The Devil Colony (27 page)

“Only a handful of our more trusted elders were given knowledge of these burial caches, where it was said a great accounting of the
Tawtsee’untsaw Pootseev
was written in gold.”

Kanosh took a deep breath, turning away, his eyes glassy, maybe from tears. Here was further confirmation of all he believed, about his people, about their place in history and in God’s plan.

Still, Painter—long estranged from his own heritage—remained a skeptic. “Is there any proof of this story?”

Jordan took a moment to respond, studying his toes before looking up. “I don’t know, but my grandfather says that if you want to know more about the
Tawtsee’untsaw Pootseev,
you should go to the place where their end began.”

“What does that mean?” Kowalski asked sourly.

Jordan turned to him. “My grandfather knows where the thieves who stole the treasure met their doom. He also knows their name.” He faced the others. “They were the Anasazi.”

Painter could not help but let the shock show in his face. The Anasazi were a clan of the ancient pueblo people who lived mostly in the Four Corners area of the United States, known as much for their extensive cliff-dwelling homes as they were for their mysterious and sudden disappearance.

Kanosh stared significantly at Painter. “In the Navajo language, the name Anasazi means ‘ancient enemy.’ ” Kanosh filled in more details. “The Anasazi vanished some time between 1000 and 1100
AD
. But it’s been hotly debated what triggered their disappearance. Various theories have been expounded: a great drought, bloody battles among tribes. But one of the newest theories from archaeologists at the University of Colorado has the tribe embroiled in a religious war, as violent as any battle between Christians and Muslims. It was said that some new religion drew them en masse to the south. Then shortly after that, the entire clan died out.”

That theory certainly meshed with the ancient story told by Jordan’s grandfather. Painter turned to the young man. “You said your grandfather knew where these Anasazi thieves met their doom. Where was it?”

“If you have a map of the Southwest, specifically Arizona, I can show you.”

As a group, they all moved indoors. The inside of the pueblo was as dark as a cave after the morning’s brightness. Kai moved around and flicked on several lamps. Painter drew out a map of the Four Corners region and spread it on the tabletop.

“Show me,” Painter said.

Jordan studied the chart for a breath, cocking his head to the side. “It’s about three hundred miles south of us,” he said, and leaned closer. “Just outside Flagstaff. Ah, here it is.”

He poked the map.

Painter read the name at his fingertip. “Sunset Crater National Park.”

Well, that certainly makes sense . . .

Kowalski groused under his breath. “Looks like we’re going from one volcano to another.”

Painter began making arrangements in his head.

“I’m going with you,” Kanosh said.

Painter prepared to argue. He wanted to leave the professor here with Kai, to keep them out of harm’s way.

“My friends gave their blood, their lives,” Kanosh pressed. “I’m going to see this through. And who knows what you’ll find in Arizona? You may need my expertise.”

Painter frowned, but he had no good cause to dismiss such help.

Kowalski came to the same conclusion. “Sounds good to me.”

Kai stepped forward, ready to speak. Painter knew what she was going to say and held up his hand. “You’ll stay with Iris and Alvin.” He pointed to Jordan. “You, too.”

They’d both be safer here, and he didn’t want word to get out about where they were headed. Kai looked ready to fight about it, but a glance toward Jordan made her reconsider. Instead, she simply crossed her arms.

Painter thought the matter was settled, but Jordan stepped up. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. He looked ready to pass it on, but held it half crumpled between his fingers.

“Before you go, my grandfather wanted me to give you this. But first, I must share one last thing. This is from me, not my grandfather.”

“What’s that?”

“The legends I just told you were sacred stories, going back centuries, passed from one elder to another. My grandfather only told
me
because he truly believes it’s already too late.”

Kowalski stirred. “What do you mean
too late
?”

“My grandfather believes that the spirit set free from that cave in the mountains will never be stopped—it will destroy the world.”

Painter remembered Chin’s description of the boil growing outward from the blast site, what he called a
nano-nest
, picturing microscopic nanomachines disassembling all matter it touched. The potential of it spreading indefinitely was terrifying.

“But it
was
stopped,” Painter finally said. “The volcanic eruption bottled that genie back up.”

Jordan stared him in the eye. “That was only the beginning. My grandfather says the spirit will sweep around the world from here, setting off more destruction until the world is a sandy ruin.”

Painter went cold. The description was frighteningly similar to the physicists’ theory that the neutrino blast in Utah had shot through the globe and lit the fuse on another cache of nano-material. He recalled Kat’s warning about the impending explosion in Iceland.

Jordan stretched out his hand with the folded slip of paper. “My grandfather holds out little hope, but he wanted to share this. It is the mark of the
Tawtsee’untsaw Pootseev
. He says to let it guide you to where you need to go.”

Painter took the piece of paper and opened it. What was written there made no sense, but it still caused him to go weak in his knees. He shook his head in disbelief. He recognized the pair of symbols smudged in charcoal on the paper, the sign of the
Tawtsee’untsaw Pootseev.

A crescent moon and a small star.

The same symbols were found at the center of the Guild’s mark.

How could that be?

Chapter 20

May 31, 2:45
P.M.
Ellirey Island
Iceland

Thirty-two minutes . . .

Standing guard at the window, Gray tightened his fingers on his pistol. He had spoken to Kat a few minutes ago—not only couldn’t she get his team any help, but she also shared disturbing news out of Japan. If those physicists were right, the island would blow shortly after 3:00
P.M
. They had to be off this rock before then. There was only one problem—no, make that
eight
problems.

The skilled team of commandos had taken up secure positions across the front of the small lodge, keeping the place covered. A few minutes ago, the soldiers had begun to storm the place, but for some reason they suddenly retreated to the shelter of a group of basalt outcroppings.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Ollie asked. The old caretaker stood by the hearth with his shotgun in his hands. Harshly beaten, he’d rallied after Monk freed him, but it was clear that the waiting was wearing him down.

Seichan answered, but she didn’t take her eyes off the window she guarded. “Like us, they must have heard the island is going to explode. They’re just pinning us down here until they can make their escape.”

Her words proved to be prophetic as the
whump-whump
of an approaching helicopter shook the panes of glass. A midsize transport helicopter swept over the lodge and out into the open meadow. The bird’s tandem, four-blade rotors flattened the grasses as it hovered, its pilot searching for a safe place to land amid the broken rock.

We need to be on that chopper,
Gray thought.

“Look!” Seichan called, and pointed. “Across the meadow, by the boulders. We’ve got more company.”

Gray tore his eyes from the helicopter and spotted what had alarmed her. More soldiers fled out of the broken landscape, coming from the direction of the smoky signature that marked the recent TNT blast. In the lead ran a figure wearing civilian clothing: hiking boots, all-weather pants, and a heavy jacket, unzipped. The middle-aged man hugged a backpack to his ample belly. Behind him, two soldiers carried a stretcher between them, piled high with small stone boxes.

They must have successfully blasted their way into the treasure hold on the island. If Gray had any doubt, it was dashed when he spotted the glint of gold atop the pile of boxes. One of the soldiers waved frantically for the helicopter to land.

They definitely know the island’s about to blow.

A scrape of a boot drew his attention around. Monk rushed up, breathless. “I checked the entire rear of the building. Looks clear.”

“We’ll have to move fast. They’re evacuating.”

Monk nodded. “I saw the chopper.”

“Then let’s do this.”

After Gray made sure everyone knew what to do, Ollie and Monk took positions at the front windows while he and Seichan ran toward the back door to the lodge.

“Let’s hope that old man knew what he was talking about,” Seichan said.

Gray was betting their lives on it. The caretaker had been coming to the island for sixty years. If anyone knew its secrets, it had to be Ollie.

Together, he and Seichan burst out the door and into the sunlit meadow and sprinted low to the ground. The bulk of the lodge sheltered them from the view of the commandos. Gray headed toward a slight rise in the green field. Ollie had pointed it out, told him what to expect. Still, as he fled around the shallow hill, he came close to falling headlong into an open pit on the far side.

Seichan snagged his arm and pulled him to a stop at the edge. The rise in the ground was actually an old hardened bubble of lava, hollow on the inside. The far side opened into the source of that bulge: a lava tube. The mouth of the tunnel yawned amid a jumble of cracked basaltic rock, like so many broken teeth.

They shifted to where a pile of debris allowed them to climb down into the tube’s throat. Gray flicked on a flashlight. The beam revealed a smooth-walled tunnel, barely wide enough for one person and no headroom.

“Follow me,” Gray said, and set off at a fast clip.

According to Ollie, the tube ran under the lodge and down to a small cavern below the meadow. It was a crossroads of sorts. From there, another tunnel led back to the surface, opening on the far side of the meadow. The caretaker had hurriedly mapped it out. Afterward, Gray had memorized the route, but he also recalled the trawler captain’s description of the island:
a hardened chunk of Swiss cheese, carved by wind and rain
. It would be easy to get lost in here—and they had no time for mistakes.

In under a minute, they reached a high-arching cavern. Boulders cluttered the floor. Pools of dank rainwater splashed underfoot, and the air smelled of mold and salt. Gray turned in a circle, sweeping out with his light. There were a half-dozen exits. Ollie had marked only
four
on his \map.

With his heart thudding against his rib cage, Gray went back to the lava tube and did his best to circle along the wall, checking each opening. He’d been told to take the second passage along this side. The first opening he came to was a crack. He shone his light down it. It squeezed shut after only a couple yards
. Did that count? Or had Ollie skipped it because it wasn’t a true tunnel?

Gray hurried along. The old caretaker struck him as no-nonsense and practical. There was nothing superfluous about the sea-hardened man. He would stick only to the details that were important. Trusting that, Gray ignored the blind crack, bypassed the next tunnel, and headed to the one after that. This had to be the
second
passageway marked on Ollie’s map.

It proved to be another lava tube, which was good, but it drilled deeper, heading
down
. That didn’t seem right, but Gray could waste no more time. Taking a deep breath, he entered the tunnel. It was even tighter than the first one.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Seichan said.

“We’ll find out.”

Gray hurried along and began to doubt his decision until the tube dipped and started to rise again, aiming back toward the surface. After another long minute, the tunnel brightened on its own. He flicked off his flashlight. The bell beat of twin rotors echoed down to them.

The opening appeared ahead, blindingly bright. A hard breeze blew down at them, stinging them with grit.

He turned and bent to Seichan’s ear. “We must be close to the helicopter.”

She nodded, freed her pistol, and waved him forward.

He rushed the rest of the way, but slowed the final steps, canvassing the opening. The tube dumped into a nest of broken stony pinnacles that looked like a giant game of pickup sticks. He crept out and crawled into cover. Behind him, Seichan rolled free and slipped into the shelter of a stony deadfall.

Gray assessed the situation at a glance.

Only ten yards away, the helicopter rested on its wheels in the meadow, rotors churning. It must have just landed. Two soldiers were pulling the side doors open. The other commandos clustered nearby, twenty in all.