I slowed my pace just enough to perk an ear. Somewhere below me, I heard soft footsteps. Ben was on my tail. He seemed to be taking it slow, conserving his strength. It was a good move on his part. He was old and not exactly in the best of shape. And besides, where was I going to go? Sooner or later, I’d run out of room.
I picked up speed, putting as much distance between us as possible. The ramp steepened. Curved around. And steepened again.
The last remnants of smoke dissipated. I blinked a few times and moisture filled my dry eyes. Continuing forward, I ran in ever-rising circles. Higher and higher and higher. How high did this thing go anyway?
After what seemed like forever, I reached a dead-end. I shifted my beam from side to side. The walls looked solid and there were no side tunnels.
Turning off my beam, I swung around. My best bet was to attack Ben as soon as he came into view. Maybe, just maybe, I’d reach him before he could shoot me.
I perked my ears again and listened to the soft footsteps. They moved quickly for a few seconds. Then they stopped. When they started again, they were much slower, much quieter. Ahh, he’d been listening to my footsteps as well. Now that I’d stopped, he was slowing down, prepping for the inevitable confrontation.
While I waited for him to arrive, I noticed something strange. Although I’d doused my beam, the tunnel refused to submit to total darkness.
Looking up, I saw the tiniest bit of light. Most of the ceiling was rock. But a small portion, maybe two feet square, looked like a web of tangled vines and plants.
Right away, I knew this was no accident. There was a hole above me, one that led to the summit. That was how the Caborn-Welborn warriors had managed to climb the mesa all those centuries ago.
I yanked some vines. More light — moonlight — poured into my eyes. Grabbing hold of a sturdy vine, I pulled myself out of the tunnel. The moon was bright, but not blinding. Everywhere I looked I saw plants and trees.
Below me, Ben’s footsteps gained volume. He was close, but I was no longer pinned down. And this was no boardroom or fancy office. This was nature at its wildest. In other words, my turf.
Not his.
I turned in a slow circle. Nearby, I saw the giant altar. Stepping softly, I moved south until I reached the edge of the mesa. Far beneath me, I saw soldiers taking charge of Saul’s gang. Meanwhile, other soldiers entered the cavern. They wore gas masks and carried fire extinguishers.
As I watched them work, one last puzzle piece slid into place. Justin and his crew had used the same tunnel to access the summit back in 1949. That was how they’d kept a close eye on the Army’s movements.
I frowned. If only he’d been awake when the campfire first began to put arsenic into the air. He could’ve raced to the summit, survived. Then my dad wouldn’t have lost his father. And maybe I wouldn’t have lost mine either.
Rustling noises rose up from the vegetation. “Cy,” Ben called out. “Where are you?”
Really? Did he really expect me to give my position away so easily?
“You won.” Ben exhaled. “And because of that, we all lost. You realize that, don’t you? You doomed this world to perpetual war.”
He was trying to bait me. But it wasn’t going to work.
“By this time tomorrow, the whole world will know what happened here.” Leaves crunched underfoot as he strode east. “President Walters’ gold standard will go into effect while his best people unwind everything I worked so hard to build. The U.S. economy will recover and this world of ours will go on fighting wars until the end of time.”
Quietly, I strode back into the small forest and worked my way eastward. Far below me, I heard cracking wood, soft shouts and other Berserker-related sounds. But the riot didn’t matter at that moment. All that mattered was survival.
“But I suppose you don’t care about any of that, do you?” Ben said. “I don’t even think you care about the gold. Unless I miss my guess, you just want to kill me.”
That wasn’t entirely true. I also cared about telling Justin’s story to the world. Dad’s story, too. But yeah, I wanted to kill him.
“So, come and get me,” he said. “But better make it fast. You don’t have much time.”
He had a point. I was adept at staying undetected. It would be a cinch to hide out and wait for the soldiers to take charge of the summit. But if I did that, I’d miss my chance to kill him. Of course, if I went after him, I could very well get shot for my troubles. What mattered more to me? Survival? Or familial revenge?
But this wasn’t about familial revenge. I wasn’t the last Hatfield and he wasn’t a McCoy. No, this little feud of ours was about something else.
Symmetry.
His efforts to destroy the U.S. economy, although they could be reversed, would still have long-lasting ramifications. Innocent people would lose their jobs, their savings. They’d be driven into poverty and despair. Plus, he’d tried to kill me along with my friends. And he’d killed Dad in cold blood.
For that — for all that — he needed to pay a price.
I snuck through the forest. He stood just outside the tree line, maybe a dozen feet from the edge of the mesa, carefully scanning his flanks. I waited until I had his timing down. Then I sprinted across the summit.
Just as he turned toward me, I snapped an elbow at his jaw and he fell hard. His back crashed into the soil, but he managed to maintain hold of the gun. With a quick swing, he smacked it against my knee. My nerve endings exploded in pain.
I slumped to the ground and he quickly mounted me. Then he gripped the gun’s barrel like a bottle and slashed it at my face. I lifted my arms and the metal slammed into them with jarring force.
Years earlier, our fathers had been in the exact same position, only reversed and without the gun. And then Ben had entered the room and thrown Dad to an early grave.
The thought fueled me and I twisted my torso. He fell off of me. A quick chop separated his fingers from the pistol and a shove sent the gun flying off the summit. Then I stood up and pulled him to his feet.
The wet rag drooped and I saw his entire face. He stared at me for a few seconds, his eyes full of boundless fury. I stared right back at him, unblinking.
“I wish I could say I was sorry.” He chuckled lightly. “But truth is, I’d do it all over again.”
“And I’d do this again.” I socked him in the jaw. His face twisted and blood flew out of his mouth. Then he stumbled backward and toppled off the mesa.
I walked to the edge of the summit. Peering downward, I saw the foremost dump truck poking out of the cavern. Ben, what was left of him anyway, lay in the front of the dump bed, splattered against the gold bars.
Symmetry.
At last.
Chapter 82
Voices died off and soldiers parted as I limped out of the cavern. The fires had been extinguished and almost all of the toxic smoke had dissipated. Looking around, I saw all ten dump trucks, parked quietly on the grass and surrounded by a veritable platoon of well-armed soldiers.
“Cy!” Beverly’s body slammed into mine. “What took you so long?”
With a big grin, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a squeeze. “I got sidetracked.”
“Don’t let it happen again.” Her lips brushed against my ear. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Graham muttered.
Beverly planted a big fat kiss on my lips, turned her nose up at Graham, and marched away.
He watched as a couple of soldiers extracted Ben’s splattered corpse from the dump bed. “What happened up there?”
“Justice.”
“Colonel Jordan.” Donovan, followed by K.J., shoved his way past a group of soldiers. “Arrest this man.”