Chapter Forty-Three
Towards ten o’clock, she took a trail from the ridgeline down towards a rocky outcrop of granite and schist where the sun sparkled off the flecks in the layers. We were in a small valley between the ridges and there were patches where the rocks had split leaving nowhere for trees to grow. Usually with small cliffs marking the edges, we had passed many like these before she chose this one.
Scrambling down a trail I would have rappelled down, we hit the bottom. Under a cutout and a ledge hanging like an umbrella was a dark hole. A cave that once we crawled in a few feet, opened up to well over standing height. She flicked on her flashlight and pointed out lanterns stacked near a natural formation shaped as a table.
“We can eat and rest here,” she said, dropping her pack and I walked around checking out the cave. I found several other tunnels that went in quite far. Good, so we weren’t stuck with only one way in or out.
I smelled food cooking and that drew me back faster than anything she could have said. She had made packets of freeze-dried chicken and noodles with a pot of strong coffee. I had been expecting MREs.
“Lakan, eat,” she offered me a plate and I needed no other invitation. Leon waited until she had served herself before eating his.
“You can go home soon, Mr. DeCarlos,” she said. “They’re not interested in you so much, now.”
“I don’t want to leave Lakan in case he needs me,” he protested.
“You’ve done your part, Leon. And more. You should go home if it’s safe.” I looked at her. “Is it? Safe?”
“It is. Mostly. If they catch you, just tell them whatever they want to know,” she added. “We’ll reach Titusville tonight. One of my cousins will drive you home.”
“And you? Where are you going?” Leon asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. If I don’t know, I can’t tell.”
“We’re going to Washington, D.C.,” she smiled. “Where do you think?”
*****
Titusville was in a narrow river valley, high enough on a small rise so that if the huge Wappanoc dam went, it would only take out half of the buildings and most of the infrastructure. There was only one road in, State Highway 48 but a dozen secondary roads out. Some petered out into seasonal roads through the State and National Forests. We came down off the ridge following part of the state trail system. It brought us to the stage head of the Equestrian park which was still closed until April 15th yet some die-hard horseman had parked a rusty old four-horse gooseneck in the prettiest spot under an old pecan tree. A small brook babbled beyond the picnic table under a thin coat of ice. Beyond that was a free standing grill.
A younger man was standing by the cab of an old Dodge Ram pickup in primer gray. The tires were good - new and the truck was clean on the outside. He wore shabby jeans but they were starched and pressed under an equally worn duck coat. The cuffs and collar of a red flannel shirt stuck out of the sleeves and neck. His head of hair was brown, bare of any hat and his cheeks pink from the brisk wind. He had the same strange icy blue almost colorless eyes that Maiara sported. When he spoke, his voice washed over us like the benediction of a saint.
“Mairy, Mr. DeCarlos, Lakan,” he greeted. She hurried into his arms and hugged him as tightly as he was hugging her. “Any problems?” he asked when she pushed back and he laughed.
“Silly me. I should know better. If my little sister plans something, nothing ever goes wrong.” He turned to Leon and held out his hand. “I’m Robin, Mairy’s youngest brother.”
Leon shook his hand and his worried frown smoothed out as if he had swallowed a dose of lorazepam.
“Robby, knock it off,” she said and he turned to her with an innocent expression.
“What? He looked worried. I helped him relax.”
“My brother,” she explained, “has a gift, too. His voice makes you feel mellow. His touch can melt your defenses and put you into REM sleep. From there, he can get you to do anything.”
“Let me guess, your grandparents worked at Oak Ridge testing grounds in Knoxville?” I rolled my eyes.
“He’s as quick-witted as you said, Mairy,” her brother grinned. “Robin. Call me Robby.” I took his hand and his eyes widened. He let go first and rubbed his palm. Didn’t say anything but drew in a deep breath before he pointed to the truck. It was a crew cab, the inside spotless. She took the back seat with me and Leon sat up front. The engine purred when he started it and it was evident as he backed the 24’ trailer that he was an experienced hauler. The trailer was empty of livestock from the way it bounced on rubber springs when we hit the highway.
Huge billboards advertising Spring Festivals, Trout Fishing, and the lumber industry lined both sides of the road. Deer crossing signs and Highway mile markers broke up the monotony of the straightaways. One read Wappanoc Dam 5 miles, River Road. Burger King, McDonalds, Arby signs competed for space with Walmart and Family Planning.
The air was crisp and clean, this part of the state did not mine or use coal, it received most of its power from hydroelectric turbines at the dam.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my hand on the front seat headrest.
“My house,” Robin answered. “I live near the airport.”
“Airport? This town has an airport?” I looked at the valley between two mountain ridges and imagined trying to land a plane on what must have been a very short runway.
“Titusville Regional Airport. Believe it or not, you can land a DC-10 here.” He shrugged. “Mostly Cessnas and Beechcrafts. Puddle-jumpers.”
“Why?”
“Hard to believe but the finest bass fishing in the east coast is done at Lake Wappanoc. People fly in for the fishing tournament. Which is in two days. A few hundred thousand will swell the town and makes it a bit more difficult to find you.”
“Why can’t we leave today?” Leon asked.
Maiara answered him. “Because the people chasing Lakan will catch us if you do.”
“How can you know this?”
“She sees glimpses of the future,” I cut in. “Enough to circumvent some events.”
She gave me a grin. “Correct, Laky boy.”
He drove downtown to reach his house. The area had quaint brick buildings from the Civil War era and three story Victorians converted into gift shops, eateries and boarding houses. There were five hotels, many bars, pool houses and Kiwanis on every corner. The strip was over ten blocks long with dozens of other side streets branching off it. The Walmart was on the other side of town built high above the town and out of flood danger. His home was tucked onto a small side street near the Walmart in a development of the same cookie-cutter houses on acre-sized tracts.
Yellow with green shutters, it was a small ranch with an attached two car garage and a paved driveway. He pulled the truck up on the flattened grass next to the garage and parked. Behind the house, I saw acres of fenced pasture that went uphill disappearing into the woods. A four-stall barn nestled into a protected cove near the house and four equine heads popped out whinnying.
“This all yours?” I asked.
“One hundred and sixty-five acres. Part of the family farm, dad sold most of it off to the developers when land was $65 a square foot. He kept this part for the family. I built on a part and get to use the rest.” He opened the door and walked to the barn, letting four horses out. Walking horse, Fox trotter, and two Kentucky Mountain horses by their looks and gaits. He threw them a bale of fescue hay and then returned to let us in the house. It was locked and he opened it with a key. We carried our gear and he told us to drop it in the hallway.
The kitchen was huge; a living/dining area open all the way from the front door to the four-season porch. There were three bedrooms, two full baths and a full basement that was finished and larger than the upstairs. The extra space was guarded by a steel door and an electronic keypad.
“This is my panic room, bomb shelter, and operations center,” he explained. “I keep my guns and stuff in here. It’s powered by a separate electrical, heating and air system, has three escape hatches, is stocked for a year’s occupancy for four. The code to get in is the time and date on the digital clock on the wall.” He pointed to a small digital clock face near the stairs. The numerals glowed red in the dim corner. They were in 24-hour military time format.
“You in the service?” Leon asked but I thought he looked too young to have served and come back.
“Four years in Afghanistan,” he said bleakly. “Medical Corps.”
“How did you sync the clock with the lock?” I asked interested enough to forego eating, bathing or sleeping. He started to explain and I finished, working out a way to make the combination unbreakable by any means. He looked excited as we went over the nuts and bolts of the design. That left the door and the walls vulnerable. I tapped the wall. Ferro-concrete. Thick.
“How thick?”
“Eight feet and re-enforced with steel plates and rebar. The door is titanium steel, I bought it from a decommissioned missile site and had it cut to size. It’s a blast door.”
“Why?” I asked simply.
“Because within twenty years, there will be a complete breakdown of the American society,” Maiara predicted. “Unless something drastic happens.” She stared at me.
“What happens?” both Leon and I asked.
“You have to kill the president of 2020,” she said flatly.
“Who? Who’s going to win this year?”
“That isn’t clear but 2020 will bring in a man who starts the next world chaos. It won’t be a war per se, but an economic crisis of global proportions. Billions will starve, anarchy, disease, cannibalism. The very apocalypse the ancients have predicted. We can stop it.”
“By murdering an American leader?” I shouted.
“You’re going to murder the men who killed Rachel and kidnapped you,” she pointed out. “You revenge one person, why not save a billion or more?”
At that moment, I hated her. I left the three of them in the basement and walked off into the woods. The horses followed me up to the fence but I climbed over it.
*****
Aiken scouted around the house again looking for any sign that the boy could have left. It was as if he were a ghost and the other man, DeCarlos was almost as good as Lakan at masking his tracks. He found DeCarlos’ tracks near the foundation but it wasn’t until he went back inside to the bedrooms that he spotted a faint dusting of dirt drifting in a slight breeze.
He squatted on his haunches and watched the dust slowly eddying through the room. When he was certain where it was coming from, he entered the closet. It took him only a few seconds to find the entrance to a tunnel.
Chase stood in the doorway and watched as Aiken found the first entrance and then the second. They gathered flashlights and took both tunnels meeting up after a few yards in. Their voices echoed eerily in the subterranean corridor.
Here, there were plenty of footprints. Each was hiking boots with well-defined treads. DeCarlos’ were a size eleven and the boy’s a neat eight. He had surprisingly small feet for someone almost six foot tall. His father had been over six foot and his grandfather nearly 6’4”. The Sioux were known for their extraordinary height in a time when most men averaged 5’5”.
“Where do you think it leads?” Chase asked as he attempted to contact the rest of the team.
“It won’t work underground,” Aiken said. “No cell can go through solid rock. Not even satellite phones. You’ll have to go back and call them above ground.”
“You’ll keep after them?”
“I’ll call in when I get to the other end. It looks like it descends, probably to the base of the ridge. The rest of the team will only be a few minutes behind me. I’ll mark the way with blazes.” He opened his pack and took out a hatchet scarring the rock wall with white arrows.
“Follow the arrows. They can’t be too far ahead of us, that coffee was still warm.”
“Bring them back, Aiken. In reasonably healthy form. If you have to shoot the boy to stop them, you can. We don’t need DeCarlos alive. Or anyone else with him.”
Aiken nodded and disappeared into the earth.