by Tom Hunter
A strong hand grasped him by the wrist.
It’s Mochni! Thomas thought, thankful the boy had been there, as he dangled from the cave youth’s grasp like clothes on a line. Mochni pulled him forward, and in one seamless motion, Thomas Knight’s feet cleared the ledge. He was brought tumbling down onto solid ground.
“Whether you understand or not,” Thomas said, looking Mochni in the eye, “I thank you with everything I’ve got.”
Motioning to the rope and spikes, Thomas motioned for help in setting up the bridge.
Eyeing Thomas, the rope, then looking toward the other side of the chasm at the rest of the team, Mochni seemed to understand what they asked of him. With his help, the work went quickly.
Soon the rest of the team had crossed the chasm and were following Mochni down into the cavernous abyss below. Headlamps and flashlights lit the ground.
With Mochni and Abby once again securely in the lead, Thomas took the opportunity to fall back and whisper to Robbie, “Still think he’s trouble?”
“With a Capital ‘T’”, said Robbie. “But, he did save your life. So, points for that.”
“You should be glad Abby’s up front. She’d swat you good for that one.”
His face serious, Robbie turned to Thomas, and countered, “Look, I’m glad he stepped in and saved your life. But, it could have just as easily gone the other way. We’re on his turf now. At his…mercy.” Then, taking Thomas by the arm, Robbie went on, “I still have that bad feeling… I’m not sure it’s a good idea to follow Mochni deeper into the caves.”
“I see your point,” Thomas said dryly. “But, until he does something to make me do otherwise, I trust him. And for that matter, so does Abby.” His words had a finality that sent a chill up Robbie’s spine.
Eighteen
Two squads of mercenaries patrolled the area of Noah Ashbridge’s campsite. In full gear, they seemed ready to begin deployment practice, rather than simply pacing the perimeter to keep prying eyes at bay. Their orders were clear: allow no one to breach the perimeter or otherwise disturb Noah Ashbridge.
Ramon made his way through the campsite with four of his most trusted men, Gunther and Pedro among them. Sweat pouring down his dark, heavily scarred face, he swiped at it with his arm, and reached for his radio.
“What’s your twenty?” he asked one of the guards on patrol.
“On the ridge with a clear view into their camp,” came the reply.
“Any sign of the cave dwellers or those crazy creatures?” Ramon prompted.
The lizard like creature had nearly done his job for him, when that fuck-up guardsman, Peter screwed up, and got himself killed, Ramon thought idly as he waited for their answer. His eyes darkened as he remembered. Really, it had been a simple enough task, but Knight kept surrounding himself with boys who wanted to be heroes.
The Howard kid had been too impulsive, but the YouTube celeb was…crafty. Too bad he was on the wrong side. “I could use somebody like him,” Ramon muttered, as his radio crackled.
He knew there was no one senior in Knight’s camp. He’d put two and two together when Miss Welker left in khakis instead of her standard camo. She’d looked more like a college kid, than a classy assassin, he’d mused at the time.
“None, sir. No contact as yet,” confirmed the voice.
Pedro and Gunther turned to him then, their eyebrows raised.
“Something is…off. It’s too quiet,” Ramon confessed.
The tremors had nearly stopped. Miss Welker was gone. Noah was in his RV. Everyone was where they should be, but Ramon’s and his confidante’s militaristic senses remained on high alert.
Ramon turned the dial to the lowest frequency, so as to be virtually undetectable. “Ruiz, what’s your twenty?” he asked. “Any—?” As he spoke, the tranquility was blown away. Pop! Pop! Crackled over the airwaves. Those were gunshots! The three men exchanged glances.
Ruiz confirmed it, when after a bit of garbled verbiage he said simply, “Gotta go! We’ve made contact.”
“I can hear that, man. What is your twenty? I’ll send a squad your way,” Ramon growled, his deep, gravelly voice, the perfect complement to his countenance. “Hell, I’m comin’, too. Just gotta know where you are!”
Growls and gunshots grew louder as Ramon heard Ruiz ask someone, “Que? What did you see?”
Another voice answered Ruiz, “There’s something in the sky!”
In a flash, Ramon barked into the radio to everyone, “Incoming! Take cover!” His men fell flat against the earth, chameleons in the sand, protected by strategically placed mesh nets to better hide themselves.
But, Ramon realized, there was one thing they couldn’t escape from. “Shit. It’s a drone.”
He tuned to a private frequency. “Noah,” he called. He held his breath, then let it out in a whoosh, to clear his mind.
“What is it? I’m busy!”
“Drone overhead,” he began. “One of Knight’s, I’m sure, but need you to alert my boys left behind. We need to shut things down. Now,” Ramon explained.
“Drones? It’s 2030, man. They’re practically like kites these days,” Noah replied. “I appreciate the warning. One of Knight’s you think? I’ll ah—I’ll ring Miss Welker—she’s at his camp now. See if she can do something on her end.”
Ramon snapped his mic off, and muttered to himself, “I am a trained mercenary and he trusts that woman more. Besides, it’s my men in the fight. Now.”
Though frustrated, he couldn’t kick his training and remained still as the drone passed overhead.
Nineteen
Flashlights and headlamps set their path ablaze in a swathe of light. Mochni and Abby, still in the lead, left Thomas Knight time to take a full account of the tunnel they now traveled.
Claw mark impressions along the otherwise smooth walls suggested this tunnel had been dug out manually, rather than a natural occurrence of the earth’s shifting plates or the tremors and earthquakes that pervaded Death Valley.
Running his hands along the wall, Thomas Knight mumbled to himself, “These claw marks—Pediah, can you come here a second?”
“Sure, what is it Thom?” asked Pediah as he stepped closer in answer.
“Make a fist,” requested Thomas.
“Huh? Why?” Pediah was worried about Thomas. He hadn’t been quite himself since they’d been rescued and Thomas had spent the night in the infirmary.
“It’s a theory I have,” explained Thomas. “Come closer. Let me see your fist,” he insisted.
“Okay…” Pediah made a fist and as he raised it, he saw what Thomas was looking at. “Whoa,” breathed Pediah. “One of my fists is…”.
“Is the size of one claw, yes. Whatever made these marks is…”
“Huge”. Pediah thought for a minute. “But, I don’t think it’s that creature you fought. Whatever it is, this one is much, much bigger. Parent and child, maybe?”
“Could be,” agreed Thomas. He stroked his beard, and speculated, “Maybe a mother protecting her young?”
“Or trained to protect the drum,” Pediah threw back, offhandedly.
“Or both,” chimed in Alexia.
With no answers immediately available, they continued discussing the claw marks.
Mochni stopped and put his finger to his lips for quiet. The team fell silent.
Their path had taken them, once more, to the edge of a ledge. Mochni curled his toes just over the lip and went still. No one moved. Thomas estimated the drop to be about thirty feet if Mochni, or anyone else, slipped the landing.
Everyone’s eyes widened as, across the short chasm, they found its twin. Small natural lights twinkled. Fairy rings of mushrooms reached toward the blinking lights as though to the sun. Greenery filled the paths and graded dirt smoothed into angular shapes hinted at life and living: doors, windows, and walls. Even bright flowers dotted the landscape, completing a mind scrambling panorama.
Robbie, Thomas, Pediah, and the girls looked down at the scene bef
ore them. Mochni pointed insistently to the platform below. The drop was sheer. Pediah’s spelunking mind was already gauging the possibility. Realizing the implications, he followed Mochni’s lead, pointed down, and said slowly, “Someone could slide safely down. But, they would need climbing gear to scale back up.”
Breathless, Alexia said, as if to herself, “Okay…I understand how we could do it. But, do these, um, people?—she shook her head, I mean, how do, did Mochni and others, like, um, navigate the walls and tunnels? They don’t have any climbing equipment…” her voice trailed off as Mochni pointed first to himself, then the platform below.
“I think we’re supposed to jump,” Thomas stated matter-of-factly, breaking into their wonderings.
“We’re not built to jump that,” complained Robbie. “He does realize that, right?”
Alexia glared at Robbie, hands on her hips, and whispered, “Be quiet. We said we’d see him home and if this is the way, then this is the way.”
From the corner of his eye, Thomas Knight spotted an open door, engravings over its archway. Through the door, he could see what looked like another village, similar to the one they now witnessed. Over the stone doors were engravings in an unknown language, and just beyond them, as far as the beams of their flashlights and headlamps could reach, more cave paintings.
Thomas came to Abby’s side and asked in a low voice, “Is this it, do you think? Is it his home?”
Abby shrugged. “Let’s find out, shall we?” she volleyed.
Reaching into her bag, Abby pulled out a piece of paper—from the stack she and Mochni had been working on at the camp—and gave it Mochni. Pointing at the paper, then at him, she repeated the words, “Home. Family.”
He looked at Abby, then the paper, then Thomas, and furrowed his brow.
“I don’t think he understands,” offered Thomas.
“I don’t know what else to do,” said Abby, with a shrug.
Thomas pointed to Mochni, then down, and made a walking motion with his index and middle fingers, and asked, “Do you want us to walk..to go…down there? Is that home?”
On the word ‘home’, he hugged Abby, then himself, hoping a combination of gestures and repeated words might suffice. It didn’t. Instead, he saw Mochni’s eyes darken. The boy was frustrated. Or jealous? What kind of tantrum might this kid give? Thomas wondered idly.
Abby, Thomas, and Mochni stared at each other, as if they could communicate telepathically. It was Mochni who broke the silence first with a series of clacks, clicks, and unintelligible verbiage to their ears.
Yeah, now I understand how he feels, Thomas confessed to himself. Then, palms up, Thomas Knight’s shoulders met his ears in an exaggerated shrug. He shook his head. “Mochni,” Thomas spoke gently. The boy looked at him and tilted his head.
“I don’t understand,” he explained. Mochni pointed at him vehemently, making motions for Thomas to stop talking by first flapping his hand open and closed, saying, “Drao”. Then, making a fist, Mochni said, “Bhedrao”.
Thomas copied the motions, and pointed to his lips, saying “Drao”, then pinching them together, shaking his head, and asking “Bhedrao?”
Mochni nodded vigorously, with a wide smile of approval.
“Abs,” began Thomas as he turned toward Abby, I think ‘Drao’ means talk and ‘Bhedrao’ means quiet. Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything,” Abby remarked.
“I know. It’s too quiet.” Thomas nodded toward Mochni. “He thinks so, too.”
The deathly silence erupted into activity. The silence was snuffed out by shouts and screams, blazing headlamps and flashlights, as the figures below cast in shadow seemed to be running toward them.
Figures poured from the doorways and stepped out from the walls. A village emerged. A village under attack.
Twenty
Mochni leapt from the lip of the entrance ridge and slid down the incline into the fray. All the others could see was tangle of bodies, large and small, arms flailing. The men in camo were no match for the race of giants, but they had and edge: pistols. Steel and stone met. The gun metal gray of firearms breached the air. The volley of bullets should have sent the giants scattering.
A woman with an ageless face and long white-blond hair shared a look with Mochni. He nodded once, and she turned her attention to the fight: fluid movement, at one with the air and the earth. From the folds of her dress she produced both steel and stone, and with the training of a ninja-warrior she worked to carve a path for herself and those that fought beside her.
She and Mochni fought back-to-back. They cut their swathe so valiantly, they didn’t notice the weapon-wielders regroup and begin to surround them.
“Thom, we need to help them!” exclaimed Pediah, as he watched from his perch above the fray. His aerial view offering a big picture of the plans in store, and it didn’t look good.
Thomas agreed and called to his team, “These people are under attack. We need to help, if we can.” He motioned to Pediah and Robbie. “Can’t quite make that jump. We’ll need to rappel down. Here hand me the rope and gear,” Thomas requested.
In lighting succession, thrown rope and clips became a way down. No one spoke. There was only the crunch of footsteps—the whoosh and clink of equipment—as the team danced a choreographed affair with one singular purpose: to help Mochni and his friends just below them.
Once set up, and checked, Thomas raised his arm in a “follow me” motion and exclaimed “Let’s go!” as he followed Mochni down into the fray, Pediah right behind him. The rest of his team were hot on their heels.
Though a jumble of voices greeted his ear, Thomas picked one out, he’d hoped to never hear again. Ramon. Should’ve let him drop.
His own near fatal fall fresh in his mind, Thomas Knight remembered the teamwork of young Howard and Pediah, as they’d raced to rescue Ramon from a similar fate. Poor Howard paid for it with his life, and Pediah…he looked toward the large teddy-bearish Amish man. What will happen when the horror finally hits home? He’s a good man, but every man has their breaking point. I hope his God is up to the task.
Calls of “Stop them!” and “Save your ammo for the creatures!” made Thomas Knight’s blood run cold. Whatever they had to do, they would help this civilization. God knows they don’t deserve to be exploited like they surely will be if caught.
He knew why these men were here, and he knew who had put them up to it. Noah Ashbridge.
In the moments it took Thomas, Pediah, and Robbie to rappel to the bottom, Mochni had gotten tangled up with two mercenaries; their military training quickly overcoming Mochni’s youthful great strength. Sheathed knives dangled just out of his grasp while sure hands sought their reward. Another shadow, a woman, fought like a banshee to help Mochni. But, in a well-timed counter strike, she fell to the ground.
Taking in the scene as they’d rappelled down, Thomas used his legs to push off from the wall and leapt at the man locked in combat with Mochni. Pediah followed suit, knocking down Mochni’s foe with his size and strength.
Robbie ran to the fallen woman to get her out of harm’s way.
Though a confessed pacifist, Pediah also believed strongly in helping others, and that no justification to violence was part of God’s divine plan.
The man Pediah had knocked from Mochni’s grasp jumped up quickly. In one fluid motion he had pulled his knife from its sheath, teasing both Pediah and Mochni with it. Unable to aim for both at the same time, the man aimed his knife at Pediah and lunged.
Mochni, to Pediah’s eye, seemed to leap around the man, and grabbed their terrorizer in a sleeper hold.
“And sometimes, strength will win out,” muttered Pediah, breathless and flush from the fight. He flashed a smile at Mochni, who nodded in return.
Thomas Knight’s opponent was younger and faster, but Thomas had wisdom on his side. As he crash-landed into the man, the blow sent both of them reeling, with Thomas on his back. Without a thought, Thomas withdrew a dagger from his belt
, another first dig prize, and slashed at the man.
But, the man’s training trumped Thomas Knight’s skill. Using Thomas’ position, the man pulled his knife, placing the razor thin blade against Thomas’ throat. That was his mistake, Thomas would later tell Pediah. In the man’s childish “cat-and-mouse” game, the mouse already in a submissive position, the man pulled the knife back to strike—get ‘em with the pointy end—giving Thomas the opening he needed.
As his opponent pulled back, Thomas raised himself, grabbing the man in an MMA hold he’d been taught in the month he and his team had been immersed in training and planning. He flipped the man over in an arm bar choke hold.
Robbie struggled to pull the woman out of harm’s way. It didn’t help she thought she was still fighting and slapped him. She let out a howl in the same clicks, clacks, and indecipherable language Mochni had used earlier.
At that, Robbie stopped and stepped back. As he did so, she repeated herself and jabbed a long bony finger at Mochni as if to say, “Him, him. I belong with him.” Robbie shook his head and tilted it to one side. There was something about this woman, something familiar.
Mochni had stepped back from the fight as Thomas and Pediah relieved the men of their weapons. In the shadow of their headlamps, Robbie caught Mochni’s eye. It was then Robbie realized the woman bore a striking resemblance to the young giant. Though few lines graced her face, it was her countenance and her bearing which that hinter at her age. Her hair was a shocking white. Her intense gaze, somewhere between yearning and wisdom, was devoid of fear. She wasn’t afraid. She was angry.
Her darkened features lightened as Mochni ran toward her and wrapped her up in a bear hug. The boy nearly engulfed the woman, yet she was as large as he. Robbie just shook his head and smiled.
As the two released each other from their embrace, the woman pointed down the passage way indicating there were more like her and Mochni. Abby and Alexia joined them.
“Okay, guys. Gather your gear. Pediah. Robbie. We need to take down the rappelling ropes and carabiners. Leave no trace. We don’t want anyone following us,” commanded Thomas. The two men nodded in agreement.
