PLAZA

by Shane M Brown

  Barefoot and unarmed. At least he was still alive, which was more than could be said for the guards still being torn apart down in the bunker. He could still hear one of them. Then he heard another noise. He felt it through his entire body. An unmistakable sound. The sweetest sound Kline had ever heard.

  Rourke's pick-up chopper came thumping over the Plaza.

  #

  Libby heard the sound before the others.

  They were all inside the security tent. Libby and Claire hovered closer to the tent flap, keeping watch.

  'Can anyone else hear that?' she called.

  Merc and Dale rushed back into the main room, listening.

  'It's a helicopter!' exclaimed Claire, dashing from the tent before anyone could stop her.

  'Wait,' hissed Merc, catching Libby's arm before she could follow. Dale turned side on beside Libby, peering outside.

  Libby wanted to follow Claire, but she also knew running outside wasn't safe. They should find a radio or a signal flare to contact the helicopter.

  Claire stopped ten feet outside the tent. She wasn't looking so sure of herself now.

  The helicopter came into sight. It hovered over the middle tier steps, about one hundred meters off the ground. The aircraft turned side-on. Libby could see its profile. It resembled a military-style helicopter, not a rescue vehicle. A side door slid open halfway down the fuselage. Merc swore and dashed from the tent, sprinting towards Claire.

  'Oh, crap,' swore Dale. 'It's one of Rourke's.'

  The helicopter opened fire on Claire. She just stood there, right out in the open, not even ducking as bullets tore up the ground around her boots.

  Merc tackled Claire to the ground, making her less of a target. Small, dirty explosion cratered the soil around them. Merc was back on his feet in a second, hauling Claire by her armpits back towards the tent. Dale and Libby leapt back from the tent flap as the two running figures barreled back inside.

  'That was stupid!' yelled Merc at Claire, pushing her across the tent and under cover of the stone ceiling.

  Claire was shaking. She ran two hands back through her hair. 'I thought it was help! I didn't realize they were shooting at me! I'm sorry, OK!'

  'We have to help ourselves!' barked Merc, pointing out the tent flap. 'Everything out there is trying to kill us. Until we get out of here, just assume everyone is the enemy.'

  'They must be here to pick up Rourke,' said Dale. 'They probably have orders to shoot anyone else.'

  Libby moved to peer out the tent flap for the helicopter. She positioned herself to take in as much of the skyline as the tent flap would allow. She could hear the helicopter, but she couldn't see it.

  Her eyes locked on something else. Something moving into the Plaza's skyline. In that second, she didn't care about the helicopter anymore. She was looking at something she never thought she'd see again.

  'Oh, my God - it can't be....'

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  'What?’ asked Dale.

  'I see our ride out of here,' answered Libby.

  It was her raft-balloon. The white balloon came floating over the Plaza. The still-intact craft was passing over the eastern edge of the top tier. Libby remembered the wind change Joel had warned her about. He'd said if they weren't careful, the wind would carry them back towards the Plaza. He was right.

  'What is that thing?' asked Dale, moving up beside her and spotting the floating raft.

  'That's my ride. I thought I'd lost it. The wind brought it back.'

  'Can we use it?'

  Libby nodded, excited. 'It will carry four people easily.'

  'What about six people?' asked Merc.

  'If we ditch all our equipment, then yeah - it should lift with six.'

  'How are we going to reach it?’ asked Claire. 'Those tether lines don't reach the ground. It's going to float right over us.'

  Libby tracked the incoming raft’s trajectory. 'Just leave that to me. I'll find a way. But I'm going to miss my chance if we don't move right now. The helicopter's the real problem.'

  Merc nodded, listening for the helicopter's location. 'You and Claire get the raft. Dale and I will deal with the chopper. You ready Dale-boy?'

  Dale nodded and checked the pistol he'd found in Rourke's stash, their only firearm with ammunition.

  'Good luck,' offered Dale to Libby and Claire a second before he and Merc dashed through the tent flap and away.

  Libby watched them run off through the ruins. Claire asked, 'How are we going to do this? What's your plan?'

  'Just follow me,' said Libby. 'If I tell you my plan, you'll try to talk me out of it. We don't have time to argue.'

  Before Claire could insist on an explanation, Libby dashed from the security tent and raced straight across the tier towards the researchers' tents. She heard Claire running behind her, keeping pace, but all her attention stayed locked on the raft. It sounded like the helicopter was being drawn to the south after Dale and Merc. She heard the helicopter firing at something, probably the two men. She ignored everything but weaving through the archaeologists' camp at full speed.

  'We're not going the right way,' yelled Claire. 'It's going to pass behind us!'

  'I have to intercept it!' Libby yelled back. No one knew the way the balloon-raft moved like she did. She didn't have time to argue with Claire. Keeping one eye on the raft, she sprinted clockwise around the top tier's edge. She reached her target barely in time.

  The raft floated about twenty meters higher than her position on the top tier. Unfortunately, it was floating across the middle tier. Its trajectory wouldn't come within ten meters of her.

  Libby grabbed the base of the floodlight tower and started climbing. She monkeyed up the tower as fast as she could find hand and footholds. Built from interlocking tube-metal, the prefabricated tower stood thirty meters tall on a meter-wide base. The tower tapered to a small platform serving three heavy-duty flood lights. Libby had climbed this tower last Wednesday to take wind readings before they launched. That time she'd worn a safety harness.

  Claire reached the base and peered upwards, frowning at the distance between the tower and the incoming raft. 'It's too far away. It's not coming within reach. Come back - we'll have to find another way!'

  Libby yelled down as she climbed. 'There is no other way. This is the highest point this side of the Plaza. This is our only chance.'

  'It's pointless,' Claire shot back. 'You're never going to reach it.'

  Libby didn't argue. She focused all her attention on climbing. At the top, she cast one glance at the raft and then yelled to Claire, 'OK. Undo the locking bolt!'

  Claire glanced at the locking bolt between her boots. The bolt locked the tower upright. The tower hinged from the other side.

  'Are you crazy?' Claire yelled. 'The whole thing will fall!'

  Libby yelled back, 'I want it to fall. Claire, do it now. It will fall straight towards the raft. You have to do it right now. Trust me - I can do this. Pull out that damn bolt!'

  Claire only hesitated a second. She bent and worked at the locking bolt with two hands.

  Grasping two floodlights, Libby finished her climb. Her feet barely fit on the platform. She needed to crouch to keep hold of the lights.

  I've done it!’ Claire yelled up. ‘The bolt’s out.’

  Libby judged the distance and started rocking her body back and forth. She needed to time this perfectly. The raft was passing her this very second. She threw her full body into rocking the tower and at the same time shouted, 'Claire - push it now!'

  Claire pushed. Libby threw her body forwards and caught her weight on the lights, imparting her momentum to the tower. The tower moved, groaned, stopped, balanced on its base for a heartbeat, and then started tipping over.

  I'm really doing it. Here goes!

  The tower tipped out over the middle tier towards the raft.

  Wait, wait, wait - NOW!

  When the falling tower's arc passed the raft, Libby jumped. She had to leap more s
ideways than she'd expected.

  She flew through the air, arms outstretched, thirty meters above the ground...

  ...and smacked squarely into the back of her raft. The entire platform keeled wildly under her impact. She grabbed two handfuls of webbing and clung on. Before the raft stopped swaying, she hooked a leg over the side and scrambled onboard.

  Her weight was already dropping the raft, but not fast enough. She reached the controls and emptied the emergency descent pockets.

  The raft dropped quickly. Before she knew it, the platform was bumping along over tents and then plowing down right in the middle of the researchers' camp. She saw Claire zigzagging through the camp to intercept her landing.

  Claire pointed and yelled as she ran.

  Libby looked where Claire was pointing and felt her elation deflate. The hovering helicopter turned in the air. Libby saw a gun pointing right at her inflatable raft.

  Chapter 18

  Ethan easily found his way back to the core chamber.

  Or what Rourke had thought was the core chamber.

  He panned his flashlight around the room, recognizing Rourke's welding trolley, the pallet where he’d eaten and slept, his fluorescent lanterns, the neat piles of metal off-cuts. A row of uncut metal pipes leant against the left wall. The pipes stood arranged by length. Rourke had been meticulous.

  Ethan powered up two of the lanterns. The light illuminated Rourke's tools spread out over three hessian sacks. Ethan imagined Rourke kneeling over the sacks, sorting through the tools for those he needed.

  Taking a lantern, he crossed the chamber to the sealed archway. He lifted the lantern to study the blank barrier.

  Looks just like all the others. No wonder he missed it.

  Ethan rested his left palm on the stone. His answers lay beyond. What's more, he knew how to open the barrier. Or rather, he knew when it would open. The answer had been carved on the gold. The hieroglyphs predicted the barriers would change fifteen times. Knowing when they started, and by counting off the four minute intervals, Ethan calculated how many times they had already rotated.

  Fourteen times.

  Just one more change to go.

  The last change was the clincher.

  The last, Ethan knew, should unseal the core chamber. How many people had stood here before him? How many young men, hundreds of years ago, had been slaughtered for the opportunity to witness whatever awaited Ethan in the next chamber. He thought of Gordon. Gordon had joined their ranks.

  A voice rang out behind Ethan. 'I knew you'd make it here.'

  Ethan spun, expecting to be attacked, but the speaker hung back in the darkened passageway. Ethan didn't need to see the man's face. He knew the voice of a murderer when he heard it. He knew the voice of Ambrose Rourke.

  Ethan's heart thudded as someone was shoved roughly into the chamber. It was Spader, gagged with a twisted rag. Rourke had bound his arms behind his back. Rourke gripped Spader’s collar, pushing him into the chamber, a black automatic pistol held at Spader's head.

  Rourke's eyes never wavered from Ethan.

  'This was where you were bringing me, wasn't it?’ asked Ethan. 'You wanted me to interpret the gold.'

  'And did you?'

  'Enough to realize you never reached the core chamber. That was your biggest fear, wasn't it? That you were missing the motherload? You wanted me to decipher the gold to make sure you weren't missing the real treasure.'

  Rourke nodded to where the gold had rested. 'I found what I was after, and it looks like you finally have too. So what do you think of the Gallery now, Ethan? Now that you've experienced what it's really designed for. Not what you expected, huh? Not by a long shot, I bet.'

  'I still don't know what it was designed for,' countered Ethan. 'That's why I'm here.'

  Rourke laughed nastily. He waved to the carving in the passageway behind him. 'Even you can't be that gullible. It was designed to cull the unworthy. I guess the deities found you and I worthy, Ethan.'

  Ethan could see this conversation heading to a bad place for Spader. Any moment, Rourke would fire a bullet into Spader's temple. Spader's brains would splatter across the wall. Ethan's would be next. Ethan could see it in Spader's eyes. Spader knew it. He knew Rourke planned to murder them both.

  Unless Ethan did something about it.

  'We both survived this far,' agreed Ethan. 'But only one of us knows how to open the core chamber.'

  'That's why I followed you,' said Rourke. 'Ironic, because for the last two years, you've been the one following me. You've always been two steps behind me. This was my site, Ethan, not yours. You only found what I let you find.'

  Rourke turned his attention on Spader. He tapped the pistol on Spader's temple. 'I caught this one trying to carry his friend out of here. Trying to carry a dead man, can you believe it?'

  'If he didn't, I would have,' said Ethan flatly. 'That dead man was Gordon Merrit. You probably remember me talking about him.'

  Rourke raised one eyebrow. 'The one you kept inviting here? The one who ignored your letters?'

  Ethan nodded. 'That's the man you killed.'

  Rourke studied Ethan carefully. 'You're a different person than you were this morning, Ethan. It's amazing what a difference one day can make. I wonder how different you are now. Shall we find out?'

  Rourke kicked savagely at Spader's legs, knocking Spader to his knees. Something metallic bounced on the floor near Ethan's feet. Ethan glanced down. The knife spun to a stop, balancing on its hilt near Ethan's trainer. Rourke had tossed the knife towards Ethan.

  When Ethan looked up, Rourke had dropped a thick cable-tie over Spader's head. Before Ethan could cry out, Rourke yanked the cable tightly around Spader's neck. It was the same way he'd murdered Nina. Rourke stepped casually away from Spader, waving at Ethan. 'Have at it, Professor March. Let's see if you can improve on your last attempt.'

  Ethan snatched up the knife and ran towards Spader.

  At the last moment, instead of stopping to help Spader, Ethan hurled the knife at Rourke.

  The knife spun end-over-end towards Rourke's face.

  Ethan didn't expect the knife to hit, but it didn't have to. It just had to surprise Rourke long enough for Ethan to close the distance. Rourke dodged his head sideways from the knife, started to bring his pistol up, but Ethan was already there.

  Full sprint, Ethan slammed his shoulder straight into Rourke's stomach, letting his body's full momentum drive Rourke from his feet. Locked together, both men tumbled over Rourke's welding trolley. Ethan started punching before they'd even hit the floor. Pinning Rourke's pistol arm, Ethan hammered his right fist again and again into Rourke's head and neck. Pure anger drove his punches. Anger over Nina. Anger over Joanne. He had enough fury-fuelled anger to mash Rourke's head into the stonework.

  Mid-punch, Rourke twisted his hips with a powerful jerk. Ethan sprawled sideways. He recovered just in time to see Rourke swing the pistol across his body and take aim. Jumping up, Ethan dashed one step before tripping on a pile of metal off-cuts. He fell into the row of steel pipes Rourke had stacked against the wall. He took out all the steel in one flailing fall.

  Rourke started firing. Bullets struck the falling pipes.

  Ethan tried to scramble away, but the steel was crisscrossing his legs and hips. It would take a few seconds to shove it all away. Ethan didn't have a few seconds to spare. Rourke leapt to his feet, squinting towards the sound of falling steel, aiming into the tumbling lengths of metal for a clean kill-shot.

  At that moment, Spader struck.

  Spader struck from behind, expending what little oxygen remained in his fuel-starved blood to protect Ethan. Head down like a charging bull, Spader rammed his head and shoulder into Rourke's back. The desperate attack was enough to throw off Rourke's aim, but it was also the end for Spader.

  As Rourke recovered, correcting his aim, Spader collapsed.

  But Spader's distraction had given Ethan time to reach the stone plinth on which the gold had rested. It wa
s just delaying the inevitable. Rourke knew where he was, and Ethan had nowhere else to run. All Rourke need do was step onto the plinth and shoot Ethan where he crouched on the other side. From where he crouched, Ethan saw Spader's body bucking and twisting, choking to death. Beyond Spader, Ethan glimpsed something else. Something ghastly. Something bloody, maimed, and...perfect.

  Ethan lifted his hands so Rourke could see he was unarmed. 'Wait. I'm going to stand up. The way to open the core chamber is right in front of me. I’ll show you.'

  Ethan rose steadily in Rourke’s line of fire.

  Wary of tricks, keeping the pistol leveled at Ethan’s heart, Rourke took three cautious steps. Behind Rourke, Ethan saw Spader's feet making tiny bicycle kicks as his last moments of consciousness sent desperate signals through his body.

  'Well,' prompted Rourke. 'How do you open it?'

  Ethan checked his watch. The last barrier change was soon.

  'It's easy,' admitted Ethan. 'You just have to be the last person alive in this room.'

  Rourke smirked towards Spader and then shrugged at Ethan, aiming down his pistol, ready to fire. 'I can arrange that easily.'

  'Except that it's not up to you,' countered Ethan. 'It was never up to you. Gordon taught me something, after all. He taught me not to discount other men's Gods. Their gods are here after all, and it's up to them to decide who lives and who dies.'

  Ethan flicked his eyes to the right without moving his body even an inch.

  Rourke looked confused for a second, but just for one second. He realized what Ethan was doing and peered towards the archway.

  'You bastard!' roared Rourke.

  The chameleon filled the archway, all the more horrific because of the wounds it carried. One eye was missing completely. Blood from the severed eye-stalk had congealed over its head like a ghastly red mask. The left side of its neck hung open, charred at the edges as though something hot had burned its way out. Rourke and Ethan were both potential prey. Ethan had lured Rourke into range.

  For a second, both men looked at each other. Then the animal struck. Rourke had been the last person moving. Ethan had made sure of that.