End Game (Harbingers Book 20)

by Alton Gansky

  My brain was having trouble accepting what my eyes were telling me. Chad was right, eels—even ugly as sin impossible eels like these—couldn’t move through solid ice. Not only that, they had some way of making the ice around them clear. Another impossibility that was happening right before our eyes.

  A head popped through the ice three feet in front of Chad. He let loose a shout that echoed through what remained of the corridor.

  The eel thing thrashed and wiggled and in less than a handful of seconds it was writhing on the surface of the ice. The thing was gray, milky white, and about three times thicker and longer than any eel had a right to be. Steam rose from its body as if it had lava for blood. Maybe that’s how they got around in the ice. Maybe. Maybe not.

  We heard a bang, sharp, and ear-pounding. The eel scooted backward a couple of feet, a hole in its head. The wiggling stopped.

  Zeke stood to the side, his pistol in hand. I waited for someone to make a witty remark, but no words came.

  Then another eel emerged. Again, I looked at my feet and I could see through the top layers of ice, something I couldn’t do before. A swarm, or a school, or whatever you call a group of massive ice eels swam just below my feet.

  “It might be wise to leave.” I tried to sound calm, but I’m pretty sure my voice cracked.

  “Take the lead, Tank.”

  Zeke kept his pistol drawn and his hand extended. I got the unspoken message: he wanted to bring up the rear so he could blast any eel that showed its really, really ugly head.

  “Let’s go, guys.” I started walking through the corridor at a brisk pace. Chad stayed at the rear and shouted “Clear” every dozen steps or so. He was on the lookout for more eels. I did the same from the front. I feared they would open a hole and we’d all drop in and become eel chow.

  I heard more shots fired and prayed that Zeke was all right. We needed him. The good news was I didn’t hear any screams.

  I kept us moving quickly, but not recklessly. Panic would do us no good. As long as Chad was shouting “Clear,” I was content to keep our speed reasonable for the conditions. Falling and breaking a leg down here could be a real problem.

  After a few minutes, I slowed to a stop. The sound of heavy breathing behind me told me the others were about spent. Daniel was young, but he was more of a sit-and-play-video-games kinda kid, not a run-outside- and-play kinda of child.

  I directed my flashlight beam at the ice, looking for uglies. I saw none. The others did the same. I took a moment to catch my breath, then suggested that Andi, Brenda, and Daniel turn off their lights. At the rate we are going, we would run out of juice soon.

  “Let’s change batteries,” I said. “Doesn’t make much sense to wait until things go dark. We can always swap out again if need be.”

  No one argued. Most didn’t have the wind in them for- it. Chad, was in pretty good shape, so he recovered the fastest. He turned his light back down the corridor. “Come on, Zeke.”

  He sounded worried and I said so.

  “Of course, I’m worried. I can’t see him and he has the only gun.”

  “You’re all heart,” Andi said.

  “I’m nothing if not practical.”

  “Whatever.” Andi bent, supporting herself with her hands on her knees. “Man, I wish I was a smoker so I could give it up.”

  “No, you don’t,” Brenda said. She had been the only smoker in our group. She kicked the habit sometime back, but it wasn’t easy. I’m sure she did it for Daniel’s sake, not ours or hers.

  Chad kept flicking his light over the ice. “I don’t see anything. Maybe we outran them.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Come on, Tank. I’m supposed to be the brains— well, me and Andi—and you’re supposed to be the optimist. I could use a little optimism.”

  So could I, but I didn’t say so.

  The sound of footfalls echoed in the tunnel. Zeke was safe and making his way to us.

  “Staying behind to give us a chance to run was a brave thing to do,” Andi said. “Thanks.”

  Zeke grinned. “I thought about giving the gun to Chad, but I was afraid he’d shoot me in the back.”

  Chad didn’t look hurt, he just smirked. “I didn’t know you navy guys had such a sense of humor.”

  “Only when it comes at someone else’s expense.” Zeke moved to the front and looked at me. “We have to keep going. I think those things will be here soon. They’re quick, but they can’t catch a running person.”

  “Maybe they gave up,” Chad said.

  “I wish, but I think they have a plan.”

  “Yeah,” Brenda said. “To eat us.”

  Zeke shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think they’re herding us.”

  “Whoa, back up.” I held up a hand. “You mean they’re driving us like cattle?”

  “Yep. They could have had me for lunch back there, but they didn’t do what I expected. They showed intelligence, or they’re being guided by someone intelligent. They popped up through the ice, but always stayed between me and the collapsed tunnel. I got the feeling they were trying to get me to move on.”

  “Maybe we’re on their breeding ground—breeding ice,” Andi said. “Whatever.”

  “Possible, but I doubt it. Someone wants us to keep going, and since we can only move in one direction, we’ll have to go that way.”

  I left the front and took my place at the rear. Andi joined me. We all started following the path again.

  A hundred or so steps along, Andi said, “I hope Zeke is wrong.” She took my hand. Again I wished we could hold hands without the gloves. “If he’s right, it means Azazel hasn’t forgotten us.”

  “I never thought he had.” I kept my voice low. “He has to know we can’t get out going back the way we came.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he caused the ice to shift and cut off our escape route.”

  “You know I’m not a betting man, but if I was, I’d drop money on that. It happened at just the right time to trap us.”

  “He’s toying with us,” she said. “I wondered why he didn’t come after us and finish us off like—” She swallowed hard. “You know.”

  I thought of the professor, then my mind filled with the image of Andi hanging on a cross. The horror of that moment felt as if someone jabbed my brain with a cattle prod. I stuffed the image away.

  “If Azazel truly is a fallen angel, Genesis six or not, he is an eternal being. He has all the time in the world. He can play with us until our provisions run out and we become part of the ice landscape.”

  “He’d probably enjoy that.”

  “No doubt.” I checked the ice behind us. No ice eels. Then another horrible thought popped into my head. I had been checking the ice floor because that’s where we first saw the critters, but those things could just as easily be in the ice walls or the ceiling. I checked those, too. I could just imagine a few dozen ice eels dropping on our heads from above.

  A movement in the shadows caught my attention. One of the eels was “swimming” through the ice wall of the tunnel. I checked the other wall. Several more were there. I could also see a school of them gliding through the ice ceiling. Great. Jus’ great.

  When we first saw them, they were agitated and aggressive. Now they seemed calm. Yep, Zeke was right—they were herding us.

  I wanted to try something. “Keep walking,” I said to Andi. “I’m gonna stop for a moment.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you in a sec.” I let go of her hand and came to a halt. Andi kept going, just as I asked.

  I kept an eye on the eels and sure enough, some of them stopped when I did. One of the group to my right turned its head so the red eye on the side of its head stared directly at me. The longer I waited, the more agitated it became.

  Then his head burst through the wall and he screeched. I got on my horse and fell into line. Message received, loud and clear.

  When I caught up to Andi I nodded. “Yep. Herding us.”


  “Lovely.” No one had to tell me that was sarcasm.

  We marched on. As long as we were moving, the ice-eels were happy.

  We didn’t share their joy.

  Time passed slowly. My chest and back still hurt a good bit, but now my legs were aching and I was having trouble feeling my feet. Not a good sign. When you’re in a frigid environment, losing sensation in your extremities is the first sign that things are about to go horribly wrong.

  Then the tunnel disappeared as we entered yet another cavern, one large enough to hold two or three football fields. The ceiling was so high we could barely see it.

  Then a realization dawned on me. There was light in this place. I don’t know where it came from, but we could see without our flashlights. That was good.

  What was bad was what we were allowed to see. A great chasm lay before us. A monster hole hundreds of yards wide and long. Across it was a simple bridge made of ice. I saw no other structure. I wanted to see I-beams, steel cable, and sturdy railings, but all I saw was a frozen footpath, spanning a greater distance than should be possible.

  I moved closer to the bridge and looked over the edge of the ledge we stood on. It might have been wise to resist that urge. The ledge was really a cliff, and below—I mean hundreds of feet below—was a lake. Not a frozen lake, but a moving lake of water. I once said I couldn’t believe that lakes were buried under the ice, but now I knew better.

  “You know,” Andi said. “I used to like surprises. I loved weird stuff like this. Now, not so much.”

  We had reached a dead end, and that gave me good reason to be concerned about our herders. When I looked back at the tunnel we had exited, I saw twenty or thirty eel heads sticking out of the walls.

  We couldn’t go back there.

  “They want us to cross the bridge,” I said.

  “Ha! Ain’t gonna happen, Big Guy,” Chad said. “I’ll take my chances with them before I’ll take a leap into that frigid water.”

  “It’s not frigid,” Zeke said. “Lakes like that are formed when bedrock is warmed by magma. It melts the ice and lakes and underground rivers form. Of course, the water only has to be a few degrees above freezing—”

  “Really, guys,” Brenda said. “You think this is a good time for a science lesson?”

  Neither man responded. What could they say?

  “Do you think they’ll let us cross one at a time?” I asked.

  “I doubt it,” Zeke said. “It’s pretty narrow, so we’ll have to go single file. There are no handrails, so stay in the middle of the bridge. Don’t look down. Keep your eyes on the bridge. Maintain an even pace.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll go first.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. He centered his backpack and started to cross. Several times I saw his feet slip and my stomach dropped each time I saw it. The bridge was smooth and slippery.

  “It’s like walking on oil.” Zeke’s voice was solid, calm, but I could hear a fair bit of hesitation.

  “If he’s having trouble with this,” Andi said, “then how can we cross?”

  “We don’t have a choice,” I said. “We do this.”

  “I don’t think I can.” Brenda’s voice shook and she was unshakable.

  The ground shuddered.

  “Great,” Chad said. “Just what we need—an earthquake.”

  “I gotta get Daniel across.” Brenda reached for her son.

  “No, Mom, you can’t carry me. I’ll pull you over. You go first.”

  “I ain’t leaving you. Now come here.”

  “No, you don’t.” Chad stepped between them. “Come here, kid. You and me, buddy. You and me.”

  Daniel and Chad had a special relationship. At times, they could read each other’s minds. I’ve seen them carry on a conversation when they were miles apart. But that was when Chad was doing his bilocating stuff, his soul projection or whatever it was. I never fully understood it, but he could travel outside his body and see things others couldn’t, but he had learned it could open doors to some very nasty things. It was one reason we were in this fix.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Brenda clinched her fists and glared at Chad. Those two had gotten into it before. We didn’t need that now.

  Chad surprised me. He extended a hand and touched the side of Brenda’s head. It was a loving touch. A knowing touch.

  “I’m stronger. I can do this. Trust me.”

  “But—”

  “You follow after me—”

  Daniel squealed. One of the ice eels had popped through the ice and took a shot at biting the boy. Fortunately, Daniel can be quick, and so can I. I introduced the eel to the toe of my boot, kicking it into the abyss.

  “Okay, you win.” Brenda was on the verge of tears—something else I’d never seen, but I certainly understood. “Take him. Go. But if you drop him . . . please don’t drop him.”

  “Let’s go, kid.” Chad hoisted Daniel in his arms. He held Daniel in front, keeping his backpack on his back. “Wrap your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck.”

  Daniel did.

  “Good. Now close your eyes and bury your face. No looking around. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Your mom will be right behind us.”

  Brenda nodded. “You bet I will.”

  “Okay.” Chad took several deep breaths. “Rock and roll.”

  I kept looking for another jumping jack ice eel, but I had to watch Chad, Daniel, and Brenda cross. I’ve felt more than my share of fear in my life, but this moment threatened to undo me.

  “Go,” I whispered. “Go, go, go.”

  They went.

  I could hear Chad talking to Daniel, but I had no idea what he said. Maybe he was boring him with some story from his life.

  Daniel didn’t move. Chad had told him no looking and Daniel didn’t look, didn’t budge. Didn’t shift his weight. The boy knew how to be still.

  Brenda walked close behind, but not too close. At first I thought she was having trouble and moving slower, then it hit me. She was staying out of arms reach. If she slipped she would, like anyone, reach for support and Chad was the only support nearby—Chad and Daniel. If she slipped, she meant to go down alone.

  They reached the other side in less time than Zeke. Good for them. Chad set Daniel down, and Brenda picked him up again. A moment later she set Daniel down and grabbed Chad in a hug.

  Whaddya know. Miracles still existed.

  “Um, Tank.” Andi’s voice carried a truckload of fear. “We better get going.”

  She looked back to the tunnel. Eels—by the dozen—poured from the walls and squirmed our way. Others erupted from the ice floor.

  Andi was right. Time to go.

  She took the lead and I followed a few feet behind. I followed Zeke’s instruction and kept my eyes glued to the narrow path. I wished I didn’t have to. Eels were tunneling through the bridge, turning white ice clear as if they wanted us to watch. I didn’t have to be an engineer to know that burrowing through the ice would weaken the bridge.

  Andi noticed the same terror and picked up the pace. I tried to keep up, but she was far more coordinated than me.

  An eel broke out of the ice between us. I tried to slow my pace and lost my footing. I fell. Face first. On to the bridge. My head in general, my nose in particular, bounced off the ice. Something warm ran down my face.

  I heard a hiss. I raised my eyes and saw the hideous mug of the eel. He wiggled, pulling himself from his hole. I tried to push myself up, but the creature was faster at its task than I was at mine. An image of that thing latched on to my face ran through my brain.

  Then a shadow. Then a boot, then an angry scream from a lovely woman. Andi had turned around, backtracked a few steps, and at great risk of sending herself off the edge, kicked the crap out of the eel.

  I got a glimpse of it spinning through the air.

  “Can you get up?” she asked.

  “I can’t stay here.” I pushed to my hands and knees, then care
fully rose to my feet.

  “Follow me.”

  “Anywhere, darlin’. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  Step after step, short stride after short stride, we finally made to the other ledge. We celebrated with a short group hug.

  “Okay,” Chad said. “What say we never do anything like that again.”

  That was easy to agree to.

  I swiped at my nose to remove the blood, but it was frozen. I peeled it off instead.

  We stood at the mouth of a tunnel that looked as if it had once been part of the tunnel we left behind. No way to tell and it didn’t much matter. It was the only way open to us.

  We searched the floor, the walls, and the ceiling for eels and saw none—yet.

  Zeke pulled on his backpack. I wondered when he had taken it off.

  We marched off again, too tired to talk, too frightened to stand still. The herding had worked. We had crossed the bridge and lived.

  Of course, living might not be such a benefit. There might be more pain ahead.

  The light that lit the gigantic cavern was in this tunnel, too. Could have used this light earlier. I tried not to think about what would happen next, if we would succeed in bringin’ this place down, or if Brenda’s picture really meant we were all going to die. Instead I focused on moving one numb foot in front of the other.

  “Heads up,” Zeke said, stopping our little train.

  I raised my head and looked at the path before us. Once again, we were not alone. A man stood alone a short distance off. He wasn’t a giant like Azazel. That was good. He wasn’t a living corpse in a Nazi uniform. That was good too. He was far enough away that I couldn’t make out his face in the dim light, but he seemed familiar.

  “Welcome. Welcome. My, what an adventure you have had.”

  I knew that voice, the pattern of speaking.

  The man approached like he was an old friend.

  Then I recognized him and my gut twisted into a knot.

  Chapter 8

  Ambrosi Giacomo looked a lot like the last time I’d seen him: handsome, well dressed, slick black hair, and big smile. Except last time I saw him he was dead, really and truly dead. He also had a hole in his neck. A big, gory, ugly hole. I remember it because the team put it there.