The Eternity Machine

by Vaughn Heppner

  “No,” Jack said. He slipped the AT4 off his shoulder. One man against many needed chaos in order to win.

  He aimed at the garage and fired the HEDP 502 round. The AT4 operated on the principle of a recoilless rifle. A powerful blast billowed behind him as the hot round hissed out of the tube, speeding at the target. The 502 hit and exploded. Debris blew against the sand and near the building, taking out a swath of flowers.

  As the smoke cleared, Jack was up and charging. He had to do this fast, as he was sure enemy reinforcements would be coming soon enough. Before they arrived, he had to grab Carter and—the SUV looked like a good first-stage escape vehicle.

  Jack ran into the garage, the .45 aiming in one direction and then another. No one was in here, although a powerful generator made a mind-numbing racket, as a turbine whined at high speed.

  Elliot went to the controls. He saw the cutoff switch but hesitated pulling it. He had no advantage other than surprise. To win, he had to maximize his tactical edge because he was just one person against an unknown many.

  Jack wasn’t Phelps. She could have rigged this—

  He shook his head. Phelps was dead. He didn’t want to think about her now. The—

  “No,” he said. Without further ado, he studied the board. He could shut down power or he could give them a high-level energy pulse. He wanted to make things blow up in there and make smoke, carnage—chaos. Logic said they had more people in the building than Carter. Yeah, this was a risk to David, but Jack didn’t see how he could win this round without taking crazy risks. That he had made it this far was amazing, but now it was time to take it to the next level.

  “How do I do this?”

  Jack scowled. Well, if he pressed this switch and added the energy sequence here—

  “Just do it, Elliot.”

  Jack nodded, pressing switches and throwing levers. Then, he grabbed his .45 from where he’d set it down and sprinted out of the garage. He ran with his head down straight for the SUV.

  Time was his enemy.

  As the generator whined louder and louder, Jack used the handle of his .45, first starring and then smashing the window. He reached in, unlocking the vehicle, opening the door. It had a tricky, anti-theft ignition system.

  “No problem there,” Jack said from the driver’s seat. He knew all about hotwiring.

  As Elliot went to work, the generator howled in the garage, the air beginning to vibrate with the noise. Seconds later, the SUV’s engine turned over. Jack put it in reverse and stomped on the accelerator, backing up fast, steering, wanting to get around the corner. Just before he did—

  Interior explosions shook the two-story building. A moment later, the garage went KA-BOOM! The out-of-control generator blasted itself into annihilation in one titanic fiery detonation, obliterating the garage and hurling debris everywhere.

  The SUV swerved around the corner, escaping the main mass of shrapnel. Glass shattered somewhere, although not in the vehicle. The edge of the building that Elliot could see exploded with burst bricks, sending shards flying. A few peppered the car, one starring the front windshield.

  Jack slammed on the brakes and ducked. He heard secondary explosions, but the worst of it was over.

  How long did he have now?

  He opened the driver’s side door. Then he sprinted for the front of the building. Now it was time to go in and see what he could do for Carter.

  -48-

  MASTER BUILDING

  SIWA OASIS

  Selene raised her head from where she lay on the floor. Sparks lit up the cavernous second-story floor with fleeting, horrific images.

  The American was still strapped to the dentist-like torture chair. It lay on its side, at least one of the explosions having blown it down. Blood pumped from the American’s head. Each sparking flash showed him stock-still, but Selene couldn’t tell if he was still alive.

  She groaned as she moved her left leg. It hurt. She looked back. In one of the flashes, she saw that the pant leg was torn and she saw bloody flesh. Willing her hand to move, she brushed her fingers over the wound. It wasn’t deep, just a bad gash.

  Selene laughed quietly, relieved. She couldn’t see any sign of Ney or the Nordic woman. Had the blasts slain them? She hoped so.

  I have to get out of here.

  She realized the plastic ties no longer bound her wrists. When had that happened? She couldn’t remember and that bothered her. Had she been knocked unconscious?

  Selene touched her forehead and winced in pain. Something had struck her all right. She wondered how long she’d been unconscious.

  Move, you idiot. Don’t lay here woolgathering.

  Selene shoved up to her hands and knees. She crawled for the elevator. Then she stopped, turned around and crawled back to the knocked over chairs. A fire had started by the console of the Nordic woman’s machine. It burned enough to give Selene flickering illumination. The book she’d stolen from Souk lay on the floor. The woman had taken the book and set it there before torturing the American.

  The tuning fork was still in her hotel room. Maybe Philip had it. What had happened to him?

  Selene began crawling again. She didn’t trust herself to stand up just yet. What had happened? The deafening whine of the torture devices meant none of them had heard a thing until everything began blowing up.

  Why had the machines done that? Either luck had jumped in or the man the three soldiers had been sent to kill had failed. Could the man be from D17 like Forrest Dean?

  Reaching the elevator, using the wall to lever to her feet, Selene pressed the button. Nothing happened, so she pressed it again. Finally, it dawned on her that the power was out.

  She exhaled with frustration.

  Leaning against the wall—she was dizzy—Selene worked around the huge chamber until she came to a door. Pushing the bar, she staggered into a pitch-black stairwell. The air conditioning system hadn’t reached here, and it was stuffy hot.

  Dare I try to walk down the stairs?

  Grabbing a rail, she started down one scary step at a time. She found it difficult to tear her fingers off the railing each time. The dizziness worsened in the heat. She felt like vomiting. She just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep.

  No! Stay awake. Otherwise, you’re going to be sitting in that dentist chair soon with these monsters hypnotizing you.

  It occurred to her in the hot darkness that would explain Ney Blanc of the DGSE, the French CIA. They had hypnotized him, but sometimes he showed glimpses of the agent he’d been. He tried to figure out what he could for his country.

  The mind machine must not always work perfectly, Selene decided. It—

  Her foot slid out from under her. She cried out, falling, gripping the railing but sliding down so it hit her underarm hard.

  “No, please,” she moaned.

  She lost her grip, felt herself falling back and worried about hitting her head. She managed to lunge forward, teetering on a stair with her toes. She heard something in front of her then. She shouted in panic, lost her balance and plunged face-first.

  In the darkness, a man shouted. A gun boomed just in front of her. She saw the gun’s flame. Something hot flashed past her. Was that a bullet? Then she crashed against a person. They both catapulted down the stairs in a tangled mess, tumbling, striking and coming to a landing.

  Selene panted in the darkness. She was prone, breathing and very conscious. What had just happened?

  Then she realized she lay on a person, a breathing someone. Who was this? She felt a face, and moving down, realized this was a man.

  He groaned.

  Oh no, she realized what must have happened. This was the person the three soldiers were supposed to kill. He’d won, caused the explosions upstairs—how had he done that? Selene had no idea.

  “I’m Dr. Selene Khan,” she said.

  There was no response.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  The man groaned.

  “Who are you?” she asked
.

  “Elliot,” he slurred.

  “Are you one of them or a good guy?” As soon as Selene asked it, she thought it a stupid question.

  “Carter,” he muttered.

  “You’re Elliot Carter?” she asked.

  “No. Up there, Carter, they took David Carter.”

  “Do you mean the brown-skinned man?”

  “Yes.” Elliot’s voice strengthened just a bit. “Is Carter okay?”

  “I think he’s dead.”

  Silence greeted her words.

  “Are there others up there?” he asked.

  “There was an explosion. I think I’m the only one who lived through it. They had me captive. Please, help me get away from them.”

  “Why did they capture you?”

  Selene blinked. “I know too much. They’re some kind of secret society.”

  “Help me up,” the man said, speaking with authority now.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go up there and check on Carter.”

  “You can’t,” Selene said. “Others are coming. I think they control the entire oasis. We have to get out of here.”

  “I can’t leave my friend.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I have to see that for myself.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” Selene said. “We have to leave before it’s too late.”

  She pulled away from him. He must have sensed that and grabbed one of her arms. Savagely, she twisted free, pushed up and swayed in the darkness.

  “Wait,” he gasped.

  “Get up,” she said.

  “My head,” he said. “You have to help me up the stairs.”

  “I’m leaving this madhouse. Are you coming?”

  Elliot said nothing.

  “Your friend is dead,” Selene said again, not sure it was true but wanting help getting away from these people. If this man knew what was in store for them if they were captured, he’d want to get away too.

  “I’m hurt,” Elliot said.

  “You and everyone else,” she said.

  “Help me stand.”

  “I’m not going back up there.”

  “I know. I think you’re right. We have to regroup before the reinforcements show up. I got close. Why did you have to fall on me?”

  “Why were you sneaking around in the dark? You must have heard me.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “That’s no answer.”

  “Help me stand. We’d better leave while we still can.”

  Selene agreed with that. She bent down, grabbed him and struggled to help him stand. “How far away is the door? Are there more steps?”

  He panted for several seconds. Finally, he said, “Just a few steps away. Go slow. We don’t want another spill. We’re too badly off as it is.”

  Selene put one of his arms over her shoulder. Then, she clutched his torso. It was a harrowing few steps down. With too much fumbling, she found the door handle and opened it. Together, they staggered into the lobby. Smoke poured from somewhere. She could see Elliot now. Blood ran down his face. His eyes were unfocused.

  “Can you do this?” she asked.

  “Keep going,” he said in a grim voice. “I have an SUV.”

  Selene didn’t nod or say anything else. She negotiated the lobby for them, eased past the shattered glass door and helped him around the corner to the running SUV.

  She deposited him in the passenger side. It was almost cold in the car; the air conditioner had been running long enough. She hurried around, climbed in and slammed the driver’s side door shut.

  “Which way?” she asked.

  Elliot sat with his bloody head pushed back against the backrest. “We need a different vehicle. They’re going to know this one. I’m sure they have a GPS device in it.”

  Selene nodded, frowning. “I know where there’s a white pickup. I’m not sure if they did anything with it after murdering the police captain. I don’t have the truck keys, though. Can you do anything to start it without a key?”

  “Hotwire it, yeah, I can do that.”

  Selene glanced around, trying to place the Temple of Ammon, which way she should drive. “Right,” she said, knowing where to go. “Hang on.”

  He gripped an armrest. Then, Selene’s foot tromped on the accelerator. She wanted to get the heck out of the Siwa Oasis and back to civilization. She didn’t ever want to meet these deadly people again—but she wanted to know more than ever the point to all of this. What did a metal, underground room beneath the Temple of Ammon have to do with an underwater dome in the Indian Ocean and these mind-screwing bastards?

  PART THREE:

  STATION EIGHT

  -49-

  SAHARA DESERT

  The beast lay in its cage in the back of a Land Rover, plotting its escape.

  It had traveled with the two men in front throughout the night across bleak terrain. Starlight had shown rocks, scrub and shifting sand and gravel.

  Now, the sun glared onto an even grimmer scene: giant sand dunes. The caravan of gasoline-stinking vehicles toiled through the hellish desert-scape.

  It was cool in the Land Rover with the air blowing from vents. The men adjusted controls, shifting the flow as they spoke. Each man wore dark sunglasses and camouflage gear.

  Twice, the men had stopped the machine. The entire caravan had halted. Under guard, men had opened the back. With dart rifles aimed at it, men had opened the cage, letting it out to urinate and defecate.

  The two had shouted at it the one time it had defecated in the back of the Land Rover. It had done so as a test. Normally, the beast would never have soiled its own quarters. It had gauged their reactions, wondering if that could help it in some way to escape.

  Despite the coolness in the vehicle, the sun beat down outside. The Land Rover climbed a dune, the balloon tires churning at times across the soft substance.

  The beast cocked its head. The men spoke to each other, growing animated. The beast listened more carefully. It had learned much of their speech. From the words, it would seem the caravan neared headquarters.

  The beast puzzled that out. This was a desolate, deserted region. Would the two-legs practice more of their hideous experiments on it?

  The beast did not care for more needles, more taunting, more games with giant creatures like the Great Danes. It wanted to return to the cool forests. The beast disliked this hot land. Yet…maybe this was the place to try for freedom. It hadn’t seen the special posts that would make the noises that caused its collar to give it pain. It seemed that nothing lived in this place. Would the two-legs expect it to try to escape here?

  The beast did not think so.

  For days, ever since the forest event, it had practiced acting stupidly before humans. The big one, the master from the Forest Land, was hurt. The beast had seen him in one of the other Land Rovers. If ever there was a time to practice deception, it was now. The beast was certain of it.

  The two in his vehicle had been afraid of it at first. He had smelled their fear. The beast had cowered before them, especially when they shouted at it. Once, it had even tucked its tail between its hind legs. That had made the leaner of the two laugh at him.

  The beast remembered the laughter all right. He’d wanted to sink its teeth into that one’s throat. How dare the two-legs laugh? Yet, the beast had come to realize the mockery was good. Because they believed it stupid and frightened, they would likely drop their guard.

  An inner voice told the beast now was the time to make its move.

  The Land Rover crested the latest dune. The front vehicles in the caravan were already at the bottom of the giant dune, beginning to climb the next one.

  The beast rose so its back struck the ceiling of its cage. Then, it began to whine, pacing around in a tight circle.

  The passenger-side two-legs noticed. The man called out, “Hey, you stupid mutt, sit down. You’re making Hans nervous.”

  The beast wasn’t sure of every word, but he had them agit
ated. Good, maybe this could work.

  It whined louder, circling faster.

  “What’s its problem?” the driver complained.

  “Been cooped up too long,” the other said.

  “We’ll be there soon enough.”

  “It doesn’t know that. Maybe it thinks—”

  The beast squatted in its cage.

  “Hey!” the driver shouted, who looked back through the rearview mirror. “Stop that. Don’t stink up the Land Rover, you idiot.”

  The beast whined, hesitating, wondering if this could possibly work.

  “I’m going to stop,” the driver said.

  “This is a bad spot. We’ve fallen behind again.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the driver said. “I don’t want to have to smell his shit the rest of the way in.”

  The Land Rover stopped on top of the dune.

  “Radio ahead,” Hans said.

  As the passenger-side man did so, the driver opened a compartment, taking out a long-barreled pistol.

  The beast knew about dart guns. They shot a dart that put it to sleep. There were other deadlier guns. For some reason, these two did not want to kill it, but put it to sleep if it tried to escape.

  The beast began to pant, unable to hide its excitement. This was the chance it had been waiting for.

  “Frederick said we have to hurry,” the passenger-side human said.

  “Tell that to the animal,” Hans said. “Let’s do this.”

  They opened the doors, letting in hot, desert air. Each man walked alongside a different part of the vehicle. Hans opened the back.

  “Listen to me, you miserable hound. If you try to run, we’re going to shoot you. Then, when the time comes, I’ll kick you like you wouldn’t believe. So make this quick.”

  “I don’t care what the others say,” the lean man said. “This beast isn’t that smart. It craps in its own cage. You tell me how smart that is.”

  “Let it out,” Hans said. He stepped back, raising the dart gun.

  The leaner man unlocked the cage before he too raised his dart pistol.