Vapor (3 page)

My throat felt sore and scratchy as I strode across the barn. Opening the truck door, I helped myself to a bottle of water.

Throwing back my head, I tilted the precious liquid into my mouth. It was warm, but felt cool and refreshing on my dry, chapped lips. I drank greedily for a few seconds. But it didn’t alleviate my thirst. Giving up, I recapped the bottle and tossed it back into the truck.

Shifting my gaze, I saw Lila. Her eyes were fixed upon the reliquary. “How’d we do?” I asked.

“You were supposed to put it into
my
truck,” she replied icily.

“We were trying to beat the storm.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“It would’ve taken too long to transfer it from the cradle to your vehicle. So, we just put the whole thing onto our flatbed.”

“How long will it take you to move it to my truck?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Her face turned a bright pink. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not necessary. Just tell us where you want it and we'll drive it there.”

She rubbed her temples. “That won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of it.” Pulling off my goggles, I glanced at Graham. “By the way, these work great. How long will the batteries last?”

“Eight hours without a charge,” he replied.

“How’d you squeeze night vision technology into such a small package?”

He grinned. “Trade secret.”

Suppressing a smile, I turned toward the piles of packing material. In the process, I saw a metal case. It sat by itself, away from everything else. “What’s that?” I asked.

Lila hurried in front of me. “It’s mine.”

“What is it?”

“None of your business.”

I arched an eyebrow.

She narrowed her gaze.

The back of my neck tingled. Something about her behavior bothered me. Technically, it was her dig. But I felt a responsibility to the reliquary all the same. “Out of my way.”

She stood her ground for a moment. Then she reluctantly stepped to the side.

I walked to the case. Gently, I ran my fingers over its metallic surface. It felt cool to the touch.

Slowly, I unlatched it. It popped open and I took a good look at its contents. “What the hell are you doing with C-4?”

“None of your business.” She snapped the case shut. “If you want to get paid—”

“Forget the money.” I crossed my arms. “What’s going on here?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. I’d already figured it out.

She’s going to blow it up.

It fit the facts. Lila had acted out of character by eschewing publicity. She’d cared more about getting the reliquary out of the ground than keeping it in perfect condition. And she’d refused to let us transport it for her.

But it didn’t make sense. Why had she hired us to dig it up in the first place? And why would she want to blow up an old artifact?

“What about your team?” I asked. “Your research?”

She sighed. “For this dig, there’s no team, no research.”

“You lied to us?” Beverly frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t have time to explain. And honestly, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the whole story. But I have to destroy the reliquary. I have to destroy what’s inside it.”

I wanted to dismiss her as delusional. But her tone didn’t waver. Her face didn’t flinch. Deep down, I sensed she was telling the truth, or at least a version of it. “What’s inside—?”

“Cy.” Graham’s voice stretched across the barn. “Get over here.”

“Can it wait?”

“Not if you want to keep breathing.”

My boots pounded against the dirt as I ran to the double doors. Lowering his binoculars, Graham stepped away from a tiny peephole. I took his place and peered into it. The dust storm still raged, but with less intensity.

I donned my goggles. My right hand turned a tiny dial. The lens turned telescopic.

In the distance, I saw a teeming mass. It gobbled up the arid soil, devouring all routes of escape. “It’s a mob,” I said softly. “A gigantic one.”

My breath quickened as the mob drew closer. It stretched the length of a four-lane road. As for depth, I counted at least five rows of heads. Its members walked slowly, carefully. Their bloodshot eyes flitted back and forth. Their sunken cheeks expanded and contracted. Their clothes—a hodgepodge of faded fatigues—were ripped and soiled.

I adjusted the dial. I could see their firm, tense jaws. The long rifles clutched in their hands. The splatters of blood on their clothes.

“Let me see,” Lila said.

I stepped out of the way and she took my place. Using Graham’s binoculars, she peered into the distance. “God’s Judges,” she replied tightly. “I’d recognize them anywhere.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You sound almost relieved.”

“It could be worse.” She exhaled. “Still, those people are dangerous.”

“We’ve dealt with looters before,” Beverly said.

“They’re not just looters. God’s Judges are suspected in over a dozen unsolved murder cases.”

“Looters? Riots? Roaming militias?” Graham shook his head. “What the hell happened here?”

“The drought happened.” Lila leaned against the barn doors. Tipping her chin upward, she stared at the ceiling. “We’re used to droughts here. Our farmers know how to manage arid lands, to grow crops with groundwater flow systems. Our water recycling and desalination systems are the best in the world. But we’re in the middle of a full-blown catastrophe and artificial water supplies are no longer enough.”

I returned to the peephole. Looking ahead, I saw a man in his late thirties. A scarf shielded his nose and mouth. A pair of desert camouflage pants and a bulletproof vest covered his gaunt form. A rifle hung from his shoulder. He walked with a limp, but still managed to move with purpose and determination.

To the man’s left, I noticed a woman of similar age. Her skin was weathered and she looked frightfully skinny. Like the man, she wore desert camouflage pants and a bulletproof vest. A scarf kept her hair, long and blonde, from whipping furiously with the wind.

Looking closely, I saw dried blood on her clothes. She carried a pistol in her right hand. A second pistol was holstered at her side.

Lovers?

It was hard to imagine love in a ruthless militia. But little gestures—quick looks and the occasional brush of hands—indicated they were more than just fellow soldiers.

What had caused them to join God’s Judges? Was it a temporary thing in order to get through the drought? Or had they lost all hope in modern civilization?

“We need to blow up the reliquary,” Lila said. “Then we need to get out of here.”

I slid my goggles away from my eyes. I carried a pistol and machete at all times. Beverly and Graham carried pistols as well. But without help, we wouldn’t last long against the militia. “We’re not destroying anything.”

“But—”

I held up a hand, shushing her.

“So, we run?” Beverly frowned. What if they chase us?”

“I’d like to see them try.” Graham grinned. “In case you haven’t noticed, they’re on foot.”

“And our truck is weighed down by heavy cargo. Plus, we’ll be slogging through soft dirt.”

I recalled our drive from the excavation pit to the barn. I’d chalked up our slow speed to Beverly being extra cautious. But now I realized that couldn’t have been the case.

Beverly wasn’t the cautious type.

“We don’t have a choice. One way or another, we need to leave here in three minutes.” I glanced at Lila. “We’re taking the reliquary. You can come with us or you can drive your own truck.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, we’re going to have a little chat when this is over. No more lies, no more crap. I want the truth.” I glared at her. “All of it.”

Beverly lined up in front of a barn door. I stood in front of the other one. Together, we shoved the doors open. Brutal winds accosted us. Looking up, I saw long trails of swirling particles. They filled the sky, blotting out the sun.

I spun toward Graham. “Search this place for supplies. Food, bottled water, anything. Whatever you find, put it in the truck.” My gaze shifted to Beverly. “Grab the cords and cables. I’ll rig up the covering.”

As Graham hustled deeper into the barn, Beverly hurried to the pile of packing materials. She pulled out several bundles of metal cords and cables. Meanwhile, I extracted a couple of flexible, plastic-like sheets from the pile and carried them back to the truck.

Beverly clambered onto the flatbed. She selected a few metal cords from the bundles and connected them to the flatbed’s left side.

I tossed the plastic sheets onto the flatbed and climbed up after them. Quickly, I spread the sheets over the reliquary and taped them down. Then I grabbed some cables and began helping Beverly.

Graham returned to the cab, his hands stuffed with bottles of water and canned goods. He tossed the items into the open door. Then he reached for the ignition and turned the key. The engine sputtered.

And died.

“What’s wrong?” I called out.

He popped the hood and hurried to it. “Looks like a clogged fuel filter.”

“Can you fix it?”

His head bobbed. “Yeah, but it’ll take a few minutes.”

I helped Beverly secure the reliquary with additional cords and cables. Then I glanced in Graham’s direction. I couldn’t see him from my vantage point, but I could hear the sound of rattling metal. “We’re ready on our end.”

Tools clanked in reply.

I hopped off of the flatbed and followed Beverly to the doors. Looking outside, I watched the militia pour over a tall dune.

Whoa.

I turned my attention to the excavation site. The gantry crane and other machines remained in place, having withstood the winds. Numerous rocks lay a short distance away. We’d dug them out during the excavation. But because of their size and weight, we’d left them near the pit. Individually, the rocks weren’t impressive. The largest one was the size of a coffee table. But as a whole, they took up a decent amount of space.

And that was it. Other than the pit, the dust storm had swept away all other evidence of our work.

The engine revved behind me. But it failed to catch and the barn fell silent again. “How are we doing, Dutch?” I called out.

“I need more time,” he shouted.

Sunlight peeked through the flying dust. A few rays reflected off the gantry’s silver metal, casting a sharp glow in all directions.

“I know how to slow them down,” Lila said softly.

I glanced at her. “I’m listening.”

“You’ve got a gun, right? So, use it.”

I frowned.

“We need time. And a couple of dead bodies will buy us time.”

“Unless it whips them into a frenzy,” Beverly said. “They’re not exactly unarmed, you know.”

“I know. But—”

I held up a hand. “We’re not killing anyone.”

Lila frowned. “We can’t let them have the reliquary.”

“We won’t.”

She exhaled a frustrated sigh. In a weird way, I knew how she felt. I was pretty sure I wanted to save the reliquary just as badly as she wanted to destroy it. But that didn’t mean I was about to start killing people.

“Then fire into the air,” Lila suggested. “Aim a few rounds over their heads.”

“With this storm, I doubt they’d even notice,” I replied. “Anyway we need to conserve ammunition.”

“I’ve got an idea.” A sparkle appeared in Beverly’s eyes. “How much C-4 is in that case?”

“I needed those explosives.” Lila shot me a dirty look.

“They’re being put to good use,” I replied.

“Are you sure about that?”

Admittedly, Beverly’s plan was a long shot. Plus, I didn’t like the idea of destroying the rocks. Although they’d been subjected to the storm, there was a decent chance they still possessed some archaeological significance. “It’ll give them pause. And if we’re really lucky, they’ll focus on the debris rather than on us.”

I squinted, catching a glimpse of Beverly. Metal case in hand, she ran to the rocks. Then she knelt in the soil.

I glanced over my shoulder. The reliquary was now covered with several layers of plastic sheets as well as dozens of cords and cables. There was no way the militia could miss it. But hopefully, they wouldn’t pay it much attention.

“I’m ready.” Beverly rushed into the barn. “Just say when.”

The engine revved again. But it refused to catch.

The engine revved yet again.

I looked into the distance. Even without my goggles, I could see the growing mass of militia members on the dark horizon.

And that meant they could see us too.

Abruptly, the engine burst to life. The truck began to vibrate. “We’re good,” Graham shouted.

I studied the militia for another few seconds. “Do, it,” I told Beverly.

She produced a small handheld device.

Her finger stabbed a large button.

Then everything exploded.