Prometheus Road (25 page)

Degas snorted and shook his head. “You’re one man against a technologically superior enemy. The gods don’t even have lives that you can take away. How are you going to stop them?”

“On their own ground, as Lebowski told you,” Tom said. “In Stronghold.”

Matisse rolled his eyes. “Words. All words. We have no proof that you can reach the world of the gods; that technology no longer exists, except perhaps in the minds of crazy old people. We lead good lives down here. We raise our families, we feed ourselves, we acquire art and place it here where it can be appreciated and preserved. We can’t put all of that at risk.”

“You’re always at risk,” Tom said. “With each passing day, while you live in your holes underground, the gods become stronger and more confident. They must be stopped, or they will eventually come for you. Someone will make a mistake, the gods will learn where you are, and your homes will be destroyed.”

Matisse’s eyes flared. “So you say. But you haven’t lived with us. You know nothing about us. We’re all outcasts and outlaws, and most of us are only alive because Rose rescued us from the rehab facility. We aren’t soldiers, and we aren’t crusaders out to save everyone who lives on the surface. Our place is here in the Underworld, living quietly, bothering no one.”

“Security is an illusion,” Lebowski said. “I know something of the ways of gods, and I know the unfortunate ways of people. Your peaceful existence here will not last long. You must help us defeat the Dominion now while you still can. When Telemachus orders Hermes to come for you, there will be no safe place for you to hide.”

“I agree,” Rose said. “We’ve lived in the dark for too long. We’ve forgotten how it feels to live boldly in the sunlight.”

Before Rose could continue, they heard startled noises from the crowd waiting outside. Someone screamed, the crowd murmured, and a baby began to cry. Rose got up and opened the door to peek outside. A wave of excited and disturbed sounds entered the blockhouse.

“How is this possible?” Rose sounded confused. Where her hand held the edge of the steel door, her knuckles were white. She took two hesitant steps out into the cavern, her eyes wide, staring at her surroundings.

Tom and the others followed her out the door. Although the environment was new to him, Tom immediately noticed the change—seemingly solid walls rippled like distant scenery viewed through waves of heat rising from hot desert sands. The eyes painted on the walls moved as if they were alive, floating on a sea of black ink. Tom expected the walls to crack, but they flowed and rippled like the surface of a pond.

Matisse dropped a heavy hand on Tom’s shoulder to spin him around. His eyes were wild in his trembling red face. “You! The gods are after you! You’ve brought the wrath of the gods down on us!”

Lebowski broke Matisse’s grip on Tom’s shoulder and bent his arm behind his back, prompting a shriek from Matisse that was lost in the confusion and noise of the crowd around them, huddled together in the middle of the room to get as far away from the rippling walls as possible. “Don’t touch him,” Lebowski hissed.

Helix growled to emphasize Lebowski’s point. Matisse quickly nodded his agreement, and Lebowski shoved him aside before turning his attention to Tom. “Hermes is near. We have to get you out of here if we can.”

“What’s happening?”

“Nanoforms,” Lebowski said, surveying the crowd and possible exits. “Hermes has access to the Las Vegas arsenal, and he’s released something into the sewer system. We have little time.”

“I’ll get you out,” Rose said, regaining her senses. She looked at Lebowski. “Are we going to lose our homes?”

The hooded man nodded. “The structure is changing, but we can’t know what the nanoforms are changing it into until we see it happen. The effects must be localized, as I’m sure Hermes wouldn’t want to damage any of the surface structures above us. This stage of the change appears to be a warning, as if they want to flush us out of here before it gets worse, and I’m sure that it will get worse.”

“All right,” Rose said, turning to search through the crowd. A moment later she spotted someone and pointed her out. “Frida Kahlo knows the way. I’ll send you ahead with Frida and Matisse while I organize the evacuation.”

“I’m not going with them! We have paintings to rescue,” Matisse yelled.

Rose put her hand on Matisse’s arm. “If we have a chance to come back, and something happens to me, you know enough to run a rescue operation. You and Frida have to lead them out to Boulder and the dam. She knows the way. The rest of us will meet you there.”

The nervous crowd murmured as the walls glowed crimson and began to dissolve.

Rose turned to Tom, and the look she gave him, gazing straight into his soul, made him uncomfortable. “You’d better be what you say you are.”

Tom nodded. “I am.”

Rose flashed a brief smile at him and ran into the crowd toward Frida, a tall woman who turned and looked their way when Rose reached her. While Frida maneuvered through the frightened mob toward Tom and Lebowski, Rose raised her voice to be heard above the babbling noises. “Evacuate! Take your assigned art, tell the others, and meet at the southwest tube platform! Quickly!”

Matisse stepped over to Tom and glared at him. “I’ll do as Rose asks, but no more. When we reach the dam, you’re on your own.”

“Fine with me,” Tom said, staring right back into the man’s eyes. He didn’t like Matisse, but Tom wasn’t going to turn down Rose’s offer of a way out.

While Tom watched, the walls stopped melting, then gray cones with sharp points emerged. His attention was broken by the arrival of Frida, who looked as if she were ready to go out for a fun evening on the town in her formal red dress and curly ringlets of long brown hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. The impression of fun ended with her businesslike manner as she quickly led the group into the tunnel toward the boat they had used to get here. The rest of the crowd rapidly dissipated into multiple tunnels, threatened by the sharp, lengthening spikes that grew out from the walls in tight clusters.

Matisse moved in close beside Frida. “Where do you think you’re taking us?”

“To safety,” she snapped.

“We have to take the south tunnel to come up under the platform.”

“Too risky. It’s shorter by boat. Then we can slide down the ramp.”

They entered the dim tunnel, and Tom had to walk closer to Frida so he could watch where her practiced feet stepped over the holes and cracks in the pipe.

Matisse’s voice echoed in the tube. “That’s crazy. If anyone followed them down the river, they’ll be waiting for us! We have to go down a level and head south.”

Tom staggered as the floor began to ripple beneath their feet. Lebowski put out a hand to steady himself against the wall, while Helix glanced around and growled. Frida and Matisse stopped suddenly as rows of pointed spikes began to protrude from the pipe’s walls all the way around them. Frida sighed and turned around to lead them back out. “Fine. We go back.”

“Wise choice,” Matisse said with a smug expression.

They had to run to get out of the tube before the spikes came together in the middle with a loud scraping sound, sealing the tunnel shut. Back in the assembly chamber that was now empty, the walls and ceiling glowed a brilliant white, forcing Tom to squint and focus his attention on the floor. Lebowski pulled his hood down lower over his face.

Tom was surprised to see that they had returned to the blockhouse where Rose had held her meeting with them. They followed Frida inside, and she immediately knelt on the floor to lift the heavy grate. Matisse helped her tip the grate up and lean it against the wall, revealing a rusty brown ladder leading down into the darkness.

“After you,” Frida said, gesturing for Matisse to descend.

Matisse reached behind one of the concrete benches, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out a leather belt with two lights dangling from it on short cords. He secured the belt around his waist, switched the lights on, and quickly made his way down the ladder, illuminating the descent for the rest of them. Frida followed Matisse, then Lebowski stepped onto the ladder, and Tom went last.

The ladder rungs were cold against Tom’s fingers, and Helix growled from deep within Tom’s shirt as they made their way down. Tom’s stomach growled in response, startling Helix, and reminding Tom that it had been a long time since he’d eaten. Cool air floated up the shaft from below, where the bobbing glow of Matisse’s lights showed that they had about a hundred feet to go before they reached the next level. However, they stepped into a horizontal side tunnel before they reached the bottom of the shaft, crawling a few hundred yards before they climbed a short ladder and exited through a grate that Matisse lifted out of their way.

The top of the ladder ended in a brightly lit room, and Tom was relieved to know they wouldn’t have to depend on Matisse’s lights to get around. The air carried a musty, humid scent. While Tom prepared to climb up through the grate, he heard a gasp from Frida. Up on the platform, he saw that they were in another mag-lev train tunnel with two empty tracks. Frida stood near the six-foot drop to the rails with Lebowski beside her.

“Glad you could join us,” Hermes said, his voice booming in the tunnel. Matisse stood next to Hermes, his eyes on Tom.

“This is why you wanted to take the south tunnel,” Frida said, her eyes flaming at Matisse. She spit on the ground in front of him. “Rose trusted you!”

Matisse shrugged. “She’s very trusting. It’s one of her flaws. But Hermes pays better.”

Hermes had turned his attention to Lebowski. He took a step forward, and bent slightly to peer at the hooded face. “You.”

“It’s been a while,” Lebowski said, nodding at the nanoborg. “But I’m not surprised to see you wandering around down here in the sewers with the rats.”

“There are no rats in these pipes,” Hermes observed, “except for those I’ve come to exterminate.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Lebowski said, widening his stance.

“You have not chosen your friends well,” Hermes said, raising his arms to indicate the rest of them. “And you should have remained hidden—your life would have lasted longer.”

With a sudden blur of movement, Lebowski launched himself into the air, his boots slamming into Hermes’ chest before the nanoborg could dodge the attack. Lebowski’s momentum knocked Hermes back against Matisse, who screamed and tumbled off the platform into the mag-lev trench.

“Frida! Get him out!” Lebowski yelled, rolling off Hermes to spin around for another attack. As Tom started forward to help him, Lebowski grabbed Hermes by the head while he was still off-balance and threw his weight backward, pulling them both into the trench. A moment later, they heard Matisse scream again when the two heavy bodies landed on top of him.

Frida grabbed Tom by the arm as he raced toward the edge of the platform, spinning him around. “Come with me!”

“No! Lebowski needs help!”

“It looks like he’s doing pretty well to me! Will you repay him by giving Hermes a chance to kill you?”

“I have to help! Hermes has to be stopped! I won’t let this happen again!”

“Not this way! You can’t stop Hermes here! And I need your help, too!” She yanked on his arm with surprising strength, tugging him toward a service stairway that led down into the mag-lev trench.

Confused, Tom allowed himself to be led down the stairs. On a landing halfway down, Frida pulled what appeared to be a metal door from a rack of similar doors on the wall, tied a length of cable around Tom’s waist, then pushed him down onto the door over the mag-lev rail, securing him tightly against the metal with the cable. The door hovered in place over the rail, suspended in the magnetic field.

“Just stay flat and hang on and you’ll be fine,” Frida said, cinching a strap around his waist. “Rose had these made years ago in case we had to evacuate—she calls them ‘exit doors.’ She just introduced me to them a few days ago when she made me the evacuation marshal. Let’s hope they still work.” Before Tom could ask any questions, she darted away again.

Helix scrambled around onto Tom’s back, still under Tom’s shirt, ripping into his master’s skin with his nails. Frida did something Tom couldn’t see at a panel of lights on the wall, then grabbed a second door and dropped it on the track behind him.

Thinking there might still be something he could do, Tom turned to check on Lebowski, but his attention was caught by Frida instead. Still cinching herself to the door, her head snapped up and her eyes widened when she saw Tom looking her way. “Tom, no!”

A great weight hit Tom in the back of the head like a sledgehammer.

TOM found himself standing between the amber pylons on the broad Prometheus Road. Behind him, the rainbow bridge arced into the ruby sky. Ahead of him, the black glassy surface of the Road stretched away to the horizon in a straight line, its vast depths twinkling with stars. Standing still, he felt energy flow up through the soles of his feet, up through his spine, and on into his brain, where it softly exploded, filling him with light and a pleasant tingling sensation that left him feeling peaceful and secure. The sweet scent of jasmine tinged the air. The Road welcomed him, making him feel as if he’d arrived home after a long journey, even though he didn’t have a real home anymore. Marinwood was just a dream out of his past, swiftly fading from memory, replaced by other places and other worlds that had opened up to swallow him. Once again, he had the sensation that this place that engaged his senses so fully was more real than the “real” world he’d just left. In fact, Tom couldn’t remember the events before he’d fallen asleep, as if the physical world really was just a dream full of strange places and people. His mental frames of reference and assumptions about reality had changed so much recently that he no longer felt anchored anywhere but here, in this strange world of silent beauty.

A large shadow drifted over Tom, then began a slow orbit around his own shadow.

“I hope you won’t just stand there admiring yourself all day,” said a vulture that swooped in to an awkward landing at the edge of the Road. “You stopped there so long, Rocco thought you were dinner.” It stretched its six-foot-long wings, then gracefully folded them before tipping its head to regard Tom. “What’s wrong, chum? You act as if you’ve never seen a lord of the sky up close before.”

Tom shrugged. “I’m not used to birds that talk, at least not as much as you do.”

“Are you calling Rocco a blabbermouth?”

“No, I’m just saying you’re unusual. Why are you here?”

“Magnus sent Rocco, chum.”

“You can travel the Road?”

Rocco hissed through his nose in short bursts, and it sounded like laughter to Tom. “It’s easier for some animals than it is for humans, particularly when there’s a human here we can home in on. We don’t have to use the rainbow bridge, chum. And you only have to cross the bridge once—after that, your memory takes you to the Road. Your energy harmonizes with one of the powers, and that allows your allies to locate you on the Road. You have a sympathetic connection with Death, and so does Rocco—that makes us natural allies.”

Tom shook his head, trying to sort out the vulture’s disjointed manner of speaking, and glanced down into the depths of the Road. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rocco tipped his head in the other direction and blinked at Tom. “You will, chum. You have the eternal darkness within you, and it helped you get over the bridge. There were other powers available to you, but you mastered the strongest one because you understood it the best, and that’s very rare. Death helped you then, and it will help you again, as long as you don’t allow it to rule you.”

Tom’s memories of the dead motivated him, pushing him forward to seek revenge and justice for the lives so carelessly taken by the Dominion, but he could never call Death his friend. When he thought about the end of his own life, he could see only a bottomless black pit full of silence, or the gray bodies of the dead floating down the river to their final destination. He had a natural fear of that place, and of his own ending.

“You must conquer that fear to reach the Tree of Dreams, chum,” Rocco said, ruffling his feathers as he stretched his wings. “The Tree connects the worlds, just as its roots are planted in time and space. When you reach the Tree, you’ll find its guardian where Stronghold intersects with the Road.”

When he finished speaking, Rocco kicked off and folded air into his great wings to launch himself skyward.

Startled, Tom ran forward after the vulture. “Wait!”

Rocco circled a few feet above the ground, gaining altitude in a lazy spiral. “We have to go. Follow Rocco, or you’ll have to find your own way around.”

“I can’t run that fast!”

“Then fly, chum. Create your path. Do I have to tell you everything?”

The phantom muscle in Tom’s head twitched again, and he began to fly a few feet above the Road. He no longer felt the energy flowing through his feet, but he sensed that it was still there below him if he needed it.

Time held no meaning here. They could have been flying for minutes or hours—Tom had no idea. They passed monolithic towers of emerald, moonstone, and sapphire, but Rocco continued to soar ahead of Tom, his gaze fixed on the horizon, following the Road. When they approached two towers of lustrous black onyx wrapped in spiderweb spirals of gleaming silver, Rocco looked back at Tom, who now felt the increasing draw of the black gates, and he knew this was the entrance to the Dead Lands.

“Defy the Death Gate,” Rocco screeched. “We can’t linger here.”

Tom nodded, then descended to the surface of the Road anyway, lightly touching down between the black towers. It was almost as if he were a metal man facing a strong magnet that wanted to pull him through the Death Gate. He closed his eyes, trying not to think of his family on the other side of the invisible barrier; but he felt the voices calling him, whispering in his head, urging him forward. Beyond the gate, the landscape looked the same as it had for many miles—low, rolling hills of bright green grass swaying in a gentle breeze, spotted with large groves of pine and redwood trees. Clear blue streams rippled below natural springs that burbled and tumbled from granite outcroppings. Yet he knew that two steps forward would carry him into the adjacent world of the dead, the source of the power that was supposedly his ally if Rocco could be believed.

Tom gasped and took two steps backward on the Road. Before him, directly between the two spires of black onyx, was a little girl with her feet planted, rotating from side to side, completely focused on something she held close to her face between her two small hands. She had rumpled brown hair and wore black pants with a plain white shirt.

It was Weed.

Tom swallowed, his breath caught in his throat, wondering if his sister was real or if it was some kind of a trick to pull him through the gate. There was no feeling of home or security here, only a silent threat full of ominous power and foreboding.

Weed shyly looked up at Tom, her eyes wide and innocent. A mischievous smile sneaked onto her face, and she giggled as she looked down at the thing in her hands, then up at Tom again. “Hi, Tom. I have a secret.”

Tom started to respond, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What is it, Weed?”

“Can’t tell you. You have to see.”

Although he didn’t think Weed would ever hurt him, Tom was pretty sure he didn’t want to see the secret she held in her hand. “I love you, Weed.”

Weed giggled. “I know that. Come see.”

“Give me a hint, then I’ll try to guess your secret before I look.”

Weed bit her lip, giving his suggestion careful consideration as she looked up at the sky. When she decided, she looked at Tom with a serious expression. “One guess. It’s something you gave me.”

Tom tried to remember what he might have given her that she could have taken with her when she died. His actions were responsible for her death, and that was all he could recall because his memory of the real world was so fuzzy. He frowned and looked away, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. “Is it a book?”

Tom’s answer seemed to stump her. She tipped her head with a puzzled expression, peered at the thing in her hand, then shook her brown curls. “No. It’s something else. Come see!”

Tom licked his lips and took two steps forward, trying to peer over her fingers at the secret she held. It sparkled when Weed turned her body. “Closer, Tom. You can’t see from there.”

“Why can’t you show me from here?”

“It’s too small.”

Then Tom remembered. He sighed with relief. “The story crystal?”

Delighted, Weed hopped up and down with a big smile on her face. “You remembered! I knew you would! Look!” She held the story crystal up higher so Tom could see it without crossing the invisible line between the two pillars of the Death Gate.

Tiny figures moved above the crystal. When Tom bent closer, he was startled to see that the figures looked like his mother and father running around inside their house in a panic. Zeke repeatedly yanked at a door that wouldn’t open. Then there was a bright flash, their somber black clothes turned bright red, and the three figures burst into flame, rapidly turning black and melting into the floor with tiny screams of pain. Tom knew he was seeing their final moments of life.

Tom sniffed and stood upright, afraid to look into Weed’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Weed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Weed shrugged. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. We’re all here together.”

Tom put a hand out against one of the stone pillars to steady himself as he felt a sudden dizzy spell threatening to knock him off his feet. His knees wobbled, but when he touched the black stone, his body went rigid as if a strong electric current had passed through him. His teeth buzzed and cracked between his clenched jaws.

Weed giggled. “You shouldn’t touch that, Tom.”

As if her skin had turned transparent, Tom saw the grinning skull behind Weed’s face, and he couldn’t turn his eyes away while he was held in the grip of the Death Gate.

“Mom says you should go home and get some rest, Tom.”

“Can’ t . . . no home,” he hissed through clenched teeth. The smooth onyx buzzed beneath his palm.

“Mom says your home is here, and you can rest on the Road. You have to lie down.”

Tom continued to stare at her, wishing he could move.

“Dad says you have to find a tree. You have to be the tree to make things right. Then you can join us.”

Tom wished he knew what that meant. Weed reached into the pocket of her pants, took something out, and threw it at Tom’s head. Red rose petals bounced off his face, then fluttered to the ground. The stone released him, and he collapsed facedown on the Road, gasping for air, his muscles twitching. He felt the energy of the Road flowing into him, swirling up through his spine, bursting through his nerve endings, charging him up like a battery.

A shadow swirled over Tom’s back. “I told you so, chum. I told you so. The black rock should have killed you. You listen to Rocco next time. Rocco knows more than you.”

Weed whispered to Tom in a shy voice. “Did you guess my secret yet?”

Tom lifted his head from the pavement. “What do you mean? I saw what you showed me in the story crystal. Wasn’t that your secret?”

“No, silly. That was just a clue.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Weed rolled her eyes at the sky and let out a big, dramatic sigh of exasperation. “You saw how we died. The secret is that our family is still together. We’re here waiting for you. And when you get here, we can play some more, just like we used to.”

Tom gritted his teeth and looked away. He couldn’t meet her eyes, but he nodded. “I’d like that, Weed.”

Weed smiled as Tom got up on his hands and knees. He took a deep breath and stood up, stretching his body, feeling his muscles vibrate with new energy. He felt more alert now, but he was also aware that he owed his family a debt that he could never repay. He took a step toward Weed and studied her innocent little face. She was wise for such a young girl, and she had always been precocious. He suspected that death had taught her many things, and that she had more knowledge now than Tom would ever learn. He reached out toward her face, and she took a step back. The movement made her appear less solid, as if she were made of frosted glass.

“Not yet, Tom.” Weed waggled a finger at him. “It’s not your time.”

Tom started to protest, but she interrupted him.

“You can’t cross over, Tom, or you’ll be trapped here. We’ll send others out to help you.” She smiled once more, then waved and walked away. “See you later, Tom.”

“Wait!”

Her body became fully transparent, her outline glinting in the light, before she vanished entirely a few steps later. With a final giggle, she was gone. She had always loved to play hide-and-seek.

For several minutes, perhaps hours, Tom stared at the spot where Weed had stood, thinking about how much he missed her, and his brother, and his parents. He picked up two of the rose petals from the surface of the Road and put them in his pocket. And he thought about the secret she had told him: that they were out there waiting for him.

The shadow continued to orbit around Tom. “You won’t find the tree here, chum.”

Tom looked up at Rocco and smiled. “No, but I found something else.”

“DOES he do this a lot?”

Tom knew it was Rose’s voice before he opened his eyes. He started when a long tongue licked his face, wondering why Rose would do that, then looked up and saw Helix staring back at him.

“Whenever I see him, he’s always unconscious,” Rose said, standing over him where her shadow fell across his face. “It isn’t natural.”

“Man, he’s anything but natural,” Lebowski said, moving in closer to peer down at Tom. “He’s got the greatness about him. His genes sing the songs of kings, and his blood runs with powers you wouldn’t believe. He may look like us, but his insides are super natural, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Rose said with a frown. “But he spends so much time sleeping, or unconscious, that I worry about whether my people are going to get killed while he’s off in dreamland.”

Lebowski shrugged. “He sleeps for us all, man. It’s the price of greatness.”

“Why do people always talk about me as if I’m not here?” Tom asked, rolling over to lift himself to his feet. He realized he was standing on highly polished black stone. Nearby, two bronze statues of men with huge wings looked proud and defiant, gazing out over a broad blue lake. As his surroundings continued to seep into his groggy consciousness, Tom gradually became aware that they were on top of an enormous concrete dam, bounded on both sides by steep hillsides of bare gray rock under a clear blue sky. The brilliant blue waters of the lake glinted in the sunlight on the north side of the dam.