World War IV: Empires (5 page)

Jason lunged at Dean, tackling him to the dirt. They toppled over one another, and the generals and officers rushed back inside and peeled them off one another. It took three soldiers apiece to keep them at bay. “No!” Dean shoved them back. “Let him go.”

“Governors, this is no time—”

“Let him go!” Dean’s orders rolled through the tent like thunder, and the officers complied. Jason lurched forward, his fists raised, his collar hanging loose from his neck. “If this is how you want it to be, brother, fine.” Dean charged, barreling into Jason, pummeling his ribcage with his fist, until Dean’s assault ended with a knee to his chin.

Dean’s head popped up, blood and spit flying overhead. Another blinding hit connected with Dean’s left cheek, spinning the room into a blur. He landed on all fours in the dirt, his ears ringing and a sharp pain in his jaw every time he swallowed. When he looked up, Jason was already on him, but he tripped his younger brother, pinning him to the earth in a headlock with his legs wrapped around Jason’s waist, immobilizing him. Jason gurgled, his skin purpling from the lack of oxygen. He smacked Dean’s arm, twisting, flailing his limbs to free himself. Finally, Dean felt Jason’s body relax, the fight slipping from him, and Dean released his grip, tossing Jason to the side.

Jason gasped for breath, his body shaking from the rush of adrenaline. Dean pushed himself off the ground. He was covered in dirt, his face a bright red where Jason had hit him, and blood dripped from a gash in his chin. “Send for the doctor. My brother seems to have lost his breath.”

Jason rubbed his throat, his face still flushed, and spit dripped from the corner of his mouth. “We can’t let Rodion win.” He rolled to his back in the dirt, the general and officers still in the room. “I can’t let him walk out of this alive. Even if it kills me.”

Dean shared the same rage that ran through Jason’s veins. War was in their blood, and vengeance was just one of the many symptoms the affliction caused. “He won’t win. Not if you go to the vault.”

While Jason clutched the pendulum at his neck, the generals and officers looked at each other questioningly. Monaghan was the first to speak. “Governor, what are you talking about?”

Dean walked over to his brother and extended a hand, pulling Jason out of the dirt. He removed both his and Fred’s necklaces, letting them dangle from his fingertips. “The old installation, General. It’s time.”

Monaghan shook his head. “Dean, whatever is inside that place no longer has any function. Your grandfather tried that years ago. The knowledge is lost.”

“The Brazilian engineers can help us,” Jason replied. “And for what they’ve built for the Chinese, we’ll need it.”

***

Once Dean departed to speak with the wasteland clans, Jason was left with the task of leading the engineers to the vault. In reality, it was a fortified room deep in the belly of the mountains just to the northeast. It had been built by the leaders before the Great War and for a brief time was a place for protection. But a lack of food had caused Jason’s grandfather to lead his family and what people survived the bombs of the Great War and travel to the west coast, where they eventually settled in the northwest where the capital of the region resides today.

Jason’s grandfather had kept the vault a secret. While much of the equipment there was no longer functional without a working power grid, he had the hope that one day they could restore some of their past. And if war started again as it had in the Great War, then the vault would be a valuable asset in that fight.

An armed escort followed Jason and the engineers, but he insisted that it be a small party. He knew the camp couldn’t afford to lose too many resources with the march east. However, he did appreciate the extra guns. The sect that guarded the vault did so at all costs, and he wasn’t sure what he would be walking into.

The engineers kept huddled together in the middle of the soldiers Jason brought. The trail to the vault was treacherous, the pathways narrow, and one peek over the side to the jagged rocks and cliffs thousands of feet below was enough to disorient any man.

The winds threatened their pace and their lives, trying to blow them back down the side of the mountain. The higher they rose, the colder it became. Jason’s fingers grew stiff around the rifle barrel he kept close. He maintained vigilance, constantly scanning the horizon for lookouts or any marauders that still lived in the mountains.

While most of the population was centered in the northwest and southeast regions and along the wastelands, there were still stories of those that lived in the mountains. The original sect that stayed behind to guard the vault had split in two a long time ago.

Half of the sect wished to remain loyal to their cause of guarding the vault Jason’s grandfather contracted them to keep safe; the other half wished to move on with their lives. Every few years his father would send a rider to check on the vault, and only half of those men ever returned. It was never truly clear who killed the messengers. Whether it was the half that had deserted their post or an overactive response from the vault’s sentries, they could never be sure.

Jason turned a corner, and in the distance he saw the path narrow to the point where only one man could cross. It was so tight he would have to hug the mountain, but once across, he would be rewarded with the vault that rested less than one hundred yards from where he stood.

Jason clutched the pendulums around his neck, all four of them clanking together. He tucked them into his shirt and looked back at the engineers, all three of them quivering. “I’ll go over first and secure a rope, but you’ll have to be careful when you cross.”

“And if you fall?” Alvy Hughes asked, knowing full well they wouldn’t be able to enter the vault without the pendulums he possessed.

“Then make sure you find my body quickly.” Jason scooted his first foot onto the narrow ledge, the width of his boot too large for the small patch of rock. He shouldered the rifle, grasping the side of the mountain as he inched forward slowly. Each scoot sent another tumble of gravel down the mountain, and Jason’s fingers searched for grooves along the rocks, pulling himself forward.

Twice he slipped and nearly fell to his death, his fingertips flushed white as he clung to safety. Jason slid his foot forward, his legs trembling from the strained effort of balancing on the tight wire of rock. At points the ledge itself completely disappeared, and Jason stretched his foot across the empty void, his toe scraping the ledge of the next footing, then leapt over the stretch of space, nearly twisting his ankle on the landing.

Finally, the ledge widened, and Jason arrived on the other side. He untied the rope from his waist and anchored the end with a spike into the side of the mountain. He tied another spike to the opposite end then flung the cord across the ravine, one of the soldiers catching it before it fell. “Tie it off, and let me know when it’s sec—”

The bullet that whizzed by Jason’s left ear nearly deafened him, and the ricochet off the mountain nearly killed him. Jason slammed into the rocks for cover, but the protruding angles offered little protection.

Jason eyed the horizon, reaching for his rifle, searching for the shooter among the cliffs and jagged rocks, but saw nothing. He looked back behind him, the soldiers all aiming their rifles along the rocks, looking for the shooter as well. “See anything?”

“No, Governor!”

The air was dead quiet save for the wind that blew through the mountain passes. Jason listened for any slide of rock, any click of hammer, but heard nothing. He stepped out from his cover, and another bullet ricocheted next to his head. But this time he saw the shooter’s position and fired. “To the left of the vault!”

Gunshots echoed behind him as the soldiers fired at the ridge but were soon cut short by another volley from their aggressors, two of his men taking bullets while the engineers pulled the wounded to cover. The gunfire increased, and Jason sprinted for the vault, bullets splintering off the stone around him. He slid to a stop near the vault’s entrance and fumbled for the pendulums around his neck. He’d need at least three other hands to open the door; the locks were too far apart. “I am Governor Jason Mars!” The gunshots ended, and Jason reloaded his rifle.

“Son of Luke?” The voice echoed off the rocks.

Jason slowly emerged from the side of the mountain with his hands in the air, still searching for the shooters. He looked over to the soldiers and engineers, motioning for them to keep their guns lowered. Finally, a man rose from behind a wall of rock. He kept a modern rifle crooked under his arm and the barrel aimed at Jason’s head. “I am.”

Four others emerged from the surrounding rocks, all wielding the same type of rifles, and kept their guns up as the leader made his way down the side of the mountain. His clothes were old, worn, bulky, and built for colder weather and the rough terrain of the landscape. Yet while his body looked old, his face still exhibited the tight expressions of youth. “My father told me of Luke Mars.” The young man jumped the last few feet and landed gracefully on the same ledge of rock where Jason stood in front of the vault. “He died up here protecting whatever’s under this rock. Told me to do the same.” He eyed Jason suspiciously, his comrades staying in their positions on the high ground. “I was told Luke Mars had four sons.”

Jason slowly reached for the pendulums around his neck and untucked them from the collar of his shirt. All four silver spheres dangled over his chest. “He did. My brother Dean and I are all that’s left. War is upon us.”

The young man kept a bead on Jason as he plucked one of the silver spheres and pinched it between his fingers, then pressed the rifle’s barrel against Jason’s stomach. “Did your father tell you what’s inside?” The words left his mouth in a tone of wonderment, soft.

Jason stepped back, removing both the rifle’s barrel from his stomach and the man’s fingers from the sphere. “No. He didn’t.” Jason slowly moved his finger to the trigger but kept the rifle at his side to avoid any knee-jerk reactions from the others.

“Fathers tend to protect us from that which they think will kill us.” The young man finally took his gaze off the pendulum and looked Jason in the eye then lowered his rifle. “All clear!” The men lowered their weapons, and Jason exhaled, the tension built up in his body releasing. “My name is Fuller.”

Jason turned back to his men and the engineers across the ledge. “Is there another way across?”

“Yes,” Fuller answered. He gestured to the southwest, back from where they had come. “A small path diverts about a mile back. It’s hidden, and the unknowing eye wouldn’t see it. It starts off hard, but after a quarter mile it opens up into an easy walk.”

Once it was determined the wounds on his soldiers were nothing more than flesh bites, they started the trek back down the mountain with the aid of one of Fuller’s scouts. Fuller then sent the others back to camp, telling them of Jason’s arrival. “It’ll be big news for everyone. There hasn’t been a Mars here in nearly thirty years. Most of those that had seen one are dead.”

“How many of you are up here?” Jason didn’t imagine it was a large community that could survive in this landscape. He saw nothing but rocks. No water or soil to grow food. Any provisions that were sent up would have been depleted long ago.

“About a hundred, but with winter coming, that number will plummet with the temperatures.” Fuller sat on a rock, resting his rifle across his lap, then started dismantling it. “Our people don’t live to grow old up here.” He wiped down the parts, cleaning each piece with a dirtied rag. “We were wondering if the Mars family even existed anymore.” He motioned over to the vault; the metal and steel looked aged and worn compared to the hard rock intermixed around the large bolts and joints. “There won’t be a man or woman in our village that won’t want to come see it open. Half of us believe that it’s empty.”

“And the other half?” It was a question Jason himself had pondered. While his father had described some of what would be inside, he’d never seen the contents firsthand either. What lay beneath the tons of mountain might be nothing but dust now.

“The other half believe the moment that vault is opened, hell itself will be released back onto earth, devouring all that’s left of our world.” Fuller chuckled after the words left him.

“Is that what you believe?” Jason asked.

Fuller took a moment to weigh the question, slowly putting his rifle back together. It was a modern Jason had never seen before, better than any of the weapons in their arsenal. From the look of the weapon’s sights, Fuller had missed hitting Jason on purpose. “I believe that you are here because you need something. Whatever lies in that mountain, you think it can save you. Whether it will, well, that’s another story entirely.”

Once the rest of Jason’s party returned, he offered one key to Alvy, one to his lieutenant, and the other to Fuller. Jason twisted the sphere on the pendulum until a small key protruded. The others mimicked his motions, and each found the grooves of the lock on the thick steel door. “On three.” Jason looked at them spread out across the vault’s surface. “One. Two. Three.”

All four men twisted their keys at the same time, and the resulting coordination was a loud clank that thudded through the thick vault door, gears turning and whining as if they would break and crumble from their lack of motion in the past fifty years.

The latches locking the door in place burst from the rock, bits of dust falling from each mechanism from the top all the way to the bottom. Jason stood back as the vault door creaked open. The weight of the door rattled the rocks of the mountain as it opened.

A rush of cold air greeted Jason as he stepped inside. The only light offered was from the rays of sun behind him. The ground felt smooth and even under his feet. He walked as far as the light would take him then stopped, groping the walls for guidance.

“What do you see?” Fuller asked, shouting from the vault’s entrance.

“Nothing.” Jason’s voice echoed through the darkness. The walls felt smooth under his hands as well. No bumps or grooves. He’d never felt a stretch of rock this smooth for this long. He looked behind him, and he’d walked so far that the light at the entrance had nearly been consumed by darkness. “Bring in some lanterns! I don’t know how far this hall go—”

White light blinded Jason, and he squinted his eyelids shut, which did little to block out the luminous rays bursting around him. He held his hands over his eyes to help shield himself, and he was deaf to the shouts of his men screaming at the vault’s entrance.

Slowly, Jason opened his eyes, his pupils adjusting to the brightness. He blinked furiously, shaking his head. Blurred figures suddenly took shape, but their forms were unlike anything he’d ever seen before. The tunnel he’d walked through had suddenly opened up into one enormous room, stretching farther than his eyes could see.

“Governor!” Fuller shouted, coming up from behind, but then he stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes fell upon the same sight, the line of men behind him shuffling to a halt, everyone in awe.

Stairs led to the bottom of the room, which was at least one hundred feet down and lined with hundreds of old relics from the past. Machines, vehicles, even planes dotted the massive hole carved out of the stone.

The walls were supported by massive columns that ran like veins in the rock of the mountain, keeping everything in place. Jason walked over to a dust-covered box nearly a foot taller than him. They stretched all along the walls, thousands of the same size, color, and shape. Jason was the first to walk down, being mindful of his footing. As grandiose as the structure was, he knew it was old, yet from the design it looked as though it would stand for another thousand years.

A few of the planes and vehicles Jason recognized from his grandfather’s stories, but his grandfather’s descriptions paled in comparison to the awe of seeing the feats of engineering for himself. Once on the floor, he turned around and saw everyone with the same admiration as his reflected on their faces, particularly Alvy and the two other engineers, and that’s when reality returned to him. “Can you use any of this?”

Alvy brushed his fingertips down the side of one of the planes, cutting a path through the layers of dust, then rubbed the dirt between his fingers, watching the small granules fall to the floor. “What lies in this tomb hasn’t been seen for over half a century.” He kept his eyes on the plane then shifted his gaze to Jason. “It will take time. But yes.”