Tom Pawlik - Beckon

The passage came to an abrupt halt, depositing Jack, Dwight, and Javier into a large, open chamber. Jack took one of the flares from his bag and snapped it open. The bright red-orange glow lit up the whole room.

Along the far wall was a large wooden gate of some kind. It stood over eight feet tall and at least six feet wide.

“Not another one,” Jack groaned. He slid his hand along the wood. “So that’s where they took her?”

They inspected the surface, looking for a way to open it. Jack told them about the first door he had encountered and how it opened upward. Yet this one was different. There was a clear crease running vertically up the center that seemed to indicate it opened from the middle. But there were no handles. They pushed against it to no avail, and there was clearly no way to pull it open either.

Dwight stepped back. “Looks like it only opens from the inside.”

Jack sat down and rubbed his eyes. “Any suggestions?”

Javier reached into Jack’s bag and pulled out one of the grenades they’d taken from the armory. “Vamos a tocar a la puerta.”

Jack stood. “Is he going to try what I think…?”

Javier scooped a bit of mud from under the middle of the door, pulled the pin out of the grenade, jammed it under the wood, and ran for cover.

Jack and Dwight scrambled back to the other side of the chamber and flung themselves behind a jutting rock formation. A few seconds later the ground shook as a clap of thunder erupted in the cavern. Jack felt his ribs jolt from the force of the blast. Rocks and debris scattered across the room, and when the air cleared, his ears were ringing from the explosion.

He stood and brushed off the mud. “Are you crazy? You could get us all killed! You don’t just go setting off explosions inside caverns. You could bring the whole place down on top of us!”

But Javier was shining his flashlight at the doors. One side was cracked and splintered and had been torn off its hinge. And the other had swung wide open. He turned and grinned at Jack. “Good, yes?”

Dwight shrugged. “Well, now they know we’re here.”

Jack grabbed the flare and tossed it into the passage beyond the doorway. The place seemed deserted. At least for now. They got their weapons ready, Jack grabbed another couple flares, and they proceeded inside.

They spread out and moved along the passage quickly. Dwight held his flashlight out along with his gun. Jack snapped a second flare and tossed it farther ahead.

He looked into his bag and now wished desperately that he’d brought more of them with him. And to make matters worse, there was only one hand grenade left.

Dwight paused in the tunnel, his shoulders stiffening. Jack nudged him gently. “What’s wrong?”

Dwight shook his head and shuddered. “Jack… I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

Dwight flicked the light toward Jack’s face. “We’re probably not making it out of here alive.”

“Come on, Dwight, don’t talk like that. We’re going to find her.”

Dwight leaned close. Jack could see a strange sort of resolve in his eyes. Or maybe it was resignation. “If you do—if you make it out of here—there’s something in town you need to see.”

“What?”

“In my office, in the back room, is a closet—a supply closet full of boxes. They’re my journals. And there’s something under the floor that you need to see.”

“What? What is it?”

Dwight shook his head again. To Jack it looked like he was shaking himself out of a trance. “You have to make it out of here to find out.”

He turned and continued through the tunnel. They walked on for several minutes before Jack could see a dim light ahead. The tunnel widened and he noticed a few side passages leading from the main tunnel. Jack saw that the passages here seemed larger and more evenly shaped, as if the N’watu had carved them right through the rock over the years.

One of the tunnels opened into a long, oval-shaped room with several small glass jars of the glowing slime scattered around the perimeter. In the middle were two long wooden tables and a large wooden chair. Dozens of pots and jars and other vessels of various sizes littered both of the tables. The whole scene reminded Jack of something out of the Dark Ages. Like an ancient alchemist’s laboratory.

Jack noticed one bowl in particular looked similar to the one he had seen during the ceremony earlier. The interior appeared to have some sort of thick, dried residue on it. Jack also spotted several more glass jars of a milky, yellowish liquid stacked along the wall.

He pointed to the jars. “Is that… perilium?”

Dwight inspected one of them and nodded. “This must be where she prepares it.”

“Who? The woman I saw? Who is she?”

“They call her Nun’dahbi. She’s the matriarch of the tribe. Their queen.”

Jack just shook his head as he looked through the objects in the room. “This is pretty incredible. These tables and chairs definitely show an outside influence on their culture. Maybe they’re not as xenophobic as Vale says they are.”

“Trust me,” Dwight grunted. “They hate outsiders.”

Javier had been waiting by the entrance and motioned for them to continue on. He was obviously anxious to find his cousin, and Jack quietly chided himself on getting distracted by this room. Elina was in serious peril.

They moved onward and soon emerged into another open cavern. Only this one was different from all the others. Jack could see that this one contained remnants of structures. Pillars and archways in varying states of decay. And all around them were glass lanterns similar to the one Jack had seen out in the bone pit. Clearly this was some sort of common area of the N’watu.

Jack shone his flashlight around, momentarily stunned by the discovery.

“Look at this place,” he said softly. “My dad always said there was an underground city somewhere out here. This must be part of it.”

Suddenly Javier grabbed Jack’s shoulder as if trying to tell him something, but instead he seemed to be choking. His eyes bulged and blood dripped from between his lips as a serrated spear tip emerged from the middle of his chest and a skeletal face loomed up from behind him.

“No!” Jack shouted.

Javier slumped forward and Jack stood, stunned at the sight. The pale N’watu warrior yanked the bloody spear from Javier’s back and now fixed his white eyes on Jack.

Jack could see the warrior towering over him, but he was frozen with shock. Paralyzed. He tried to will his arms to raise his weapon or his legs to run, but he felt like he was in a dream, unable to even control his limbs.

Then a gunshot rang out, snapping him out of his daze. The warrior lurched backward as a bullet tore into his chest. Jack glimpsed Dwight standing a few yards behind him, his revolver smoking. Jack spun back to see that the N’watu had quickly recovered his balance, his face contorted into a mask of fury. He raised his spear.

But now Jack lifted his shotgun and fired. White-hot pellets hit the N’watu’s chest at close range, tearing through his flesh and ribs. The warrior stumbled back another few steps as Jack felt rage welling up inside him. He pumped the next shell into the chamber and fired again. This time the shot blasted directly into the warrior’s face, lifting him off his feet and flat onto his back.

Before Jack could react or even check on Javier, another spear came whizzing out of the darkness and sliced across his upper arm. Jack ducked, clutching his tricep. He could feel warm blood on his fingers. He snapped another flare and tossed it out in front of him. Immediately the chamber lit up, overwhelming the soft glow of the lanterns. And Jack saw two of the warriors cringing from the light not more than fifty feet away. He strode forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the N’watu, and fired another shot. This time he was aiming high—straight for the head. One of them dropped like a sack of rocks. Jack pumped and fired at the second one, who dove behind a crumbled archway.