At the Outpost of Fate

CHAPTER 19 — TO REIGN IN HELL

Although he could feel the keen knife edge pressing into the vulnerable skin of his throat, Dodge knew that every second counted and that getting cut or even killed would matter little against what was about to happen. He hoped his captor would be distracted enough by what was going on all around, to give him a slight advantage.

Now or never, he thought.

His left hand snaked up across his chest and wrapped around the dagger man's wrist. At exactly the same instant, his right fist went straight out in front of him then recoiled like a piston, driving his elbow into the man's ribs. He heard the stunned attacker's breath whoosh from his lungs, even as he pushed the blade away from his throat and twisted the arm holding it. The bones and tendons in the man's arm popped and the stiletto fell harmlessly to the ground, but Dodge wasn't finished. He threw his weight back, driving his elbow in once more, crushing his assailant into the wall of the chamber.

Hurricane moved just as quickly, jerking away from the deadly sword tip and drawing his enormous hand cannons in a single fluid motion. The twin barrels came together, tracking the swordsman even as the latter tried to dart away.

The man wielding the long blade knew the sword would be useless against Hurricane's guns and so decided instead to grab a shield. He twisted away from Hurley's sights and with the same hand that still held the Staff, snatched a handful of Jocasta's hair and hauled her in close. "Put your guns down or I'll cut her head off," he hissed, holding the naked blade to her throat and dragging her toward the arched exit.

Hurricane cocked his head sideways. "Mister, you couldn't have picked a worse hostage. I wouldn't give a plug nickel to save her pretty little head."

"Hurricane!" Dodge warned, stepping forward, while not quite putting himself in the line of fire. He faced Jocasta's captor. "I don't think you understand what's going on here, but trust me when I say, that the fate of the world is at stake. Just give me that Staff, let her go and you and your friend can walk out of here."

"Fate of the world?" The man laughed contemptuously. "Is that the best you've got?"

"Good God, Savile!" Winterbourne exclaimed. "Look around you. The gates of Hell have opened."

"Gates of Hell? And I suppose this is the key to shut them again? I'd say that only improves my bargaining position." He took another backward step, through the arch.

Dodge followed, keeping his hands held out to show that he posed no threat, but refused to let the man get more than a few steps away.

Only thirty-six hours earlier, in South Africa, he, Newcombe and Jocasta had been trying to figure out their next move. Ironically, the story that Schadel, disguised as Dalton, had told about using Jocasta's criminal contacts to follow the movements of Dodge's friends across Europe, was not that far from the truth. Dodge had sent out telegrams to every airport along their flight path, trying to figure out where the Catalina had set down to refuel. Their first positive response, from a seaplane port in France, had yielded up a second, very important piece of information, regarding a passenger that had been let off there, a man named Sir Reginald Christy.

Christy's body had been found floating in the harbor, not far from where the Catalina had briefly docked. It was evident that he had been tortured before death. Jocasta had inquired of her sources, in this case, corrupt policemen in both France and England and had learned two things: Sir Reginald had been a high-ranking member of the Trevayne Society; and the police believed his death to be the work of an international mercenary group called the Fraternis Maltae, recognizable by their stylized swords and stilettos. Dodge had a pretty good idea why the man had been tortured; the Fraternis Maltae wanted to know the final destination of the Catalina's passengers.

At the time, it had been unclear whether the mercenaries were working with Schadel, but the knowledge that his friends were being pursued by such a brutal organization supplied further impetus to the search. More inquiries had been made and it soon became evident that the Catalina was on its way to India. Newcombe had studied photographs of the Himalaya and Hindu Kush mountains and identified them as being the same distinctive peaks in his borrowed memories. They had missed catching them in Delhi by mere minutes, but just before Dodge could ask after their final destination, he had caught a glimpse of a very familiar face — his own — boarding an airplane bound for the southern city of Bhilsa. Disguised with a little local color, the three survivors from the Outpost had blended in with the passengers and followed the phony Dodge all the way to the Udayagiri caves. The one thing they hadn't factored into their hasty plans was that possibility that the Fraternis Maltae might already have some of their agents in place.

Or that they might make their own play to seize the Staff.

Dodge caught Jocasta's eye as she was pulled out onto the long bridge. After the brilliant light show in the domed chamber, the lichen growing on the floor of the span provided only enough illumination to see vague outlines beyond a few feet, but Dodge could tell that the beautiful blond thief was preparing to make her own play. Her hand dropped down to her right thigh and her fingers drew something — an oblong metal rod only about eighteen inches long — from a concealed pocket.

Dodge shook his head, silently imploring her not to do anything that might get her killed, but he could see the determination in her eyes. Jocasta Palmer would not tolerate being drug around like chattel. Her fingers released a hidden catch on object and with a faint snick, a spring-loaded section telescoped out, nearly doubling the rod's length. Jocasta did not attempt to use the rod as a weapon against her captor, but instead let it fall noisily onto the stone path.

Savile reacted exactly as she expected, brandishing his sword in the direction of the sound. As soon as the blade came away from her throat, Jocasta did what only she could do. In an astonishing display of acrobatic ability, she sprang backward, pivoting on Savile's awkward grip on her hair and went up and over his shoulder. Though he still held her, he no longer had any control and as she landed lightly on her feet behind him, she caught his forearm and pulled it over his shoulder until, in a howl of agony, he released both her hair and the Staff.

But Savile wasn't beaten yet. He twisted around, easing the strain on his left arm, even as he slashed with the sword. Jocasta was forced to release her grip and retreat, which she did in equally dramatic fashion, doing three rapid handsprings backward until she was well beyond the reach of his blade.

Hurricane was right behind Dodge, his guns trained on the mercenary, but at such close range, his .50-caliber bullets would likely obliterate Savile and keep right on going, endangering Jocasta. Dodge didn't think Hurley was serious about not caring whether the jewel thief came to any harm, but he decided not to put it to the test. Instead, he leaped onto the discarded metal rod and then charged the flailing assassin-monk, swinging it like a bludgeon.

For just a moment, Savile was on the defensive. He managed to parry Dodge's strike, deflecting the impromptu club at the last instant in a ringing shower of sparks. But unlike Dodge, whose knowledge of the finer points of swordplay was limited to what he had picked up as young boy, watching Douglas Fairbanks dueling with legions of inept foes, Savile actually knew what he was doing. He parried another overhead attack from Dodge and then went on the offensive.

Dodge deflected one ringing blow after another, but the attack was wearing him down. His fingers were numb from the shock that traveled through the metal with each blow that was struck and it was all he could do to keep Savile's blade from sliding down the length of the rod and slicing off his fingers. It wasn't enough to parry Savile's attacks, he had to retreat each time to avoid a lethal riposte. Then, Savile's sword struck just right and the rod fell from Dodge's grasp.

Dodge took another step back, his empty hands raised. "Touché."

A triumphant smile crossed the mercenary's broad face as he drew back for a killing thrust, but then he saw that Dodge's gesture was not one of surrender. Instead, he was jerking a thumb over his shoulder, directing Savile's attention to….

The killer monk's eyes widened for just an instant as he stared into the barrels of Hurricane's pistols. Then the guns thundered and Savile was hurled backward, off the span and disappeared into the depths.

Dodge sagged in relief. "Took you long enough."

"I thought you might beat him," Hurricane answered with a grin.

"Not even a plug nickel, Brian? You certainly know how to make a girl feel loved." Jocasta, standing about twenty feet away, shook her head sadly, then knelt and picked up the Staff.

Dodge's relief at having survived the brutal battle with Savile evaporated in instant as he contemplated the possibilities of what she would do next. Jocasta seemed to be contemplating this as well; she glanced over her shoulder, to the T-shaped doorway leading back up out of the cave and then made up her mind. She strode forward and proffered the Staff.

Dodge made no attempt to hide his relief. "For just a second there, I thought you might—"

"Yes, well for just a second I thought I might, too. Then I saw them." She pointed back down the length of the span to where a crowd of figures was emerging from the gloom. Dodge only recognized one of them — the man he knew as Burton. Jocasta had probably recognized several more of her fellow passengers from Flight 19.

Molly got to her hands and knees and then rose unsteadily to her feet. Winterbourne had followed after Hurricane and Dodge in pursuit of the fleeing mercenary, leaving only the frizzy-haired scientists and of course, her father. The latter regarded the skull-faced man who continued to hug the metal column as if he had somehow become affixed to it. Molly however was drawn like a moth to a flame, toward nearest of the arch openings.

What she saw was the stuff of nightmares.

The basilica seemed to have been constructed atop a pinnacle looking out in every direction over a vast scorched landscape. At first, she saw nothing but dark patches, like islands, surrounded by frothing fountains of bright orange lava. But as her eyes adjusted to the contrast, she saw that the dark islands were moving — writhing. They were heaps of tortured souls and the hot wind carried their screams to her ears.

She tore her gaze away from the shocking tableau and instead found her eyes drawn to the inky blackness high above, where a mass of bestial shapes swirled about, their demonic eyes ablaze with the evil they were about to unleash upon the world.

A scream gathered in her throat.

"That's not right at all."

The words were so bland when held against the horror she was witnessing, that her fear melted into anger. She turned to face the man who had spoken them. Newton, no that's not it…Newcombe. "What?"

"This," he gestured out at the inferno raging beyond the arches. "It's all wrong. It doesn't make any sense."

Molly could only shake her head, unable to comprehend how to even begin communicating with the strange man.

"This is like a hallucination," he continued. "A nightmare, probably taken from his mind."

"What's that?" Hobbs' stern voice broke through Molly's horror and she turned to find him gripping Newcombe's shoulder. "Say that again?"

The scientist pointed again at the hellscape. "This is something out of classic literature; Dante‘s Inferno. It's not what I saw when I touched the Source… the pillar at the Outpost."

"You've been to the Outpost."

"Yes." Newcombe seemed very excited at the fact that someone was at last asking the right questions. "With our skull-faced friend over there, though we didn't realize it at the time."

Hobbs pressed him. "You saw something when you touched the Pillar?"

"More accurately, I experienced the memories of the men who were stationed at the Outpost. It was a prison for one of their greatest minds…"

There was a scraping noise on the other side of the arch and in spite of her fear, Molly looked out again. She caught just a glimpse of roiling scaled limbs, tipped with claws like daggers, before Hobbs pulled her back. "Dr. Newton, our time is very limited. What did you mean when you said that this is wrong?"

Newcombe's face betrayed that he didn't appreciate being interrupted. "I'm getting to that. The Outpost was a prison and the prisoner in this case was the man who discovered how to tap into that other universe. He was imprisoned in a sort of constant dream state—"

"The Abyss," Hobbs whispered, his face alight with dawning comprehension. "A prison cell where you become trapped in your own mind. So you're saying that what's happening out there is all in our minds?"

"Or in his." Newcombe pointed to Schadel, still hugging the column.

A clawed talon appeared on the threshold of the opening and Molly jumped back, seeking shelter in her father's arms. "Can this hallucination hurt us?" she asked.

"I… I don't really know." Newcombe scratched his head.

"What else did you see? What's really going on here?"

Newcombe blinked, as if mentally translating the question into a more familiar language. "Those pillars! They have entities trapped within them."

"Demons?"

"That might be your word for them, but no. They are just… well, entities… from a universe that is completely removed from ours. The ancients trapped them, enslaved them really, but it didn't end well."

Hobbs pointed at the misshapen mass that was heaving itself through the arch. "Could that be one of the entities?"

"I don't know. They shouldn't be able to exist in our universe. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"The metal pillars. The entities are trapped within them and scattered all around the globe, but it might be possible for them to manipulate the metal, to wear it like a… a deep-sea diving suit."

"Not just possible," Molly said. "We've seen it happen."

Hobbs glanced around, his gaze finally settling on the pillar in the center of the room. "Why isn't that one moving?"

Molly sensed that the question was rhetorical, but suddenly she realized what he was about to do. "Dad, no!"

But Hobbs had already pushed away from her and was moving toward the pillar.

There were more than a dozen of them, moving in what was almost a precise military rank, three abreast, down the length of the span. Their faces were vacant, as if all traces of personality had been wiped away, but when they moved it was with the cautious grace of stalking lions. When the vanguard of the approaching group caught sight of Dodge, Hurricane and Jocasta, they immediately broke into a run.

Dodge reacted just as quickly, brandishing the Staff and willing it to life, imagining a force field to rebuff the advance.

Nothing happened. The Staff did not so much as tingle against his palm. It was as cold and inert as Jocasta's telescoping burglar tool had been. Once more, the technology from the Outpost had failed him in his moment of need.

Hurricane reached out with one massive arm and swept Dodge and Jocasta behind him, back through the arch leading into the domed chamber and blockaded the entrance with his own body. It was a natural choke point. Hurley would be able to fight them off one at a time, but Dodge knew from bitter experience that Schadel's zombie slaves would fight to the death. He didn't doubt that Hurricane was capable of killing them all, but in the end they were victims of a greater evil and it wasn't right that their blood should be on the big man's conscience… or on his. There was however an alternative.

"Padre!" Dodge shouted over his shoulder. "We could use a little help."

The priest did not answer, but Dodge heard Molly cry out and turned to find Hobbs wrestling to pull Schadel away from the pillar. Then he saw the claws and tentacles and slavering jaws of the beasts struggling to push through the other arches and realized that beating off the Skull's hypnotized zombies was the least of their worries.

Schadel's grip on the column was beyond anything remotely human. Hobbs tugged at his fingers and when that didn't work, tried striking various pressure points and nerve bundles, but the skull-faced man was as impervious as a statue.

"Dodge, they're getting through!" Molly shouted.

He didn't know whether she was talking about Schadel's thralls or the demonic monstrosities, but since the result would be the same either way, he chose not to waste even a single second in looking to find out. Instead, he hefted the inert Staff and ran toward the column. It might have lost its capacity to summon phenomenal technology, but it still had a few uses.

With something like a war cry, he raised the Staff overhead and then brought it down in a hammer blow against Schadel's elbow. Although the ferocity never left the Skull's eyes, his left arm went limp and flopped impotently from his shoulder.

Hobbs instantly seized the advantage and peeled the villain away. "My turn," he said and then embraced the column.

A burst of light flooded the room and when Dodge's vision cleared, he saw that everything had changed.

They were still in the basilica or rather in a structure that was similar to the domed chamber, but the portals around the perimeter no longer looked out onto the Lake of Fire. Instead, the arches framed a sprawling city under a canopy of stars. The architecture looked ancient at first glance, with pillars and domes and for just a moment, Dodge wondered if they had somehow been transported through time and space to the imperial city of the Outpost's architects. But then he began to recognize specific structures in the landscape and realized where they were: Rome.

But this wasn't the Eternal City, any more than what had preceded it had been the inner circle of Hell. That had been a construct of Schadel's fevered delusions and this was a product of Hobbs imagination.

Dodge turned a slow circle and realized that Hurricane's struggle against the last survivors of Flight 19 had ended. Hurley still stood in front of the arch, but the passage leading back to the cave was gone, along with everyone that had been on the other side. In its place was another spectacular view of the city. The giant stood with his hands on his hips, staring in perplexity through the changed portal, then turned and walked over to join the others.

Schadel lay curled in a fetal ball, not moving and clearly no longer a threat. Molly and Winterbourne, like Dodge, were stunned by the sudden translocation, while Newcombe just shook his head dismissively. "It's just another hallucination."

Hurricane shrugged. "It may well be, Newton, but I'll take this one over the other any day."

Dodge was inclined to agree. He turned to Hobbs and found that while the priest was still standing in the center of the basilica, the lofty metal column had vanished. Then he saw that Hobbs was not alone. In fact, where the pillar had stood, there was a tall figure — taller even than Hurricane — wearing the robes and cassock of a Benedictine monk. And then Dodge realized that they were surrounded by several more similar figures. Each was at least nine feet tall, but their hoods hung low, completely concealing their faces… if they even had faces.

In a flash of intuition, he realized that these monks had, moments before, been slavering demons. Their new manifestation was perhaps easier on the eyes, but no less ominous. "Doc, these are the entities, aren't they?"

"The entities don't have physical form in our universe."

"No, but we're not in our universe right now, are we? We're in some kind of dream state and these are like psychic projections."

This gave the scientist pause. "I suppose you are correct. They would be free to move about here, unrestricted by their metal prisons."

"So the columns are still out there. Still scattered all over the planet. And the one in Antarctica is still melting its way to the earth's core."

"No," Hobbs declared in a flat but certain voice, his back still turned away. "That ended as soon as he—" The priest pointed to Schadel—"issued the summons. He awakened them all, just as the one in London was awakened and they came.

"This may not be reality, but they are here, just outside the borders of this… representation."

"What do they want?"

Hobbs turned and Dodge saw a sad smile on his face. "They want what every slave or captive has ever wanted. To return home. But the door is closed."

"Door?" Dodge held up the Staff. "Is this the key that opens that door?"

"There is no key. The door can only be opened when our world ceases to exist."

"Then they're trapped here," Molly said. "That's terrible."

Dodge heard the sympathy in her voice, but he didn't share it. All the pieces of the puzzle lay before him, but they didn't quite fit together. He glanced at the motionless robed figures, then came back to meet Hobbs' stare. "They're not trapped, are they? They have the power to destroy the world, but something prevents them."

"That's true!" Newcombe declared. "When they were brought into her world, they were compelled to obey the commands of the man who opened the door. Even as they gave his civilization the power to dominate the world, they were trying to trick him into destroying everything."

"Talk about havin' a tiger by the tail," Hurricane remarked.

"It drove him insane," Newcombe said.

"That's what the prophecy was about," interjected Winterbourne. He pointed at Schadel. "They were looking to find someone else to command them. This poor fool thought he would set loose the Armies of Hell, when in reality, he would be letting these entities slip their leash. And he very nearly succeeded."

Dodge thought about what Jocasta had told him; how Hobbs had appeared when he had entered her mind to free her from the Skull's spell. "The prophecy isn't about Schadel, is it?"

"No." The Padre gave a heavy sigh. "Just as they do not truly exist in our physical universe, they also are not bound by the linear flow of time. They do not see the possibilities of our uncertain future; rather, they exist in past, present and future simultaneously."

"How did you know that?" Newcombe inquired, but no one paid him any heed.

"So the prophecy will come true?" Winterbourne asked. "No matter what we do, the real Child of Skulls will eventually come along, take command of these entities and set them loose on the world?

"He's already here," Dodge murmured, loud enough that only Hobbs could hear. The priest met his stare and gave a slight nod. "They wait now for the command. If it is not given, they will become more… persuasive."

"What can we do?"

Hobbs' smiled his sad smile again. "There is nothing you can do. It's fate."

"I don't accept that."

The Padre shrugged. "Then if it pleases you to think otherwise, know that I freely choose this destiny. Now, take my daughter away from here. Promise to protect her and I promise that I will hold the line until such time as it no longer matters."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the robed entities took note. In unison, they began moving toward him, their robes seemingly floating over the floor.

The significance of her father's words finally hit home for Molly. "What?"

"Molly, girl. Who else would you trust with this job?" He turned back to Dodge. "Go back the way you came. The way is clear. I've freed those poor souls from the airplane. Go quickly."

Molly however was not finished. She darted forward and grasped her father's lapels. "You're coming with us. I won't leave without you."

There was a scrabbling sound and before anyone could move to stop him, Schadel sprang to his feet and hurled himself through the arched portal, vanishing instantly into the illusion. Hurricane started to pursue, but Hobbs forestalled him. "Let him go. His power is broken. He's no threat to anyone anymore. But you are all in great danger. I can hold them here…"

Suddenly the cassocks fell away to reveal hideous demon faces, hissing and sneering at Hobbs. The entities were now fully aware that Hobbs, their ruler long foretold, was not going to deliver them to the land of promise, but would instead force them to wander a while longer in the wilderness and they weren't happy about it.

"Take her!" Hobbs ordered more forcefully. He pushed Molly away, into Dodge's arms and struck a fighting stance as the robed giants began to tighten the circle. "Go!"

Molly struggled in his grip, but Dodge held fast and backed away, careful not to brush against the robed entities. Maybe there was no danger from a glancing contact, but he wasn't going to take any chances. As soon as he was past, the illusion began to fade like fog at the sun's rising. Instead of robed figures, he now saw what looked more like enormous snakes made of quicksilver writhing in a sinuous dance around the center of the original carved basilica. With each passing moment, more of the shapes flooded in. Entities trapped in the strange metal columns, awakened from their long sleep in buried ruins scattered across the planet, had burrowed through the earth's crust to demand one thing from their new master.

At the center of the gyre, Hobbs sat lotus-style, head bowed slightly and refused them.

Molly, sobbing, still fought against Dodge's restraining embrace and despite their difference in size, it was all he could do to hold her back. Hurricane, sensing that she might give him the slip, clamped a beefy hand on her shoulder. "You can leave on your feet, Molly or I can take you out over my shoulder, but either way, you're doin' what your father told you to."

Her red-rimmed eyes shot daggers at him, but she nodded, relenting in her struggle. Dodge didn't wait for her to change her mind, but instead hastened her toward the arch. The others followed, with Hurricane bringing up the rear. Dodge cast a final glance over his shoulder, but Hobbs was gone, completely hidden behind a wall of fluid metal.

Then, a groaning rumble shuddered up through the stone and Dodge knew that things were about to get a lot worse.