Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2) (43 page)

Andrew swallowed nervously. "OK."

Tungsten took a long look through the hole. Then with some deep grunts, he forced his huge body through the opening.

"Your turn," he told Andrew.

Andrew had much less trouble wriggling through. He emerged into a tunnel exactly as wide as the silo. The tunnel had rough walls, but a layer of cement covered the floor, creating a smooth surface. He shined his flashlight upwards at a huge steel mechanism which could swing the secret door out of the way. The hinges were as thick as his leg.

"Blake doesn't think small," Tungsten whispered.

"Yes," Andrew said. "We keep underestimating him."

"You sense anything?"

Andrew used his inner sight. "Just Charley and Tonya. Wait, there is something ahead."

"Another sorcerer?"

"No. It might be some small seams, but they're far away."

Tungsten crept down the tunnel in a crouch. His footsteps were silent, and Andrew tried to emulate his example, but it was harder than it looked.

Andrew glanced back. The others were coming through the hole, but Tungsten wasn't waiting for them.

The tunnel curved a little. After walking several hundred yards, Andrew saw light ahead. Tungsten ducked down and listened.

"Check your radar," Tungsten whispered.

"I'm definitely picking up seams ahead," Andrew whispered. "I count seven, but they're weak. No other sorcerers. Blake knows how to hide his energy though."

"You'll know if he attacks me."

"Yes, definitely, and if he gets that close, he's mine."

Walking at a cautious, patient pace, they eventually reached a domed chamber. Heavy steel boxes were stacked high on a giant transport platform with rubber wheels. The boxes had electronic locks.
The Vault treasure,
Andrew thought.

The chamber contained many tools, some impressively large. The collection included everything from manual hacksaws to electric circular saws with blades a yard across. One machine had a robot arm with some kind of jet nozzle at the end. Another had laser radiation warning signs.

The obvious purpose of the equipment was cutting open boxes. The chopped up remnants of boxes formed another pile almost as large as the one on the platform. Andrew guessed at least a hundred had been plundered.

He detected seven seams still safely locked up, but they were so weak, they were almost useless. He guessed Blake had taken the strongest seams.

Some loose paper had been left behind. Andrew picked up a sheet covered with equations, and a date at the top read, "Nov 25, 1966."

Tonya plucked the sheet out of Andrew's hand. "We're not here to browse."

He sighed.

"Looks like about a third of the boxes were opened," Ross said. "How bad is that?"

"Very," Tonya said.

Ross picked up some other papers and skimmed them. "These are scientific notes."

"The forbidden secrets of sorcery. Most of the boxes were full of documents."

"We've been guarding a library this whole time?"

"Exactly," Tonya said, "along with some special artifacts."

Tungsten pointed at a doorway at the far end of the chamber. "Let's keep going."

He and Andrew proceeded cautiously. The doorway led to a staircase going up through the bedrock. A low ceiling, rough walls, and steep steps made the climb a little challenging.

Tungsten swiveled his gun back and forth, shining his flashlight on every step. He clearly expected a trap. His nervousness rubbed off on Andrew.

They emerged into open air. Andrew found himself in the middle of the desert, but it was almost too dark to see. Bright lights in the distance showed the location of the silo complex, but a hill blocked his direct view.

Tungsten pointed his flashlight at the sand. "Tire tracks, extra-wide. I'm guessing trucks with off-road wheels."

Andrew didn't hear any engines, and he couldn't detect any new energy sources. "They're long gone."

"You're probably right."

The rest of the group came out of the ground. They collectively expressed disgust and frustration with the situation.

"We need a plan," Tonya said. "Our first priority is to secure what's left of the Vault. General Ross, I assume you had another destination for your convoy originally?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ross said.

"Don't tell me what it is. Just pack up and go there."

"The men are exhausted, and I'm sure some are injured. We still have prisoners to deal with. It will be at least six hours before we can leave."

"Try to hurry the process along," Tonya said. "We'll stick around for a while and make sure Blake isn't controlling anybody else."

"I'll call the Pentagon," Ross said. "They can dispatch drones to search the desert from the air."

"But it's so dark," Andrew said.

"The drones have light amplifying cameras, but the chances of success still aren't great. It's a very big desert, and the enemy had a head start. We don't even know what we're looking for exactly. Trucks come in many shapes and sizes."

Andrew yawned.

Tonya looked at him. "You're exhausted."

"We've been running on fumes for days," he said.

"I can clean up the mess here without you. You and Charley should find the nearest motel and get some sleep."

"But we're supposed to stick together. What if Blake comes back?"

"Why would he?" Tonya said. "He has what he came for. He'll settle down in some remote location so he can read and experiment in peace."

"For the rest of his life?"

She shrugged. "It's hard to say what his long-term plans are. He might intend to become emperor of the world or something even crazier, but that won't happen tomorrow. He has a lot of studying to do first. Let me have that." She pointed at the Raven.

Charley handed over the figurine. "OK," she said. "I can't say no to sleep. Just be careful."

"I have the Army here to keep me safe."

"I'll go with the apprentices," Tungsten said. "They still need protection, just in case."

Tonya nodded. "Sure. Take the car. I'll find my own ride when I'm ready to go."

The group went back down the stairs.

* * *

Tungsten parked the blue minivan in front of a two-story motel with walls made of sandstone. Andrew had expected to sleep in a dump, but the motel was at least two notches better than that, a pleasant surprise. All the second-floor rooms had small, private balconies. Red Spanish tile covered the roof.

Andrew yawned again. He didn't know what time it was, and he didn't want to know. His goal was simply reaching a bed before he dropped from exhaustion.

He, Tungsten, and Charley got out and retrieved their luggage from the back of the minivan. Even in his debilitated condition, Andrew was enjoying the weather. He expected Arizona was miserably hot in the summer, but at the moment, the climate was ideal compared to everywhere else he had visited during the mission.

They went into a small lobby. Tungsten rang a bell repeatedly until an elderly woman came out of a back room. She was wearing a nightgown, but she booked her guests as if nothing were unusual. Tungsten asked for two adjoining rooms, one for Charley and the other for the men. Tungsten paid with his BPI credit card.

The team shuffled up to their rooms which were on the second floor. Andrew muttered "night" to Charley before she disappeared into her own room.

Andrew and Tungsten went into theirs. Andrew saw two beds, and he took the one closest to the window. Tungsten preferred to be between Andrew and the door.

Andrew stripped off his clothes, keeping only his underwear. He slipped under the blanket.

Seconds later, he was asleep.

* * *

An odd hissing noise woke Tungsten. He smelled something foul, like a giant had farted in the hotel room. He opened his eyes, but the room was still dark. Dawn hadn't arrived yet.

He tried to roll out of bed, but he ended up on the floor. His arms and legs weren't working properly. The floor seemed to sway like he was riding on a boat in a violent storm.

He heard the door open. He realized he was under attack, and he had just seconds to conceive of a plan. A gun was on the nightstand. He tried to reach for it, but he couldn't lift his arm more than a few inches off the ground. The gas was causing paralysis and vertigo.

Three men with flashlights in one hand and guns in the other entered the room. Tungsten couldn't get a good look at them because his eyes refused to focus, but he could tell they were wearing gasmasks.

Tungsten obviously couldn't fight, so he played dead instead. There was no point in making a fuss and getting shot.

"The boy is over here!" one attacker said in a deep voice. "Help me lift him."

Another man shined a flashlight into Tungsten's face. "What do we do with this asshole? He's big."

"Our orders were to take the teenagers and kill the older blonde woman. That's all. Let's get the girl."

Two men carried Andrew out of the room. The third attacker followed his comrades out the door.

Tungsten knew he didn't have much time. He couldn't catch up to the enemy, but he could take a shortcut. He crawled on his elbows and knees to the balcony. It took every bit of his strength and willpower to unlatch the glass door and slide it open.

Fresh air came as a relief. He dragged himself across the balcony to the railing. He pulled himself up, and it was as hard as climbing a hundred-foot rope. He threw a leg over the railing, and before he had time for second thoughts, he slid over and dropped.

Tungsten couldn't control his fall and landed badly on the unforgiving parking lot. He moved his limbs tentatively. Nothing was broken, but he would be sore for days.

The fresh air was relieving the effects of the gas, but nausea took their place. His stomach clenched, and he vomited a little sour fluid.

He looked around. A black military cargo truck was parked with the engine still running. It had oversized wheels made for crossing sand or mud. He guessed it was one of Blake's trucks.

Tungsten realized he didn't have a gun. He was just wearing boxer shorts.
No help for it
, he thought.

With a grunt of effort, he forced himself to stand up. He staggered over to the truck like a drunkard. He couldn't fight at the moment, but he wasn't done. His top priority was staying with Andrew and Charley.

The cargo area of the truck had a fabric door which was already open. Clearly, the enemy wanted to make a quick getaway when they returned. Tungsten dragged himself inside. A pile of air mattresses and sleeping bags was heaped against the side. With a final burst of energy, he crawled behind the pile.

Seconds later, he heard other people boarding the truck. He froze. The darkness would help conceal him, and as long as he didn't move or make a noise, he would be safe. He was too sick to do much else anyway.

* * *

Andrew slowly recovered from the gas. He felt terrible nausea, but at least the spinning sensation had stopped and strength was returning to his limbs.

He was lying on his belly on a cold, metal surface. His underwear wasn't doing much to keep him warm. He tried to move, but his wrists were tied behind his back, and his ankles were also bound. He wasn't going anywhere.

With slightly blurry vision, Andrew looked over at Charley. She was tied up the same way as him, but at least she seemed unhurt. She was wearing a pink nightgown.

"We'll be OK," he murmured.

"Shut up!" a man said.

A kick in the gut made Andrew clench in pain. He looked up at a man wearing a black sweat suit with a black Kevlar vest. He had a gun belt equipped with two guns and several other items. A gas mask was in his hand.

A similarly dressed man sat on the other side of Charley.

Andrew didn't see any good options. He would just have to wait and see where they were taking him. He expected Blake would be there.

* * *

Tungsten felt better, and he decided to risk a cautious look outside his hiding spot. Fortunately, the back of the truck was nice and dark, and constant road noise covered the sound from any movement. He narrowed his eyes so no light would reflect from the wet surfaces of his eyeballs. He wished he had some face paint.

He slid forward until the top of his head was just clear of the sleeping bags. He could see one of the enemies. The man was dressed for a lightning quick night operation.

The headlight of another car briefly illuminated the man's pale face. He had a long scar along the line of his jaw. Tungsten recognized him as an international assassin who used the code name "Skater." Tungsten had encountered Skater's bloody work on prior missions. He was part of a team.

Blake hired the best talent,
Tungsten thought.

Andrew and Charley were lying on the floor. They were tied in an uncomfortable position, but they didn't appear injured. They had frightened expressions.

Now wasn't the time for Tungsten to make his move. He was completely unarmed and practically naked for one thing. He didn't like his chances against well-equipped and extremely skilled adversaries, even with the element of surprise. Besides, the truck was probably bringing the apprentices to Blake. Killing him was even more important than rescuing the teenagers. Tungsten's best option was waiting until all his ducks were in a neat line.

He slid back into his hiding spot.

* * *

Andrew's fear was slowly turning to boredom. The truck had been on the road for at least an hour. His shoulders ached from having his arms behind his back the whole time, and he was very cold, but he didn't complain.

The truck turned off a paved road and onto a much rougher surface. The cargo bed bounced on its suspension, smacking Andrew against the floor painfully each time. Charley whimpered at the rough treatment. They slid around and crashed into each other.

Andrew sensed several energy sources ahead. He recognized Blake's energy signature, but the master sorcerer seemed to have a twin now. Andrew didn't understand how that was possible. Every sorcerer had a unique energy flow. Andrew detected eight small sources which were probably the stolen portable seams. A much larger one probably wasn't portable.