by R. K. Sidler
“We were captured, I guess you could say,” Bayek said while taking notice of the stranger who accompanied them.
He turned back to Dr. Ramirez, “Four men, soldiers, in protective suits, came upon us as we were about to leave. They took us on their ATV’s and we headed north. We reached a heavily wooded area with dense thickets. One of the vehicles broke down so we stopped while they repaired it. They must not have thought we were that much of a threat because they didn’t pay close attention to us while they fixed the machine. We were able to make it a hundred yards or so before one of them noticed we were gone; Stephan went one way, and I went another. I saw them catch Stephan, but when they couldn’t find me, I think they gave up so they would make it to where they were going in time. It took me this long to make it back,” he said in a desperate tone.
“So they have Stephan. Did they try to hurt either of you in anyway? Did they say where they were taking you?”
“No, they didn’t hurt us, and they didn’t say where we were going.”
“Who is he,” Bayek asked as he looked at Bishop suspiciously.
“He is a friend who escaped from the same people who took Stephan,” Sasha said.
Bishop knew that was not the unadulterated truth, but he left it go. Bayek continued to stare at him with concern until his attention was diverted by the others who were leading him away while still posing questions.
“We should get back. I need to talk to Weston,” Bishop said to Sasha.
“It will only take us a few hours if we move quickly,” Sasha replied.
Bishop followed as Sasha led the way.
―
As soon as they reached Gateway, they informed Weston about what had taken place. “What will they do with him,” Weston asked Bishop.
“Study him, run tests on him, learn everything they can about him.”
“Will they hurt him? Is there a chance we could get him?”
“They will not release him, and they won’t let him into their society. Only those who found him and a few others will even know he exists. There is nothing we can do,” Bishop said in brutal honesty. “You need to start making preparations. They know people are out here now. They also know what direction to go to find them, and that it can’t be too far from where they were since they were on foot.”
“It’s something isn’t it,” Weston said in reply, “We try to find our way home, together with former enemies, and people from a foreign soil, only to find we are now the enemy of our own country.”
“That’s the reality you need to deal with. Nothing is the same, nor will it ever be again. It’s taken me a while to realize that, but it impresses itself upon me more each day.”
Weston nodded in understanding. “Why don’t you guys get some rest? I’ll have to talk to some of the men here and put together a plan. If you don’t mind, I’d like to solicit your input when we are finished.”
“Be glad to help,” Bishop said.
When he reached his temporary quarters, he saw the Smithy waiting for him―metal staff in hand. “It’s finished,” he said proudly as he held it out to Bishop. Instead of being polished steel, it was black. The surface was rough, and there were the telltale signs of points on each end just as Bishop had requested. The Smithy explained as Bishop was making his examination, “I thought it would only be a matter of time before it rusted on you so I coated it with a black epoxy resin I had. I also added some grit to it, so it will be a little rough on the hands until you get used to it. But I think you can manage.”
Bishop was surprised. It was a simple instrument but the damage it could do would be impressive, especially in his hands. He looked at it carefully, and then at the Smith, “I don’t know how to repay you for this,” Bishop said.
“No need. You brought in dinner the other day. We all do for each other what we can. If I need something, I’ll ask. The same goes for you. That is how we do things here.”
“Thank you.”
The two men shook hands as the Smith once again came up on the short end of their test of strength, before he went on his way. When Bishop went inside the house provided for him, he remembered he had not looked at the scratch marks on his leg since the day he received them. He pulled up his trousers to examine the cuts and noticed there was nothing to see other than some dried blood. He washed it away and saw there was no evidence of any wounds. He had not thought of it before, as he had experienced no pain from the time he was attacked. He knew he healed in ways that were not natural, but he did not think it was wise to push the envelope. He would help these people hold on to what they had. They were terribly outnumbered and outclassed when it came to the type of war that could be waged by his former men. He could only hope that they underestimated them enough to give him the advantage he would need.
TEN
The outpost at Bardin consisted of a small wood-framed building not far from the base of the trail. It served two purposes. One, was to draw uninvited visitors to it, the other was to cause those same visitors to circle away from it. It was not used, as most would assume; that is, as a place to house people. The warriors who guarded this limited access point into the valley were the most skilled. They rotated their duties on a regular basis. Many of them were those of giant stature. They were well armed and well prepared to handle whatever came their way. They were miles from Mezzo and thus had to be self-reliant. They worked in groups of eight men. They were armed with crossbows, longbows, knives, and spears. Most of them had the ability to see at night just as well as they could by day. They had encountered no intrusions from this trail for over a month. Tonight, that was going to change.
Sound carried well through the draw. They heard movement before they first saw them. They counted twenty men, dressed in protective suits, and armed with automatic rifles. As they made their way down to the valley‘s floor, they systematically disabled, or averted, each of the traps that were set on the trail. When they came near to the bottom, it was evident by their movements that they saw the building and were not surprised in finding it. Four men had moved in pairs to encircle it, while the others remained in the draw.
As soon as the soldiers started their assault on the structure, silent bolts from the large crossbows greeted them. The silence was broken when one of the falling soldiers pulled the trigger on his weapon. A burst of ammunition flew harmlessly into the air as he crashed into the ground, but the sound resonated clearly in the night. The remainder of the soldiers did not know what had happened, and were reluctant to move as they did not see anybody else in the area. They started using hand signals to communicate with one another as bright flashes rained in around them. At first, it was surreal when they noticed the flaming arrows and did not feel they posed any significant threat. That moment passed, however, when the reality of the danger set in. Everywhere in the draw, except for the path itself, there were piles of tumbleweeds, pine branches, and other brush scattered about. The fire soaked arrows quickly set the area ablaze. The pine branches were the worst with their pitch exploding as they succumbed to the flames.
With that came the smoke. Once they realized there was no place else to go and visibility was not on their side, they made their retreat as fast as they were able. Several members had suffered falls and burns as they were not able to escape the fire unscathed. They would now be exposed to the environment. When they reached the rim, there was only one decision that could be made. They would return to the mountain and report what had happened.
─
The sound of the automatic gunfire could be heard throughout the valley. When people came out of their homes, light from the raging fire could be seen reflecting off the night sky. When Bishop joined Weston and the others who were standing near him, he said, “I think you better get ready. It looks like it’s already starting.”
Weston agreed, having already decided that himself, “We’ll go to Mezzo at first light,” he said to those around him. “Sasha will set up defenses here, both from the outside, and inside, in case we have
to give ground and fall back to here, and I will take eighty men along to Mezzo.”
The men understood and made preparations to leave. Not one of them slept that night.
―
All eight warriors watched their retreat. When they knew it would be impossible for the intruders to return, they went to the four bodies lying on the ground. They kept to a safe distance as they looked over the bodies. One of them was still alive with a bolt protruding from his shoulder. He was face down but still had his hand on his weapon. “We can see you are alive. If you try to move your weapon, you will be killed. It is your choice,” one of the warriors said.
The soldier remained still. He was not sure if they were telling the truth, or bluffing. He decided to stay still a while longer and see what would happen. That lasted until the moment he felt the point of a metal blade at the base of his skull.
“Alright, I give up,” he said as he lifted his hand away from the weapon.
They helped him to his feet, removed his tactical harness, and all other objects he carried. He complained about the movement and the pain it cause his shoulder. They were unconcerned. After that, they removed his headgear.
“Hey,” he protested,” I need that….”
“Not in here you don’t,” the same warrior said. He then turned to his men and instructed them to remove everything from the other bodies. The bodies themselves would eventually be taken to the rim, but the clothes and equipment would go to Mezzo with the prisoner. They tied his hands behind his back, soliciting even further cries of pain. Three of them were tasked to transport the prisoner, and the other supplies to the village, while the others remained to secure the area.
Not long after they brought the prisoner and the confiscated equipment into the village, Weston arrived along with his reinforcements. He was directed to the village center where Dr. Ramirez was attending to the wounded soldier, with Bishop accompanying him. When the soldier recognized Bishop he broke his silence, “Chief, what are you doing here?”
“Trying to right a wrong; how about you?” he challenged.
Something in the way he said it made the soldier think he was not going to get any special treatment from his old boss. He remained where he was and said nothing more. By this time, professor Bayek had arrived and noticed the prisoner. Bishop turned to him as he walked in and thought he detected a sign of recognition between the two men. Weston walked over to the soldier after first talking to the men who had brought him there. They gave a detailed accounting of the events from the previous night before they left Mezzo to return to their responsibilities.
“What’s your name,” he started by asking.
The soldier said nothing.
“Peterson. His name’s Peterson,” Bishop supplied.
The soldier looked at Bishop in disgust.
“Okay Peterson,” Weston continued, “I don’t know if you realize this or not, but there isn’t much you can count on out here. You can either be useful to us or not. It is up to you,” he said evenly.
He remained silent.
“How did you know where to look for each of the traps we had placed on that trail?”
He did not answer.
“Why did you try to come into the valley through that area instead of just trying to establish contact with us here?”
Still no answer.
While Weston was questioning the prisoner, Bishop was paying close attention to Bayek. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable. He also detected a sign of recognition, which had passed between him and the prisoner after that last question. Bishop heard Weston say something else before he decided it was time to intervene.
“How is the boy? Have you hurt him,” Bishop asked in a conversational manner as he turned from his examination of Bayek to give his full attention to his former subordinate.
Thinking this was one question he could answer, and maybe get a bargaining chip in the process, he said, “He’s fine for now. But I don’t know what they will do if you harm me.”
Bishop smiled at him.
“Weston. You are questioning the wrong man,” he stated flatly.
Weston looked at him in confusion. Bishop pointed to Bayek and said, “Ask him.”
Professor Bayek’s eyes went wide at the statement. “I don’t know what he is talking about. I told you, I escaped, Stephan didn’t.”
“Yeah,” Bishop said, “But the only people who would know about you and the boy would be those who captured you and possibly a few people on the inside. That means the two of you,” Bishop said indicating both Bayek and their prisoner “have met already. It also means that somehow they knew how to get past the security measures, and know where the path of least resistance would be. I think you are a liar Bayek. You didn’t escape, they let you go.”
Professor Bayek was having a hard time organizing his thoughts as the weight of the allegations being made descended upon him. He could see it just as clearly in the eyes of the others.
“Let’s have the truth,” Weston said. “You might as well tell us why and save us all the time and trouble.”
When it was clear he could not hide it any longer, he confessed. “They have medicine, we don’t. They said they wouldn’t hurt Stephan or any of the rest of us. They said if they could find a way in, and take us by surprise, no one would get hurt and we could prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.”
“You’ve betrayed us,” Weston said.
“I’m responsible for saving the lives of many of the people in this valley,” Bayek responded self-righteously.
“And now you will cost many of those same individuals their lives.”
“This is no way to live. We are not savages. They can cure us. We can make things better,” Bayek challenged.
“You forget yourself. You do not decide for the rest of us. You’ve risked all of our lives on something you know nothing about, on people you know nothing about.” After a moment’s hesitation he said, “Tie them both up and keep an eye on them,” Weston ordered.
When they walked away from the village center, Bishop asked Weston what would be done with them.
“We will release them on the rim this evening.”
“Release them,” he asked in surprise.
“They have proved they cannot be trusted and are of no value to us. Releasing them is the worst thing that could be done.”
―
The reality of that judgment had more meaning for Bishop when the time came. He walked with the group as the two men were escorted to the rim. He remembered his own banishment and the environment that awaited him. Bayek had pleaded continuously while they made the ascent. Peterson did not understand this and appeared relived that he had an opportunity to make it back to the mountain.
Their bonds were removed, and they were pointed away from the valley warned not to return under punishment of death. Bayek took one last look at the people he had fought beside for his own survival then turned to walk away. When they were too far away to be heard, Peterson told him not to be worried about exposure, when they reached the mountain, they would be treated for any contamination.
“I’m not worried about contamination. I am one of the few who is not affected by it,” Bayek said sullenly.
“Then what are you worried about. We got away. At least you will be safe now. They are the ones who will have to face the consequences.”
“How often have you been out here at night?”
“Last night was the first time. Why?”
“We will never make it,” Bayek said with finality.
“I’ll look after you doc,” the young soldier said.
Bayek turned and looked at his companion. It would soon be dark enough that they would have to remain very close so as not to lose each other along the way. The cloud cover that evening made it nearly impossible for the ambient light of the moon to penetrate. Bayek knew the wounds on the soldier were suppurating. He also had blood on his clothing. He was afraid to remain with him, but terrified of being alone.
A f
ew hours later, they stopped for their first break. Peterson was weary from his wound, and Bayek was not physically fit to begin with. They kept their conversation light, and were curious as to how the other had survived as they did. When they started off again, it was not long until they both heard a noise, in fact several noises. They looked around the nearby area for sticks sturdy enough to defend themselves. Those clubs provided a small measure of security. The cloud cover was breaking slightly, and a full moon could be seen. When it was clear that whatever was ‘out there’ was now closer, the two men moved ahead cautiously. Before they could move any further, the large beast was directly in front of them.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell is that thing,” the soldier asked while clutching his club.
“Rock Wolf,” Bayek replied.
“Wolf hell, it’s as big as a bear.”
“I wish it was a bear. Then there would only be one of them,” Bayek said.
As soon as he said this, the younger man noticed the golden eyes of other wolves moving in to surround them. They were well beyond the hearing distance of those in the valley. Their screams went unheard by any man, only to be lost on the beasts who hunted them.
****
Twenty men went out, four were presumed dead, and three more suffered from exposure. The after action report was made upon their return to the staging area. It was then relayed to Director Bishop. He had been going over the report, and the information they obtained from their captive several days prior. He did not think they had been lied to. It was more than likely a matter of the professor not being aware of much outside of his responsibilities. Some men fought, others taught.
There was no longer any reason for stealth. Lives had been lost and there was a chance that their source had been discovered. There was no question that they needed and were going to gain control of the valley. It was just a matter of when and how. He remembered that his son’s former assistant, in the security department, was also a former soldier in special operations. He made the call. A few minutes later, Ronald Wallace was shown into the director’s office. The two men shook hands before taking their seats.
