Blood and Sand (13 page)

30

“Hank, you okay?” A voice asks. “Come on man, wake up!”

Something strikes my cheek.
Did somebody just slap me?
I think, my mind still spinning.

“What the hell!” I yell flinching awake as I get struck again, finally stirring from my very real, very horrible dream. I blindly swing a fist, intent on punching whoever is attacking me, but it comes out as a disoriented flail and I fall on my ass feeling like I’m going to vomit.

I flop onto the ground, smacking the back of my head on the stone platforms unrelenting surface. My breathing is quick and shallow and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. Sweat covers my skin, rolling down my face and into my eyes, stinging them. And I feel hot…really hot.

The floor rumbles, making my teeth chatter in time with the shaking, capping off the worst awakening I’ve ever experienced. Even worse than the hospital bed in Algiers.

“Get him up, we need to go,” says another voice.

I feel someone try to lift me and then drop me, spilling me to the floor…again.

“Shit!” Yells the first voice. “He’s burning up!”

The fire
, I think and sit up, feeling my head clear with the sudden movement.

“I’m fine…I’m fine,” I utter and stand, then stumble.

Finding my balance I lift my eyes and take a look around. It looks like a war just took place.

Dad has a cut over his left eye, Nicole is holding her arm and Omar is cleaning up our gear, which has been flung everywhere. Kane seems to be the only one unscathed, but I see him holding onto the platform’s makeshift railing, keeping himself steady.

The damage isn’t exclusive to our small camp site either.

One of the lava outlets in the wall has cracked and burst. It now flows at a much faster, stronger pace.

Great,
I think.

A broken zigzagging pattern can now be seen through the stone forest and the molten river bank is broken and burning, all but impassable.

I look back to my team with confusion, “Did I miss an earthquake or something?”

All I get is the same confused look directed back at me along with a couple of gasps. Four sets of eyes stare me down, looks of shock on their owner’s faces. I’m not sure why they are staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Your…skin…” Nicole says.

I look down and see that not only am I sweating…I’m steaming too. My skin is giving off steam like a boiling pot of water on a stove.
Oookay.

I touch my skin and feel nothing wrong—minus the extreme moisture rising from my body of course.

“See, I’m fine,” I say poking my skin again.

Kane steps over and touches the same part of my arm I just did and flinches away cursing and shaking his hand.

“Fine my ass, Hank. You’re broiling!” He growls. “What the hell happened just now? You were asleep for 20 minutes before you started kicking and screaming. I had to knock the gun out of your hand so you didn’t accidentally shoot someone, caught an elbow in the face for my trouble!”

I think back to my dream and try to figure out what exactly did just happen.

I retell the events that took place in my nightmare.

“You’re kidding, right?” Kane asks with a raised eyebrow.

“It
was
a dream—a seriously disturbing one for sure. But still…” Dad says trailing off looking around at the ruined surroundings, all of a sudden not so sure of himself.

“When did all this happen?” I say motioning to the destruction.

“During your little…episode,” Kane says, waving his hand towards me and then to the broken landscape.

I close my eyes and breathe, reliving the dream—or whatever the hell it was.

The pulling.

The pain.

The heat.

It felt too real. It was too vivid to be just a cerebral counterfeit.

“It was real,” I say confidently. “I could actually feel the tug on my body. When the fire licked my skin I felt burned.” I hold up my still steaming hands. “The pain in my ribs is still there too.” I lift my shirt, surprising everyone including myself.

”Those look…fresh,” Nicole says with a hand to her mouth, reacting to the sight of my bruised body.

“Believe me,” I say as I struggle to pull my shirt back down. “They are.”

Wincing in pain, I grunt and bend over, picking up my weapon, tucking it back into my pack.

“And the voice?” Dad asks.

“It was him—The End,” I answer. “He wants to use my body. He wants to control me somehow, like a parasite. He means to destroy everything…through me.”

“All of us?” Omar asks gesturing to our group. 

“No,” I say.

His shoulders relax a little.

“He wants to exterminate ALL of mankind and enslave his enemies,” I add.

Omar’s shoulders stiffen in fright and then sag, defeated.

What can we do against a being that can use the very Earth itself as his sword and strike down the entire human race that inhabits it? What weapon can defend against that?

“You may not be permitted to leave until the chosen has claimed his prize. Please pray you are he,” says someone.

We look over at Omar, shaking his head in disbelief. “The chosen one—you, Hank—must claim
your
prize.” He points back up to the stairs, “So far these cryptic messages have been pretty spot on…If you believe this to be more than just a coincidence and—“

“That’s just it,” I interrupt. “I’m still confused about where exactly we are. The tunnel drawings show Atlantis to be a thriving metropolis of peace and prosperity…” I look around not being able to put together my thoughts. “This…place…isn’t even recorded in their history. Why?”             

Kane answers my question, “Pearl Harbor, Auschwitz, the Civil War—Japan, Germany, and the States. Every major nation has its dirty secrets that it wishes it could hide. Maybe this civilization actually hid theirs.”

We stand in silence contemplating where we actually are, not sure of what to do next.

Surprisingly, Omar takes the first step.

He slips on his bag and starts off towards the left stair case, obviously ready to leave. Then he thinks better of it and stops and turns back towards the rest of us. “So, the right path is out of the question now I assume? And we can’t go back that way,” he says pointing back towards the now blocked tunnel.

Kane speaks up, “He’s right, we need to keep moving. We may have enough supplies to last down here for a week, but I’d rather not have to find out.”

He hefts his pack onto his shoulders, walks over to me and in a low tone asks, “You okay, Hank?”

It’s as sincere as I’ve ever seen the guy. Normally he’s either deadly serious or joking around and stepping on his own toes.

“Yea man, I’m fine,” I lie.

I feel like absolute crap,
I think being honest with myself.

BOOM!
        

I’m knocked on my ass and almost tumble down the set of steps on the right, leading to the blazing riverbank. I stop short of the top step thanks to a hand on my arm. I look back and see my savior.

“Thanks. How many times is that now?”

Kane smiles and shrugs, “Too many to count. I’m getting really sick of having to save your sorry—“   

BOOM!

He’s interrupted by another explosion. As the concussive force subsides, we hear shouts coming from the cave entrance.

“What the hell?” Kane asks. “Who?”

I hear them and act.

“Go! Now!” I yell and shove Kane towards the left stair case. “They’re here, hurry!”

Kane stumbles and sways as I shove him harder. I draw my gun and aim it back towards the stone that
was
blocking our path.

“Get them out of here! Lead them to the pyramid. I’ll cover our rears.”

“Not a chance, Hank! This is my job, get the others out of here, now!”

His look gets sterner and I can tell he’s about to order me again, but Dad answers him for me.

“Do what he says Son, Go!”

Begrudgingly, I grab my bag and turn to Nicole, about to tell her to do the same. Her eyes ask the question for her.

“The voices, they’re in Arabic. It’s Zero. They’ve found us!” I say turning towards the left staircase.

We fly down the steps, two at a time, and into the stone forest and who-knows-what else.

Hopefully the visions in my dream
were
a figment of my subconscious and not anything that we will have to deal with head on because, if it is…well for our sake…let’s just hope it isn’t.

31

“Where’s Omar!” Dad yells running for his life.

We hit the stone steps at full speed and are lucky to reach the bottom without anyone tripping and breaking their necks. That would have slowed us down a little. Everyone runs with their weapons drawn, which again probably isn’t a good idea, but hey…we’re in a rush!

We enter the stone jungle at a sprint and follow the trail of broken and splintered debris. It’s a likely path to those who are following us, but we need to pour on the speed. If they get too close we can always hide and try to defend ourselves.

“No idea where he is,” Kane replies from thirty feet behind us, glancing back, watching our butts. “He must have bolted when the first explosion went off. Probably pissed himself too!”

We scramble up and over a fallen stone tree losing precious speed and seconds. I chance a look back just in time to see Kane leap over the stone obstruction blocking his path like an Olympic hurdler. I almost trip and fall seeing him execute the move so flawlessly. The rest of us aren’t as big or as surprisingly agile as him, which proves the kind of shape he’s in.             

“Hank, hold up! Don’t get too far ahead!” Kane yells.

I stop and turn, just as a bullet sizzles over my head. I fall to the ground and roll to the right, behind one of the bigger trees.

Geez, that’s the second time that’s happened since landing in Algiers,
I think silently thanking myself for not being an inch taller.

More bullets fly, this time at Kane. He ducks and rolls just as he gets to another felled obstacle. Mid-roll, he does a fancy action star move, leaping to his feet. He continues his forward momentum over the downed tree and lands on his feet and keeps on running. It’s like he rolled over the hood of a car in some cheesy cop movie.

“Never mind, Keep going!” He yells waving his hand, shooing us on. He’s now twenty feet from us and about to beckon us forward again—when a bullet zips past his head and slams into my cover, right near mine.

Shit.

“No can do, Kane!” I yell, firing my Glock back up towards the cavern entrance. “Switch spots with me and lead them on! I’ll hold them off!”

He shrugs off my suggestion and stops, taking cover beside me. We look back over our stone shield and see men pouring out of the newly formed hole.

Damn.

I glance back to Kane.

He draws his
second
Desert Eagle and smiles.

“I got this.”

“Like hell you do!” Interjects our female companion.

We both snap over to see Nicole hiding behind another tree, weapon at the ready.

“There must be a dozen of them and only one of you. We’re staying!”

She shoots me a look saying,
I know you’re staying and so am I, so drop it!

I lean around and see Dad tucked in next to Nicole shaking like a cold, wet dog.

Great.

“Dad, you can’t be here.”

“No, he can’t,” Nicole continues. “William, you need to run. We will cover you.”

He looks up at the three of us and nods.

Another barrage of lead assault our position, forcing us to duck back down.

“Dad,” I say firmly, peeking back over our bullet ridden cover. “Find Omar and don’t stop until we find you.”

He nods again and turns to flee, but stops, “Kane? Nicole?” They look at him. “Keep my son alive.”

It’s not a question, it’s a demand. He’s not asking them to keep me alive, he’s expecting it.

He then gives me a final look that could break anyone’s heart. A look of fear and loss and…doubt. Doubt that’ll we’ll ever see each other again.

“I’m right behind you old man.”

He gives me a half-smile and gets set.

“Okay,” I say. “On three…one, two, three…Now!”

Kane, Nicole, and I turn and stand, just as Dad takes off running. We fire a short burst of rounds up the slope, towards the stairs. As we finish our assault we pivot and hustle away, always trying to keep a tree in between us and them. We follow the same path my father—and presumably Omar—did.

Heading straight towards the menacing monolith wouldn’t have been my first choice, but we don’t really have another one. So we charge onward and into whatever else this place decides to throw at us.

We make it 50 yards as more bullets ping off the stone all around us. I’m assuming the fact they know where we are means they also have night vision equipment.

“Aww, screw this!” Kane shouts, sliding to a stop behind new cover. A half dozen or so rounds hit it, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Cover me!” He yells diving into his Tac-Pac.

Nicole and I are about ten steps farther down the broken path and get into a firing stance. She meets me eye-to-eye, winks then draws her other Ruger. I give her an impressed nod and a smile. We pop up and fire a few shots back the way we came.

Pained shouts in Arabic can be heard…along with a few curses.

“Sounds like you hit one,” Kane says not looking up from what he’s doing.

“What are you…?” I begin to ask.

But its then I take a look at the curved plastic looking device he has staked into the dirt.

“Is that a—?” Nicole starts.

“Standard issue M18A1 Claymore mine, courtesy of some friends back home,” he says robotically, concentrating on the task at hand. He points the ever poignant,
FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY
side down the path, readjusting his aim. Next, Kane attaches a trip wire to one end of the mine and then scurries across the trail to the other side and attaches the other end to one of the fallen trees.

“You’re laying a trap?” I ask.

“Damn right I am, I’m sick of this crap!”

“What…sick of being shot at and almost killed?” Nicole asks with a little sarcasm.

I laugh a little on the inside.

Maybe there’s hope for her yet,
I think.

“No, I can handle being shot at,” he replies.

“Then what?” I ask.

“Running.”

“Running?” Nicole asks confused.

“Yep,” he says, putting his pack back on, drawing his gun again. “I HATE to run.”

Both Nicole and I audibly laugh, releasing some of the built up stress the current situation has caused.

The more I’m around Kane the more I like the guy. In the hospital room he was just another suit, just another stuffed shirt that the government decided needed to pay me a visit and annoy the hell out of me. But, now? Dare I say, he’s quickly becoming a very good and trustworthy friend? Maybe.

And what about Nicole? Could she be anything more than my father’s project leader? We’ve shared a few moments here and there, helping to break the awkward tension. We’ve confided in each other things that a lot of people would never dare tell someone they just met. How long have we known each other? Has it even been a day yet?              

More automatic gun fire erupts, hitting some of the trees nearby, interrupting my thoughts.

“Perfect,” Kane says.

“Perfect?” I ask.

He nods. “They are firing pot shots at an estimated spot. They don’t know where we are exactly, gives us an advantage. It gives this little bad boy one too.” He adds motioning to the Claymore. “Plus from the sound of it, they are firing with AK’s, which are terrible long range weapons. We’ll be fine as long as we can stay far enough ahead of them.”

“We about ready?” Nicole asks looking down the path. “I think they are going to try and advance.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

“Because they stopped shooting,” she answers.   

We fall silent and listen. The only noise in this massive space is a low rumble and hum from the ground and the pouring lava falling along the banks of the moat.

“Okay, quickly and quietly move out back towards the pyramid,” Kane orders. “Let’s try and not give away our exact position.”

Nicole backs away first with me close behind her. Kane follows turned around, watching for any sign of our would-be attackers.

Ahhhhhh!

We get about 30 feet away from where we have the Claymore hidden—when a scream of pure terror echoes through the valley, coming from the direction we’re heading.

I recognize the voice too.

Dad!

I launch myself forward down the half broken path as a burst of gunfire erupts all around me and the others. I turn and find Kane and Nicole hot on my heels, covering their heads with their hands as they run.

Nicole lifts both her guns and turns backwards, fires a few volleys of her own, and in one motion spins back forward, never losing her stride or any speed. Wow. If I tried that I’d be flat on my back with motion sickness and a concussion from the fall. I wonder if she’s a good ice skater with moves like that.

POP. POP. POP.

ROAR!

We hear gun fire and another scream, but this one doesn’t belong to Dad. It almost sounds feral, animal-like, or like an angry, wild beast in excruciating pain.
That must be what Dad was yelling about,
I think. Whatever it is, he’s under attack up ahead, maybe another 500 yards away.

We put the pedal to the metal and rush to save my father from an unimaginable horror.