He uncovers a box with a small blanket, and inside I find the boots that Niki gave me on my birthday. “You had them here the whole time? Damn, I’ve been looking for those. I thought I was going crazy when I couldn’t find them,” I say.
“I made some minor adjustments to them. They should be effective when you’re in a pinch. Go ahead, try them on. They should still be comfortable,” he says.
I put them on and I’m wondering what kind of adjustments he made to them, because they feel much the same as they did before.
“Here, push this button,” says Gabe.
I press the button and in a blink of an eye, a six-inch blade pops out of the front of the boot. “Whoa! Now this could be useful. I think I’m going to enjoy my new boots.” I grin.
“The blade is hidden between the soles, and I also added a titanium-plated barrier near the bottom of the sole for added protection.
Just remember: this is a remote button, so you can place it anywhere on your clothing,” says Gabe.
My excitement is quickly overshadowed when I glance over at Niki. She still looks a little shook up from everything.
“I wish I had something to offer, but you seem to have everything under control,” Niki says.
“Hardly, you have been more help to me than you will ever know. You’re the only person who consoled me when Lenzie Tullworth kissed Justin Leer, crushing my hopes of asking him to the seventh-grade dance. And remember the time you kept me from embarrassing myself before I got on the bus when I had a huge rip on my shorts, exposing my purple underwear? That’s what sisters are for,” I say as I nudge her on the arm.
She breaks into a smile, hugs me, and whispers into my ear, “I love you so much, sister.” A sudden fervor rushes through me when she embraces me. I hold her, wondering if I’ll ever see her again, but it’s the only way to keep her safe. I slowly let go and search her pallid face for some comforting words to add, but I’m too distracted by her strange attraction to my jacket as she rubs her hands over my sleeve.
“This is nice material,” she says. And then it dawns on me how Niki can help us.
“You know, you do have a skill that’s greatly needed. Come here,” I say, taking her over to Henry. I ask Henry to help her design a uniform that will be conducive to holding a multitude of weapons. Since Niki is a pretty good seamstress, she can create something tailored for Gabe and me to wear in battle. I give Niki the jacket that Henry gave to me for her to work with as I explain in detail what weapons it should hold.
While everyone is busy working their craft, I diligently browse the walls for something that I can hone my skills with. After five minutes of shamefully worshipping the arsenal dressing the walls, a less technical and more traditional weapon catches my eye.
I remove a titanium flex Recurve retractable bow from the wall and practice with simple field arrows near the target range. I take aim with my first arrow about thirty yards back, flinging it near dead center. I hear a couple of claps behind me as I turn around to retrieve another arrow from my quiver.
Finnegan says, “Not bad for a first shot. Now next time don’t release the arrow so quickly. Breathe in deeply and concentrate on your instincts rather than the center of the target, exhale and release.”
This time I pull a razor-tipped arrow back, turn my head to Finnegan, and smile. “You should be looking at the target, Arena. If I’m the enemy, then I’m a distraction and your target is already gone.”
I look in his eyes, wink, and release the arrow. I quickly pull out another arrow, dropping down low and turning behind Finnegan’s back while I swing the arrow up toward his neck, with my other hand clutching his hair. “Then I remove the distraction from the equation,” I say softly in his ear.
Everyone’s busywork suddenly comes to a halt as splintering eyes are planted on Finnegan’s flushed face and the target in the distance. I quickly release his hair and pull the arrow away from his neck to end any further embarrassment. He walks over by the others to examine the second arrow. Befuddled with amazement, they cogitate over its razor-sharp fins piercing the butt of the first arrow, splitting it down the middle four inches into the aluminum shaft.
“Or you could just do that,” says Father Joseph, pointing toward the split shaft.
Finnegan turns and smiles at Henry. “Lethal, huh?”
“Told you,” says Henry, grinning.
I continue shooting one arrow after another until my fingers begin to blister from the constant chafing between the leather guard and my sweat. I grow emotionally exhausted thinking about Jacob as I sling arrow after arrow, and my body becomes worn and weak.
“Perhaps you should get some sleep now, Arena. It’s imperative for you to be completely rested and at full strength,” Father Joseph says.
I agree, so I tend to the incommodious backroom quarters and lie down on one of the scratchy mattresses. This fortified bunker was obviously built as a place of refuge to withstand a surge of atomic detonations and not necessarily as a hotel with accommodating luxuries, but I’m too tired to care, so it will have to do.
I fall into a deep sleep while everyone works into the night. I replay the entire last day of school in my dreams, reliving the horrible events followed by a string of disturbing images. I vividly watch students being forcefully lined up along the gymnasium walls and sprayed with bullets to their death. I see officers with masks shooting canisters of mustard gas across the campus and watching teachers fall to the ground convulsing and spewing their insides out.
Niki is screaming for help as she is being raped by that brutal, spineless prick, but Jacob being shot dead over and over again is the one image that I can’t seem to make vanish throughout this devilish nightmare. And then finally, to end this hellish terror, I’m mocked by a serpent’s head spewing venomous accusations as he rises from his scaled belly to the feet of a man. It’s him again—the man who briefly haunted my thoughts before my parents died. He’s dressed in black, wearing a
red armband with seven black stripes, standing with glowing malice, hovering over Gabe and me in dark shadow.
He raises himself up on a cross where people flock and kneel before him. Books are open beneath the cross, flowing with red, and another book is opened above the cross, shining with lightning. Bloody flowers rain down as the faceless man slits the neck of a white dove spewing fire and water.
Ash cascades below the bird, while the clear water extinguishes the glowing fire. The dove flies away, and the man is left burning on the cross, as his shrill scream pierces the vast blackness. Amid his wretched wailing, the unholy ground from where he burns is consumed with ashes to the bellowing abyss below.
With my fists clinging to the sides of the mattress, I’m suddenly jolted awake in horror, sweating. The door swings open and I see Niki standing there. “Are you okay, Arena? We heard you screaming,” she pants.
“I’m fine, just another nightmare.” I get out of bed and walk into the other room where everybody is eating breakfast. “Where did the food come from?” I ask.
“There’s another hidden room over by the bathroom that is stockpiled with food,” says Gabe as he stuffs his face with peaches from a can.
“Would you like something to eat, Arena?” asks Father Joseph.
“No, thank you,” I reply. After that nightmare, hunger is the last thing on my mind. I suddenly find myself wanting some peace alone where I can pray.
I inquire about the old underground church that Father Joseph and Henry came upon yesterday. I just need some time away from here so I can clear my head and retrain my thoughts. That nightmare has done nothing but put me in a less-than-stellar mood this morning. I leave everyone to eat their breakfast while I grab a lantern and take my morning walk through the tunnel.
About a hundred yards through the dingy passage, I stumble upon the cathedral that Father Joseph described, and I instantly notice a large statue of Christ stretching out over to the left behind some broken pews. I raise the lantern up against the wall and find a light switch. Low lighting hovers over the floor, giving off just enough illumination to recognize my surroundings.
A gorgeous stained-glass mural of angels descending from Heaven accentuates the back wall behind a dilapidated lectern. The ground is covered in dust, showing no signs of passing tracks, but a
Bible left sitting open on one of the broken pews looks as though it has been recently used. Oddly enough, it appears to still be in decent condition, except for a few water stains. Dripping from the ceiling and onto the open pages, water causes the ink to blur out most of the words except one spot on the page. I read the only part of the passage on the page that has not been damaged. It’s from the book of Luke:
Then he said to them: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, famines, and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven. “But before all this, they will seize you and persecute you. They will hand you over to synagogues and put you in prison, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name.
I feel a tingling in my body as I close the book, my hands shaking in fear. I walk over to the statue, kneel down, and pray for hours on end until the feeling in my knees go numb. I finally rise to my feet, drenched with an uncertainty that I may one day be all alone on this journey. I struggle to walk back to the den and pause at the door. I gaze upon them all, wondering who will be left when this is all over.
“Look, I know we aren’t going to be near the den for long and what we have is great, but how are we supposed to carry all this ammunition with us?” Gabe asks Finnegan.
“We carry what our bodies will allow us and stash the rest in the Black Knight,” says Finnegan. Everyone looks at him like he’s crazy.
Father Joseph just shrugs his shoulders.
“Is this some kind of cryptic special-ops thing you failed to remind us about?” says Niki.
“You didn’t show them?” Finnegan says to Father Joseph.
“I saw nothing, and just assumed it was long gone,” says Father Joseph.
“Okay, what the hell is a Black Knight?” Gabe asks.
Finnegan walks over to the entrance that goes through the tunnel up to the old gas station and presses a button above the door. Another wall opens, with stairs leading up to a dark room. Everyone’s curiosity delights in anxiousness as they climb the stairs. Finnegan turns on a switch, and a large full-sized garage lights up with glorious wonder.
“Before you is the classic 1969 Chevy Camaro RS/SS, with a NRE Billet Blackout series twin-turbo intercooled 572-cubic-inch Big Block crate engine pulsating 2000 horses, Fat Man front suspension with Air Ride Technologies, bulletproof windows and body, double-lined fifteen-
by-twelve front tires and 345/35/18 drag radials out back, dual side barrel .50 caliber automatic guns, two front double-barrel shotguns, a hidden rocket launcher underneath the rear bumper, murdered-out two-toned midnight matte black with gloss black racing stripes, oh, and one hell of a stereo system,” Finnegan says.
Everyone is speechless and drools over the car for a few minutes until Gabe crouches down by the personalized license plate. “Ah, Black Knight, got it,” he says. “So what kind of fuel do you feed this beast?”
“That’s the best part about this armored vehicle. It runs on water, pure H2O, technically hydrogen, but the source comes straight out of the tap. Water is filtered through a series of electrolytic cells, which produces electricity from a chemical redox reaction. These very accurately tuned electric frequencies split the hydrogen and oxygen molecules,” says Finnegan.
Gabe is absolutely mesmerized. “No way! Well, I’m officially impressed.
“This is absolutely beautiful,” says Henry.
“It even has a cup holder,” Gabe facetiously adds. Finnegan furrows his brow and bites his lip.
“Nice ride,” I say, standing behind everyone. They all turn their heads in unison. “When you’re finished drooling, there’s something you might want to see down here,” I say as I walk back down to the den.
I turn the television on as everyone gathers around to watch. “Out of curiosity, I just wanted to see if there might be some kind of signal left and I came across this,” I say.
There’s footage of reporters running around trying to take cover while a news anchor in the background tries to describe what’s going on. Finally, a new piece of footage shows the sky growing black with smoke and ash, and as the camera pans out, there’s an enormous eruption of fire and lava ejecting from a volcano. As the camera pans back to reveal the scale of this event, the anchorwoman begins to voice over the madness in Italian …
“What you are witnessing is an absolutely catastrophic piece of history. This volcano, which has been dormant for over a hundred years, has not erupted since March of 1944, but what we are experiencing right now probably feels more like the famous eruption in 79AD, when Mount Vesuvius blew its top, spewing tons of molten ash, pumice, and sulfuric gas miles into the atmosphere, burning communities, cities, and killing thousands.”
Just when she finishes, a massive explosion from the mountain shakes the camera violently, and a firestorm comes raining down as the
camera falls and the screen turns black. This is just one of many disastrous events that I’m privy to conceal between Gabe and me. I can only imagine how many people will perish from this disaster.
While everyone solemnly returns to their work, I retreat to the bathroom to clean up. I haven’t had a nice, warm shower in two days, and I’m beginning to think everyone else has noticed as well. After washing the layers of dirt and filth from my hair and body, I feel new again.
I walk over to bask in adoration at Niki’s craftsmanship as she meticulously examines her work. I’m absolutely astonished at the uniform she has created. It’s snug, but breathable, and will hold more weapons than I could have ever imagined. I have her sew the remote Gabe made for my new dagger boots into the jacket sleeves.
Looking at the table where Gabe is working is overwhelming. Gadgets cover the entire length of the tables, scattered about in an unorganized manner, but to see him hard at work doing something he loves pleases my soul.