by Curtis, Gene
Mark walked closer to the wall, panned his head up to the ceiling and then around to the other wall.
“Got it. What’s the temperature in there?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“That’s quite a change. I don’t have an answer yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
Mark continued to walk and it wasn’t long before the radio voice said, “This tunnel is most likely due to several erosion processes, the last one being ice from the last glacier in this area. And that fits with what the next obstacle is supposed to be.”
“You’re saying there’s a piece of a glacier in here?”
“We won’t know for sure until you find it, but it’s a good possibility. Ice caves in this region aren’t unheard of. What’s the temperature in there now?”
He looked at the thermometer again. “Sixty-seven.”
“Sixty-seven is still well above the normal ground temperature here, but a two degree drop in less than half a mile has to be caused by something. Keep an eye on the thermometer and let me know when it drops below fifty-one.”
Mark had walked less than a mile farther when the temperature hit fifty-one. “It’s fifty-one degrees now.” Another mile saw the temperature hit thirty-two. The walls had grown pretty far apart now; he estimated more than a hundred yards.
“There’s a barrier ahead. It looks like it could be ice.”
He reached the ice wall ten minutes later. It was more than ten yards high, sloped back to the ceiling and spanned wall to wall. “I can’t find an opening, any suggestions?”
“Try clearing away some of the surface ice and find out if you can see into it.”
He pulled out the climbing hammer and chipped away at the ice. “I’m in about a foot and it looks like it’s clearing up.”
“Keep digging until you can tell if there’s a passage or not.”
“I’m going to take the headset off while I dig.”
“Just check in every ten minutes as usual.”
He put the headset on the duffel bags and removed the sword from the staff. He was able to slice a large chunk away with almost no effort. He saw he needed to move the cart since the ice block slid too close to it on its journey down the long slope, plus he didn’t want the camera to see the chunks going by. That would cause questions and Raphael had told him to keep the sword secret.
He checked in by yelling, “I’m still okay,” every ten minutes and continued slicing deep into the ice.
The armor under his clothes was working well in keeping him warm; in fact he was perspiring.
He was working on carving out his ninth side-tunnel when he saw it, an odd discoloration in the ice. He sliced around it and removed it. Back by the cart he chipped away some of the remaining ice until he could tell exactly what it was.
It was the thing Xocotli had in his dreams, the thing that emitted long sparks Xocotli had used to fight off crowds of angry people. Mark knew it had to be the power source for the sunstone, but it looked odd for what it was supposed to be, almost like a fat riotous.
He put the headset back on and let the camera see what he was holding. “I’ve got it.”
He heard cheers erupt in the background. “Good job! Come on back.”
A little more than halfway back to the lava pit the remaining ice had melted off of the power source except for around the hand guard. He decided to look at it a little closer. What would have been the blade on a sword looked like a coil of wire encased in a clear, hard plastic. The tip was a metal ball about an inch across and the handle looked like just a handle. He held it out like he had seen Xocotli do in his dreams and nothing happened–until he squeezed the handle. The bolt of electricity that erupted from the tip of the thing to the far wall startled him so much that he dropped it. A piece of the hand guard went skittering across the floor.
Mark retrieved the power source and started looking for the broken piece. He searched for more than an hour and couldn’t find it. The only thing he did manage to find was a discarded butane lighter, which let him know he wasn’t the only one that had made it this far in modern times. That must have been one determined somebody to ignore the overwhelming urge to get out of here and make it this far in. I wonder what happened to him… or her?
He was almost back to the lava pit when he felt another rumble, this one much stronger than the previous ones. “Are you picking that up?”
“Five point two. That could knock some rocks loose, but it’s not enough to be worried about.”
Ten minutes later he heard a swooshing sound coming from behind him, up the tunnel. He turned and saw a wall of ice coming fast. He started running.
He was half way across the ladder when the ice began crashing into the pit. The inrushing ice forced the ladder from beneath his feet but his momentum carried him on. He thudded on the side of the far wall and scrambled to catch hold, letting go of the lantern and the power source. Both objects plunged into the lava pit.
He slid back but his fingers caught on the charred edge of the pit. A tumultuous cloud of blistering vapor spewed out of the chasm. The armor protected his body, but his head and hands were being scalded. With a mighty scream he pulled himself up enough to get his elbows on the ledge and crawled out.
He couldn’t see because he’d dropped the lantern but knew the opening was straight ahead. He ran groping the darkness in front of him. His head, hands and feet were a mass of searing pain. “I can’t see! I can’t see!”
There was no answer. He felt his head with his wrists. The headset was gone. He continued running in the dark. He glanced off the left wall a couple of times before he decided he was a safe enough distance from the pit to stop.
The oxy-cap was running out. He reached into Aaron’s Grasp for a fresh one but couldn’t feel them. He used his forearm to push the breathing mask off and screamed when he felt skin rip away from where the mask had stuck to his face. He knew the healing oil was his only hope.
He tried to reach in his pocket and screamed again when the skin on the back of his fingers peeled back. He lay down on his side and switched to using his wrist on the outside of the pocket to force the tiny vial out the top. It worked. Guiding his left hand with his right wrist he was able to pick it up and remove the cork with his teeth. He fell asleep as soon as the drop of oil touched his forehead.
Just over an hour later he awoke and sat up. He could see a faint reddish glow off to the right and this gave him his bearings. It was going to be slow going to get back with just a penlight. He wished he had put the light with the filters into Aaron’s Grasp rather than the duffel bag which was now either on the other side of the lava pit or in it.
He looked around for the breathing mask; he’d need it for the area with the dust and the room with the mercury. It was on the floor by his feet. He peeled and scraped the large hunks of skin from the edges and put it back on. That’s when he noticed he didn’t have any hair on his head.
Backtracking a little he found his folded ponytail on the floor next to the wall. His scalp was still attached to it. He picked it up and put it into Aaron’s Grasp while shaking his head.
Mark was proud of his hair. Although his father was a Marine he had let Mark get away with not getting a haircut, ever. When Mark started school he told his parents how much everyone liked his hair and how he liked having it long too. He never thought it bothersome to take care of; it was just a part of who he was.
It was lonely heading back without anyone to talk to, but it gave him time to reflect on the things that had happened and how fortunate he was to still be alive. Nonetheless, he still felt dejected knowing that he had failed to bring the power source out and effectively did just what Benrah wanted him to do.
What was it that Shana had said? “All eventualities converge on destiny’s course.” He didn’t see how that could be right. He was supposed to recover the power source, not be the means of its destruction. It was more like, “Intentions have no substance. It is action that has consequence.”
&nbs
p; The Council of Elders had concluded that the sunstone held key information that would aid them in preventing Benrah from taking over the world. Now they’d never be able to unlock that information. His failure would surely lead to Benrah’s success. That had to be why Benrah wanted him to destroy it.
Sixteen hours passed before he made it back to the entrance to the mercury room. On the off chance that he was within range, he put the walkie-talkie ring on his recently healed finger and pressed all three buttons. “Hello… hello…”
There was no answer.
Less than an hour from exiting this retched place not only was he feeling defeated; he was hungry and bone tired. I’ve been in here thirty-two hours; I need to sleep. If I can just make it one more hour, I’ll be out of here—for good.
He devoured a chili con carne meal pack without heating it; he just needed something in his belly. He was glad he had picked up the habit from Tim of carrying extra food in Aaron’s Grasp.
With a full stomach he pressed on. It took ten minutes to get through the mercury room, five minutes to pass the seesaw trap and make it to the parallel rock faces. He climbed between the slabs and the last thing he remembered was how good it felt to put his head down on the car dolly’s cushion.
CHAPTER NINE
Burying the Hatchet
Mark woke to the sound of his mother yelling. “I’m his mother for crying out loud! You should have told me! Now look what’s happened. He’s just a child for goodness sake. Last year the labyrinth and now this!”
He was in familiar surroundings: a hospital bed with the curtain drawn closed. As soon as he peeked around the curtain Chenoa walked up and put her arms around him gently. “I was so worried! Everybody thought you had to be dead. I’m glad we didn’t give up.”
Throwing the curtain open, Shirley followed close behind Chenoa and forced her out of the way while she hugged her son. “Oh hon, look at your head. What have they done to you?”
“They didn’t do anything to me. It was an accident.” He pushed himself out of her arms. “I might be just a child like you say, but I had to do this. No one else could. Mr. Giancoli died trying to do it!”
He looked around and saw a multitude of people in the healing ward. His friends, Jamal, Nick, LeOmi and Cap’n Ben were standing in front of Shana, Jeremy, Tim, or rather Mr. Fairbanks. He wondered if he’d ever be able to think of Tim as Mr. Fairbanks.
His brother and dad were walking toward him. Chenoa’s father was there as was just about everyone else that had been part of the support crew. There were even some of the warriors that he had encountered when he first arrived at the cave and a lot of warriors he had never seen before.
His mom reached for him and said, “Hon, you didn’t have to do it.”
Mark backed another half step away. “You don’t understand. Mr. Giancoli died because they tried to keep me from having to do it. He died trying to save me and you and dad and everyone else I care about. You know what Benrah said.”
His mom started to say something else when Slone, Ralph and Keith walked in. Slone burst out laughing and said through the chortle, “Master Yoda, the force wasn’t with you.”
Mark had never seen his mother move so quickly. She turned and was on Slone in a blink. His dad reached out to grab her but missed. She slapped Slone so hard he stumbled back two steps. It evidently caught him by surprise too since he didn’t even try to block it, or didn’t have time to react.
“How dare you!” She closed on Slone about to strike him again when Mrs. Shadowitz caught her arm and spun Shirley to face her.
“That’s enough of that. I know you’re a little upset, but you will compose yourself or I’ll have you removed.”
Slone straightened himself and said, “I didn’t know you lost your hair. It caught me by surprise, that’s all.” He acted like nothing had happened. He didn’t even touch his face where the handprint was glowing red.
Mark noted there was no apology in his explanation either, and thought that anyone else might have said they were sorry for laughing. “I didn’t lose my hair.” He reached into Aaron’s Grasp, removed it—scalp and all—and tossed it toward Slone.
Slone sidestepped and watched it hit the floor. “That’s pretty gross. What happened?”
“I was steamed, all right? Parboiled Mark, that’s funny isn’t it? I’ve had enough of you Slone. You can turn your skinny little self around and march right out of here before I do something that will get me in trouble. If I never see you again it’ll be too soon.”
Mary, the healer walked over and picked up Mark’s hair and scalp. “I wish I’d known you had this.” She examined it a little closer. “It looks like it can still be reattached.”
Slone continued, “No, I’m serious. What happened?”
“I told you!” He started toward Slone. “What word didn’t you understand?”
Slone made a “T” sign with his hands, but Ralph and Keith drew their riotous before Slone could say, “Time out.” Mrs. Shadowitz moved in a blur and had both of their riotous in her hands.
Mrs. Shadowitz said, “There will be no fighting in the healing ward.” She turned to Mark. “I know you’ve been stretched to the breaking point, but you will calm down. No one has been told of the events that happened there. Only those that were present know anything of what happened and that’s not much. The last images on the video showed you falling, so none of us know the details. It appears obvious that the power source for the sunstone was lost. Do you feel like sharing the details of what happened publicly or would you rather it done in private?”
Mark looked around at the crowd and knew everyone was there not only to see how he was, but to find out the fate of the power source as well. He didn’t answer Mrs. Shadowitz. He just backed up, sat on the bed, closed his eyes and remembered. He remembered all too well those events he wished to forget.
He brought vivid images from his dreams about Xocotli to the front of his mind showing how Xocotli had used the power source to defeat attackers. Next he remembered knocking the ice away from the power source and realizing he had it. Then he remembered dropping it after he was surprised when it fired. Next came the rumbling earthquake and being surprised by the ice plummeting down the slope toward him, running for the ladder and not quite making it across in time. He remembered the sinking feeling of failure when he saw the lantern and the power source fall into the pit. He heard loud moans and some shrieks from people in the room when he remembered the pain of being scalded alive, his desperate climb over the edge of the pit and the pain intensifying as he fled. He showed them his fraught struggle just to stay alive.
He opened his eyes and looked around. His mother was on her knees sobbing in great heaves, as were a few others. Everyone he could see had eyes wet with tears, everyone except one. Even Ralph and Keith were crying a little, but not Slone. He just looked solemn.
He looked Mark directly in the eyes and said nothing.
Mr. Day folded his arms across his chest. He spoke and everyone knew his words were directed at Slone, Ralph and Keith. “If you ever again raise a finger against this young warrior you will answer to the entire Occoneechee Nation.”
Another Native American warrior close by folded his arms across his chest and said, “And the Cherokee Nation.”
Another did the same, “And the Chippewa Nation.”
Yet another, “And the Blackfoot Nation.”
“And the Sioux Nation.”
“And the Cheyenne Nation.”
“The Shawnee Nation.”
“The Arapaho Nation.”
Apache, Seminole, Iroquois and Hopi brought the number to twelve.
The healing ward became still and quiet. Slone’s eyes never left Mark, but Ralph and Keith looked quite flushed. They didn’t utter a sound; didn’t move a muscle. After a long moment Slone said, “You have your truce, you’ve earned it. In fact, if anyone lifts a finger against you, they will answer to me and my group first.”
Mark’s mind started racing, Slo
ne was up to something and he had no idea what it could be. Why would Slone come to his defense? Surely it couldn’t be that he was touched by the events he had just witnessed, that he thought Mark had proved his courage. Slone wasn’t touched by anything that didn’t deal with him directly. Maybe he thought this did affect him. Maybe it was a ploy to make him seem like he was no longer a threat to Mark, but there had to be more to it than just that. Slone didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive.
Confronting Slone was no good. If he just flat out asked Slone what he was up to he knew he’d get an altruistic explanation designed to make Slone look good and that explanation would be anything but the truth. He could wait and let Slone’s actions prove his intent, but that could take too long if Slone’s intent was sinister, and it likely was. No, he’d have to find another way to figure out what Slone was up to. The only thing he could think to say was, “It’s about time.”
Slone gave a little smile. “I know you think I’m up to something, but the truth is I’ve had enough time to think about the way things happened from your point of view. I understand you better. I know you just have to prove yourself to yourself.
“Last year, you walked out onto the school grounds and saw three bigger boys taunting a smaller one. You thought, three against one, and stepped in to even the odds a little, only you didn’t have to butt in. You butted in to prove to yourself that you could, just like your older brother did for you.
“Nick was in no danger. Ralph, Keith and Ricky were just teasing him a little to get acquainted with him. They’re from rough neighborhoods. It’s done that way where they’re from.
“Everything that happened after that was a result of your false assumptions. We even tried to make friends with you by doing it your way and you snubbed us. Things escalated from there.
“We’re willing to forget the past and start fresh, if you are.” He turned to Ralph and Keith.
Keith looked puzzled and said, “What about Ricky?”
“I’ve thought about that too. What Ricky did was my fault. I encouraged his animosity toward Mark. Ricky went much farther than I expected him to go. It’s time to end this before something else happens.”
