“I’m not going to kill you. I brought you here to show you something. Do you see those graves?”
I nodded.
“Three are for Rictor and his brothers. Three more are for Sand Demons who died in the gunfight. The big one belongs to Hartek.”
I knelt down next to Hartek’s tombstone and quickly read the engraving. It was just his name, date of birth, and date of death. There was no inscription or flowery sentiment. But I still sensed the passion that the Sand Demons felt toward the man.
“I want you two to understand something,” Cartwright said. “We’ve taken a vow to keep the Bell hidden until we can find a way to destroy it. We’d sooner die than give it up to anyone else. So, I’m sorry. You’re not going to see it, not today, not ever.”
I’m going to end this, Hartek. One way or the other, I’m going to find your Bell and destroy it.
Distorted, splattering noises erupted from the room’s entrance. They bounced off the walls and were distorted even further. But I recognized them all the same.
Gunshots.
Chapter 52
I sensed two presences as I raced through the passageways, hot on Cartwright’s heels.
Standish.
Chase.
They’re here. They’re in the damn control room.
My blood curdled as screams filled the air. Part of me knew I was listening to the death throes of the Sand Demons. Part of me tried to deny my ears.
I roared around a curve at top speed. On one level, it was practical. Cartwright flew through the corridors like a 747. If I lost him, I might never find him again. But on another level, it was entirely emotional. The faster we moved, the sooner we’d find survivors and rescue them. The sooner we’d stop Chase and Standish.
The sooner I’d rescue Diane.
But speed came at a price.
I winced as sounds exploded all around us. Gasps of breath. Boots pounding on the bedrock. The occasional splash of water. Pumping arms, brushing up against clothes.
We were making noise.
Lots of noise.
I knew we needed to slow down. Caution, not haste, was the safest way to proceed. The smart action was to reach out, grab Cartwright’s shoulder, and wrench him to a halt.
But I just kept running.
Soon, the screams died away and the passageway returned to relative silence. After a few more turns, Cartwright tilted his face in my direction. “Our bunker’s just ahead and to the right. We’ll be there any minute now.”
I looked at my holster, which hung over his shoulder. “Give me my weapons.”
“No.”
Suddenly, I heard light murmuring.
Someone was close.
Very close.
Reaching out, I grabbed Cartwright’s shirt and yanked. He stumbled backward and spun into the wall. As he fell to the floor, I reached out and snagged my holster before it could hit the ground.
I reattached the holster. Cartwright groaned and lifted up his arm. His shirt was in tatters and the whole right side of his body was scraped up. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Beverly reared up behind me. Ignoring Cartwright, I shot her a quick glance. “Did you hear that?”
As she nodded, Cartwright rose to his feet. Leaning over, he jabbed a thick finger into my chest. “Listen here, asshole…”
I didn’t have time to listen to his nonsense. Rearing back, I slammed my fist into his stomach. His eyes bulged and a wheeze escaped his lips. Then he dropped back to the ground and rolled around in agony, groaning softly.
Leaning down, I retrieved my machete from his waistband. “Keep quiet,” I whispered. “Or there’s another one of those waiting for you.”
“Why’d you —?”
“Because something’s not right. Now shut up and let me listen.” My pulse raced and my breath came out in short, quick bursts. I could barely hear myself think, let alone any nearby murmuring. I itched to move, but stayed in one place, forcing myself to listen. Irritation rose within me. One moment, my instincts told me to run while my brain urged me to stop. The next minute, my instincts led me to stand still while my brain told me to do the opposite.
Why can’t you guys get on the same page for once?
Gradually, my labored breathing began to slow and with it, my pulse. I closed my eyes. My concentration increased. My senses heightened.
I heard voices, some masculine, some feminine. But from where?
I rotated in a small circle. The walls played tricks on my ears but I felt reasonably certain the voices originated from the southwest. Tilting my head in that direction, I listened carefully.
But try as I might, I was unable to distinguish individual words. It was just one big mess. Giving up, I turned to Beverly. “Did you catch anything?”
“Just jumbled words.”
I looked at Cartwright. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t afford you making any noise.”
He glared at me.
“We’ve got voices coming from the southwest. Is that where your bunker is located?”
“Go to hell.”
“Chase might be in there.” I returned his glare. “If so, the others are already dead.”
“Then, I’m wasting my time here. I need to get to the Bell.”
“It’s nice to know you care about your friends.”
His eyes tightened. “I care about them just fine. But I made a vow to keep the Bell safe and nothing’s going to stop me from doing that.”
“Fine,” Beverly said. “But take us to your bunker first.”
Cartwright pushed himself to his feet, led us all the way down to the end of the corridor, and then opened a small door.
I looked inside, seeing a dark, four-foot tall passage.
“This leads to an air flue.” He lowered his voice. “Beach planned to use it to filter compressed air into the tunnel to propel his subway car. If you follow the path around, you’ll see a slab of metal. Pull it aside and you’ll be able to peek into the bunker without anyone noticing.”
“Thanks.”
He gave me a hard look. “We’ll meet again, Cyclone. Count on it. But for now, you’re on your own.”
I watched as he slid by Beverly and disappeared into the tube. Then, I ducked my head and entered the short, dark passage. Keeping low, I followed it around in a winding path for about a hundred feet.
Finally, I stopped in front of a small piece of metal. Dousing my flashlight, I quietly cracked it open a quarter of an inch.
I peered into the next room and saw about a dozen people milling around. It looked perfectly ordinary, similar to how we’d left it. And yet, it was totally different. The faces had changed, the weapons were fiercer, and the expressions lacked emotion.
I switched my gaze to the floor and swallowed.
Hard.
Ten bodies lay in a heap against one side of the bunker, bloodied and unmoving. Their frozen expressions told me everything I needed to know.
The Sand Demons were dead.
My gaze swept the room. It passed by the soldiers. It passed by the row of beds, which were covered in gore. Finally, I saw them.
They sat on one of the empty beds. Standish appeared to be writing something on a sketchpad. Chase held his gun, unwavering, off to the side.
I reached for my pistol. Two bullets. That’s all it would take. With two bullets I could end their lives, end my misery.
And then I saw her.
She sat on the floor with her head sagging to her chest. She appeared to be bleeding heavily from the stomach and looked near death. To make matters worse, Chase’s gun pointed directly at her chest.
Fury poured into my brain, cutting off my sense of logic. I wanted to kill Chase for what he’d done to Diane.