End Game (Harbingers Book 20)

by Alton Gansky

“It’s more than that,” Andi said. “Chad is right. Many of the lines run parallel to another line, but notice the line weights.”

  “Lines have weight?” I felt stupid for asking, but I was used to showing off my ignorance.

  “Artists make some lines thin and light, other lines mighty thick,” Brenda answered. “You make the thick lines by pressing harder on your pencil, or pen, or whatever you’re usin’.”

  “Oh.” It was all I had.

  “Wait a sec,” Zeke said. “Some of this looks familiar.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if squeezing a memory into his brain. A second or two later he snapped his head up and looked at Andi. He smiled.

  “Tunnels.” They said the word in unison.

  “Exactly,” Zeke said. “These are like what we’ve seen on ice-penetrating radar. Except—”

  Uh-oh. “Except what?” I asked.

  “Except they’re not the same. Just similar. Of course, even as good as those instruments are, they might have missed something.”

  “Or whoever provided the readings messed with them,” Chad said.

  Zeke didn’t bother to look up from the drawing. “You’re a tad paranoid, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. Paranoid people are paranoid because they pay attention.”

  Zeke nodded. “Point taken. I suppose someone could have tampered with the info I was given. There’s no way to know.”

  “That doesn’t really matter,” I said. “We are where we are. The question is why Brenda drew this now.”

  “Apparently,” Andi said, “we need to change our plans. Instead of storming Azazel’s space, we take a different tunnel and see where it leads.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Chad said. “I wasn’t real keen about going back there.”

  It was starting to make sense to me. Our goal was to do in Azazel. I doubted we could do that. Like I mentioned earlier, there is no mention of dead angels in the Bible. So, since we can’t end Azazel, we could end the usefulness of this base. That’s what we came to do. That’s what we needed to do.

  “Okay,” I said. “How do we find the tunnel?”

  More silence. I hated that kind of silence. It meant none of us had a clue about what to do next.

  Andi studied the drawing again. “Brenda, why couldn’t you add a You Are Here sign or something?”

  “Really? You gonna blame me?”

  Andi stepped to her and gave her a hug. “No way, girl. I’m just a little frustrated. Okay, I’m a lot frustrated and more than a little scared.”

  “I hear that,” Brenda said.

  “We go up the tunnel,” Zeke said, sounding like the captain of a ship.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because we’ve already gone the other way and didn’t see anything that might lead us to the tunnels in this drawing.”

  He had me there. “Okay, so you’re our guide. Take the lead. I’ll bring up the rear.”

  Daniel giggled. “You said rear.”

  That kid has the strangest sense of humor.

  Zeke grabbed his pack of explosives. The rest of us picked up our packs and we all marched in the opposite direction.

  We trudged on with Zeke in the lead and me in the rear constantly looking over my shoulder. My brain kept telling me that Azazel’s minions didn’t need to bother with us. We had no way to the surface. Sooner, rather than later, we would freeze. Our clothing would keep us warm for a good while, but all the space age materials and designs wouldn’t keep our hearts beating for long. Just breathing in the cold air hurt.

  Andi hung back until I caught up to her. The tunnel was narrowing, but we could still walk side by side. She took my hand. That warmed my heart and I wished we were someplace where we could hold hands without arctic gloves on.

  “You doing okay?” she asked.

  “I’m doing. How about you?”

  “About the same.” She squeezed my hand. “You’re my hero. You know that, right? You have been for a long time. It took me awhile to realize it, but I figured I would have time to sort out my emotions. Turns out, I was wrong. Watching the professor die made me realize that any of us could be next. And if Brenda’s drawing—”

  “Maybe that will change.”

  “Maybe. Maybe.”

  I could tell she had serious doubts about changing Brenda’s prophecy of our death. Sure, we had altered such predictions in the past, but this one felt different. We all seemed to feel that.

  “Anyway,” Andi said, “I want you to know I regret keeping you at a distance.”

  “No problem. I’m a patient man.”

  “Let a girl apologize, Big Guy.”

  “Sorry.” And I was.

  “I know you’ve taken some ribbing about your faith. The professor was the worse until, you know, he went away. He found his faith again. To think he spent so much time trying to prove there was no God only to learn there was.”

  She paused and I didn’t interrupt her silence. A lot can be said in silence.

  Then she started again. “From priest to rationalistic atheist back to man of faith. I didn’t see that coming.”

  I shrugged. “He had seen too much of the supernatural to deny it any more. We all have. It’s only by the grace of God we’re still here.”

  “Where will the grace of God be when the end comes for us?”

  “Sometimes death is a grace, Andi. No one lives this life forever.”

  “How do you hang on, Tank? You never seem to stumble, never lose faith.”

  I put my arm around her. She seemed smaller than usual, frailer. “I have my days. I . . . Do you remember when that fairy creature—the one with the scorpion tail—stung Daniel?”

  “How could I not? I can still hear him scream.”

  “Me, too. I love that kid.” Then came the words hard for me to say. “When I saw that—when I heard his pain—well, it still haunts me. The sight and sound of my little buddy writhing in such agony…”

  My voice broke. I took a minute to stuff my feelings so I could get on with things. “Anyway, me and the good Lord had a few conversations. I did all the talking. He did the listening. I couldn’t explain why the innocent suffer so much.”

  “Did He answer your doubts?”

  “I wouldn’t call them doubts. I was angry with God. That happens to Christians. Our ignorance gets in the way of understanding. Truth is, no one has all the answers.”

  “So, you didn’t get a response?”

  “Not like most people would expect. But I came to understand something important. I’m not deep like some people. Compared to the professor, you, and Chad, I’m a bit of a mental lightweight, but occasionally I trip over something important. It’s not like a revelation in the Bible, but it is a revelation to me.”

  “And what is that?”

  I took a deep breath. “Every ending is a beginning.”

  Chapter 3

  “Bingo!”

  Zeke’s voice rolled down the tunnel.

  Andi and I rushed forward. Zeke and Chad were standing by a vertical fissure in the ice wall of the tunnel. A good thing, because the tunnel ended just a few yards ahead.

  Zeke used his flashlight to examine the crack in the wall.

  “Whatya see?” Brenda asked. “Will it get us back to the surface?”

  “Not that I can see, but I can make out a few things.” Zeke leaned into the opening. “I make the opening to be about thirty inches wide—just like the shaft we used to get down here. It’s also about seven or eight feet tall. The floor slopes down some. Not enough to be a problem.”

  “Just thirty inches?” I said. I had had all I wanted of narrow passageways. My size is great for football, not so great for squeezing through things.

  “At best, Tank. Sorry.” Zeke studied the opening a few more moments, then stepped back and removed his backpack. “I’ll be right back.”

  Chad took the pack and set it on the ice floor. Zeke slipped into the opening carrying only his flashlight.

  “I can feel a bit of a breeze,
” he called. “A good sign. It means we have air flow.”

  I stood by the opening listening to Zeke chatter and huff and puff. I could tell he was making progress. I could also tell it was not easy going.

  “Almost at the end. Stand by.”

  Chad looked at me and shrugged. “Where else would we go?”

  “I’m in.” Zeke’s voice sounded distant, but it was loud enough to generate an echo.

  Then nothing. A minute passed. Two.

  I stuck my head in the fissure. “Zeke?”

  Nothing.

  Great. I began to ponder what to do if Zeke didn’t come back. On the plus side of things, I hadn’t heard any blood-curdling screams.

  “Is he okay, Cowboy?”

  I turned to Brenda. I wanted to say, “How should I know?” but I refrained. Instead, I admitted that I didn’t know. “Let’s give him a little time. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Really?” Chad said. “None of us know what we’re doing. This whole thing has been played by ear.”

  I hate it when Chad is right.

  I heard a distant grunt, some scraping, some heavy breathing. A few moments later Zeke’s smiling face appeared, then he oozed out of the opening.

  “Well, that was fun.” He was breathing heavily. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. “Whatcha see?”

  “The fissure appears to be a natural break in the ice, not manmade. There’s a chamber on the other side. It’s about the size of a master bedroom. And it’s closed in on all sides.”

  “So, no tunnel?” Andi said.

  “There’s a tunnel, but it’s not all that easy to reach. The floor of the tunnel doesn’t align with the floor of the chamber. The opening is about seven feet up. I was able to pull myself part way up, but couldn’t hang on to the ice very long. I did take a quick look at the tunnel and it’s plenty wide. Best I could tell from that glance, it’s a natural fissure, maybe from a trickle of water at a time when this place was warmer.”

  “Which way does it go?” Chad pressed.

  “Same direction we came from, but I think it slopes downward. If the slope holds, it might go even deeper than Azazel’s throne room. Maybe.”

  “You mean . . . it might be a way to get beneath butt-ugly’s chamber?” Chad has a way with words.

  “I can’t say for sure. There’s only one way to find out. Whacha say?”

  Chad shrugged. “I got no plans for my day.”

  Zeke looked at me. “Tank?”

  I took a silent poll of the others. No one argued against the idea, and how could they? There wasn’t anything else we could do. “I say we go. We have a mission to complete.”

  Zeke straightened, then took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing, Tank. I can fit through again. Everyone else here is smaller and thinner than I am. Everyone but you. It’s gonna be the shaft problem all over again.”

  We had been lowered one by one through a thirty-inch shaft. It worked great for everyone but me. I got stuck. I was left with only one solution; I had to melt some of the ice. We all have our gifts, all but Zeke, and mine is healing—a very hit-and-miss gift. Sometimes it works; often it doesn’t. When I lay hands on someone, my hands get warm. That heat was enough to help me make the descent. Barely. I had no guarantees that it would work in this situation.

  “I’ll make it.” I said those words like I fully believed them. “How do you want to do this?”

  Zeke thought for a moment. “I’ll go through first. Once I’m part way through send Andi—”

  “No.” Andi said the word in way that meant she wasn’t about to debate. “Chad next, then Brenda and Daniel. I’ll go through with Tank.”

  “Andi,” I began. “It might be better—”

  “Again, Tank, I’m not asking permission, I’m informing you.”

  That line had lost its humor, but I knew enough not to argue. Apparently, Zeke and the others agreed.

  I watched Zeke disappear into the fissure again. It was like watching a wall of ice swallow him. I stood by the opening, straining my ears to hear every breath the man took.

  A few minutes oozed like hours before I heard, “Half way. Next.”

  “You’re up, Chad,” I said.

  “You know something,” Chad said as he stepped into the opening. “This is one crazy job we have.”

  “At least it’s not boring.”

  Chad chuckled. “Man, I could go for a great big serving of boredom right now.”

  I understood completely.

  Chad turned his gaze into the fissure and raised his voice. “I’m on my way, Corporal.”

  “It’s Lieutenant.” Zeke sounded irked.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Chad said, easing into the fissure. “Don’t you recognize humor used as false bravado?”

  No response from Zeke. More minutes stumbled by, then we heard Zeke’s voice. “I’m in.”

  “Yay for you,” Chad called. Two minutes later he spoke again. “Okay, I guess I’m about halfway, so send the next victim.”

  “Victim?” Brenda said. “I’m gonna beat the guy so hard his ancestors will scream.” She stepped to the opening, paused, and looked at Daniel. “I’ll be waiting on the other side for you, kid. Don’t make your mama wait.”

  Daniel grinned. “I’ll probably catch up to you. I may even pass you.”

  “You can try, young man. You can try.” Brenda sighed and sidled her way through the gap.

  I heard grunting, heavy breathing, then: “Okay, send Daniel.”

  “Okay, little buddy,” I said, “I’ll help you into the opening. Now remember—”

  “I got it, Tank.”

  The next thing I knew, the kid had disappeared into the fissure.

  Andi chuckled. “This is probably fun for a kid his age.”

  “That kid’s my hero.” I pulled Andi to my side. “You’re next, kiddo.”

  “Nope. You’re going next,” she said. “If you get stuck, I can push you forward or pull you back. It makes more sense for you to go next.”

  I shook my head. “I might be too big. I could get stuck in there forever. I could be a Tank-cicle.”

  “That’s a cute image, but you’re not going to get stuck. I have an idea.”

  “Am I gonna like it?”

  “Not at all. But if you do as I say and it all works out, I’ll give you the world’s biggest kiss on the other side.”

  “Now, that’s motivation.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” She studied me a moment, then opened her backpack.

  We all carried packs for personal items, but we had divvied up items we might need. Zeke had the explosives and trigger devices, Chad carried food and water, and Andi had the medical kit, something Zeke had insisted on bringing.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked. She didn’t answer.

  “Take off your parka.” She continued to rifle through her pack, then took out the first aid kit.

  “You mean take off my backpack, don’t you?”

  “That goes without saying.” She kept her flashlight directed on the kit as I dropped my pack. “Ah, here it is. Now, take off your parka.”

  “Are you trying to freeze me?”

  Andi stood with a tube of something in her hand. “No, I’m trying to make sure you get through the fissure. Take off your parka and your shirts. I wanna see bare skin.”

  “Andi. You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Tank, we don’t have time to argue. Do it now or I’ll strip you down.”

  If it had been anyone other than Andi, I would have argued longer, but I took off my parka, my insulated shirt, and the thick undershirt I wore. The air in the tunnel bit my skin. “Andi—”

  “Hush. Arms up. Do it now.”

  I did. I reached for the ceiling. She stepped behind me and smeared something on my back.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s sunscreen. Just like the stuff you put on your face before we started this nonsense. Turn around.�
��

  I did. She had removed her gloves and worked like a mad woman spreading the cream on my skin. The cold bit my skin like a million invisible piranha.

  “This stuff is greasy. It will protect your skin as you rub against the ice. It’s slick, meaning you’ll get through the ice faster.”

  “When can I put my parka back on?”

  “When you get to the other side. You’ll never make it through that space with your parka on. It makes you several inches broader than you already are, and you’re plenty broad.”

  Her hands moved rapidly, applying the goop to my back, my chest, my shoulders, and my arms. I could do nothing but yield. She was the smartest person I knew and that’s saying something when you remembered how smart the professor was.

  She finished and slipped her gloves back on. “Go, Tank. Go now. It’s not going to get any warmer. I’ll be right behind you.”

  I picked up my pack with one hand and my parka and shirts with the other, then slid sideways into the ice fracture. The first three or four steps went just fine, but then the passage narrowed. Soon my bare back was pressed against the ice. Three more steps and both my back and chest were rubbing against frozen surfaces.

  “Go, Tank. Push. Keep going.”

  My arms began to shake and there was no stopping them. The ice felt like a wall of needles. My heart rate rose. My breathing came in ragged breaths. Images of being frozen between two walls of ice played in my brain.

  “I think I’m stuck.”

  Andi had caught up. She put a hand on my shoulder and pushed.

  No good.

  “I’m wedged in, Andi.”

  “Lean into it, Tank. Don’t give up.”

  I could tell she stepped back a pace or two. Then came the impact. Andi had thrown a shoulder into my body. I slid forward a couple of inches.

  “On the count of three,” she said. She counted. I strained. Then another impact. I budged a couple more inches, but I was pretty sure I was just wedging myself in tighter.

  “Give me that.” Zeke’s voice.

  I released my parka and shirt.

  Another voice. Chad’s. “I’ll take it . . . he took off his parka? Why . . . never mind.”

  “Okay, Big Guy,” Zeke said. “This might hurt just a bit. Give me your hand.”