Chris Kuzneski - Sword of God

A loud ding echoed throughout the cave, a sound that snapped Jones back to reality. He glanced at Sheldon, who told him not to worry. The sound meant that Sheldon had received a classified e-mail. Probably the test results he'd been waiting for. Jones wasn't sure if he was allowed to see them, but there was no way he was going to miss this opportunity. He followed Sheldon into the next room, hovering over his shoulder at all times, hoping to catch a glimpse of the e-mail. But his persistence wasn't necessary. After Sheldon scanned the report, checking and double-checking the information, he passed it to Jones. No fanfare. No explanation. No games of any kind. He knew Jones was smart enough to figure things out, so he simply handed it to him.

Unfortunately, the news was worse than Jones had expected. A lot worse.

Payne made sure he heard the term correctly. "The Altar of Blood?"

The old man nodded, refusing to look at him, focusing on Kia instead. "No matter who was taken there, they always screamed to their gods, begging to be saved from the pain they endured. Sometimes this went on for days. Sometimes weeks. But their prayers were never answered. Their blood was always spilled."

The old man trembled, remembering the time he had spent in the cave and all the family he'd lost. Kia tried to soothe him, touching his shoulder, whispering words of encouragement in Korean before she asked him another question. "And the Altar was recently reborn?"

"Our village was quiet for many years. But a few months ago the spirits were reawakened. The screams started again at night, in a language I've never heard. An ancient language. Something barbaric. Like the Devil speaking in tongues." He glanced toward Payne, still refusing to look him in the eye but making sure he heard every angry word. "But the Devil didn't come here alone. Your people brought him here. Your people lost control. Yet my people were the ones who suffered…. Why does my village always suffer?"

Payne wanted to tell him that he had nothing to do with this, that he'd come to this island to help his people and his village, but the old man wouldn't have listened. There was too much anger, too much history for Payne to overcome. At least with words. The only way to make a real difference was to find out what happened and close the cave forever.

Thankfully, Kia continued to ask the right questions, proving to be a valuable asset. "Speaking of your village, where is everyone?"

"They're out back."

Without saying another word, the old man stood and walked out of his side garden, stepping carefully on flat stones that had been laid in the ground. Kia followed closely behind, while Payne brought up the rear. He walked with his weapon drawn, eyes scanning the terrain, ready for the unexpected. Pruned trees and shrubs filled the landscape, everything perfectly manicured, as if the old man spent all his time doing nothing else. During the summer months, the flowers would have been in bloom, a rainbow of colors bursting in every corner of the yard. But this time of year everything looked dreary, as if a curtain of gloom had been dropped on the entire village. The sky was gray. The mood was dark.

Originally Payne had assumed the stench of burning pine had come from the old man's chimney, which continued to belch a steady stream of smoke, but as they rounded the corner of the house, he noticed the actual source. A giant fire pit had been constructed in the middle of the backyard. Volcanic rocks lined the exterior, stacked three feet high and fifteen feet across. Wooden embers smoldered on the inside, casting no flames but burning intense like a furnace. No sparks. No light. Just a lot of heat. The type of fire that was used to cook meat.

An ancient wheelbarrow, covered in rust, sat abandoned in the yard, next to an ax, a pick, and a variety of cutting tools. All of them splattered with the same hue. The same rust color as the wheelbarrow. In a flash, Payne sensed what had happened. What the old man had done.

"Where are your neighbors?" Kia wondered. "I thought they were back here."

The old man nodded, his eyes filling with tears as he stared into the fire. 'They are."

15

In ancient times, bodies of the dead were often burned en masse to prevent the spread of disease, a common act during times of war when blood-soaked battlefields were sometimes littered with thousands of victims, soldiers so brutalized that identification was next to impossible. The cleanup process was so essential that some generals actually called a truce with their enemies after a major battle, giving both sides enough time to properly dispose of the corpses before their war reignited and more soldiers were slain.

While a student at the Naval Academy, Payne had read grisly accounts of the disposal process, perfected by the empires of yesteryear, and prayed he would never see it in person. Yet here he was on Jeju, a tiny island in the middle of nowhere, and he was forced to stare at the ashes. Maybe forced to sift through them to figure out why this crazy old bastard had loaded the bodies of his neighbors onto a wheelbarrow and burned them in his backyard.

For all Payne knew, he might have done the same thing with the victims from the cave. That would certainly explain where everyone went. Why they suddenly disappeared.

Of course, that wouldn't explain who killed them or why. But one thing at a time. He would worry about those details later. For now, he had to get this guy talking.

Payne's thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his cell phone. He glanced at the caller ID and saw David Jones. Their phones had been designed with a special encryption chip, so they could talk without concern. No hijacked signals. No security leaks. As safe as whispering.

Payne clicked SEND. "We need to meet."

Jones agreed, his voice somber. "Where are you?"

"In the village."

"There's a village?"

Payne laughed. He'd said the exact same thing to the sniper who'd led him here. He gave Jones directions, then added, "When you come, bring some backup. I've got a major situation."

He nodded. "That makes two of us."

Twenty minutes passed before Jones arrived at the old man's gate. He led a split squad-both security and forensics- in a convoy of SUVs. Payne didn't recognize any of the men, which led him to believe that there was a full platoon stationed nearby. Hiding somewhere in the woods. Waiting for something to happen. For a mission that was supposedly black, there were a lot of potential leaks. Too many, as far as he was concerned.

Jones climbed out of the lead SUV, leaving the rest of the soldiers behind. None of them moved. They just sat there. Patiently. Awaiting further instructions.

"Who are your friends?" Payne asked. "They're very well behaved."

Jones didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Payne by the elbow and turned his back to the men. Just in case one of them could read lips. "Things have changed."

"No shit. How bad is it?"

"Very. But you go first. How should we deploy?"

Payne explained the basic layout of the village and where he needed troops. Mostly on the periphery. Far from the evidence in the backyard. At least until he got a better handle on things. As for forensics, they'd have to wait until the area was secure.

Jones jogged to the lead SUV and gave them instructions. In an instant, the team sprang to life. Men hustled from the vehicles, scattering to the four comers of the town. Seconds later, they couldn't be seen. Blending perfectly with the landscape. Payne watched their movements from a distance, impressed by their efficiency. Either they were elite soldiers, who adapted on the run, or they'd been here before and knew exactly where to go. Both possibilities raised intriguing questions. Things he'd discuss with Jones at a later time.