by Luke Romyn
BEYOND HADES
by
Luke Romyn
Copyright (c) 2012 by Luke Romyn
All rights reserved.
Published by Luke Romyn
Kindle Edition
Cover illustration by Luke Romyn (c) 2012
Original cover image of the Embryological Disc supplied by and copyright (c) Klaus Dona. Photograph taken by Stefan Ken Dona. To read more of Klaus Dona's research, visit www.unsolved-mysteries.info.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from Luke Romyn, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are created from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Editor: Chuck David
ISBN: 978-0-9872149-5-9
If you are interested in more writing by Luke Romyn, be sure to visit
http://www.lukeromyn.com
This novel is dedicated to the wonderful Jacqueline and Michael Remmers who helped a stranger find his way through a new universe.
Acknowledgements
As usual, a great many people helped this novel come together, and I need to thank them all.
My proofreaders rock. Karen Hansen, Sarah Dougherty, Claude Bouchard and Joanne Chase, you are all legends. Thanks for sweeping away the cobwebs.
Chuck David. Editing legend. End of story.
I need to send out a very special thanks to Klaus Doner and his son Stephan Ken Doner for their assistance and for allowing me to use their image of the Embryological Disc for the cover. Klaus's website is www.unsolved-mysteries.info and his research is fascinating. I urge readers to check it out.
And finally I need to thank you, whoever you are, for taking the time to read my ramblings. Without readers a writer is simply a maniac without a straitjacket. Thanks for keeping my dreams alive.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
His collar was crisply folded and perfectly pressed. The four stars affixed upon the lapels of his jacket denoted his rank, but it was his steely gaze that proclaimed his power.
Workstations loaded with computers buzzed all around him, technicians working furiously at their posts, but the general didn't even glance at them. His entire focus lay on the task at hand. Everything they'd been working toward had led to this point, and he would not allow anything to go wrong. Too much depended upon this.
"General," requested one of the many scientists, interrupting his thoughts. "We are almost ready to power up the mechanism. Do we have permission to proceed?"
The general nodded slightly, his features not betraying his inner excitement in the slightest. The scientist scurried away.
"I have to voice my protestations again, General," said the man beside him, an academic-looking figure in his early thirties, his hair short and dark, and his white lab coat creased from long wear. "This machine hasn't been operated in centuries. We have no idea what it might do. The writings -"
"The writings don't mean shit to me, Professor," growled the general. "I want to see what this device does. This could be the greatest discovery mankind has ever known, and you're here pissing in your britches when you should be over the moon to even be involved. You might go down in history as the one to unlock the instrument which led humanity to the next level of technology."
"It might destroy the planet."
The general stared at him blankly. "I have faith in our defenses, Professor. I think you should as well."
"This machinery was shut down for a reason," protested the professor, waving his hand in a sweep toward the enormous stone structures standing around the room, beyond the scientific equipment. "There is no clear reference as to what will happen in any of the writings. For all we know it might be a doomsday device, God knows they had the technology."
"That is exactly why we must activate it. We need to know what it does and how to combat it. Can you imagine if there are more of these scattered around the planet? What if our country's enemies found one and learned how to use it? How long do you think it would be until they turned it on us?"
"But General -"
"But nothing," countered the general. "I need to ascertain if this device is a threat to the United States, and if so, we will either destroy it or relocate it to a more secure location. You have your orders, Professor. Turn the damn thing on."
Muttering something under his breath, the professor moved compliantly to the enormous stone tablet, its inlaid inscriptions seeming to pulse with anticipation. They had determined months beforehand that this functioned as the equivalent of a control panel. One by one, he began brushing his fingers over the carvings, each glowing slightly as he did. He continued with this for several minutes, pressing different combinations until finally a low groan emitted from an area surrounded by monoliths similar to those located at Stonehenge. These stood nearly twice as large as the circle in Europe which had evoked so much conjecture over the decades.
The ground rumbled heavily and dust began to drift from the ceiling of the cavern. With a thunderous crack the monolithic circle erupted and flooded the area with light so bright all the surrounding personnel - including the forty heavily-armed marines ringing the outer wall - instinctively turned away, shielding their eyes.
And the circle began to rotate.
The light dulled enough for the workers to return their awed gazes to it, witnessing the breathtaking spectacle. The entire platform, including the monoliths, had begun to spin, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed, starting to buzz with a high pitched whine which echoed from the walls. More than one scientist appeared to cower slightly, but all held steady. This was what they'd worked so long for.
The stone monoliths soundlessly flashed out of existence in an instant, no trace of them left, not even a grain of sand, replaced by an inky blackness which seemingly sucked the very illumination from the massive floodlights. Visibility dropped immediately, a cloak of gloom descending over everyone in a heartbeat.
"Secure this room!" ordered the general. Huge steel doors slammed into the ground from overhead crevices, blocking the ancient entrances. The external ring of marines snapped into action, stepping forward and taking up defensive positions, primed weapons aimed at the swirling darkness. The general noticed the annoying Australian soldier step in close to the professor, but for once he remained silent, all his attention seemingly centered on the swirling blackness.
An eerie silence descended upon the area, breaths held in anticipation. The professor moved swiftly back to the general's side.
"What's going on here, Professor?"
His question met with silence, and the general glanced away from the swirling black curtain, staring down at the smaller man. Sweat beaded upon the professor's brow, and his hands were trembling, absolute terror etched across his features.
"Speak up, man!" barked the general.
The professor tore his gaze away from the scene before them, turning haunted eyes toward the general. "I-It can't be," he whispered.
"What is it?"
The professo
r swallowed. "It's a doorway. A rift."
"A doorway? A doorway to where?"
"I didn't think it was possible," he replied, his voice trembling so erratically it seemed he might choke on the words. "I thought I'd misinterpreted what the runes said. It can't be true."
"Will you tell me what the hell is going on here? Where does this doorway lead?"
"We've opened a temporal split, General," answered the professor. "It's a gateway between dimensions."
"What are you talking about, man? I need to know exactly where this thing goes."
"The writings spoke of the machinery we've just started. They told of a power so immense it would unleash absolute evil upon the world if ever it were restarted. I assumed they were being metaphorical, that it was merely a weapon. I had trouble with a section which told exactly what would happen when the machinery restarted. The wording seemed open to a great many interpretations, but now I see it was, in fact, literal."
"What did it say?"
"It told of the machinery's ability to unleash something so horrible nothing on this planet could stand against it."
An ominous lamentation sounded from the rift, echoing around the room, the flood lamps flickering in unison as though a surge of power followed the noise.
The professor assumed an expression of total resignation. "This machine is designed for one purpose," he said, his tone neutral. "It opens a doorway into a place men were never supposed to go."
"Where?" demanded the general. "Tell me where this thing goes."
"Into Hell."
Bestial howling roared through the cavernous room. The lights exploded, thrusting them into the bowels of darkness....
CHAPTER 1
"Doctor Harrison, your brother is dead."
The cordless phone dropped, fracturing the glass tabletop, the numbness of shock skewering Talbot's mind like a fencer's rapier. He stared at the receiver, a buzzing rattled upon the cracked glass as the voice questioned what had happened. A part of Talbot's brain seemed to shut down, and he struggled to comprehend what had just been relayed to him. Fumbling with the telephone, he raised it once more to his ear.
He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "Who did you say you are again?" he mumbled.
"I work with the same branch of the Government as your brother Thomas," answered the voice. "My name is General William Sharpe."
"My brother never worked for the Government," said Talbot softly, almost to himself. "He was a lecturer on Greek mythology at Stanford University."
"He has been with us for the last six months. I take it you weren't close."
"We talk on the phone about once a year," muttered Talbot, his mind still wrestling with the enormity of what this strange man was trying to tell him. Thomas couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible.
The general was right, they hadn't been close, but Talbot would have known; he'd have to know if his brother were dead. The man on the other end of the phone was surely lying. Talbot stared at the mirror opposite him, his eyes gazing back intensely, imploring him to find some sort of fault with what was being said. The sounds of NYC traffic outside the apartment blended into the background as he stared hard into the same frowning gray eyes as his brother's.
Talbot wasn't a large man, but he wasn't small either. Like everything else in his life, his stature was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, he was so stereotypically normal, most people hardly even noticed him. His features were chiseled, but not handsome enough to garner the attention he'd craved as a teenager. Light freckles dotted his clean-shaven cheeks beneath a mop of messy brown hair.
"I'm afraid there was an accident at the site where we were working. Your brother was killed... in a rockslide." General Sharpe's voice offered just the slightest hesitation, dragging Talbot's attention back to the subject at hand.
His brother was dead.
Dead.
"But he lectures at Stanford," insisted Talbot. "He hates fieldwork."
"Unfortunately, what I'm telling you is true, Doctor Harrison. Transport will arrive soon to collect you."
Talbot's attention snapped into crystal focus. "What do you mean? Collect me for what?"
"There is very little I can tell you over the telephone, Doctor Harrison, but your brother was working on something of extreme importance. It is a matter of national security. And now we need your help."
A brisk knock sounded at the door.
"I believe that is your escort now, Doctor Harrison. I will see you soon. Goodbye."
Talbot attempted to argue, but the phone line was dead.
A second knock came from the front door, this time more insistent.
Dazed from the conversation, Talbot rose from the chair - he couldn't even remember sitting down - and shuffled to the entryway of his cramped apartment. Swinging open the door, he was confronted by two very large, very serious-looking United States marines in full camouflage combat attire. The men appeared almost identical in appearance: motley green and brown camouflaged caps pulled down at the front; broad shoulders tapering to narrow waists. The only real difference between them was that the one on Talbot's right was holding an assault rifle up, scanning around for....
Scanning for what?
They were standing in the middle of Talbot's hallway. The worst thing likely to attack them there were rogue cockroaches. New York's were always the worst, but nothing warranted such a weapon or reaction. Besides which, this man wasn't just aiming at the floor, his weapon was moving everywhere, up walls and across the ceiling.
"Sir," began the one facing Talbot, a huge brute of a man, his forearms like tree trunks, his cap partially obscuring a face which bore the likeness of a concrete block. "I am Colonel Sam Wilson. We're here to escort you to Marine Corps Base Quantico in Virginia, around two hundred and fifty miles from here. It should take us a couple of hours - depending on headwind. Once there you will be briefed on the situation. I regret neither myself nor Captain Benedict," he indicated the armed marine, "will be able to answer any questions you may have."
"Quantico? Headwind? I'm not going anywhere," replied Talbot, his voice shaking as his heart hammered in his chest and sweat dripped into his eyes.
Colonel Wilson's brows narrowed slightly. "Sir, I have orders to bring you to Quantico. That means you're coming with us if I have to gag you and truss you up in duct tape." There was no negotiation is his tone. The second marine ominously shouldered his weapon, the action strangely more distressing than when he had been aiming it at nothing.
"B-but -" Talbot's protests were cut off as the two marines gripped him securely by the upper arms and dragged him out, marching him down the hallway and out of the building, leaving Talbot sputtering useless arguments as the door to his apartment swung in the breeze.
Emerging onto the normally busy New York street, Talbot's complaints abruptly halted. Astonishment hit him like a crossbow bolt as they cleared the doorway. A massive Sikorsky CH-53E Super Stallion helicopter sat in the middle of the cordoned-off street. No fewer than two-dozen fully-armed marines surrounded the chopper and local police had blocked all traffic with their vehicles. Military weaponry and equipment had always been a hobby for Talbot, but right now the last thing on his mind was how cool the enormous Super Stallion appeared.
In his thirty two years, nothing even remotely similar had ever happened to him. The two marines propelled him purposefully into the rear of the chopper. He tried to question what was going on, protesting futilely about the need to secure his apartment, but his pleas met only stony silence.
With little option, Talbot sat down on the thinly-cushioned bench seat, contemplating his predicament as a chunky headset was offered to him. He put it on, he'd need it for in-flight conversation... not that he anticipated being told anything. Watching the marines swiftly and methodically file into the belly of the Super Stallion, Talbot tried to grasp the reality of this entire situation. None of this could be true.
"Like I said, Doctor Harrison," buzzed the voice of Colonel Wilson over his
headphones, "our trip should only take a couple of hours. If anything happens, keep your head down."
Unsure of what could possibly happen, Talbot merely nodded at the colonel, who in turn began relaying orders to the rest of the crew. Talbot's job at the American Museum of Natural History occasioned the odd trip into the field to a dusty dig site, but nothing approaching the incredible whirlwind of events he now found himself sucked into. No other event in his life had prepared Talbot for what was occurring, and he was silently thankful the rattling of his psyche had somehow been muted in the onslaught of everything that was going on.
Glancing around, he attempted to take in every detail. The shocking news of his brother's death had somehow dispersed with the affront of being dragged from his own doorway. Self preservation had shot to the forefront of his priorities. According to General Sharpe, his brother had been involved in something serious, and gawping around at the cold-faced marines, their equipment scarred from battle, along with the thud, thud, thud of the Super Stallion's main rotor pounding beyond his headphones, Talbot found himself swiftly convinced.
These marines were the real deal, and Talbot had no option other than to follow their orders, much as it grated against his sense of pride. Although he'd always thought himself physically fit, Talbot doubted he could tackle even one of the marines holding him against his will. Three weight training sessions a week and a fortnightly class at the local boxing gym didn't qualify him as a badass.
