Atlantic Pyramid

by Michelle E Lowe

  “You’ve never been down here before?” Starr asked.

  Lafitte, being the gentleman he was, answered as politely as he could. “If I had been, something like this would have been done ages ago.”

  Starr grunted. “Let’s get to it.”

  The three of us went up to the underground village. Seeing it vacant with TNT bricks piled on the stage and the smell of gunpowder in the air shot a dose of eeriness into my spine. I became numb. We were like invaders ready to destroy what we’d conquered in order to mark our victory.

  “You set explosives up here too?” I asked Starr.

  “You were right about having one shot at this. If we put enough TNT here to bring the floor down, the ceiling above us might cave in also.”

  Something clicked beside me. Lafitte lit a pipe with a lighter. I couldn’t speak for him, but I was painfully aware of what sat very close to us. The only thing I could say was, “Really?”

  “When the columns under us blow, the village floor should cave in,” Starr finished explaining.

  “How do you plan to set all these off at once?” Lafitte asked before taking a drag.

  “There are gunpowder trails running through two tunnels that lead outside. One down there, one up here. In order for the explosives to go off simultaneously—which is the only way this is going to work—we need to time the ignitions just right. Heath, you’ll light the trail below. You’ll have an easier time getting to safety rather than running your ass down the mountainside before it comes down. I’ll light the one up here.”

  That was Starr, a pure asshole one minute; the next, he was ready to throw himself on a live grenade to save his fellow man.

  “How are we going to communicate?” I asked. “Use two cans and a long string?”

  “Like I said, idiot,” he retorted, “we need to time it right. Since we don’t have walkie-talkies or working watches, we’re going to have to use our math skills.”

  “I have a pocket watch,” Laffite said, slipping one out from his pocket. “It is already wound.”

  I stared at the silver watch dangling from its sterling chain. Its low ticking made me realize that even in a land of immortals, time ticked on.

  As Laffite handed it to me, Starr grabbed it. “Thanks. It’s gonna be more dangerous on my end.” To me, he said, “Can you count to a hundred and eighty?”

  “I’m so going to break your face.”

  “From the tunnel where the gunpowder trail starts, it’ll take you exactly twelve minutes to reach the outside,” Starr went on. “Walk a steady pace. Don’t stop until you get to the end. When you get there, count to a hundred and eighty. That’s three minutes.”

  “I know,” I grumbled. “Okay, let me guess. The three minutes will give you time to get to your place.”

  “Right. It’ll be enough for me to crawl through the tunnel and get to the end of the trail outside. If you ignite your end in fifteen minutes and I light mine in ten, the explosions will go off together.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  Starr led us back down to the pool and showed us which tunnel the trail was laid out.

  “All right, give me twenty seconds to run back to the village,” he said. “Good luck.”

  It seemed like one of those moments where I should say something, like See you soon, buddy, with the subliminal message of, I forgive you woven into it. But I didn’t think he was looking for forgiveness. Just in case one of us got killed, I shook his hand and said, “You too.”

  He took off toward the village while I kept count in my head. When I reached twenty, both Laffite and I walked through the tunnel.

  “If this works,” I said, “what will you do?”

  “I must confess, mon ami, I never thought about it. After three hundred years, the hope to sail the sea again has dimmed.”

  What he said got me thinking about everyone else whose times had long since passed. How would they adjust to the changed world around them? How would the rest of the world accept them? With so many people trapped in the Bermuda Triangle, someone was bound to spill the beans. John T. Shubrick had proclaimed that if he ever got out, he’d complete his mission and deliver the Dey of Algiers Treaty to South Carolina. When that happened, I’d be miles away. With all the walking, talking antiques to marvel at, I’d be the least interesting.

  We kept up our steady pace and emerged from the four-foot hole where the gunpowder trail started. I began counting down in my head.

  “Lafitte!” someone yelled.

  We both turned to a one-armed man training a gun on Lafitte.

  “Saxon,” Lafitte said calmly, despite the gun. “What an unpleasant surprise this is. Here to check on your arm? I assure you, it’s doing just fine. I think it prefers my company over yours, though.”

  “They say a plan to destroy this wretched place is in effect,” Saxon said. “If that’s true, I see no reason not to kill you.”

  Saxon fired three shots into Lafitte.

  “No!” I cried, catching Lafitte as he fell back.

  Saxon tried firing another shot, to no avail. When he realized his gun was empty, he tossed it away.

  “Now it’s finished,” he said in triumph.

  “You’re an idiot,” Lafitte weakly retorted, rising from my arms. “When you plan to take me down, make certain your pistol is fully loaded.”

  The first few seconds of Lafitte’s reincarnation stunned both me and Saxon.

  “You devil!” Saxon exclaimed. “Is this a trick?”

  “Not in the least, you thick-headed swine. It is but a bulletproof vest.” Lafitte slid his hand over his chest where the bullet holes were. “I always wear one when on land, just in case our paths cross.” He pulled his sword. “I think I’ll collect that other arm now.”

  Saxon darted down the mountainside with Lafitte wielding his sword after him. I laughed at the sight, until I remembered what I needed from Lafitte.

  “Wait! Your lighter!”

  I took up the chase after them. Doing so, I lost count and had no idea how much time was left. Without the lighter, it wouldn’t matter. Luckily, the pursuit was short lived when Saxon tripped and tumbled down the mountain.

  “Laffite,” I called, “give me your lighter!”

  “Oh,” he said, tossing it to me. “Here you are.”

  As Laffite chased after his quarry, I darted back up the hill. When I stopped at the end of the gunpowder trail, I tried to calculate how much time was left. If I ignited my trail prematurely, we could lose the TNT stacked in the village when the ground collapsed. If I was too late, the floor above would collapse and wipe out the bricks strapped to the columns. Either way, the job would only get half done.

  I flicked the lighter and sparked a flame. “I guess it’s now or never,” I muttered to myself.

  “No, you have thirty-two seconds left,” Eleanor said, standing by a nearby tree.

  I jumped. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  She must have overheard Starr and kept count on her own. I couldn’t help but smile. She stood so beautifully by the tree, I didn’t even care about the blood dripping off her head.

  “Get ready,” she warned. “Six…five…four…three…two…one.”

  I put the lighter to the line and the flame kissed it. Sparks flew as the flame traveled into the tunnel and vanished.

  “Better get to the docks,” Eleanor urged. “We have only two minutes.”

  I ran until the joints in my knees ached. I hoped Starr was doing the same. When I reached the docks, everyone was packed together on it. Some had found shelter on nearby ships and boats. I searched for Starr but didn’t see him.

  Since every inch of the docks was taken up by people and their bags, I dragged one of the beached fishing boats into the water.

  “This is exciting,” Eleanor said, sitting beside me. “I have missed so much since I’ve been dead.”

  I looked at her but her attention was drawn to the island. “I can’t bel
ieve you’re here,” I said quietly.

  She turned to me. Her lips rose pleasantly. I didn’t think anything could tear my eyes away from her but the explosion did the trick. A loud boom rumbled within the island. Rocks, earth, and soot shot from holes, and shock waves reverberated like an earthquake, stealing the balance from beneath dozens of people on the dock. Waves rocked my boat.

  Honestly, I hadn’t expected the magnitude of the blast to be so thunderous. Sections of the mountain broke apart and tumbled inward. Just as I had worried, a massive landslide happened, trees and boulders tumbling down, crashing into huts and smashing them to pieces. The grand finale came when the top of the island collapsed and fell in on itself, sucking in trees as it went. The movement stirred up a heavy fog, swirling it around in a funnel. A cloud of soot wafted into the sky like volcanic ash. It sounded like hundreds of cars dropping from the Burj Dubai building. I covered my ears.

  A second landslide finished the demolition job. Chunks of the mountain rolled right over the village and onto the beach. North Village was taken out by what seemed like endless clumps of boulders and trees, erasing it from existence. This had better work or everyone was going to be homeless.

  I’d predicted the villages would get pulverized but not the entire beach getting buried. Nor had I imagined the panic that broke out in the crowd. When the rocks crushed the village pier, it rumbled the docks, provoking people to push against each other like they were in a mosh pit. To save myself from being crushed, I pushed against a column holding up the dock and shoved the boat away. Just as I did, a woman dropped into the water where I’d been. I helped hoist her into the boat as other people worked to get themselves to safety.

  Eventually, the rocks stopped toppling and the ground grew still. The sky was dulled by the dust cloud.

  Hours after the blast, several of us made the bumpy climb to where the top of the island had caved in. It was a long hike. I was hungry and tired, but I wanted to see. The air was completely different from the last time I’d ascended the mountain. Instead of a thick, bug-infested forest to battle through, fallen trees, rocks, and loose gravel had become the new obstacles.

  At the top, I saw where the island had fallen in on itself, a low pit of rocks closing it in. There was no way the energy pool below us hadn’t been buried. If any air got in, it wouldn’t be enough to keep the island alive.

  “You did wonderfully,” Eleanor said, standing beside me on a stack of boulders.

  “Did it work?”

  “Too early to tell.”

  I looked around at the mess that used to be North Village. My blood boiled when I realized what we’d lost. Thanks to Starr, we had no contingency plan.

  “If this doesn’t work, we’re going to be in big trouble,” I said. “Most of the food and shelter was on the beach. Starr is such an asshole for not listening to me.”

  “What a mess,” Laffite said.

  I raised my chin as he approached. “You made it. What about Saxon?”

  “He fell. Let’s leave it at that, shall we? Have you found your friend?”

  “No,” I said somberly.

  Laffite patted me on the shoulder. “It’s early yet. I’m going back to my ship. If you need food and a place to sleep, you’re welcome to stop in.”

  “Thanks.”

  * * *

  As the day wore on and the impact of what had happened sank in, everyone began to ask questions. Many were confused about why the island had been blown up.

  I finally found Carlton and told him it’d be a good idea to hold a meeting and explain the situation in full detail. I hoped he’d also tell them to make a contingency plan in case nothing we’d done had had any effect.

  I left that up to him. I was beat. The thought of organizing a gathering to face the confused islanders gave me a headache. I didn’t have the strength. Washing my hands of it, I left to take Laffite up on his offer.

  Eleanor kept me company. We chatted, and after a while, I forgot she was dead. I clued her in on what had happened since her death. I told her about Gavin and going into the forest. Then I explained how Travis had died. I told her about how one of the Neanderthals had taken me to the top of the island, where I’d met Calla and an actual alien named Ruby. Eleanor wagged a scolding finger at me when I told her how I’d tried crossing the boundaries.

  “I wish I could’ve been there with you. Being dead all alone is dreadfully boring.”

  “Everyone told me not to disturb your body.”

  “I can’t blame them for that.”

  Not every part of the mountainside had been buried under rock. A line of trees here and there had survived. Boulders and many other smaller rocks had settled on the beach.

  “Sharp!” Starr called from a short distance off. He was climbing an eight-foot-wide trail down the mountain, where boulders had rolled over trees and whatever lay in its path.

  Seeing him, I let out a long breath of relief.

  “I just came from the top. Looks like we did it.”

  “Yeah,” I said flatly, remembering in my relief that I was royally pissed at him.

  He reached the beach and approached me. “How long should we wait before making a break for it?”

  “Don’t know. I’ve never assassinated an island before.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I need time to myself.”

  “Mind if I tag along? I think I could use some downtime too.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  His face scrunched up. “Damn, are you still ticked?”

  “Look, you went and did things your way instead of waiting a few days to get everything straight like I wanted. I think it’s only appropriate that you go back and sort it out. Right now, Carlton is calling for a meeting. You ought to help clean up the mess you made. We’re done here.”

  I left him there on the beach.

  I stayed the night on The Pride with Laffite. I ate a good meal and slept soundly. I woke in the afternoon, refreshed and ready to deal with the aftermath of the explosion. During a late breakfast, I told Laffite I was going to the other side of the island to check on Calla and her people. When I returned, I’d help him figure out what kind of occupation he might be interested in if the island was, in fact, dead.

  I washed up the best I could and set out down the beach. People were cheerful in South Village. Worley ran up to me and told me the morning sunlight had lasted five minutes longer than usual. It was uplifting news but I didn’t take it as proof that the island was dead.

  “Darling, look,” Eleanor said an hour after we left South Village.

  Following her finger, I spotted a patch of brightly colored flowers at the forest’s edge.

  “They’re wilting,” she said.

  I knelt to examine them. Each flower was shriveling, their petals dry like autumn leaves.

  “These flowers are harder to kill than the living dead,” I said, remembering when Eleanor had shown me their durability after she’d stomped on them.

  We continued on. The Shark Hunters flew overhead. They soared in a scattered formation, as if disorientated. Halfway through our journey, we came to the cruise ship Ramón. She lay capsized in the distance. Seeing her massive body gave me hope that even if the island wasn’t completely dead and was still able to keep us within its boundaries, it might be too weak to keep itself camouflaged from the rest of the world. Eventually, someone from the outside might spot the wreckage.

  The cool gray sky turned to a warm steely gray by the time I reached the village of the Obsoletes. Surprisingly, it had been spared by the landslide. That’s where I found Calla standing on the walkway in front of a house. As I approached, two men emerged, carrying out Chancier’s corpse.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Removing this eyesore, including the one hanging in the tree,” she said. “We had to wait until dusk to bring everyone out to dispose of this unfortunate sod before making this village our new home.”

  “Where are they tak
ing him? And aren’t you afraid of —”

  “That doesn’t apply to natural born beings of the fragment, remember? We’re burying the body in the woods with the others.” She dropped her head. “Yesterday I burned Ruby’s body on the beach.”

  “What’s your next move?”

  She raised her chin to eye me thoughtfully. The brightness in her face returned. “We’re going to move forward. Everyone who’s lived on the surface is going to help the rest of us adjust. It’s going to be thrilling.”

  On the beach, a group of children ran around, laughing and playing. Among them was the little Viking girl, Sassy.

  “She came to us,” Calla said. “She hasn’t left since. I think she likes it here.”

  “What about Abby and her tribe? Have you seen them around?”

  “They made camp on the beach not too far from here. I saw them while we were taking Ruby’s body away.”

  “Do you think it worked? Is the island dead?”

  “Only time will tell, I suppose.”

  Night came and Calla got everyone inside before the stingrays went on the prowl. I stood on the walkway alone. Calla was teaching the children the song Knick Knack, Paddy Whack, Give a Dog a Bone in the house behind me.

  “If the island is really dead,” I said to Eleanor, “what will happen to you?”

  “I won’t leave you, darling. You might not see me anymore but I won’t go anywhere.”

  Her hand rested on the railing. I placed mine over hers but it went straight through.

  “What about me?” Gavin chimed in. “Aren’t you concerned about what might happen to me?”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Thought since you brought your lady friend back, I’d make myself scarce to give you two some privacy.”

  If my body wouldn’t go right through him, I would’ve hugged him.

  “However long we have left,” Eleanor said, drawing my attention back to her, “I’m thankful for it.”

  “Me too.”

  It was hard to accept that I’d not only been part of a mystery, but I’d helped tear it down. Maybe with the island dead, no one else would suffer for its needs. No more tormented loved ones not knowing what had happened to them.