Guardians of the Portals (19 page)

“Yes. They might be on a standard search pattern and never make it over the ridge. If not, and they see the oasis, we’re gonna need Plan B.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m working on it.” The pulsing of rotors picked up resonance as the machines lifted over the ridge, the sound echoing, magnified and amplified by the slick stone walls. He yanked on his jeans and shrugged into the shirt. Watching Caitlin reach for her boots jogged his memory. He said, “Hold on a minute.”

“What are you thinking?” Caitlin barely got the words out when the sharp retort of machine gun fire erupted, laying a pattern across the far edge of the pond.

Trey shouted, “Gods damn you to hell,” as he watched the animals fall to the ground. Turning to Caitlin he yelled, “The pond! It’s our only chance.”

“The ledge, Trey, they’ll get us before we can make it to the deep part.”

“Follow me. We’ll work around... Shit!” Bullets strafed the ground in front of the shelter, sending gravel like high velocity shrapnel in all directions. Trey felt a sting on his cheek and arm, followed by a warm trickle of blood. “Move. Now!”

He grabbed Caitlin’s hand and yanked her out of the lean-to, then turned sharp right and dashed into the tree line, legs pumping hard against the sharp gravel. He ignored her whimpering as the bullets pinged and splintered the trees on the northern side of the clearing. He needed to work around almost to the point where the animals had gone down. At least, at that point, he knew the water was deep enough for diving. With the muddy suspension masking their progress, they should be able to swim to the cave and wait out their attackers.

Caitlin said, “Please tell me you aren’t planning what I think you are.”

Seven minutes, breathing for two. That gave them ... he conjured the math but it amounted to too little time by any calculation, as if they had a choice. He’d heard that drowning was not a bad way to go.

The noise rose to an ear-splitting volume as the helicopters swung back, coming in low, their shadows reflecting off the surface of the pond. They concentrated on the shoreline along the shelf, the bullets hitting and bouncing back, leaving the water churning and boiling as shards of rock flipped up and out.

Trey pulled Caitlin against his body and yelled into her ear, “They think it’s all shallow. Look,” he pointed at the choppers moving off to the outer edge of the oasis to regroup for another run, “they’ll concentrate on the outside, try to drive us into the clearing around the water.”

“What do we do?”

“Wait ’til they move in the opposite direction from this spot. Then we run for it.”

Caitlin nodded she understood as she slipped her dress off. The skirt would weigh her down and might get tangled on something. Trey stripped his shirt and handed it her. She took it gratefully, as if in meeting death she’d prefer to do it clothed. He slipped his glasses in his jeans pocket, tilting his head so he could hear which direction the machines headed.

Caitlin said, “I’ll lead you.”

Trey pulled back and mouthed ‘wait’. He counted, “Ten, nine, eight...” then waved for her to move toward the water. He followed as best he could. She would be his eyes as they cast their fates to the gods.

As they neared the shoreline, Trey hesitated and said, his voice tight with emotion, “Caitlin, I-I...”

She turned and growled, “No goodbyes, dammit. Not ever. Here we go.”

Caitlin tore across the narrow strip of gravel, dragging him in her wake. She took two steps into the murky water, then balked as she felt the ground drop off beneath her feet. The helicopters began their lift over the low bank of trees, angling away.

Trey yelled, “Don’t let go!” and dove beneath the surface. His hand slipped away from hers as they plunged towards the depths.

––––––––

C
aitlin floundered in the opaque fluid, her every instinct driving her toward the surface and safety, but she had no sense of what was up and what was down. A profound illusion of weightlessness added to her otherworldly perceptions. Nothing felt quite as alien as being suspended with her senses stripped. Little light filtered through the murk, barely reaching the level where she hovered, suspended. Using her arms to pivot, she spun in place, her hair dragging through the thick suspension and slowing the rotation. She reached in all directions, seeking Trey, but he’d disappeared, leaving her alone. Her lungs already near to bursting, she had an insane need to open her mouth and scream his name. She gulped a bit of water and gagged, the reflex so strong she knew she was lost. She prayed her lover would survive as she sank slowly toward her muddy grave.

Caitlin allowed the deception of peace into her soul. She had no final philosophical thoughts, no meaningful dialog with her deity, nothing more than a small list of regrets. She’d never see her father again, her brother seemed destined to a life of ruin and despair and she’d never make good on any of her vows. She’d done so little to make a place in her world and had barely scratched the surface of her abilities, let alone offering them in service to something greater than herself, small failures and a small life. She never even told Trey the one thing he needed to know. Not once. If there were an eternity, she was sure she’d spend it in a purgatory of grief and remorse.

She settled onto the bottom, her bare skin cushioned by reeds, like angel feathers, drifting with the bubbles escaping from her nose and mouth; the last breath. She opened her eyes, expectant. Perhaps there would be the bright light, and judgment. She’d suffered terribly. Would they take that into account? Would they place her good intentions in column A, her minor misdemeanours—the white lies and petty jealousies—in column B?

Floating along the bottom, a weak current carried her body across the grassy surface as she bounced against the odd rock or mound of gravel. Detritus wafted in the upper reaches as the lower level cleared enough for her to see features—old stumps, stands of reeds like an underwater garden, a looming black maw that could only be the cavern Trey had discovered. The current picked up strength as she drifted on her back. This dying seemed to take forever. She wondered if Death’s minions were too busy to tend to her. Perhaps, in this godforsaken dimension, they didn’t even know she’d died. She snorted at that thought. That would be one hell of a fix.

Here she’d been consorting with a demon, a devil, whoever—whatever—Trey was. She knew, finally, he wasn’t exactly human. He was clearly ‘other’, though why that should surprise her, given her own unique talents, made no sense. She was starting to get irritated. How long did you have to wait in the deep? Or was she supposed to surface and make her presence known. Maybe scare the bejeebers out of whoever was unloading a shitload of ordnance onto this barren world. Even her lover hadn’t known for sure who tracked them with such diligence. She had a niggling suspicion that he would not be happy if he lived long enough to find out. She really did not want to be in their combat boots if he made it out alive, without his soul mate. That man would write the book on vengeance. She’d love to be there to see it.

Caitlin flipped onto her belly and kicked just enough to take her away from the rocks and sharp reeds. She didn’t want to know what her butt looked like after scraping along the gravel bed. The current held steady so she paddled to keep herself within the boundaries of the cool flow as it cut a definite channel through the pond. Off her right hand side, to starboard as she’d been taught, a swirl of mud and debris attracted her interest. Strange how her eyesight improved with each passing minute. Of course, she had no frame of reference for the passage of time and little interest in it now that it ceased to exist for her.

The overhanging ledge that should have sheltered them from their pursuers loomed into view, though there was little definition between the solid rock object and the rest of the pond, merely a matter of shading. The tornado of debris moved along the bottom erratically, first toward, then away from her position. She wasn’t sure she cared enough to investigate, though a ping of energy, a poking in her gut, aroused her curiosity. By the time she decided to look in the direction she’d last seen the disturbance, the debris had settled.

Caitlin swam easily to the area, though leaving the current and entering the morass of sludge was uncomfortable, distasteful even. She increased speed, loath to allow the particles to lodge in her throat. The debris dispersed slowly, with concentrations of smaller bits, then larger, layering down through the levels, perhaps a differentiation by viscosity. She was no scientist but this watery grave fascinated and compelled in strange and wonderful ways.

A dark mass lay below her position. She hadn’t been aware that she’d risen so high above the pond’s bed. She would need to take care. Comfort lay at lower levels so she angled down toward the bed of reeds and the thing that lay in a crumpled heap atop them. Whatever it was, it seemed alive, still flailing and twitching, fighting the light current. She brushed her hand across it, trying to anchor the form in place so she could investigate further. Weak electrical current passed from the dark mass into her fingers, the spark settling in her midsection.

Trey
. She’d found him. Was he alive or was he as dead as she? Surely even he could not have lasted so long without oxygen. The link was still active, of that she was sure. He hung on. How she didn’t know, unless he’d fallen into stasis. He’d confessed that his body sometimes took over—a survival instinct. Perhaps that’s what happened. She suspected he’d been frantically searching for her—that would account for the vortex as he’d blindly reached in all directions. She was losing him, the energies dissipating.

Caitlin turned him over, cradling him in her lap, as she breathed into his mouth, watching the rise and fall of his broad chest. Perhaps this is why the angel of death hadn’t come for her. She had one more task before she exited this dimension for the hereafter—save the demon, save the world. She smirked. God had a strange sense of humour.

Caitlin looked to the surface, but shadows flickering in the dimming light indicated the machines still circled above her position. There had to be another exit. The current must lead somewhere. She would follow it, taking Trey with her, breathing for him.

He seemed light as air, his bulk giving him buoyancy as she swam, trailing her burden into the cavern. Bioluminescent creatures clung to the mirrored walls, so similar to the outer monoliths that they had to be part of the same geologic formation. The cavern narrowed quickly into a tunnel. The current picked up speed and she no longer had to expend energy pushing their bodies through the turgid fluid. She counted, “One, two, three, four and breathe!” They were comfortably suspended in a sluice racing them to God only knew where. She sensed the turbulence before they fell headlong out of an opening and plummeted into space.

****

“I
wish I had better news, Gunnarr. I am sincerely sorry.” Eirik watched his brother with concern. The man seemed to be aging exponentially, his concern over his sons consuming his spirit.

“They are sure?” Gunnarr sat heavily on the stool. He looked out the window and watched the scene play out far below. Absently he remarked, “New Yorkers go about their business, totally unaware.”

Eirik tried to keep his voice as matter-of-fact as possible, hoping his brother could hold it together long enough for them to find a solution to the mess they were all in. “The choppers found the body at the base of a cliff.”

“Did he fall?”

“Uh, not exactly.” Eirik hesitated to give his brother the final blow. The man held his grief in tight, his hands clenching until blood trickled from his palms. He had an unhealthy pallor that had Eirik ready to call in his medics in case his brother suffered a heart attack or worst.

“Tell me. I have a right to know. What did your people discover?”

“Bryn apparently found Trey and the woman. They’d taken shelter in a cave for the night. They found panniers and supplies. It looked like they left in a hurry.” Eirik sipped his coffee and reviewed the memo from the captain of his retrieval squad. “Lothi said there was evidence of a scuffle.”

“And?”

“Bryn was stabbed. Gut wound. Somehow he ended up at the base of the cliff, pushed or fell, we can’t know that.”

“Trey.” It was a statement.

“Yes. I’m sorry. But if it was as you said, there was bad blood there. What was the likelihood Bryn intended to bring them back alive?”

Gunnarr rubbed his eyes and stared at his brother. “What do you think?”

“I’m not much of a betting man, but I’d say he went in to kill, not retrieve.”

Gunnarr nodded sadly. “I agree. It was his way.”

“What now, Brother?”

“There will be a blood price to pay, Eirik. You know this as well as I do. Brother killing brother? This will reverberate through all of our clans. I have no choice.” He rubbed his palms on a wad of napkins leaving streaks of blood on the rough paper.

“You can’t be serious. If you go after Trey, you will seriously compromise our ability to reacquire the asset.” Eirik grasped his brother’s hand and squeezed. “You aren’t thinking clearly right now. Don’t be foolish. Let my men continue the search. We’ll bring them both in and then decide the best course of action.”

Gunnarr lowered his gaze, clearly reluctant to follow his brother’s advice. As elder, he’d always dictated terms, and even Gunnarr admitted that frequently his advice was sound. Whether or not he would listen this time was anyone’s guess. The odds were better than good that Gunnarr would say or do whatever it took to buy him enough time to come up with a plan more in keeping with Greyfalcon’s mission.

In a rare admission, Gunnarr said, “You were always the better tactician of us all. All right, we’ll continue as you suggest.”

Gunnarr stood and gathered up his cup and the bloody napkins and threw them into a waste container. He returned to the table and leaned over the table threateningly. “But he will be mine, do you understand? He is my son and it is my right, and my duty, to see that justice is served.”