Harken (Harken Series)

by Kaleb Nation

  Step. Step. Step. The metal reverberated. Step. Step. I quickened my pace, feeling that the ground was coming up soon.

  A few seconds later, I left the last step abruptly. The solid ground took me unawares and I had to catch my balance. The flashlight spilled all over the room.

  Where the stairs ended, a gray carpet began. The walls were so narrow that I couldn’t have stretched my elbows out. They were lined with bookshelves going as high as the ceiling. Glass panels in front of the shelves guarded what appeared to be an assortment of old tattered books and bound up stacks of paper, mostly eaten by age and appearing too weak to touch without turning to dust. The hall ran at least ten steps like this until the next opening. I shone the light into the shelves curiously, wondering if the Blade was anywhere in them. What was I even looking for, exactly? How would I have hid it in my first life?

  I didn’t think it was there, and by that time I was content with trusting my instincts. So we continued to the end, where the room opened up one final time.

  The crypt was circular with a roof that domed over our heads. It was about as large as my living room, the walls made of rough, undecorated stone that was chipped and cracked in many places, lines running through it like the marks of marble. The space was incredibly empty. The only thing inside was a rectangular pillar in the center that looked like it had once held a coffin.

  Something was on the pillar, but it wasn’t a casket. It was a rectangular box with a design on its top so intricate I couldn’t help but recognize it right away. In the midst of the swirling artwork and the sweeps of expertly molded metal were two orb-like stalks protruding from the center of the box. Just like the box in the bank.

  No less than a perfect place to secure the Blade.

  We all laid eyes on the box at once, and suddenly the room became a rush to see who would reach it first. Thad managed to grab it, heaving its bulk up into his arms and trying to open it with his bare hands. I stopped him quickly.

  “Let an expert do it,” I told him with a grin. He dropped it into my hands and I sat on the low stone pillar, turning the box so its eyes would face me when they opened. Thad pointed the light straight down as I moved my fingers along the sides of the box, clicking down the levers just as I’d done before.

  I’d moved two of them, when suddenly there was a noise.

  All three of our heads shot up to look toward the source. It’d been so soft that if they hadn’t reacted at the same time, I’d have thought it only my imagination. I’d heard a tiny, hollow clang, like a pencil being dropped into a pot or a penny hit with a hammer. But in the silence that was the crypt, even that sound felt decibels louder.

  “What time does the place open?” I whispered to Thad. He’d darted the beam of his flashlight down instinctively, covering it with his palm. I felt Callista’s fingers tighten on my shoulder.

  “Not until ten,” Thad replied. “I checked. They do lunch and dinner.”

  We sat in a hush, no one moving, all of us hardly daring to breath. The only light in the room now came from Thad’s red, glowing hand that hid the flashlight. We listened. My fingers still hovered over the third lever.

  Nothing.

  “The wall,” I thought aloud. “One of the chips fell off onto the stairs.”

  They let out the breaths they’d been holding. Thad uncovered the light again, Callista shaking her head and grinning at how ridiculously skittish we were. They leaned over me as I worked the lid like a master, finding and clicking the third lever.

  As I did, the tiny gears started to whirr, the two pieces over the eyes parting. Callista stood beside me enraptured, her hand on my shoulder to support herself as she leaned over for a better look.

  The gears continued to turn on their own unhurried course, winding until the metal eyelids stopped. Eerily, there were now four pairs of eyes in the room. The ones set into the box hovered in the same clear liquid as I’d seen before. Except these eyes were bright and brown, almost the color of white oak wood. Their pupils were wide as if already detecting that it was dark in the room, or maybe because somehow after all these years they were recognizing me.

  A scrape.

  I jumped, all three of our heads going up again. Had that been another sound?

  Thad extinguished his light yet again. What was making that noise? It was like we were in a cave, all senses heightened by the silence. If a mouse had ventured down that far and bit into a kernel of corn, the noise might have made us jump.

  “I heard it,” Callista confirmed shakily.

  “Was it another rock?” Thad whispered. I clutched the box close in my arms. Was that faraway sound the creak of a shoe or just my imagination playing with the emptiness?

  “Silent alarm?” I said. I wanted to see if Thad was shaking his head but I couldn’t see him at all. We sat like statues, waiting, letting it sink in just how cornered we were if…

  Psss.

  It came from the doorway: a tiny hiss like a snake.

  Then a flash of light burst so powerfully that all of us lifted our arms to cover our faces. The room that had been black was immediately white for half of a second, like a camera bulb going off across the room.

  It disappeared as quickly as it had exploded.

  A fizzle of smoke.

  Another pop.

  Another flash.

  This time, I saw everything. In the doorway were the figures of three people, two of them wearing police armor with long lenses on their goggles—night vision. The man in the center was Wyck. In his hand was a long tube that continued to explode with light like a rock concert, popping like guns and spraying smoke all over the room. He threw it at us, and like a stop-motion movie, I saw the flare cutting through the distance.

  They’d found us!

  The flare went on and I found myself running, seeing Thad and Callista dive across the room to escape the two men that came after them. Then the room went black and I shouted for them, voice echoing as I struggled to find where the door was, where it was safe to stand, where the arms that clamped over me were coming from.

  The room went white again.

  Black again.

  I kicked and yelled and fought, getting free only to be thrown into the wall with a heavy body leaning against me. The case fell from my hands as the light flashed again.

  No, no, no. Not now! How did they find us?

  The room went black. I heard Wyck shout an order, a scrape as the Blade’s case was picked up off the ground.

  White. Callista screamed for Thad and I screamed for Callista, a flying punch from Thad knocking one of the men to the floor as others stormed in, ordering us to the ground. The sounds of their megaphones burned my ears in the cramped space.

  Black. My fist threw the heavy man off me and I heard his back hit the opposite wall.

  White. The lights shone off claws that now filled the room. Wyck still had his hidden but now he was holding the Blade case in his arms, grinning in his wildly terrifying way as he stared across the room from me. The officers slammed in to Callista and Thad, who were trying to get around the masked night-vision men who’d cornered them. Get out. Run, both of you!

  Black. There were shouts and grunts of pain. My claws sliced ahead by instinct and I heard them slash across something sickeningly, the front of my clothes sprayed with a warm liquid.

  White. I saw the door. Wyck had his back to me, already leaving. Callista and Thad beat the men away.

  Black. I made a run for it.

  The rapidly pulsating light and the smoke clouded my vision. The noise deafened me. But I was able to run, to chase after Wyck. I heard the guards shouting after me, reaching to grab me by the leg, so I pushed them aside as I stumbled into the hall.

  “Go!” I heard Thad shout, pushing me ahead. I needed the Blade! Where was Wyck?

  Thad pushed me harder so I obeyed, with he and Callista right behind me. I heard one of the officers shouting for others in the hall to grab us but I leapt over their heads, throwing myself into the air and cr
ashing against the glass of the bookshelves. I heard things clattering, my feet catching faces as I went over them, then I was on the stairs and running, running, running.

  “Hurry!” I shouted to Callista and Thad, not able to waste a second to look back. I heard the men behind us, the same who’d been so stealthy now caring nothing for how much noise their boots made on each step. I was going so fast that I knew any second I would trip, my foot would catch the end of one of the stairs and then they’d have me. But somehow I managed to keep going, always staying three steps ahead of our pursuers.

  I could see the top! The light of morning had started from outside, a gray glow spreading down through the basement and through our hole, so dim that if I hadn’t been underground I wouldn’t have been able to notice it. The clanging behind me continued, the yelling, the pops and flashes…

  Like a bird running from his cage, I dove through the rocky opening in the wall, rolling across the stones and scraping my arms and cheek. I couldn’t stop, scrambling up the steps, around the counter and back into the kitchen now lit by the morning. The door was still open…

  I skidded through and suddenly I was in the air. The slam of clear, smokeless sky was the greatest relief, clearing my senses, giving me the strength to fly even faster. The ground was already disappearing and the dark clouds were within reach.

  Suddenly, I was hit with a terrifying awareness. Where was Callista? And Thad?

  Like a freight train driving over me, I realized that they weren’t with me anymore. I nearly stopped, but my flight continued on its own, pulling me higher into the sky. Where were they? Hadn’t they been right behind me second ago?

  Maybe they’d escaped through the other door? Or they’d gone another way? I searched the sky to see if they’d scrambled off to hide. I was already so far from the restaurant that I couldn’t even see it. Everything had become a mess of buildings and shadows from the sliver of dawn that’d appeared. Cars were out in droves now, drowsy people walking with coffees in their hands and breakfast drive-thrus filling up.

  I hovered in place, feet dangling beneath me, eyes searching wildly for any sign of the others. It was hard to see with the fog. No! I couldn’t have left them behind!

  Suddenly, I was slammed into from the side.

  Like a missile coming out of nowhere, someone had flown out of the cloud and rammed into me, sending me into a spiral. I struggled to regain my balance, twisting only for me to be struck by my attacker again from the other side. I couldn’t find which way was up and went plummeting toward the earth.

  21

  Desolation

  I fell toward the ground like shattered pieces of a clay target. The treetops neared, spinning in circles as I whirled uncontrollably. I tried in vain to catch the air, to bring myself up as the gray concrete rushed to meet my face.

  Arms grabbed me around my middle, slamming with me into the ground and rolling in a bout of grass. The momentum carried us until we rammed into the side of a tree and stopped abruptly.

  I sprawled beside it to catch my breath, dizzily trying to roll over. I shook my head, clearing my vision of the haze, looking up to find that I was in the middle of a large park. Trees that surrounded the concrete path blocked me from view of the cars I could hear already racing nearby to go about their business, drivers oblivious to my latest almost-demise. Sensing danger was near, I scrambling to my feet—only to have the back of my shirt grabbed and my body slung against the tree.

  “Don’t run!” came a sudden, mechanical hiss, like a toy robot whose batteries were dying. I spun, ready to fight, but a hand hit my side, grabbing for something in my pocket, taking it before I could react.

  I leapt away as my attacker threw whatever he’d grabbed onto the concrete beside us. With his back to me, he began stabbing at the device with his foot. Before I knew what was happening, his boot had already cracked the screen of my cell phone. The next stab split it into crumbled fragments.

  “Hey!” I shouted. He struck it again, glass and plastic going everywhere. My mouth hung open for a moment but then I realized he wasn’t even watching me anymore. Let him keep the stupid phone.

  “You…are…an…idiot!” the mechanical voice continued before I could run, the boot stabbing my phone with each word. Finally, satisfied by the dusty pile that remained, the man spun back to me.

  He wasn’t any of the people I’d expected, the claws that I’d lifted to slice him hesitating. He was dressed in a sweeping black coat much too heavy for the sun of California, the cloth gathered around his legs and the collar turned up over his neck. He wore gloves on his hands. His face was like a block of stone, middle-aged and entirely hairless.

  But that was only for a second. Before my eyes, the face of the bald man suddenly changed. Like they’d turned to putty, his cheeks sank in, the bones shifted out, his eyes became thinner, and the irises faded from brown to gray. Black hair grew from his head like grass, a covering of stubble on his chin.

  I wanted to run.

  “Don’t you dare, Mr. Asher,” the voice warned from the mouth of the new man. The sound was the same as before: deep and processed, like a computer was speaking the words with incorrect pitches and accents.

  “You’re a master of idiocy,” the voice proclaimed. “It’s a wonder you live an entire day without supervision.”

  He waved his hand at my destroyed phone. “Did you even think once that maybe you should get rid of your phone? That maybe they’d had time to tinker with it while you were strapped down and immobile in the interrogation room?”

  I was at a loss for words. The man was furious and yet wasn’t making any move to attack. I drew back a small step.

  “How do you think they’ve been following you, Mr. Asher?” he continued his tirade. “How’d they know you went to that tunnel? Because of your damned phone. Because you’re a damned idiot.”

  He kicked the shards and sent pieces skittering down the concrete walk. It hit me all at once: somehow, Wyck had followed me by using my phone as a tracking device.

  “W-—who are you…?” I demanded with an unintentional stammer, still ready to fight if I needed. I could feel the blood going cold in the ends of my fingers as I realized that I’d led Wyck right to us without even knowing—and according to who?

  The man spun back to face me. He had a new face again. Now, his skin was wrinkled, his eyes and hair a matching gray. He looked like one of the gentle old men I’d sometimes see wandering in the park and feeding the ducks, if not for the fiery rage in his eyes.

  “Who do you think I am?” he spat. “Who else would risk everything to save you once again when you’ve just gone and blundered it all up?”

  He scoffed distastefully at me. “Your brazen disregard for all the sacrifices made for you only proves you are not prepared for a part in restoring the Grand Design.”

  When he said that, I knew exactly who he was.

  “Anon!” I gasped, but he sliced a hand through the air to silence me. I was left with my mouth open, fingers that had been fists loosening, feeling my face go pale.

  As if to prove just how anonymous he still remained, his face had continued to change as we spoke. He was old then he was young again, then in the seconds of dumbfounded silence, I watched his skin sink into bags and hang off flabby cheeks. No matter how many new people he became or how many times the irises changed colors, his eyes continued to glare at me with distaste. I noticed that around his neck, nearly hidden by the collar of his jacket, was a black circle, almost like a thin, mechanical scarf—some device of Guardian technology, no doubt.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling wretched inside. Even the ever-changing disguises could not mask the urgency and importance I felt radiating from this man.

  He showed me no sympathy. He shook his head sharply, changing form again, growing hair that was parted over his forehead.

  “Do you have any idea how much you’ve ruined?” he went on. “Searching the Internet on a phone they already knew was yours? Carrying it with yo
u everywhere you went, so they could trace your exact location any second of the day or night?”

  “I—I thought I’d led Wyck to go north…”

  Anon would hear none of it.

  “Because of you, they now have the Blade,” he hissed. “They’ll do anything to get you to open its case. They’ll pry bits of your skin away piece by piece until you can’t tell your screams from the sounds of their tools. They’ll get you to open that case.”

  He threw both of his hands apart in exasperation. “But I’ve been the stupid one. I’m to blame for helping you, when I should have let you die long ago when you first started doing things wrong.”

  All of his horrible words were bullets. It was all sinking in at once what had just transpired. How could I have been so stupid?! I hadn’t even taken a second to think of all these things that now looked so obvious, and with every word Anon’s rasping voice said, I only felt all the more dejected, all the more a failure.

  And Callista and Thad…were they still left behind? Were they even still alive?

  “I…tried,” I said, voice cracking. I was not going to tear up. I was not going to let Anon see me even weaker than he already thought I was. Because I had tried. I had put everything I could into getting the Blade, to finishing what I hadn’t managed to do two lives ago. I’d lost everything for this stupid plan, and yet Anon, in all his forms, only looked at me like I was the worst disappointment of a person he’d ever met.

  “When has trying ever been good enough for you, Mr. Asher?” he said. “You are not a try-er. You make things happen. You live when you should die and you fight when you should give up. So don’t tell me that you ‘tried’.”

  He shook his head again. “I should blame myself. Perhaps I haven’t instilled in you how important you are. Perhaps you still have no idea that the entire world rests on your shoulders.”

  His voice was getting lower, shoulders falling in resignation. I didn’t want to see him giving up like that because it meant that he was giving up on me. But what could I say in my defense? He had a reply for everything.