Atlantis: Devil's Sea (21 page)

Instead of blood, black steam issued from the stump, and the Valkryie screamed once more, but there was different timbre to this, one that gave Falco confidence, as it echoed of disbelief and pain. Falco’s feeling was short lived as he sensed the other creature right behind him. He spun, ducking down, just in time as the tips of razor-sharp claws, sliced along his armor in the back, then cut his shoulder, splitting skin.

He stopped his slide with the Naga end of the staff, jamming it between two rocks on the slope, hands wrapped around the haft tightly, blade pointing up. The second Valkryie halted just short of splitting itself on the point.

“Come on!” Falco yelled at it.

The wounded Valkyrie joined the other, black still issuing out of the stump. As they came closer, Falco got to his feet, pulling on the staff. To his dismay, it didn’t move, the snakeheads jammed tight between the two rocks. He twisted and yanked to no avail. His sword was ten feet away where he had dropped it and the staff was useless.

Falco let go of the staff and stood, hands raised, ready to fight the creatures bare-fisted. They closed on him, then paused and turned slightly. Falco saw what had caught their attention. Kaia and Cassius were in the mouth of the tunnel, silhouetted in red. The priestess had a long dagger in one hand, the skull covered in her robe in the other, while Cassius had his sword in his one good hand. They were yelling to attract the attention of the Valkyries. It worked. Both floated up the hill toward the two, leaving Falco. He cursed and rushed after them, scrambling up the slope, picking up his sword as he went.

As the Valkyries closed on the tunnel opening, Kaia pulled aside the cloak, revealing the skull. It lit up the fog around it, and Falco could swear it was pushing the foul air away from it. The Valkyries stopped abruptly. With a chorus of screams, they rose up and retreated, moving back out to sea as the fog rapidly retreated also.

Falco stopped his charge, watching the creatures disappear with the strange fog. Kaia and Cassius came down to his location. Behind them, lava began flowing out of the entrance of the tunnel.

“You’re wounded,” Kaia said.

Falco glanced at the cuts on his shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

“It could be diseased from the creatures,” Kaia said. “We need to clean it.”
“We need to get out of here,” Falco said, pointing at the lava now flowing down toward them. He turned and went down to the Naga staff, freeing it from between the rocks. As he passed, he also picked up the severed claw of the Valkryie, sticking it in his belt.

He led the way to the boat, and they clambered aboard, Kaia covering the skull with her cloak once more. As Falco pushed off, he felt the ground shake again. Looking up, he could see what the smoke coming out of the top of Palaia Kameni was much greater than before, a thick, dark plume rising to the heavens. He hopped and grabbed one oar while Kaia took the other. They pulled, rumbling in the air giving them urgency.

“Head for the opening,” Cassius ordered. “I ordered Captain Fabatus to put out to sea near there if there was any trouble, and it will be quicker than going over that ridge.”

Falco adjusted the course of the boat, leaning into the oar.

“What about the oracle?” Cassius asked as they passed the smaller island.

“She’s dead,” Falco said. He glanced up and met Kaia’s eyes. He knew she had felt the old woman’s death deeper than he had. “Why are these things killing the oracles?”
“They want to wipe us out,” Kaia send. “End the line of priestesses.”

Falco gave up the conversation and concentrated on rowing. There was the sharp crack of an explosion behind them, and he looked back. A section of Palaia Kameni had collapsed, spewing dust into the air. Lava was flowing out of the tunnel and the destroyed area, heading down toward the water. Where it touched, there was an explosion of steam as heat fought liquid. Falco and Kaia strained hard at the oars, and even Cassius tried to help with his one good arm, splashing at the water.

There was another explosion behind them, and they didn’t even bother to look. The boat lifted as a five-foot-high swell passed under them and headed out to sea. The wave gave them some momentum, and Falco risked a glace back, feeling a tremendous pressure in the back of his head. At that moment, the top of Palaia Kameni blew with a thunderous explosion. Rocks and dirt flew high into the air, and a fiery cloud came racing outward.

“Over the side!” Falco screamed, emphasizing his point by tossing Kaia into the water with one thrust of his arm. He spun around and dove at Cassius, wrapping the general in his arms, and flying overboard. They hit the water, and the combined weight of Falco’s and Cassius’s armor took them under.

Even as he sank, Falco looked up. He saw the bright sky disappear as the ash cloud swept overhead. Then he felt Cassius struggling in his arms, and he let go of the general as they both fought to get their breastplates off as they slowly sank. Both men had worn their amour almost every day of their life, so the routine was something that was ingrained. Falco’s fingers unbuckled and loosened, and in second his breastplate was off, plummeting to the bottom, He reached out and grabbed Cassius as the general got his off. Boulders hit water all around, racing by on their way to the bottom.

Looking up, he could see the sky was not as dark. Falco kicked for the surface, feeling the air in his lungs turning bad. He surfaced and gagged, as he sucked in huge lungfuls of ash-filled air. Cassius surfaced next to him and began coughing. Falco saw Kaia’s head pop up near the side of the boat, and he swam over. He could see that the wood was singed. The sky was filled with the ash that was steadily spewing out of the volcano, but the superheated death cloud had passed.

“How did you know to do that?” Kaia got out between coughs.

“It just came to me,” Falco said as he climbed into the boat and reached down to give her a hand.

Kaia got on board, and then they both helped Cassius. Kaia ripped strips of cloth from her cloak and gave them to the men. They tied these around their heads, covering their mouths, and then they resumed rowing. Behind them, the volcano was spewing a towering cloud of ash into the air, while lava flowed freely, hitting the water and turning it into steam.

As they made it into the gap, they could see the galley off to the left, protected from the direct force of the volcano by the old caldera.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
HE
P
RESENT

Dane could see a destroyer circling the perimeter below, the submersible on one side of the flight deck, already rigged to a crane, ready to be lowered. With a slight bounce, the helicopter landed, and Dane slid open the cargo bay door and got out, joined by Loomis. Foreman was waiting for them, wearing a one-piece black jumpsuit.

“I’m going with you,” Foreman said to Dane.

“But, sir—“ Loomis began, but Foreman cut him off.

“Mr. Dane thinks I always send others in harm’s way,” Foreman said. “I thought I’d show him differently.”

Dane knew that wasn’t quite true. Foreman wanted to go to the graveyard and search for his brother’s plane. Still, he felt no need to mention that in front of Loomis. Dane quickly changed into a similar black suit and rejoined Foreman on the deck. The hatches were open on the two spheres that made up the crew compartments of
Deepflight
, and the pilot and navigator were already on board. Dane followed Foreman up a small ladder and then down into the small sphere. The hatch was closed behind them and screwed shut.

Dane lay down on the padded bottom of the sphere, ignoring Foreman, who was checking screens and gauges as if he had a clue how the thing operated. Dane closed his eyes and allowed his mind to roam, sensing the ocean around them as the submersible was lifted off the deck and lowered into the water. There was a jolt as the crane hook was released by divers. The nose of the submersible titled forward, and they were on their way.

Dane picked up no threat in the immediate area. He closed his eyes and within a minute was asleep as
Deepflight
continued its long descent to the bottom of the world.

He woke with a nudge of Foreman’s foot in his chest. “We’re at the door.”

Dane looked over the CIA man’s shoulder at one of the video displays. The flat, black metal extended in all directions.

“Any sign of activity in the gate?” Dane asked.

“Nagoya is monitoring from the FLIP, and he’s picked up nothing.”

Dane could see they were moving down along the wall. “How deep are we?”

“Ten thousand, five hundred meters,” Foreman said. He tapped the screen and spoke into the headset he wore. “That’s it. Go in there.”

A dark circle was in the center of the metal, exactly as it had been in the Milwaukee Deep in the Atlantic Ocean. It grew closer as the pilot directed them toward it. Dane felt the same strange sensation of disorientation as they passed through; then they were in.

The submersible surfaced inside the huge chamber, exactly in the center. Dane waited calmly, Foreman not so relaxed, as the pilot prepared the craft to allow them to exit. Finally, the green light came on next to the hatch above their heads, and Foreman spun the handle, slowly unscrewing the hatch.

Dane followed him out, balancing on the grid that surrounded the rear sphere. For security purposes, they’d agreed that the pilot and copilot would remain secure in the forward sphere for the mission.

“My God!”

It was the most emotion Dane had ever seen Foreman express. The black beach was littered with hundreds -- thousands—of planes and ships. The spectacle was overwhelming both in number and variety. A clipper ship sat next to an oil tanker, next to a cluster of Polynesian rafts, next to a rowboat, next to the Chinese junk; all in just two hundred yards of beach. What was most disconcerting was the absolute stillness of everything. There was no sign of life in the graveyard, just as there hadn’t been in the Atlantic one.

“There!” Foreman clutched Dane’s arm, his fingers digging in painfully. A cluster of planes were just above the waterline. “That’s my flight. The tail numbers match. And the nose painting. That’s my brother’s plane.”
Foreman was already giving orders over the intercom for the pilot to head that way. Dane was looking about, not certain what he was searching for – something out of place, like the etching on the sail of the
Scorpion
or the Atlantean ship he had found in the other graveyard.

Deepflight
slowly moved through the water toward the shore where the planes were. Dane saw a Russian submarine in mint condition except where the power plant had been; the deck plates had been sliced off, and the reactor was gone. A modern Japanese destroyer rested on the black beach, slightly canted because of its keel. Numerous dried blood trails were all over the side of it, ending abruptly where the waterline must have been.

There were several Flying Fortresses, lined up wingtip to wingtip, their silver skin gleaming. Dane startled when he read the name scripted on the nose of one of the planes:
Enola Gay
.

“Foreman,” Dane tapped the other man.

“What?”

Dane simply pointed at the plane.

Foreman shrugged. “Yeah. I knew about that. It’s in the files, classified top secret, Q-clearance. The first
Enola Gay
disappeared on the initial mission to drop the bomb. Lucky they had three bombs, not two, like history books have recorded. You can bet there were some scared people in the White House when they got that report. They covered it up pretty well, don’t you think?”

It was almost as if Foreman was telling him the sky was blue.

“And still, even after that,” Foreman’s voice took on an edge now,” they didn’t want to believe the gates were a threat. Lost in flight, cause unknown was the official determination for the first
Enola Gay
. You know how many lost in flights, or lost at sea, cause unknowns are on file?”

Foreman didn’t wait for an answer. “Over fifty years I’ve tried to convince them. No one wanted to listen to me. No one wanted to know the truth. But they know now, don’t they?”

“What truth?” Dane asked. “We know where those planes and ships are now, but we still have no clue
why
they’re here.”

Foreman pointed at the eviscerated Russian submarine. “For our technology, our power.”

“The power maybe,” Dane allowed, “but I doubt they need our technology. Did it ever occur to you that maybe they want the people, too? The craft are here, but where are the people?”

The submersible came to a halt, forestalling any answer by Foreman as he carefully lowered himself overboard and swam the short distance until he could touch bottom. Dane followed.

Foreman went directly to his brother’s plane, clambering up on the wing. The cockpit glass was pulled back, and Foreman leaned inside. Dane climbed up on the other side.

“Just like the day he got in it,” Foreman said. “It hasn’t aged a bit.”

There was a photo tucked next to one of the instrument panels. Two young men in flight suits standing on a beach smiling. Foreman noted Dane looking at it.

“Our last shore leave together in Hawaii.”

It was hard for Dane to connect the smiling young man in it with the hard old man on the other side of the plane. Even in the midst of World War II, Foreman had looked happier than he did now.

“Do you think your brother could still be alive?” Dane asked.

Foreman took the picture, sliding it into a plastic bag and putting it in his pocket. “When I saw the movie
Close Encounters
– have you seen it?”

Dane nodded, and Foreman continued.

“And all those people got of the mother ship at Devil’s Tower, all I could think about was my brother and all the others. I was a member of Flight Nineteen, the only one who didn’t go on that last fight into the Bermuda Triangle.”

“You have a knack for staying out of trouble,” Dane noted.

“Sometimes I wish I had been with my brother at the end.”

For one of the few times in their history, Dane believed him.

Foreman climbed off the wing onto the strange black beach. He looked about. “See anything interesting?”