by Kenny Soward
He went to the edge of the observation deck. There was no rail, per se, but Lonnie leaned his weight on a relatively stable branch. “You don’t worry that you’ve never actually seen Him? God, I mean.”
Bess joined him. She rose to her toes. Reached up and grasped a higher limb, using it to stretch herself long. She winced and let go. “Oh, I’ve seen Him. Well, He shows me.”
“Shows you what?”
She hesitated. “None of your business.”
“Oh, an ECC secret.”
“My secret. The ECC isn' t aware. At least I don’t think so. I’ve never met anyone else with the godsight.”
“Godsight?”
“There, I’ve said too much.”
Lonnie shrugged, his gaze searched where the root of this massive tree had buried itself. A place this magnificent, created by a fade ripper on Earth where magic had a hard time taking hold, was an incredible achievement. Must have been cultivated and nourished over decades and probably centuries.
“Hey, Gruff.”
A questioning grunt was the reply.
“How did you get here?”
“A lot of digging.”
“No, I mean, how did you get here on Earth? Did you use one of Xester’s gates? One of their tethers?”
“No, no. I made myself a portal.”
“You made one?”
“Mmm. Yes.” Gruff chortled.
That piqued Lonnie’s curiosity. If a gate existed here, a tether back to Septu, maybe returning home was an option.
“Can we see it? The portal?”
Gruff gave another chuckle, laughing at an inside joke between himself and his wavy-armed leviathans. “You can see it, yes.”
“When?”
“At the best time. No sooner than that.”
“Bess wants to see it, too. Come on, Bess. Help me out here. Don’t you find all this talk about gates and tethers intriguing? I mean, wouldn't your bosses kill for tether information? Well, unless you already have it.”
“Some things we know, yes. But those are just ideas and theories. Fade rippers die better than they chew the fat.”
Lonnie put his left elbow on the branch and rotated himself to face her. “Is that a threat, ma’am?”
Bess lifted her chin in mock defiance. “It’s always been a threat, man.”
“Come on. I could have taken you out a dozen times so far. You could have done the same.”
“Twice.”
“Huh?”
“You could have taken me out twice. I made two mistakes earlier.”
Lonnie laughed. “Okay, you actually counted how many times I could have taken you out? Little OCD don’t you think?”
Bess tilted her head. “Definitely OCD. It’s one of my strengths.”
“And what does that say about us? Does that mean we trust each other? I could have killed you twice, although I'm sure it was more than that, and you could’ve killed me at least a dozen times. But we didn’t."
“There is the Code o’ Peace.”
“Code o’ Peace,” Gruff echoed.
In the space of time they'd been standing on the makeshift observation deck, a noise had been buzzing in Lonnie’s ears. Something distant, blending in with the open sounds of the massive chamber. Voices. Music. A radio commercial. No. Lonnie straightened, lifted his finger. “Do you hear that?”
”The `Venger shifted, ear tilted up. A pause, then her face twisted in revelation. “Yeah, I do hear something.”
“Sounds like a—”
“TV.”
“Yep.”
Lonnie worked his way along the path again, heading toward the sounds.
Bess followed.
“Oh, no,” Gruff said. Lonnie glanced back to see the guy waddling like a living toy. “Not for you. Not for visitors.”
The scaffold and branches turned into a solid brick floor. A stone archway rose before them. An entire wall claimed by strange cuneiform. Old stone, Lonnie could tell. Limestone blocks, each of them set with pristine accuracy atop one another with a dust-colored mortar to fill in the cracks. Different than the mud and dirt floors they'd been walking.
“What the…?” Bess said.
They stood side by side, stock still, eyes glued to the stones above their heads.
Bess’s face was a mix of wonder and confusion, her fists clenched at her sides.
“Any ideas?”
Bess paused, the tip of her tongue slipping out to lick across her upper lip. She started to say something, tilted her head, then clamped her lips. She tried again. “These are hieroglyphs, but nothing like I studied in root language class or advanced coding. It looks old.”
Lonnie’s brain searched for references. Thought he remembered something; people with tea-colored skin, headdresses, and eyes lined in black. A popularized notion, but it was all he could come up with. His mind grasped for an accurate word, and then it came to him. “Egyptian?”
Bess shook her head. “Not exactly. The etchings are similar to cuneiform, but there's script written in the margins and over the raised images.”
Yes, Lonnie saw it. It flowed elegantly across the face of the rock.
“I’m not an expert in ancient cultures, but I can tell you it's not Native American. And they were the only ancient people living in North America as far as I know.”
Lonnie glimpsed himself as a child racing through the mighty halls of Xester. It was the flash of an image. Statues reaching to the ceiling, looming stiff-legged on pedestals, lining a long antechamber, thick and tall to the roof. Their tremendous bronze headdresses reflected ruddy light in stunning vividness. At the end, a horn-faced statue made of obsidian stone stood brazen with its hands held to its side, palms out. It displayed a mouth full of splayed tentacles, forehead covered with that same arrow-ish script. It was only half the size of the others but pulsed with an ominous energy, red eyes glaring the hall's length. Lonnie averted his gaze.
He frowned at the writing. “It-it reminds me of home. Of Xester.”
Chapter 22
The old man pushed between them, scratched his head as he looked up with those mis-colored eyes of his. “Not for visitors,” he said in a defeated tone. “Not for you.”
“I not Earth-born,” Lonnie said, ignoring Gruff, “but I’m guessing this shouldn’t be here, right?”
“Correct. Not under the Ohio River, anyway,” Bess said. “I’m at a loss.”
Lonnie dragged his eyes away from the stones and their untold story. “C’mon, let’s see about that TV.”
Bess’s eyes lingered another moment before she nodded and motioned for Lonnie to go ahead. Lonnie had no clue what she was thinking, or what it might mean when she told her superiors, but it was clearly a major discovery of some sort.
They entered a room fifty times larger than the standard mud holes Gruff’s patients recovered in. It reeked of age. Low ceilinged and warmly lit by sconces set into the walls, a row of columns decorated with that same cuneiform and script divided it.
It was a comfortable place. A sacred place.
The artifacts here made the Roebling Bridge look brand new.
Lonnie was drawn to a table to his immediate left, eight feet of tarnished bronze, the legs carved in the shape of a lion’s forelegs and paws, its surface covered with curious items. A stone statue of a winged lion with a woman’s head took up the center, flanked by a pair of golden chalices engraved with that same flowing script. There was a plain, gold scepter resting in an exquisitely shaped wooden hand. A jewelry box with inlaid gems. The entire layout dripped with necklaces like garland. Old, rotted cloth hung over the pieces, ready to disintegrate at a simple touch.
“Oh, my Lord.”
Lonnie turned his attention to where Bess examined a similarly laden table flanking the other side of the door. She shared his enthusiasm for the amazing objects on display.
Grinning, Lonnie crossed to the columns dividing the room and checked out those. Decorated similarly to the stone entranceway, cuneiform images c
olored with faded turquoise and gold paint, exquisite work if Lonnie judged correctly.
The chamber bulged with treasures, but this stuff could have come from anywhere, collected by a world walker like Gruff, who admitted to having a portal somewhere on the premises.
But how to convince him to let them see it?
“Not for you,” Gruff grumbled from where he stood, hands together and wringing his fingers. “Not for you,” again, his voice petering out in defeat. The old, bow-legged man backed up, head swiveling between Bess and Lonnie, until he plopped on a bed that rested in the center of the room.
Lonnie and Bess converged on the bed and its worried occupant. It was a pedestrian setup, with a makeshift headboard and shelves filled with knickknacks more befitting Gruff. Two candles, a jar full of coins, and pictures displayed in cheap frames. But what caught Lonnie’s eye was the flat screen TV at the foot of the bed, displaying a program from atop a wide cardboard box.
“This your bedroom?” Bess asked.
Gruff shrugged.
Lonnie positioned himself behind the TV, bent, and fingered the cables.
Bess watched as Lonnie pecked around back there, then acknowledged the show. “You watch Criminal Vengeance?”
Gruff nodded. “Suspenseful shenanigans, yes.”
“I love that one.” Her voice became even more amused. “Hey, this is a Netflurry exclusive. Did you hack Netflurry?”
Lonnie glanced up to see Gruff worrying and scratching his wire-haired pate. “I don’t know.”
Smiling, Lonnie found the connection he was looking for and unscrewed it. The show cut off with a hiss of static, and Gruff made a small noise of despair. Lonnie held the cable up for Bess. It was black, the width of his pinky. “Standard coaxial. Can you reach the internet through this?”
Bess smiled. “Yes I can.”
“Here you go.” Lonnie set it on the bed.
Bess came over and placed her backpack on the old, thick comforter. Plopped her butt next to it. Pulled out a sleek-looking laptop and positioned it on her thighs. As the computer booted, Bess fished around for more stuff in her pack and removed a second device. She connected that via USB to her laptop and then screwed the TV coaxial cable into the device's round port.
“Here, find me power.” Bess handed Lonnie the ends of two standard plugs and Lonnie got on his hands and knees to locate a place to plug them in. Didn’t take long as there was a power strip shoved half under the bed.
He hesitated.
Lonnie would have to put his head between Bess’s legs to reach it.
He could get trapped if he wasn’t careful. Probably crushed between those knees.
“Go ahead,” Bess said. She hadn’t even looked up from her laptop, but Lonnie had no doubt she knew exactly where he was at all times.
After plugging the cords in, Lonnie stood and gave Bess space. “You always carry a cable modem with you?”
Bess nodded. “And other things, too.”
Powered up, Bess smacked away at the keyboard with her fingers. Her eyes tracked back and forth across the screen and Lonnie circled to see what she was doing. She opened several scripting windows, blasting out code before hitting enter. He watched more lines of data fly by before Bess changed windows and typed more.
And then the code stopped flowing.
Lonnie lifted his eyes to find her staring at him. “I’d rather you not.”
He stepped back, laughing. “I have no idea what you're doing. I can work an iPhone and that’s about it.”
“Still, I’d rather you not.”
Lonnie held up his hands to placate the `Venger. “Okay, fine. Just keep me posted.”
“I will.”
“Okay, sure.” Not much to do now but relax. He got out a cigarette, started to light up, but then caught himself. Gestured to Gruff, eyebrow raised in question.
The old man waved him off. “Go ahead. Wait, you got extra?”
Lonnie smiled, handed the guy a smoke, and lit them both.
Gruff grunted his thanks.
They sat together on the dirty, over-springy mattress. Lonnie’s eyes scanned the pictures on the headboard shelves. The images were old, just sketches on pieces of paper cracking and fading within their frames, some of which had no glass. There were yellowed photographs of sour-faced men and women lined up several rows deep, each picture seemingly from a different time, odd and misplaced.
“Who are these people?”
Gruff leaned over and pointed at a frame in the back. A guy in a military uniform, wearing a long beard around his rugged jaw. “That man was a good friend of mine. Colonel Thomas Wilcox. He fought in the greatest war in this country’s history.”
“The Civil War?”
“Aye. It was during the Civil War, but not the one you’d find in your history books. Nope, Colonel Wilcox fought in the Dark War.”
“Sorry, I didn't take Earth history."
"It's ripper history."
"I’ve been iced for a couple of centuries.”
Gruff patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Mardokh. Your job isn’t to know such things. You have more to worry about than Earth's progeny and problems.”
Lonnie's real name sounded strange coming from the grumbling healer. This was a guy who’d existed for a long time here, not just surviving but thriving, growing his power beyond imaging, creating his own little kingdom right under everyone’s noses. It was nothing short of incredible.
Gruff continued, pointing along the line of photos. “The rest are my wives and daughters.”
“Are you fucking serious?” There had to be pictures of sixteen or seventeen different women. All of them with rich, dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, and high cheekbones. Even Lonnie’s dense brain discerned their Native American heritage. Beautiful, ageless women.
Gruff looked sad. “Yes, some are long gone into dust. Others more recently passed.” One woman comprised an entire section of photos. The first few images were charcoal drawings, dark hair accentuated with feathers and braids. Gruff pointed. “My Atshena.“
A deep sense of time struck Lonnie again. Ironic considering he hardly felt that for himself despite his own agelessness. The curse of the icing. But the more he remembered of his past, the more his history would fill out. Well, that's what he suspected. “Are any of them still alive?”
Gruff only smiled and pointed to a picture at the end, hidden by a swath of shadow.
It was a more recent photograph, next to Atshena. That was to say, a color image. The young woman in the picture wore a graduation gown, the same dark, lush hair as her mother but feathered back at the edges. The resemblance to Gruff was unmistakable. Those deep-set eyes, one blue and one green. Full lips twisting as if she were about to smile. The wide, smooth forehead and gentle brow. Lonnie had to admit she was a beauty.
“She looks like a way better version of you.”
Gruff laughed then, a rowdy, chesty burst that filled the chamber, causing Bess to look up with an arched eyebrow.
“Oh, Mardokh. You are one Bet-Ohman I’m happy to have met.” The old man clapped Lonnie hard on the back.
Lonnie almost spit out his cigarette, but smiled.
“Lonnie!”
“Yeah.”
“Come.”
Lonnie switched positions on the bed to peer over Bess’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I checked our message boards where we have encrypted information, pickup times, job assignments, and other things.” Bess shook her head. “Quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing in email, either. Just work-related stuff from the past few days. But when I tried to login directly to my ECC dashboard, it was locked. The whole site down. Might happen if they were doing standard maintenance, but they usually warn us well in advance.”
“So the ECC is having issues.”
“Looks that way. There are other things I could try, but I don’t want anyone tracing me here. Even if this cable connection is hacked off a home or business up on shore—”
“They’d get a good idea you were in the Under River.”
“Yeah.”
Lonnie had no idea if Bess was telling the truth or not, but he sensed she was. Maybe not all of it, judging by her body language. She looked nervous, distressed, which was saying a lot considering she hardly let on to anything.
“Hey, do you have any websites you rippers use? I could check the activity there.” Bess turned her laptop towards him. “Or I could let you check it yourself.”
Lonnie crossed his arms. “Honestly, Selix would be the one to ask. She kept track of that stuff. I might know something but…”
The most he remembered was texting.
“And if there’s fighting going on,” he continued, “why isn’t this place full of wounded?”
“Maybe the fight is somewhere else.”
“A new battle line?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I'll find Selix and bring her back. And hey…”
Bess had started to dive into her computer again but stopped, eyes lifting to Lonnie.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
Lonnie gave a quick nod, and then to Gruff. “Hey man, can you lead me out, make sure I don’t kill myself trying to get out of here?”
Gruff shot Bess a dubious look, not comfortable leaving her alone in this room with its artifacts and treasures. But he nodded his assent. “Aye. Will help. Come.”
Chapter 23
What Bess didn’t tell Lonnie was that her world was feeling crumbly. Not only was the Eminence Command Central site down, but the traffic on the message boards was a mess. Strange messages started by new accounts with requests in old code for `Vengers to gather. Even one garbled post, a cry for help, an ECC agent trapped in a basement cellar by the monsters his team had gone to take out.
Which ones were real? Which ones were fake to draw out the remaining ECC operatives?
Her inbox was worse. Confused information directing ECC agents on carbon copy to converge at three locations, which Bess knew were for emergencies only, orders she believed were probably legitimate requests but were impossible to confirm.
