by Jacob Whaler
Ryzaard stops.
The young monk’s eyes drop down again to the leather harness of Ryzaard’s chest. “You already have three. You have come for another one.”
“Yes,” Ryzaard says. “And it’s important that I get it. The fate of the world is at stake.”
“Do you have the key?”
“Of course,” Ryzaard says.
Then he turns and walks away.
CHAPTER 86
Matt and Leo move down a busy street in single file, Yarah between them, half a kilometer from the monastery. Dark, low clouds cover the sky.
Leo looks up. “What happened to the sun?”
“Looks like rain.” Matt grins. “I don’t think monkeys like to get wet.”
“Maybe the big one does.” Leo glances into a curry shop off to the side of the road. “Smells good.”
Yarah is staring at the clouds, her fingers pointing up.
A vibration rattles in Matt’s throat and chest. His hand comes up to his heart. “What’s that?”
Thump thump thump.
The sound comes from behind them.
“Get back.” Matt grabs Yarah with one arm and pushes Leo with his shoulder until they are all standing under the blue yawning of the curry shop roof.
A few seconds later, a black chopper flies low over their heads going in the direction of the old temple ruins. Three more pass in succession as they watch.
Leo steps back into the open. “What was that?”
“No idea.” Matt looks down at Yarah and takes her hand. “Maybe just a routine military exercise. Let’s head for the ruins and see what the monkeys have to say.”
CHAPTER 87
Kent squints through his glasses. “Look for anything that resembles the figurine. Any kind of carving in the ruins.”
“What good is that going to do?” Jake sits down on a boulder in the middle of the green grass. A troupe of gray monkeys gathers at his feet.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah. Let’s leave. Right now. Get out of here. Back to the freedom camps. I’m feeling something.”
In unison, the monkeys’ ears prick up, and they start screeching at the top of their lungs.
Kent turns around. “What’s going on?”
Jake shrugs his shoulders.
The monkeys jump up and ran away.
“Smart monkeys.” Jake nods as the little animals slip behind rocks and into holes.
“Stupid monkeys.” Kent looks past Jake at the main road, about a hundred meters away. “I wonder what those cargo trucks are doing.”
Three large transports with black-tinted glass slow down and stop at the curb.
Jake slowly stands up from the boulder and tilts his head, as if trying to hear a sound. “Oh no.” He reaches a long arm out and grabs Kent. “We have to get out of here.”
“Why?”
“You’re not going to believe this. Black Harpy 2-47s. At least four, maybe six. Heading straight for us.”
Kent backs up. “Are you sure?” Then he hears the low thump thump thump sound coming from behind.
Men in black battle gear start to pour out of the back of the trucks parked at the curb.
“Does that answer your question?”
Kent sweeps the area with his eyes. “We need cover. Follow me.”
They sprint fifty meters to the base of the largest tower in the ruins and press their backs against it.
The sound of the choppers grows louder. Hundreds of monkeys shriek and run in random directions across the temple grounds.
A handful of tourists stand in small groups out on the open grass. They laugh as chaos overcomes the monkeys, apparently delighted at the spectacle on display. Most of them hold jaxes in front of their eyes, capturing the scene on video.
A light rain begins to fall.
The tourists open colorful umbrellas above their heads.
Kent slips off his backpack, unzips it and drops the monkey statue inside.
“What do we do now?” Jake says.
“Think clearly and act quickly.”
“What do you mean?”
Kent goes into a crouch and speaks as he rummages through the backpack. “I’m an idiot! It’s obvious now. Ryzaard’s been tracking us, ever since the helicopters descended on the freedom camp back in Wyoming.” He brushes the side of his jax and holds it up to Jake. “Get down here. I need to scan you.”
“What for?”
“One of us is carrying a tracking dot. Either you or me. We have to find it and kill it. Otherwise we’ll be dead in minutes.” Kent reaches up, grabs Jake’s shirt and pulls hard enough to drop him to the ground. “Lie down, face to the grass. Put your hands over your head. Take your shoes off.”
“What the f—”
“Shut up.” Kent slams Jake’s mouth to the ground. “I need to hear the scanner readout.”
Starting with Jake’s head, Kent runs the jax over the entire length of Jake’s body in long strokes.
The first helicopter flies overhead and stops directly above the trucks at the curb.
“Turn over and look up,” Kent says.
Jake lies with his back on the ground, palms on his head and elbows splayed out.
Moving the scanner back and forth, Kent listens intently. “Nothing. My turn.” He grabs Jake and pulls him up, placing the jax in his hand. “Just move it across my body, head to foot, close to the skin and clothes. Every inch.”
Kent kicks off his shoes and lies on the ground, face down and hands behind his head.
Another helicopter moves into view, hovering in the air fifty meters to the right.
With trembling fingers, Jake presses the jax against Kent’s head and moves it down his hair toward his shoulders.
A beeping sound, like an old-fashioned car horn, rings in their ears.
“That’s it,” Kent says. “Now hold the jax steady where the sound is the loudest. Try to find the dot.”
Bending close, Jake runs his finger from the base of Kent’s head into his hair. Halfway up, his finger stops.
Another helicopter shoots into the sky fifty meters to the left.
Jake looks up. “They’re surrounding us.”
“Get the dot!” Kent’s voice is barely audible above the roar of the Harpys.
“I think I found it.” Jake bends close. “Looks like a pimple.”
“It’s a self-inserting bug. Works like a tick. Burrows under the skin and attaches itself. You’ll need something sharp.” Kent reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small red pocketknife with a white cross on it. He hands it to Jake.
“Dig it out. You have to get the blade under and cut around it.”
“But—”
“Do it!”
Jake eases the tip of the blade into Kent’s skin under the dot.
Kent’s eyes slam shut, and he winces from the pain
Carefully inscribing a circle around the dot, Jake twists the blade under it and pops it out. Blood runs from the wound down the back of Kent’s neck.
“Got it,” Jake says.
Kent whips around and takes the dot, holding it between thumb and index finger. A piece of his scalp is still attached, and it looks like red pulp with black hairs protruding. He places it on a rock and slams another rock down on it.
They hear a faint popping sound.
Kent grabs Jake’s arm. “Put on your shoes and follow me.”
The rain begins to fall hard.
CHAPTER 88
The unit commander studies the bluescreen attached to the wall and looks out the window at the old temple site thirty meters below. Large towers, crumbled archways and fallen walls dot the green grass. Blankets of mist are starting to blow in from the surrounding jungle.
A red box flashes on the bluescreen. The commander touches it with his finger and speaks into the mike hanging just to the side of his lips. “Sir, we’ve lost the tracking signal.”
Ryzaard pulls his gaze up from the ground and looks to his side at the commander. “
Is the perimeter secured?”
“Affirmative,” the commander says. “The entire area is surrounded. Locked down. Nobody can get in or out.”
“Then wipe it clean.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me,” Ryzaard says. “Tell your men to shoot anything that moves. But don’t disturb their bodies. I want to go through them myself.”
“But sir, there are multiple tourists still at the site.” He looks down at the tops of colorful umbrellas dotting the grass.
“I don’t care about the tourists.” Ryzaard’s eyes burn with laser-like focus. “If we can’t identify a target, then everything is a target.”
The commander’s eyes blink over and over. “But how are we going to explain this to—”
Ryzaard grabs the front of the commander’s uniform with both hands and pulls him close, eye to eye. “You don’t understand, do you? There’s no need to explain anything to anyone. Just do what I say.” He releases his grip.
The commander falls backward into his seat, swallows hard and begins speaking into his mouth mike.
A voice breaks in on Ryzaard’s earphones. “Dr. Ryzaard, Diego here.”
“What is it?” Ryzaard says.
“An update on the Stones.” Diego is speaking, picking up speed as he talks. “All three are moving toward your present location. One is taking an erratic route through the jungle. The other two are moving along the main road. Same as before, but closer now. Probably just monks going to meditate, like you said.”
“Two of them may be monks,” Ryzaard says. “But not the one in the jungle.” His voice trails off.
“I don’t understand.”
“No time to talk now. I’ll explain later. Keep tracking.”
“One more thing,” Diego says. “Are you going to engage the Null Box?”
“Not yet,” Ryzaard says. “I’ve got my hands full right now looking for a needle in a haystack, and I may need to use my Stones. If the other two Stones are monks, they’ll probably stay away when they see what’s going on here.”
“Got it.” Diego drops off.
Ryzaard looks down. All he can see is a swirling maelstrom of mist, wind and rain. “Commander, looks nasty down there. Can your men handle this?”
The commander glances at Ryzaard. “I’ve ordered them to switch from visual to thermal-IR. Shows anything that’s alive. Onscreen now.” He points forward at the wall.
The tactical view on the screen shows the entire temple site as a large green rectangle. Rocks and ruins are black. Hundreds of red dots move erratically between the black shapes.
“Lots of monkeys down there,” the commander says.
Ryzaard puts his hand on the commander’s chest, pulling him close again. “I want you to get down there and personally direct this operation on the ground.”
“Sir?” The commander looks confused.
“Let me know when you find the targets, and I’ll join you. You’ve seen the intelligence reports. You’ll recognize them. Two men. One of them will be wearing old aviator sunglasses.”
“Sir, that’s not our standard operating protocol. I’ll be able to direct the action better from up here.”
Ryzaard reaches up and grabs a rigging rope and clips it to a ring on the commander’s chest.
The commander watches, wide-eyed.
“I don’t care about your standard operating protocol. Tell your men to start shooting.”
He pushes the commander out the open door and watches as he descends down to the ground, a look of utter surprise on his face.
CHAPTER 89
Kent kneels down in the narrow space between two rock slabs, moving in deeper to make room for Jake. He flattens his back against the rough rock and feels it bite through his rain-soaked shirt into his skin.
A dead monkey lies at his feet, half its skull missing and a fist-sized hole in its chest.
Now and then, a low thud sounds in Kent’s ears, like a rock being dropped into thick mud. Somewhere in the mist, a few remaining monkeys screech at the top of their lungs.
“They’re using flechette rifles with nanocarb rounds.” Kent reaches into the backpack at his feet. “Shoots a cloud of needles that bounce off wood, stone, metal and battle armor. Explodes only on contact with mammalian blood. Developed by the Chinese to help with crowd control.” His chest heaves in and out as he gulps in air. “The mist will help a little, but not for long. They can see right through it with thermal/IR image visors. They’re systematically working the area back and forth like a grid, killing anything that moves.”
Jake pushes against Kent farther into the opening. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Can you see anyone coming?”
Jake points his aviator glasses out into the mist and rain. He moves his head from side to side and stops. “There’s a line of them coming this way about thirty meters to the right. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
“Thank goodness you don’t have eyes.”
Jake grins. “Comes in handy, now and then.”
“What else do you see?”
“Dead tourists everywhere. Monkeys going crazy. Most of them are dead, too.”
Kent pushes against Jake.
“Get out of my way.”
Jake turns around. “Where you going?”
“I’m not going to die like a rat in a hole.” Kent stands up. He holds two shiny tubes the size of hotdogs in each hand. “We need a diversion.”
Jake pulls Kent down by his shirt collar. “You can’t go out there. They’ll cut you down like a Christmas tree.” He looks at Kent’s hands. “What you got there?”
“Pulse grenades. Mostly just for show, but they cause an explosion that burns hot for several minutes. It’ll show up big on their thermal visors.”
“I’ll do it,” Jake says.
Kent pulls back. “I can throw better.”
“But I can see better.” Jake grabs the four tubes from Kent. “How do these work?”
One slips out of his hands.
Kent catches it inches before it hits the ground. “They explode on impact.”
“OK, we’ll do it together.” Jake hands the tubes back to Kent with trembling hands. “I’ll tell you where to throw.”
They both stand up and move out from between the two slabs.
Jake points to the right. “Twenty meters that way.”
“Got it.” Kent cocks his arm back.
A strong gust of wind blows past his face, and the mists surrounding them suddenly clear.
A commando in black battle gear jumps out from behind a rock, points his rifle at Kent’s chest and pulls the trigger.
CHAPTER 90
Matt picks up Yarah and starts running toward the roaring sound.
The mist above the old temple site is clearing, and four black helicopters hover in the rain. One is thirty meters up. The other three are less than ten meters off the ground. Dozens of men in black armor drop from ropes to the grass below.
Leo trails behind. “What’re they doing?”
“I don’t know,” Matt says. “It’s some kind of raid.”
“At the ruins? Why?”
“Let’s get closer and see what we can find out. Follow me.”
Yarah hugs Matt so tight that he doesn’t have to hold on to her anymore. Three cargo transports are parked at the curb. “Over there,” he says. “Behind those trucks.”
When they get within twenty feet, a soldier steps out from behind one and levels his rifle in their direction.
Something buzzes by Matt’s ear.
He turns to Leo. “Get down!”
The rain suddenly stops, and the roaring of the helicopters goes silent.
Matt looks up.
The air is thick with a yellowish tinge.
Four helicopters hang suspended like jellyfish, their rotors frozen above them. A tight ball of needle projectiles floats two feet from Matt’s face. Yarah is suddenly weightless, clinging to Matt like an oversized plastic doll, stiff as
a piece of wood.
He stands up and looks at Leo. “Someone else has a Stone and is using it to stop time.”
Leo gazes around, awestruck.
A primal scream, almost human, from somewhere on the old temple grounds breaks the silence.
“The beast,” Matt says.
They creep closer to the large truck. Everywhere, there are soldiers, as hard and silent as steel, pulse rifles held tight against shoulders, fingers on triggers.
Matt and Leo peek around the front of a truck.
Through the mist, the Monkey stoops over a gray pile of lifeless carcasses on the grass. It picks up one of the dead animals and brings it close to its face, sniffing carefully. Gently setting the body down, the Monkey stands up to its full height and looks around, nose in the air.
A soldier in black armor stands five meters away, rifle raised, mouth open in the act of yelling.
Another sound erupts from the mouth of the beast, and a low rumble comes from deep inside its belly. It shoots forward to the soldier on four limbs. Swinging its arm like a club, the beast catches the soldier under his chin, lifting his body off the ground. With the helmet still attached, the head separates and bounces away like a stray soccer ball.
The beast raises its chin to the sky and emits a cry that reminds Matt of an old movie with a T-Rex in pursuit of its prey.
“I don’t believe it,” Matt says.
Leo’s mouth drops open. “Me either.”
The beast runs to the nearest chopper, suspended in air, the four rotor blades clearly visible and motionless. It grabs the black rope that hangs down and pulls, hand over hand, peeling off and discarding men that still dangle from it like stiff plastic mannequins. Twisting on its side, the black ship comes down, and two rotors gouge into the ground. The Monkey peers through the glass door and rips it off. It reaches inside and pulls out the pilot like a child’s action figure. With another roar of anger, it twists off the head and smashes the body against a boulder.
The other two helicopters are dispatched in the same way.
Matt and Leo watch from behind the truck as the Monkey rampages over the temple grounds, ripping, tearing, biting, throwing, stomping.
