sideways. Nikola grabbed him and they staggered toward the narrow stairway. They clambered up the steps and into the open, rocked the lectern back over the hole, sealing the entrance, and clicked it shut.
Peter kicked the side of the lectern, smashing through the wood and destroying the mechanism. “I doubt that will stop her, if she really wants to get us.”
“Any suggestions?”
“I don’t think she wanted to kill us.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Okay, she didn’t want to kill me. Maybe it was a warning. Or maybe she wanted to capture us.”
Smoke started to drift up through the lectern. Nikola watched it spiral out over the pews before being sucked up into the tower at the far end. He noted that the smoke wasn’t gathering around the lectern.
“It occurs to me,” he said, “that you could gas a whole congregation while remaining safe, if you stood behind the podium.”
35
“IS THAT SMOKE coming out of the church?” Melanie said to Peter as he and Nikola came up to them. Heavy rain was still falling, turning the track into a quagmire.
Peter looked over his shoulder. Smoke was beginning to curl up from the tall spire. “Oh, yeah, probably. Hopefully it’ll warm the place up. It’ll also keep the mosquitos away.”
“What happened?” Parker asked. “There were some noises that sounded like glass breaking.”
“We found the adults,” Peter said. “About thirty of them. They met a gruesome end below the church. We also found some other odds and ends.”
“Are we safe?” Melanie asked.
Peter thought for a moment. “I’m not sure.”
Nikola pointed at Melanie. “That first kid gave you a vial, right. Have you still got it?”
“No, I gave it to Michael.”
They made their way over to where the vet was resting against a SUV.
“Do you have the vial, Michael?”
Michael
nodded, extracted it from his pocket and handed it over.
Nikola showed it to Peter. “This looks like the others in the wall. I assume it’s the missing one. Albert, we need to find out what’s in it. How can we examine it? I have a feeling this is going to be very important.”
“Ve need a research laboratory with decent equipment.”
“Where’s the nearest one?”
“I’m guessing New Toowoomba vould be the best chance.”
Melanie sagged. “I was hoping I could talk you all out of that.”
“Do we head out now?” Peter said.
“Not in this weather,” Nikola replied. “The bikes wouldn’t make it far before the water got into the tanks and they blew.”
“We’re stuck here? You have to be kidding me,” Melanie said.
“Until morning or the rain passes. It’s still going to be a big effort to get the SUVs out through the mud.”
The group huddled together. Nikola set up a roster for standing guard. Peter and Melanie drew the short straws and got the first two hours.
The temperature began to fall. Peter fetched their heavy jackets and Melanie set up two seats under the shelter, looking out into the darkness.
“What happened in the church, Peter?”
“Bad stuff. There was something in there. I’m hoping we trapped it in there. I think there’ll be another way out, but she’ll have to find her way out through the underground cave system, which I’m hoping will take all night.”
“She?”
“Yeah. It was possibly a female cyborg. But she was wild. Moved a lot faster than normal as well.”
The cold wind gusted through the shelter, blowing rain in over the two of them. Melanie shivered. Peter got up and scavenged some wood from the broken door. He dumped it between them and soon had a small fire blazing. He sat down and rested his hand on hers. She scratched the bandaging.
“Don’t scratch your injury,” he cautioned her.
“It’s so itchy.”
His eyes glanced away from the night and examined her face. “You look pale. If you want to get some rest, I’ll cover for you.”
