David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

Alexander tugged on Caleb’s sleeve. “I think Mom’s done it too. I saw her.”

Caleb looked away from Nina, met his son’s eyes. “Me too, Alexander. But I don’t know if it’s really her, or if you and I are just projecting her image, calling her back. What does she show you?”

“I think it’s important, but I don’t understand. She said I’m not alone.” He shrugged. “And there’s something else I keep dreaming about. A door. And behind it, a box.”

“Enough,” Nina snapped. “The water’s rising, or this mausoleum is sinking. Either way, theorize about the departed another time. If you don’t focus on getting us out of here, we’ll be joining the Genghis in his watery afterlife.”

“I’m on it,” Phoebe said, making a face as she looked into the corpse’s eyes. Orlando was at the other side, holding on to the edges and wobbling, trying not to look down.

“You too,” Nina said to Caleb, waving the gun at him.

He slowly shook his head. Raised his arms. “Can’t. I’ve lost it.”

Nina narrowed her eyes. “Again?”

“Since Lydia died, I can’t see anything but her… accusing me.”

“Bullshit. Get past it. Do it for your son.”

“I’m trying.”

Nina sighed. “You really need to unmoor yourself from this bottomless pit of guilt. Last time you punished yourself for little Phoebe’s carelessness, and now it’s for your wife’s bad luck? Well, this time I’m not bailing you out.” She gave a smirking grin. “Besides, there’s not enough room up here for me to help you out. And the dead guy’s got the only bed.”

“Shut up,” Caleb said through clenched teeth.

Nina aimed at his face, then shifted her sights lower, to Alexander. “How about this? A little immediacy to get you over your inner roadblocks? Get past your guilt, access your visions, or I shoot your kid.”

Caleb pulled Alexander closer, trying to get in front of him. The water rose and things splashed and snapped below his feet. “I’ll try,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Good boy,” Nina said, still keeping her finger on the trigger. “I’d say we’ve got about five minutes before we’re lunch, so make them count.”

Renee headed for the closest boat. She played her light over it, then its neighbor. Seeing nothing unusual, she nudged it ahead into the silvery water, then placed the briefcase in the boat. After another bout of coughing, she picked up a gas mask, fitted it over her head. But before she could slide it down, she heard something.

A splash? Minor, but just out of place enough to notice. Her senses tuned to the absolute silence down here, she listened again.

She felt a ripple against her shins. Then she heard it: a breath.

She froze. Shined her light back in the boat, seeking every corner. Nothing.

Another breath, weak and pained. Raspy. Like the sound her grandmother had made on her deathbed.

She swung the light back around to the shore, suddenly certain that someone had followed her, crept up behind her, ready to strike. But the beach was empty.

Another low breath, its very weakness defying placement.

She swept the light back. Over the water on the left, then to the walls. Even onto the ceiling.

Another wheezing breath, and Renee swung the beam down to the right, where an almost imperceptible ripple was spreading out backwards. Heart jack-hammering in her chest, she moved the light in. Closer. Left and right, methodically sweeping the river’s width.

Closer.

Stop. Back. What was that?

She lost it, then went past it, then came back and found it. What looked at first like a pale rock, flat. Except — in a rush of mercury-tinted water, gleaming in silver, a body roared up from below as if spring-loaded and launched like a catapult.

Qara!

She stormed ahead like a demon possessed. In the jarring flashlight radiance, Renee noticed two bullet holes: one through her sternum and another in her stomach, wounds that barely slowed her down. But worse was her face and the skin on her neck and her hands-blistered, oozing pus, cracked open like a plaster-of-paris mold hit with a tennis racquet. Her eyes were blood-red, seeping crimson tears. Her hair all but gone, slid out in patches, the skin underneath almost black with toxic scarring.

Renee’s training kicked in, overcoming the sudden shock and disbelief. She reached for her gun as she stepped back, lined it up. But Qara was faster, lunging the final distance and connecting under Renee’s aim, catching her around the throat with both hands.

Renee had a second to see the flesh hanging in strips from the fingers, the blood clotted in the mercury water, gleaming silver, and in a few places where the bones had protruded, white. And then the pressure around her throat was like nothing she had ever imagined. All at once, the air was gone and her head felt like it had swelled to the size of a basketball.

Her spine was bent back and she fell to her knees in the water, arms waving. Reflexively she pulled the trigger and fired into the ceiling. But finally, she had the presence of mind to pull her aim back, slide the. 45 under Qara’s arms and press it against the woman’s heart-and fire.

Qara lurched backward but held fast to Renee’s throat. Fetid water and blood gushed out of her mouth, spitting onto Renee’s mask. Another shot weakened her grip. Qara shook her head, tried to speak but only made a gurgled sound, and slid back into the water.

Renee gasped, massaging her throat, shaking her head. She couldn’t see. Where was the flashlight? There, by her feet, the light dimming.

No!

More splashing. The impression of movement, then wood creaking.

The briefcase! She raised the. 45 again, reaching down for the light at the same time. Pulled it up, even as it dimmed to just a dull orange glow, just enough to see Qara turning back again, this time with something silver in her hand.

Impossible…

Qara had enough strength to do one last thing for her master. She hefted the case, turned sideways and then “NO!” Renee aimed and fired two more rounds that ripped into Qara, taking her in the neck and then the skull.

But it was too late. Qara’s motion completed and the case was flung in a high arc over Renee’s head. She turned the fading light on it, and had only the barest glimpse as the silver case turned end over end, sailed over the first ranks of the terra cotta warriors, then dropped in the midst of the second row.

Renee turned to watch Qara fall, bullet-riddled and lifeless, as the river welcomed her body in a silvery embrace. She cursed and headed back to the shore

And then the light went out altogether, leaving her in complete darkness at the threshold of Genghis Khan’s army.

She stood motionless, taking deep calming breaths. The light from the flares was fading, and too distant to help.

Think, think. This isn’t the end.

There were others here: the bodies of her men. Surely she could recover the weapons and flashlights of the dead, then retrieve the case.

It all depended on planning. Precision and memory. She was careful not to move from her last position. She remembered exactly her location relative to the first line of warriors, the walls on either side, and the water at her back. Now it was only a matter of a careful sweep, side to side, inching forward until finding what she needed.

She had time, there was no need to panic.

She began. Working in utter darkness, her own breathing echoed across the chasm of darkness, past the lifeless army standing just ahead. Let them mock me, she thought. I still have destiny on my side. I am the chosen of Marduk. And this is but a test.

She moved ahead, sweeping the earth now with both hands, crawling on her knees. After a minute she paused. Had she been this way before? Was she sure she had moved parallel to the water, or had she veered off at an angle, and the next sweep would only take her farther away? It was like the open-water scuba test the first time she had taken it, where the final portion involved going deep and getting from point A to B only by using a compass. While assuming she was on track the whole time, she had failed; the slightest deviation from the compass heading had led, over time, to a major variance.