Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3)

by Michael C. Grumley

  “I do.” Salazar glanced at his driver for any indications that he was listening in.

  “You should also know you’re going to have company.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is someone else at the top.”

  Salazar’s brow lowered. “Who?”

  “We don’t know. One of our AEW aircraft spotted an airplane over the area, which abruptly turned around over the mountains.”

  A drop. Salazar cursed silently to himself and gritted his teeth. It was exactly what he was trying to preempt.

  “You know what’s at stake,” said the voice. “And you know what happens if you fail.”

  56

  “This is bullshit.”

  Everyone turned to Corso, standing in a small patch of shade with his HK416 gripped firmly in his large hands.

  “Excuse me?”

  His eyes moved to DeeAnn, then to Caesare. Dulce was sitting overhead in a young aphandra tree, examining its branches.

  “She’s not going to find a damn thing.”

  DeeAnn turned to Caesare before he could reply. “We need to give it time. This isn’t exactly a science. She’s doing the best she can.”

  Corso looked up again into the tree. “Yeah, it looks it.”

  A moment later, a large white and yellow flower fell down onto Corso’s shoulder, where he brushed it away and glared at the gorilla. Dulce returned a toothy grin.

  “What the hell you expecting, Corso?” Tiewater grinned, descending from the top of a large rock. “You want the little thing to draw us a map?”

  Anderson shrugged. “That would be nice.”

  DeeAnn was still staring at Caesare. “We need more time.”

  Time was a luxury they didn’t have. Caesare glanced at his watch again and peered up at the sky. They had three hours of daylight left at the most. And all the while Otero was getting closer. He needed to know how close but Borger still wasn’t answering his phone. Something was wrong.

  “Ask her again,” he said.

  After a moment, DeeAnn sighed and turned back around to face Dulce. “Where is our friend, Dulce?”

  No know. Me look.

  “How much more time?”

  Her vest unexpectedly beeped, signaling a bad translation.

  “How much longer?”

  Dulce peered at her curiously from the tree. She looked like she was about to reply when she stopped. The gorilla abruptly stood up in the tree and steadied herself with a branch. Her posture was stiff. Alert. After a long silence, she spoke.

  Go there.

  Everyone on the ground looked up with surprise.

  “Go where?”

  There. Dulce raised her lanky arm and pointed.

  “Is that where friend is?”

  Dulce scampered down and leaped from the tree, landing on Corso’s broad shoulders. Her focus still in the direction she had pointed.

  “Get the hell off me!” Corso violently shook his shoulders, sending Dulce jumping to Tiewater, who caught her in his arms.

  “You’re really something with the ladies.”

  “Shut up.”

  DeeAnn closed in and repeated. “Where, Dulce? Show us where.”

  She pointed again, across a large section of the burnt field. There.

  Past the field, a wide section of trees covered the area, which sloped away from the peak. Their dull green color bore a resemblance to olive trees, with thin branches swaying gently from side to side in the breeze, now blowing over the top of the mountain. The trees continued on for as far as they could see. They became denser before rising again over another ridge, and then disappeared where the mountain continued another long descent.

  Caesare immediately continued forward, leading the way over the burnt ground and into the tall grass on the other side. When he reached the edge of the trees, he stopped and turned to Dulce, who passed him and climbed another tree. She sat, listening.

  Corso shook his head. “This is a waste of time.”

  “Not necessarily,” DeeAnn replied, crossing her arms. “All primates are semi-terrestrial, meaning they live in large social groups. They don’t roam very far from a home location except for foraging. Most humans are the same. Like nesting with birds.”

  Corso smirked. “Well, we’re pretty far from home now.”

  “That’s because we have airplanes,” Juan quipped, sitting down. He unzipped his bag, pulled out several square-shaped bundles and turned to DeeAnn. “Time for a battery swap.”

  She nodded, twisting away from Corso and powering off the vest. Together, she and Juan removed the previous batteries and inserted a new set. Once Juan double-checked the connection and secured the Velcro flaps back over the pockets, she turned it back on.

  “Can you hear me, Dulce?”

  Dulce looked down from the tree and frowned. She held a dark finger over her mouth.

  DeeAnn rolled her eyes while Caesare laughed.

  “You might be teaching her too well.”

  Several minutes later, Caesare’s phone rang in his pocket.

  “Wil, where the hell have you been?”

  “Sorry, Steve. I don’t have time to explain, but things are getting crazy. I see you guys are on the ground.”

  “We are. And looking for our friend. Where’s Otero?”

  “Hold on.” Borger pulled up his live feed from the ARGUS satellite. “They’re close. Very close. Maybe an hour or two from the summit. I’m counting…seventeen vehicles, most are large trucks. Probably carrying men or supplies.”

  “They’re carrying both,” Caesare said dryly.

  “Right. The only road bears north across the top of the peak, about a mile or so from where you are, so you should see them soon.”

  “Great. Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment. But call me if you need any more. I’ll try to ring you back if I can’t answer. I need to help Clay.”

  Caesare’s brow rose. “What’s going on with Clay?

  “I’m not sure yet. He reached the hospital but now it looks like he’s moving again. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering.”

  “All right. I’ll ring off. We’re fine for the moment.” Without waiting for a reply, Caesare ended the call but remained staring at the phone.

  Caesare had his own problems to worry about, but he did have one guess on why Clay wasn’t answering his phone.

  57

  Clay wasn’t answering his phone because he couldn’t. With a rifle in one fist and the hand of Wei’s daughter in the other, he was rushing down the steep embankment, half running and half sliding. He struggled to find a smooth path, knowing the girl couldn’t see what he could through his night-vision goggles.

  Behind him, Li Na lost her footing several times but Clay’s strong arm kept her on her feet. When they reached the bottom of the ravine, they both splashed through a shallow stream and scrambled up the other side.

  Through the tall trees, the two helicopters to the south could be heard taking to the sky. Qin had apparently gotten to a radio –– most likely aboard his own chopper.

  He suddenly slipped in a thick pile of leaves but managed to catch himself. He regained his footing and pulled Li Na up behind him. Once they cleared the top of the incline, he continued again as fast as the girl could keep up.

  Several hundred yards later they reached another drop, this one much steeper. He panned from one side to the other, looking for a way down. Almost as if on cue, the phone in the pocket of his pants rang.

  His answer was immediate. “Need some help, Wil.”

  Borger was already studying a daytime image of the area. “There’s a fairly large stream in front of you. Let me see if I can find an easier way across.”

  “I’m not worried about the water. I need a way down.”

  “There’s a small area to the east where it looks like it flattens out. One hundred yards upstream, or maybe two.”

  Clay slung the rifle over his shoulder to keep the phone in his hand. He kept a
tight grip on Li Na and moved quickly along the ridge.

  “The choppers are in the air,” he said, panting into the phone. “And headed this way. What’s ahead of us?”

  “Us?” Borger raised his eyebrows. “You have Wei’s daughter?”

  “Well, I sure as hell hope that’s who I grabbed.”

  Borger zoomed out, looking for something he could give them. Anything.

  “There’s a small house to the southeast, but it’s pretty far away. Maybe a mile and a half. Everything else is in the other direction.”

  “Too far,” Clay mumbled. He stopped on the edge of the ridge and spotted the area Borger described. Instead of a cliff, soft dirt descended at a more manageable descent. He dropped to the ground, pulling Li Na down with him and sliding down the embankment, his feet out in front of him. He dug in with the heels of his boots, sending rocks and leaves spilling down in front of him.

  Directly behind him, Li Na did the same.

  When they reached the bottom, Clay pulled her through the water and waded across. When they reached the other side, Clay brought the phone back up to his ear.

  “You still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s the house?”

  “Roughly four o’clock from your current direction.”

  “Okay.”

  Borger was now studying a different image of the same region, this one taken at night. He examined the area where the small house was situated.

  “Uh, Clay. There may be a problem. I don’t see any lights at that place. I’m not sure if it’s occupied. I’m looking for another option.”

  There was no answer.

  “Clay?” Borger checked his phone. The call had ended.

  The terrain gradually leveled off, allowing Clay and Li Na to pick up speed. Overhead, the sound of the helicopters was followed only seconds later by searchlights.

  Clay quickened his pace. A mile and a half was a long way over this kind of terrain. He ground to a halt near a tight cluster of trees and released Li Na’s hand. He then removed his goggles and looked up at a bright beam of light sweeping the forest behind them.

  He pulled the teenage girl in close and pressed them both against a tree trunk as the searchlight passed over them. He watched it continue on before looking down at Li Na.

  “There’s a house nearby, but we have to move faster or we’ll never make it. Can you run on your own?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Stay close to me.”

  Not far away, Qin’s helicopter finally rose into the air once the pilot had wrapped his bloody hand in a thick bandage. He listened through his headphones to the exchange between the other two helicopters searching the ground for Li Na and the American.

  “If you see them,” Qin broke in, “stop them! Even if you have to shoot. They must not escape!”

  Once above the trees, Qin could see the aircraft lights from the other two choppers. One to the southeast and the other to the northeast. The rest of the soldiers were on the ground, sweeping forward in the same directions.

  Even in his panic-induced rage, Qin knew he was lucky. These men were some of the best in the Chinese Army, and he couldn’t have hoped for a better group to provide aid. But it was more than coincidence. More than luck. It was fate. The message was clear. Destiny was on Qin’s side.

  Now the girl and the American were in the middle of nowhere. Headed in the worst possible direction. And all they could do was run.

  58

  That was exactly what Clay and Li Na were doing. Together they weaved in and around the dark tree trunks, stopping frequently to remain hidden. The bright curtains of light pierced the canopies overhead and bathed the ground, passing ominously back and forth.

  After another pass, Clay dropped his bag and pulled out a dark thermal blanket. He wrapped it around Li Na to cover her lighter clothing. It would make it easier to blend with the ground beneath them, as long as they were not moving when spotted. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was better than nothing.

  If Qin had any experience, or brains, he already had men on the ground following them. Having to stop when the light approached meant they had to move even faster in the darkness. The men on the ground would be gaining. Their shrinking lead and the house ahead of them were now all that was separating them from Qin.

  The sound of the helicopter’s thundering blades passed over once more and had just begun to fade when they darted out together again, running for all they were worth.

  It felt a hell of a lot longer than a mile and a half.

  When Clay found the small house, he was expecting something more…recognizable. Instead, what Borger had spotted from the air was little more than an old shack. More than that, it looked as though it was barely standing, positioned in a small clearing and surrounded by tall tallow trees, their canopies fighting for the open sky overhead.

  On the ground, near the structure, were tools and a wooden cart, its wheels appearing ready to fall off. On the ground was a pile of something Clay couldn’t quite make out. But what caught his eye was the soft glow of light visible through a very old, but surprisingly clear window.

  He stepped forward and looked through it. There was little to see. The view was blocked by a cloth curtain.

  Without the slightest hesitation, he moved to what looked like a front door and tried the rusted knob.

  Locked.

  He stepped back and stared at it. All at once he raised his leg, and with a powerful kick, focused his boot against the door, just inches from the knob. In an earsplitting crack, the door exploded inward and slammed against an interior wall.

  Inside, in a small room, sat a Chinese family. Ragged and sitting around a wooden table with fear in their eyes. The shock of having their front door kicked in had left them motionless, holding food to their mouths in mid bite.

  The small family was composed of two school-age boys and a younger sister sitting next to their parents, with a stove fire burning behind them. On the table, flames from several homemade candles danced in the sudden burst of outside air.

  The family’s faces didn’t change. They remained fixed at the table, unmoving. After an awkward silence, the father’s eyes blinked past them, out through the door at one of the searchlights as it passed overhead.

  Still heaving in the doorway, Clay turned to Li Na.

  “Tell them we need help.”

  59

  The man at the table listened to Li Na and looked up again as the second helicopter roared past.

  His eyes moved to the tall man standing in the doorway, with one hand firmly grasping a rifle. He was clearly an American soldier, breathing heavily and with a face like stone.

  The father carefully put down his wooden bowl, not taking his eyes off either one of them. Eventually, he motioned to the boy on his right –– the taller of the two –– and spoke softly. Nearest to the stove, the mother remained completely still.

  Struggling to remain patient, Clay turned and peered back through the door. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Wait,” Li Na whispered back.

  The boy, not more than thirteen, rose nervously from the table. He stepped away and moved to the door where he turned, staring directly at his father.

  His father nodded firmly. Even to Clay, the message was clear: move!

  They followed the boy as he ran, zigzagging through the forest as though he had every tree memorized, and every step.

  Clay was surprised to see the teenager instinctively stop when the light returned, waiting for it to pass before resuming.

  They reached a worn path, barely as wide as a single footprint, and followed the boy up a steep incline, winding their way around a small, heavily covered hill. When they reached the far side, they stopped in front of a rock face protruding from the underbrush. Carved into the rock was a large dark hole, almost as tall as Clay and just as wide.

  The boy spoke in a hushed tone to Li Na, who translated to Clay.

  “It’s a mine. An ol
d one. He says there’s another entrance at the other end, about a kilometer and a half.”

  She paused, listening to the boy again.

  “From there, an old road leads out through a small valley where it meets the railroad tracks.”

  Clay stared at the opening in the rock. “Tell us about the mine.”

  In Chinese, she repeated what Clay had said and the boy explained.

  “He says it was abandoned a long time ago. No one knows about it anymore. There are several tunnels. We need to keep to our left.”

  Clay didn’t respond. Instead he stepped forward, examining the opening with a grim expression. Most caverns and mines were not the adventure, nor salvation, most people considered them to be. Long and winding underground tunnels were very dangerous, especially mines with multiple adits. More people lost their way, and their lives, than the public knew. And it was always in the same order. They lost their light, then their way, and finally fresh air.

  This was not a good option.

  Overhead, a searchlight approached. Somehow they had deduced Clay’s direction, and unfortunately, the trees were not dense enough to hide them forever. The mine, even as a bad option, was better than none.

  He shook his head and slid the bag off his back. He’d have to carry it in by hand. In its place, he slung the rifle. Clay placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and thanked him using one of the few Chinese words he knew.

  “Xie xie.”

  The boy responded with something he didn’t understand. Nevertheless, the look in his eyes reinforced John Clay’s long-held belief. A belief that ultimately, no matter where they lived, regular people were all the same. More than anything else, they wanted to grow old. To raise healthy children and to help one another. In the end, most people simply wanted to leave the world a better place. Distant enemies, he was convinced, were simply the product of political brainwashing.

  Clay smiled at him before nodding to Li Na. He then bent over, ducking his head low, and stepped into pitch blackness.