Expedition Beyond Read online

  “Abba,” Des said.

  Alée stared daggers at Des. She apparently didn’t approve of him agreeing with what Rawool had said. “Rawool say you trick him.”

  Des had already figured that out. “Na, na, na, na. E see-na ala-ala né.” No, I have the power to control fire.

  Rawool replied in his own dialect, “We hate the beasts as much as you. We want to kill them, just like you.” He sliced his finger across his neck.

  Des began to speak, but Alée whispered, “He not done.”

  Rawool stuck his knife in the dirt. He spoke rapidly and assertively saying he would join forces with Des and even allow Des to lead. But issues concerning the queen’s position of power and Anastasia must be resolved. Rawool was challenging the queen’s right to rule and he demanded that she abdicate the throne. When the council arrived, they could decide. He rambled beyond Des’ ability to understand.

  Des turned to Alée, who was glaring viciously at Rawool.

  “Abba,” Des said. Rawool had agreed to what was most important—they would fight the beasts together.

  He withdrew Rawool’s knife from the dirt and used the blade’s tip to outline his battle plan.

  Rawool watched with his men as Des drew and Alée explained.

  “You and your men here,” Des said. “Flank attack.”

  When Alée translated, Rawool nodded.

  “He says it is a good plan,” Alée told Des.

  “Yi, yi, yi, yi,” Des agreed.

  When they were walking back to the village, Des said, “That went pretty well, all things considered.”

  Alée didn’t reply. Des had just placed his fate and Anastasia’s completely in the hands of others, and he was unaware he might have bargained away his wife in the process.

  Chapter 41

  T-minus (02:02:21:15)

  Mitch saw the base camp from the air and awakened Bearters, who also looked out to see white ground with shades of gray around the tents. Mitch put on his fur coat and made another woozy trek to the bathroom.

  Once the helicopter landed, Mallory walked down the aisle.

  “Okay, everybody out. Get the stake pullers. Mitch, you can empty and bundle up the commode tent. Bearters, you help with the main tent and get a clipboard from the pilots with some paper and a pen to itemize everything we take. You can check it off from the original camp manifest, so we can prove we cleaned up properly. Stow it all in the first and second cargo bays, so we can get the dogs out. We’ll repack later to cover up any evidence the dogs had moved.”

  Mitch looked at the dogs in the third cargo bay on his way out. They were lined up neatly in the center of the bay, but one had changed. It was now filled to the gills with ammunition boxes, automatic rifles and machine guns.

  After they’d all cleaned up the camp, and eaten and rested well, the chopper headed for the vent a few kilometers away.

  “Will you look at that,” Mitch said as the Chinook circled.

  Steam roared from the vent and spouted four hundred meters high.

  Hans said from behind him, “She looks like the blowhole of an enormous whale.”

  “I think we’ve found Old Faithful’s mom,” Mitch said.

  The chopper circled closer, and Mitch could see the glistening sides of the cone-shaped vent, with water dripping into the abyss.

  “No way can we go in there. No way.”

  The helicopter set down in the snow.

  Mallory came down the aisle dressed in Army fatigues, a red beret, heavy boots and a camouflage woolen coat with “Mallory” and achievement bars over a pocket.

  “I guess we’ve all seen the problem. We’re going to let the dogs out here, do a little reconnoiter, then I’ll see if I can get down that hole. We’ll hook my dog to the Chinook, fly overhead, and see what happens.”

  “Sir,” Mitch put on his coat, “can I wear an outfit like yours?”

  Mallory grinned.

  When Mitch returned from the bathroom, all the seats were empty. He unzipped his bag and removed his fur hat and mittens. Patting his pockets to make sure the pups were quiet, he walked outside.

  Bearters and Hans were standing near the vent in their orange Tevlar coats; men in military camouflage were unloading the dogs. Their coats and facemasks were coated with ice. Mitch heard an eerie blowing sound coming from the opening.

  “What do you think?” he hollered over the noise.

  Bearters yelled back, “We think Mallory would be nuts to try to go down.”

  Crow hurried over to them. “We’re taking the chopper up!”

  They all hustled back to the Chinook.

  Mallory closed his dog’s hatch and latched it. The plastic dome overhead immediately began to fog. He toggled switches; green lights flashed on the dash and then glowed. He turned the ignition and the turbine began to whine; he toggled on the heaters. Someone outside rapped on the cowling. Mallory turned on the defrosters and the plastic shield began to clear.

  Crow was cupping his hands around his mouth. “You’re all hooked up!”

  Mallory nodded. He removed his gloves and beret, pulled on his helmet, then spoke into the microphone’s mouthpiece.

  “This is Lead Dog to Mama Bird. Lead Dog to Mama Bird, do you read me?”

  “I read you loud and clear, Lead Dog. I’ve got my rotors turning. You’re on the hook.”

  Mallory flipped switches and moved the joystick. The dog moved from side to side and up a little. The board displayed all green lights.

  Mallory said, “I have a go. Repeat: go. Just put me over that hole and let’s see what happens.”

  “Roger that. You have one hundred and fifty meters of cable. That’s one-five-zero. Let me know if you want me to shorten the leash.”

  “Ten-four,” Mallory replied.

  “Lift off.”

  Mallory buckled his harness and tightened the straps.

  “Take me over the turbulence first. Then lower me on my mark. Over.”

  “Understood. Over.”

  The dog lifted gently into the night sky.

  “I’ve got a little swing. Shorten the leash,” Mallory said.

  “I copy that. We’ll winch you in to one hundred. That’s one-zero-zero.” The small capsule swung wildly. Mallory fought the stick with one hand, then with both. The onboard computers chattered. Two of the green panel lights changed to yellow.

  “Approaching target,” Mallory said, straining to keep his craft directly underneath the Chinook. He turned on the turbo. Another yellow light flashed on his instrument panel. The dog was in danger of spinning.

  “Lieutenant, we have turbulence,” the pilot said.

  “Yes, I know. More down here.” Mallory continued to fight for control.

  “Abort, sir?”

  Mallory looked at the rush of air from the vent. There had to be an eye where there was less turbulence. He calmed the sway with his thrusters and aimed the nose down.

  “No. Lower me.”

  “Sir, I can’t take this bird any lower. I’ve got two yellow lights. If you want to go, we’ll have to use more leash. Over.”

  Buffeted, Mallory turned to the radar screen and scoped the sides of the vent below. He entered numbers on the computer to keep the dog at least ten meters away from the vent walls. The monitor flashed:

  ABORT

  “Let the leash out to one hundred fifty. That’s one-five-zero,” Mallory said.

  “Are you sure, sir? Over.”

  “Dammit, go!”

  His arm was tiring from fighting the joystick. The dog lowered as alarms clanged, the instrument panel blinked on, then off, and red lights appeared. He fought to keep the nose down.

  “Your angle needs adjustment,” the pilot said.

  Mallory concentrated on the monitor where a blinking white dot swayed through the bu
lls-eye several times, then stopped in the center. The light glowed green.

  “Fifty more. Give me five-zero more!”

  “Sir?”

  “Now! Over!”

  The edge of the vent wall surrounded him and a siren began to wail.

  “You’re cracking up. Over,” the pilot said.

  Mallory said, “Cut me loose. Disengage the hook.”

  The claw above him opened, uncoupling the dog from the Chinook. Mallory hit the afterburner, and the dog screamed down one hundred meters. Mallory eased off and turned sideways, one wing lowered.

  “All clear, do you copy? Over,” Mallory said.

  “Roger,” the pilot said. “I copy, all clear.”

  The helicopter banked right and swooped out of sight.

  Mallory nosed downward again and hit the afterburners. The siren went silent. The dog rolled twice, then regained attitude as Mallory monitored his radar. He was in the bulls-eye, traveling downward at two hundred fifty kilometers per hour. His instrument panel was again green lights only. Nothing was ahead for hundreds of kilometers. He turned on outside lights as the rush of oncoming wind diminished and his speed increased.

  Mallory was forty-nine kilometers from the surface when he pulled back on the throttle, and the dog hung at fifty. He rotated the nose skyward, pushed forward on the throttle and began accelerating upwards with the afterburners on. Traveling with the wind was much smoother. He pulled back on the throttle until the engine idled, centered his craft and prepared to break out at the surface.

  The dog popped out of the vent like a cork from a champagne bottle. The parachute unfurled at the apex of its flight, and Mallory’s capsule floated gently to the snow.

  “It’s a bit of a rough ride to start, but it smoothes out quickly,” Mallory told his team, who were gathered in the passenger cabin of the Chinook. “This mission is for volunteers only. We have eight dogs. I’m in one, and another is filled with supplies. Mitch?”

  “I’m in,” Mitch said, determined to get Des.

  “Okay. That leaves five.”

  Crow jumped to attention. “Sir!”

  “Yes, Sergeant Crow, of course. Pick four more volunteers to accompany us.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Everyone volunteered.

  Crow picked four with the most combat experience, leaving behind Hans, Bearters, two enlisted men and the pilots—enough men to fly the Chinook home if no one returned from the vent.

  Mallory announced, “Everything’s all set. After I get settled inside the vent, I’ll call for Mitch to follow. Mitch, I have complete control of your dog, but the rest of you can work the ancillary equipment: the heaters, the defrosters, the lights, and the like. The next dog after Mitch will be the one with the armaments. I’ll stack the dogs as close to the surface as possible, but far enough down where the wind will not be a problem. Sergeant Crow brings up the rear. If we abort, don’t open your chute until you’re in the sky. Once all the dogs are in the vent, I’ll let you know when I’m ready to move down. Remember to bring snack kits, water, and a jug. I’ll try to fly as fast as possible, but this is going to take some time, so sleep, if you want. We have to be ready for whatever we encounter. Any questions?”

  Mitch asked, “Sir, what’s a jug for?”

  In his dog, Mitch heard the chopper’s blades cut through the air as two men strapped his harness over him. There was just enough room behind his head for his duffel bag, and comfortable legroom in front. The men helped him into his helmet; Mitch gave them a thumb’s-up. They snapped shut the hatch and locked it with outside levers. Mitch heard them attach the hook, then the dog’s engine fired up.

  “Mitch, can you hear me?” Mallory’s voice came over the headset.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m in the vent now. It’s not as bad as yesterday. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Let me know if you have any problems.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The dog elevated off the ground. Mitch pulled duct tape out of a side pocket of his bag, removed the puppies from his coat pockets and carefully taped one to the top of each of his thighs, giving them each a medicated treat, then swallowed a pill himself. He looked at the empty jug on the floor between his legs and hoped it was large enough for all three of them.

  Chapter 42

  T-minus (00:12:32:23)

  As Anastasia slid between their sheets, Des wrapped himself around her, kissed her long and hard, then whispered, “Good night, my dear.”

  He would be asleep in moments he was so tired. Rain began to pound on the roof and drip into the central tub, a soothing sound to Des.

  “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you,” he murmured to her.

  “Don’t talk like that. It makes me nervous. Don’t think that something bad could happen to you.”

  “Or to you, my love.” He kissed her shoulder.

  Her breathing became deep and regular.

  Anastasia prepared an elaborate breakfast with poached eggs, cornbread and butter, fruits and potatoes fried with onions. They ate heartily, bathed together, dressed and walked hand-in-hand to the beach through air heavy with fog. It was a cool, beautiful morning. Birds sang in the trees; the flowers and foliage were laden with dew.

  They arrived before the time for morning calisthenics, but most of the warriors were already milling around. Des and Anastasia walked down the beach, enjoying the moist sand underfoot; Alée and Ray-na followed. Des felt relaxed. Anastasia kicked sand at him. He grabbed her by the waist, kissed her lightly on the lips, then released her.

  He turned towards the sea and breathed in deeply, but as he exhaled, he stopped short and felt the blood drain from his face.

  “They’re here,” he said, just loudly enough for Alée to hear.

  Alée whistled like a bird to the others.

  The fog lifted slightly. Des saw a canoe come to shore at Oom’s, and Ray-na was sprinting toward him. His people were carrying kegs from E-shandra and laying fuses in the sand.

  Des formed up warriors with blowguns in groups of three along the path that led to Sight Rock. Each group placed twenty poison darts on a reed mat in front of them, loaded their weapons, then knelt on one knee. Des patted backs and Alée whispered encouragement.

  Twenty meters above them was a freshly constructed path parallel to the old one. Anastasia and Ray-na readied kneeling warriors on the new trail, then Anastasia stood near a flowering tree above Des.

  The six young girls sat below Des.

  Des slipped the only CD he had into the player, turned on the power and set the volume to maximum. The soundsticks were hanging in trees halfway to the shore. When he touched the play button, music would reverberate across the mountain.

  Near the south soundstick, Rawool was moving his men into position, camouflaged with leaves.

  Adeyo waved from his clearing, far above Des.

  Des drew his sword from its sheath, squatted, thrust the blade into the moist earth by his side and waited.

  The village lay below them. To the north, beyond it, was the river. Des didn’t think the beasts could ford it, so he had positioned Rawool and his men to the south, with Oom’s hut below them. Rawool needed to protect only one flank, which provided Des with more troops for a frontal assault.

  The only person still standing was Anastasia.

  Des heard oars splashing. He glimpsed the beasts’ sentinel rowboat through the fog. One beast rowed from the stern while two others scanned the village, the mountain and Oom’s from the bow. They were dressed in black leather, with rope encircling their foreheads and tying back their hair. They passed Oom’s hut and rowed out to sea.

  Twenty minutes later, Des heard the thundering horde before he saw them. Fiery lights leaked through the foggy, dark canopy of trees beyond the village and he now saw hundreds of beasts with torches in their mouths as they rac
ed into the village, stopping only when they found something to burn.

  When they reached E-shandra, dozens of beasts swarmed inside, then reemerged without their torches. The small coliseum poured black smoke into the sky before it burst into flames.

  Des heard another rumble to the south.

  Most of the beasts ran past Oom’s burning hut, but a few stopped to use their hatchets, reducing the stone furnace to rubble. The others raced on to join the north horde directly below Des, some still carrying torches in their mouths.

  They had taken the beach; now they were eyeing the mountain.

  Des guessed there were a thousand or more beasts on the sand. They were issuing a cacophony of shrieks and screams, which were rising and falling eerily.

  “They’re just trying to scare us,” Des said in Anasazi to his troops.

  E-shandra’s flames crackled, as did the hundreds of fires in the village. The canoes were burning; the walls of Oom’s hut toppled. Des’ anger was replaced by resentment as the village burned, and his hatred for the beasts rose.

  “Kill them,” he urged his troops. “Kill them all!”

  A ship emerged from the fog, seventy-meters long, its paddlewheel churning until the boat was beached. The beasts’ shriek-screams grew louder as the bow hatch opened.

  Two columns of beasts emerged, parting the masses already on the sand. The columns turned to face each other as the horde closed ranks around them.

  A lone, tall beast emerged. He was wearing a gold-studded white leather vest, leather leggings and a white headband. Not far behind him was a short, plump beast dressed all in silver; a silver cone jutted up from his headband.

  The assembled beasts stopped their shriek-screams.

  “Who are they?” Des asked Alée.

  “Shrive…and Natas,” she replied.

  “Who is Natas?”

  Anastasia said, “He is the leader of the beasts.”

  “Then he’s a primary target,” Des said.

  Beasts from inside surrounded Natas, who stayed on the ship’s ramp. Shrive walked onto the sand, removed an animal horn from his belt and blew into it.