In the Shadow of Falcon's Wings

CHAPTER 18 GAZING INTO THE ABYSS

The hooded face turned up to greet him. “Ah, the Chronicler. I can only surmise that you destroyed Krieger. You might have made a worthy foe.”

Dodge felt impotent rage boiling up in his chest. “I’m just getting started.”

“I think not. I will kill her before you can raise a finger. Send your leader out.”

“Leader?”

“The President,” hissed the cloaked figure.

Dodge sucked in a breath to hide his fear. “No.”

For just a moment, every pair of eyes swerved to gaze in disbelief — the mercenaries could not believe that anyone would defy the dark god, while Hurricane and the Padre were astounded that Dodge would risk Molly’s safety so cavalierly. The hand at Molly’s throat tightened and even from his distant vantage, Dodge could see her face turn beet red as the circulation was abruptly cut off. “You will.”

“No.” Dodge’s voice was adamant — far more so than he felt. “I’m not God; I don’t trade in human souls. I have no more power to order someone to his death than you do.”

“Then you have signed her death sentence.”

“Stop!”

Dodge’s heart sunk at the stentorian command, which had issued not from any of the participants in the drama below, but from behind. “Mr. President, you can’t —”

“As an American citizen, Mr. Dodge, you are duty bound to follow my orders.” The President edged out of the doorway. “I will go with you if you release the girl.”

“You dictate nothing to me.” The cloaked figure gestured to his men, then pointed up the elevated threshold.

Two of the mercenaries complied, rising under the power of their exoskeletons to bodily seize the American leader. Dodge knew that once their foe had the President, the rest of them were as good as dead. He stared helplessly down at his friends, at Molly almost unconscious from the stranglehold… saw her flesh go pink as the deadly grip relaxed imperceptibly.

He was moving before he knew why, rocketing downward like an arrow aimed at the dark god. He blasted through the two mercenaries and the impact of force fields sent a shower of sparks onto the group directly below. The sizzling discharge of energy was like the sounding of a starter pistol and in an instant, chaos was unleashed.

Molly’s captor reacted as Dodge had hoped, throwing her aside in order to fully meet the new gambit. It was the only thing about his attack that went according to plan. Faster than the eye could follow, the hooded man whipped out his metal staff and unleashed a bolt of violet fire that struck Dodge head on. His energy field screeched in protest as the opposing currents waged a battle of attrition and Dodge was thrown back into the wall with such force that the bas-relief figures shattered into a blizzard of shards which were instantly vaporized in the sizzling electrical conflagration.

Hurricane and Hobbs had not been idle, but their captors held a distinct advantage: the first thing that their foe had directed upon their capture, using Molly as leverage, was for them to disengage their exoskeletons. When the fighting began, the split second required for them to buckle the belt clasps and activate the protective field was a measure of time they could not afford. Instead, they took their chances with old-fashioned fisticuffs.

Hobbs seemed to have intuitive knowledge of exactly the right speed and intensity required to slip a knife hand through the field of the nearest man. The blow caught the mercenary in the solar plexus, and he crumpled forward without getting off a single blast of his lightning weapon.

Hurley wasn’t so lucky. His meaty fist slammed into his opponent’s energy bubble, but instead of penetrating, his blow bounced the man away like a rubber ball, even as the energy of the assault rebounded back on him. He was spun around and fell back into Hobbs just as the cascade of ice from the shattered wall came down upon them.

Dodge stabbed out with his gauntlets, but withheld fire as his foe snared Molly once more and dragged her between them. Keeping her in that position, as a shield, the dark god began retreating back into the tunnel. Dodge was about to follow when a storm of thunderbolts began raining down from above. His force field flashed under the assault, screeching in protest as the opposing charges gradually weakened the shield. He cast a glance to the source of the attack and found two mercenaries, holding the limp body of the President between them, raining fury down on his head.

“Damn it!” He could not shoot the men, for fear of hitting their captive and knew he couldn’t endure their bombardment much longer. Yet, the two mercenaries did not press their advantage. They kept moving, intent on taking the President to their leader, and there wasn’t a thing Dodge could do to stop them.

Hobbs succeeded in downing a second of the mercenaries, and Hurricane, by slowing his attack, managed to wrap his arms around another and crushed him senseless. But as close as they were to evening the odds, the battle was already lost. As soon as the two mercenaries left the half-dome chamber, the dark god reappeared brandishing his staff. The metal rod crackled with an intensity unlike anything Dodge had seen before; it was as though the hooded man had captured a real lightning bolt on his rod and was preparing to….

“Uh, oh.”

He turned to warn the others but before he could speak, the entire dome was filled with light so brilliant that even the oblique reflection off the glazed ice surface stabbed through his head like a white-hot poker. There immediately followed a detonation that was, Dodge imagined, like standing in front of a cannon. Without the force field to protect him, the concussion would have pounded him to a pulp.

Instead, the shockwave slammed him once more into the frozen wall, obliterating yet another section of the ancient warning carved there. Hurley and Hobbs were likewise buffeted by the thunderclap and for a moment, all three were too stunned to do anything. The enormous lightning bolt however, was only the catalyst for the dark god’s attack. He had not turned the electricity against them, but had instead directed it up to the high ceiling of ice. The crystalline structure of the ice gave it remarkable insulating properties — unlike water in its liquid form, ice was not conductive — but the kinetic energy from the lightning strike was like a stick of dynamite. The frozen dome shattered and began to cascade down in jagged chunks.

Though still mostly blind from the dazzling lighting, Dodge knew what was happening when he felt the first shudder pass through his energy shield. “Hurricane! Padre! Go through the doorway.”

He didn’t know if they heard, didn’t know if they would understand what he was telling them, much less if it was a good plan. That was one of the burdens of leadership. He flexed his knees then leaped straight up the wall.

The collapse of the ceiling was radiating out from the point of the blast, affording Dodge and the others the merest fraction of a second to make their escape. Even so, huge chunks of ice, like hailstones, rained down on them, bounced against their force fields and knocked them askew. Though relatively protected from the impacts, it was like trying to swim up Niagara Falls. The black opening, no longer perfectly square, became the only thing in Dodge’s universe that mattered. When his fingers grazed the threshold, he pulled himself through and was swallowed once more by the darkness.

The dark god stood motionless as a piece of ice the size of an automobile tumbled down the tunnel toward him. It crunched to a halt mere inches away. The chamber beyond was unquestionably sealed and those within, surely dead.

The mercenaries holding the American leader between them exchanged a troubled glance. Although they felt no special loyalty to their comrades who now lay beneath tons of ice, entombed for all eternity, they could not help but be dismayed at the casual indifference of their leader; it might just as easily have been them in there.

The cloaked master knew their thoughts, knew also how easily they would forget those lost soldiers of fortune when they realized how their own share of the final payoff had just increased. He would probably have to dispose of them before returning to America. Emboldened by their possession of the ancient technology they wore, it was only a matter of time before one or both attempted a coup.

He turned away from the collapsed chamber and entered the flying disc, dragging the struggling girl along in his wake. As soon as the metal had sealed over the entry, he illuminated the interior with his staff and addressed the President.

“Your champions have failed. They have either fallen in combat or fled before my face.” He leaned close so that the heat of his breath fell upon the other man’s face. “You will abdicate your throne to me.”

“America will never stand for a dictator in the White House. They will fight and they will throw you down.”

The dark god smiled. “They may fight. But for every man that boldly asserts his freedom, there will be another craving to be ruled by a strong hand. Have you brought prosperity and security to your subjects? I will make such things law, and enforce them with a power that none can stand against. America will all too eagerly kneel before her new emperor, and the world shall soon follow!”

Dodge stared at the typewriter wondering how to finish the tale. He had brought Captain Falcon to such a place innumerable times; dangling from the edge of a precipice by his fingertips, bound and gagged by his foes and left in the path of an oncoming train, chained beneath the sweep of a pendulum scythe… Falcon always escaped. But how to get him out of this fix?

Maybe Hurricane could offer a suggestion. Or the Padre.

But that was silly, because Father Hobbs was in Africa. Hobbs was in Africa with Molly.

How did I know that? Because I went there with Hurricane when…

The scales fell once more and he remembered everything. He ran for the door. “Padre!”

Hobbs shot him a warning glance as he burst into the nave. Though the small chapel was empty of worshippers, the priest demanded that this newcomer show the respect due a house of God.

Dodge hastened forward. “Padre, am I glad to see you.”

“You are welcome in this house, my son. You are an American?”

“Padre, it’s me, Dodge. I need you to remember where you are. Remember the ice.” Dodge was himself fighting to keep hold of his slippery consciousness. The forgetfulness of the dream was relentlessly seductive. “Padre, we’re in the Abyss.”

Hobbs eyes drew into narrow slits at the reference, and then he glanced around as if questioning the solidity of the chapel. “The Abyss? I remember. The roof was coming down; we fled here when there was nowhere else to go.”

“Yes! Hurricane is here, too.” He pointed to the simple door of tree branches lashed together with twine that shut out the steamy Congo jungle. “He’s right through that door.”

Yet, Hobbs did not move. “We are trapped, aren’t we? In here, we live and think and dream, but beyond the portal there is nothing. Solid ice. We are buried alive, and if we try to flee, we will surely die.”

He uttered a dry, mirthless chuckle. “We are already dead, and this is Hell.”

“No!” Dodge was vehement, but there was a hint of doubt in his outburst. “I will not accept that. While we are alive, we can find a way. We have to. He has the Pres…He has Molly!”

“Molly.” Hobbs gaze fell then just as quickly returned. “You are right, of course. Never give up, not while a single thought or breath remains. How do you propose we make our escape?”

Dodge sighed at the small victory. “First, we collect Hurricane. With the three of us working together, there’s nothing we can’t accomplish.”

“Just like old times.”

They found Hurley in a rustic log cabin, hunched over a notebook at a writing desk, illuminated by a single kerosene lamp. Dodge knew this place from the owner’s description; it was a bungalow on the Hurley family property in the austere highlands of the Cumberland Plateau. Hurricane came here to write; this was the place where he had recorded the stories that had eventually been transformed by Dodge into the Adventures of Captain Falcon. Hurley wrote longhand, in a careful, almost delicate script that seemed at odds with his explosive demeanor.

It didn’t take much persuasion to convince the big man of the illusory nature of their condition. His implicit trust in the Padre’s word overrode any lingering doubt; if Father Hobbs had said the flood was coming, Hurricane would have started building an ark. Moreover, the Padre’s presence seemed a natural antidote to the constant siren song of the waking dream, and none of the men had any trouble staying in the moment.

“So how do we get out?”

Hobbs deflected the question to Dodge with a glance. “When I left before, it was as simple as concentrating on the image of where I wanted to go.”

The priest positioned himself in front of the door, closed his eyes and lifted the simple lever latch. The door however would not budge. Hurley raised an eyebrow. “That door doesn’t have a lock. Don’t need ‘em out here.”

“The door — that is to say, the portal to the Abyss — is blocked by ice.” Hobbs did not repeat his earlier dire prediction, but it was evident in his eyes.

“Maybe there’s another way out.”

“This place is a prison, built to contain an evil beyond our comprehension. There isn’t going to be a back door.”

Dodge didn’t ask how the Padre had arrived at the first conclusion. “People break out of prison all the time. Whoever designed this one was counting on the prisoners forgetting reality and living entirely in a dream of their own making. We’ve already broken that chain.”

“Very well,” replied Hobbs sourly. “Now if you can just hypnotize yourself into believing that the way out is not buried under a sea of ice, we’ll be home free.”

“Now hold on Padre,” Hurley interjected. “Let’s think this through. First, we’re not really here in my cabin, right? So where are we — I mean where are our bodies while our minds are here?”

“We’re just inside the portal.”

“Right.” Hurley drew a square on a page of his notebook, then drew three stick figures alongside. “So this Abyss is a physical place as well as a… a mental place.”

Dodge thought he saw where Hurley was leading. “Yes. There must be some kind of open space on the other side of the doorway, and we are there, even though we can’t see it.”

“Hmm. And how big is this space?”

Dodge and Hobbs exchanged a glance. “How big?”

“If it’s a physical place — a room or ice cavern of some kind — then it has to have physical dimensions, walls, a floor, a ceiling. That chamber outside was enormous, and look how high up the wall the door was.” He sketched a rough cylinder on the paper to illustrate his point, and when he was done, the stick figures appeared to be suspended in a gigantic milk can. “I’d say this pit we’re in must be pretty big in all directions. Maybe we can break through the wall somewhere up here —” he pointed to an area near the top of his sketch— “above the icefall.”

“Except we can’t see those walls to break through them.”

“Maybe there is a way.” Despite his earlier sarcasm, Hobbs now seemed to have warmed to the idea. “I was joking when I said it—”

“Joking? You?” Hurricane asked, grinning.

“Funny. However, when I suggested that we might be able to hypnotize ourselves into finding a way out… Don’t you see? We are being hypnotized right now.”

“You can wake us up?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is at work here — strong magic or a science beyond our comprehension — is unlike anything we can conceive of. But even the dreamer can sleepwalk.” He glanced at the low roof of the cabin. “We can’t do it here though. We need to a place with some room to move. Follow me.”

Hobbs lifted the latch and pushed the door open to reveal a cavernous enclosure, lit dimly by the flickering flames of hundreds of small votive candles. Even without identifying the religious imagery therein, Dodge knew that they were in a cathedral. It seemed only appropriate; what better place to pray them out of the Abyss?

He led them to a place in the center of the nave directly in front of the dais and instructed them to close their eyes. “Listen to the sound of my voice. If your mind wanders here, you may become lost again in forgetfulness.

“Imagine now that you are suspended in a warm fluid, like an embryo in the womb, cushioned and protected by the amniotic fluid. Float now, free of gravity, free of all limitations.”

Dodge felt the warm liquid environment completely enveloping his body. He was no longer conscious of his own weight bearing down upon his feet — he wasn’t standing anymore, but drifting in a tranquil sea.

“Rise now to the surface. Reach up and touch the sky.”

Eyes still closed, Dodge began kicking with his feet like a swimmer ascending to the surface. The viscous environment slowed his movements, like a dream dance. After what seemed an eternity of sinuous undulating, he felt the cool air of the surface on his face.

“Very good,” Hobbs said, his voice muffled by the fluid environment separating them. “Now, break through the sky!”

“How?”

“Hurricane, use your guns!”

At the first thunderous discharge, Dodge’s eyes flew open and what he saw defied comprehension. Hurley hovered a few feet below the painted ceiling of the cathedral, eyes still closed, with both of his enormous pistols blasting straight up. But instead of piercing wood and masonry, the bullets were creating what looked like spider web fractures in a sheet of glass and through those cracks there was only deep shadow.

He saw all of this in an instant, and then he began to fall, slowly at first, until he looked down.

It was like something from a nightmare. When he had first entered the sacristy, he had observed a high vaulted ceiling, looming perhaps four stories above. Now, looking down from the upper reaches of the cathedral was like looking down from the top of the Empire State Building. The walls had stretched like taffy, growing in response to his somnolent ascent, so that now a drop of several hundred feet loomed below.

He flailed in the air, feeling the wind of his free fall whip through his hair, and then it occurred to him to try activating the exoskeleton…

Except I never deactivated it.

He stopped instantly, hanging in mid air twenty stories below the place where Hurley hovered, blindly blasting away at the ceiling not just of the cathedral but the Abyss itself. The twin semi-automatics abruptly fell silent as the last cartridge in each was fired. Hurricane automatically ejected and replaced the magazines, but before he could resume the blind assault, Dodge rose up beside him and laid a hand on his arm. The giant nodded in understanding and waited as Dodge forced open one of the fractures.

Beyond the ceiling there was only inky darkness, but as he ventured into it, he realized that he was not looking at the black void of the Abyss, but rather the lightless expanse of the Antarctic night sky.

With the walls of their prison breached, the last chains holding them fast fell away. Hurricane opened his eyes and ascended the remaining distance to join Dodge outside where both men got a look at their surroundings.

Hurley’s bullets had chewed through a sheet of ice several feet thick on the sheer face of a glacier. The vertical wall fell away beneath them and was absorbed into the landscape below, where presumably the tunnels of the ancient outpost honeycombed the frozen polar crust. The glacier afforded a little protection from the blizzard conditions, but beyond close proximity, everything was a blur.

“How do we find our way back?” Dodge shouted.

Hurley peered at the snowscape, then looked heavenward. “If we can go high enough to get above this weather, we can use the stars.”

Dodge nodded and as soon as Father Hobbs emerged from the Abyss, they flew straight up into the buffeting winds. The journey toward the stratosphere was more tumultuous even than the initial expedition across the ice, but after several minutes of struggle, they abruptly topped the clouds high above the frozen continent.

The Southern Cross lay just off to their left. It was a poor point of reference for navigating away from the South Pole since the heavens orbited around that constellation and none of the other stars were fixed. Hurley finally picked one of the brighter stars as a beacon and they set out, all too aware that they might very well be moving away from their goal. None of the men spoke that fear aloud; they all knew what was at stake.

More than an hour passed, an interminable period of solitude in which Dodge’s sense of helplessness grew to exponential proportions. The possibilities for defeat were infinite, while the probability of success seemed infinitesimally small. But then, when he was certain that all was lost, the clouds parted and Hurricane’s thunderous voice reached through the thin atmosphere to vibrate against his force field:

“I see them!”

Dodge followed his pointing finger to the endless sea of white below and caught a glimpse of motion, a lone dark speck sliding relentlessly forward. They were close, perhaps only ten minutes behind the flying disk, but there was no way to cut their enemy’s lead. For another hour, they chased the distant mote, gaining not an inch, as the shore came into view over the horizon. Not long thereafter, they saw the plane rolling in the embrace of the sea.

“That is where we must make our move,” Hurley declared. “We must catch them before they can take off.”

The big man’s words were strangely comforting to Dodge. He means to win this battle, he thought. With a friend like that on my side…

“He lost a few men in that cave in,” Hurricane continued. “If we can keep the element of surprise, we just might be able to each take out one of them before they know what’s happening.”

Dodge shook his head. “You know that won’t work. We have to take him.”

Hurley shot him a wary look, but nodded reluctantly. “Won’t be easy.”

“No it won’t,” agreed Hobbs. “But the strategy is sound. Cut off the head of the serpent and the snake will die.”

“The snake.” Hurley’s voice was just a murmur, but Dodge understood and shared his sentiment.

The disk ship drove onward, now skimming above the wave tops, slowing as it approached the final rendezvous. The plane was also barely discernible, separated by more than ten miles distance, but its silver outline was distinctive against the dark water. The airship came to a complete halt under the shadow of one wing, the disembarking passengers too small to be seen by the naked eye. Dodge felt a momentary elation as the distance separating them from their quarry began to diminish at last.

His anticipation was short lived. Almost the instant that the airship vanished from view, the plane began to move. Mere seconds after their arrival, the enemy was on the go again, this time racing across the open water until the plane’s speed was sufficient to lift it skyward.

The aircraft remained visible for a few moments longer, but as it shrunk to nothing in the distance, so too did all of Dodge’s hopes.