Chapter Two: Thy Dungeon Man
Part Five
He bent under the shadow of a ruined army vehicle. What kind of vehicle it was, he wasn't sure – it had been burned and shot beyond recognition.
He held his night-vision binoculars to his eyes, surveying the immediate area, then waved his hand in an "all clear" sign.
Four troops, crouching low in the darkness ran to him two at a time. "Alright," he whispered. "One more stretch and we're home. Henderson, Smith, you lead. Reese, Hicks and I will meet you at that building. From there, we'll go straight to the tunnel. Understood?"
"Yes sir," the others answered, saluting.
"Alright. Weapons at the ready." He took another look through the binoculars. "Okay, go."
Henderson and Smith, holding their machine guns tight to their shoulders, made their way across the blackened, rubble-strewn earth to the crumbled remains of an office building.
Looking through the binoculars again, he saw Smith give her signal. Pushing young Hicks out first, he and Reese followed, taking the same path as their comrades, quiet and cautious.
"Hurry!" Reese hissed behind him.
He looked ahead and saw Henderson making urgent gestures.
With a last sprint of energy, they all fell in a silent collective heap behind the wall of rubble.
They laid on their stomachs, guns ready, peering through a long thin crack in the wall.
This crack gave them a view of the ground and to their horror, they saw the white bone of a human skull and vertebrae on the dead earth.
He saw Hicks close his eyes for a moment and swallow. He placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder, and Hicks looked up at him.
He would have smiled to reassure the young soldier, but instead he involuntarily tightened his grip.
By the intensity of the other soldiers, he knew they had also heard it.
And now the sound came again. A cold, heavy chink.
Suddenly a metallic-boned foot came into view through the crack, and then with a derisive crunch, the other foot came down on the skull, shattering it. He and the other four lay dead-still, barely daring to breathe as the feet moved on.
A low powerful rumbling came now, and he knew it was an HK-Tank. A Hunter Killer Tank.
That's all the machines did. Hunt and kill. Humans were just an inefficient, illogical race that needed to be exterminated. He shook his head slightly. Not now. Don't lose your head now. He glanced over his shoulder. There, in that pile of broken stone slabs, lay one of the entrances to the tunnel that led to their secret underground base. The machines hadn't found it yet.
The grumbling of the tank was growing louder. The area in front of them was suddenly illuminated – the tank must have just rounded a corner.
He nudged Henderson, who prodded Smith. He caught Hicks and Reese's attention, then held up one finger. He pointed to himself, then gestured to the tunnel. He then held up two fingers, pointed at Hicks, at the tunnel. Reese was third, Smith fourth and Henderson fifth.
The others nodded to show understanding, and slowly, quietly moved into a position to run.
All the while, the tank was coming closer. It grew louder and louder until with an almighty roar, it rumbled past them.
He dropped his hand from its upright position, then bolted, running low for the tunnel.
He heard Hicks behind him, Reese, Smith and Henderson.
The stone slabs were in his sight. 10 more yards.
6 more yards.
3 more yards!
A sudden explosion and a high-pitched shriek caused him to look behind.
Smith was falling, her left arm now completely gone.
Henderson was yelling, striving to catch her, spinning and firing his gun for all he was worth.
He'd reached the tunnel. He knocked the secret code on the lead door and it opened to reveal another troop.
Seizing Hicks' collar, he hurled the boy inside, then turned again. "Come on, Reese!"
Reese dove into the tunnel.
"Henderson! Smith! You can make—" He began to yell.
Blinding lights flooded his vision. A spotlight from above fell on Henderson and the wounded Smith. He heard the deadly whine and rat-tat of machine guns from the helicopter above them and –
"NO!" He screamed.
John Connor awoke, gasping and drenched in cold sweat. He glanced around and realized where he was. Calm down, John. It was a nightmare…just a nightmare…. He told himself that it was just a dream, but it wasn't true. His life was a nightmare. An unending nightmare filled with unfeeling cyborgs that only brought destruction and death.
He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around the room.
The fifteen other beds held his sleeping comrades. Across the room, David Carter turned over, dragging his covers with him. Two of the beds were empty.
The door of the large bedroom was open very slightly, letting the light from the hallway drift in.
Pushing the covers aside, John slipped out of bed, pulling his military jacket on. After washing his face, he exited the room, leaving its sleepers behind.
"Good morning, Colonel Connor," Haku said when he reached the dining room.
This room was different than the first they had eaten in – it contained a large round table, a refrigerator, stove, oven and sink and, like almost all the others, it was transparently-walled.
"Would you like some breakfast?"
"Coffee. Black."
Haku caused it to appear in front of him as he sat at the table, then asked, "Would you like some toast and an egg?"
"Alright." Once it appeared, he nibbled on the toast. "…thanks."
"You're welcome."
He took another small bite of toast, the images from his dream still fresh in his mind. He swallowed, then dropped the rest of the toast back on his plate. He didn't even touch the egg. "…sorry, I guess I'm not so hungry after all."
Haku nodded and with a wave of his hand, caused the food to vanish. "Are you alright, Colonel Connor?"
John ran his hand over the stubble on his chin, then looked across the table at the youth. He sighed. "No."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"You can send me home."
Haku's face fell. "I'm sorry, I can't."
"I know." He sighed again. "How old are you, Haku?" he asked after a moment.
The River Spirit seemed surprised by the question. He lowered his eyes in thought.
"I'm…I'm not sure. Well over one hundred, I think. Although I feel – and appear – much younger."
"What about the Pharaoh?"
"The Pharaoh is thousands of years old, but -- " He suddenly clamped his mouth shut.
"But what?" John asked, setting down his coffee cup.
"Nothing. Never mind." Haku said, looking away.
John nodded slowly, then sipped at his coffee. "So…who's awake besides me? I know at least two others are up."
"The two marines are awake and are in the shooting range, I believe. Carin Darkstar is also awake. She is in the Dome room."
"Dome room?"
"A Dome is a training facility from her world. It has certain qualities that make it ideal for any training situation…but she can explain it better than I can."
"Alright." He set down his empty cup. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Of course."
John left the room, then went to the armory to retrieve one of his guns. He thought he might join the marines for some target practice. After slinging his gun over his shoulder and packing his pockets with ammunition, he made his way to the shooting range.
On the way, he passed Carin in the Dome. When he saw what she was doing, he stopped in his tracks to watch.
Her sword was more like an extension of her body than a weapon. She twirled, ran, sliced, jabbed, jumped – but every movement was easy and fluid, as if it took no effort whatsoever.
But her face betrayed her movements. It held a look of pure concentration and determination, sometimes morphing into a face that held a deep anger.
He tore himself away from the scene. If he kept watching, he'd have no time to train himself. And he needed to – for whatever lay in store.
He stopped at the door of the shooting range, where the marines were firing round after round of fantastic weapons, the likes of which he'd never seen. The room was completely sound proof, for he couldn't hear a thing.
Cortana was reclined lazily on a table which held her holopad and several pairs of ear protectors. She was watching the Chief and the Marine, looking from one to the other as if comparing them.
John saw her spot him, and she waved. She then stood and yelled, but to no avail. She waited until there was a break in the shooting, then yelled again. Master Chief and the Marine turned to her, then to the door.
John entered, closing the door behind him. "Mind if I join you?"
"Nope," Master Chief answered.
The Marine shook his head and threw him a pair of ear protectors.
"How long have you two –"
"Three!" Cortana chimed in, hands on hips.
"Sorry. How long have you three been up?"
"For about two hours," Cortana said. She nodded at the marines. "The guys went running before coming here. Carin Darkstar was awake before us."
"Wow. Did you watch her? I've never seen anything like it."
"Neither have I," the Marine said, reloading his assault rifle. "And that's saying something."
- - -
Carin was falling into her usual routine. Back in the Alvarunus universe she was up every morning, practicing with Ventaaia, her sword, before the others were awake.
With each session, she strove to be faster, stronger and more accurate. More like her father, a great swordsman before her.
Each turn, each parry, each thrust, each stab was for him. For her mother. For Rek, for her children, for her family.
The thought of them propelled her faster, until the sword was a blur swinging within a hairs breadth of her skin. As the hours went on, she was aware of the warriors who stopped by and watched her, but she ignored their presence.
Once she felt she had gotten up to speed and was comfortable with the results, she went into the antechamber of the Dome to set her surroundings to greater gravitational pull.
The Dome's mechanisms allowed her to change the weather, terrain, gravity and even allowed her to choose any opponent she wanted to face. Everything in the Dome was virtual, but felt so real that back at home she often ended up in the infirmary.
Don't push yourself too hard, Carin," she thought to herself. "You cannot be wounded or bed ridden for the days ahead. Who knows what or who you will be fighting?
* * *
The punching bag rocked from side to side as Alex slammed his fist into it. The heavy red bag flew back at him, and he landed another solid punch, smiling in satisfaction.
The day or so that he had been held in that room with the other warriors marked the longest time in a few years that he hadn't gone to the gym. He was there at least for a little while every day. He spent a lot of his time there, training members at the fitness club, and just working out.
He let out a breath, happy to feel the slight strain on his back and shoulders. He then dodged the incoming punching bag to grab his towel.
As he mopped his face and neck, his thoughts suddenly fell on Tom and Pat – his master and his master's daughter. He hoped they weren't too worried about him and, quietly, secretly, hoped he'd make it through this tournament to see them again.
He held the bag steady as thoughts flooded his mind -- how strange this whole situation was, speculation on which he might face in the tournament….
Enemies, he thought. Which enemies do I have? Think, Alex. Who hates your guts? Who has a reason to come after you? He tossed the towel aside and a thought struck him. It couldn't be him, could it—
His thoughts were broken and he jumped back in surprise as the punching bag rocketed towards him.
"Necro!" He shouted as he saw the elongated, chalk-white fist hovering near the punching bag.
Illia cackled from the doorway and allowed his outstretched arm to snake back from the punching back to its regular position and length.
"You…you freak!" Alex laughed, turning to him.
Necro laughed again, for he knew Alex meant it good-naturedly. He took up his strange, loose fighting stance, and in response Alex took on his grappling stance, flexing his fingers.
"Freak this!" shouted Necro, and spinning, let his arm fly towards Alex.
The elasticity of Necro's limbs amazed Alex, as the arm catapulted the full length of the room.
Alex dropped into a hunched position to avoid the blow. He then ran forward, yelling.
In response, Necro's arm shot back into its normal position and he came towards Alex in a whirlwind fashion, spinning his entire body in full circles, arms swinging.
One of the arms clipped the side of Alex's head, but he dodged the other punches. When the time was right, he threw himself completely into Necro's chest, shoulder first.
He felt the rubbery skin of his opponent take in the full impact, and the Russian fighter staggered backward. But he found his composure quickly and, bending, flung his elbow forward, stretching it until it made contact with Alex's chin.
Alex fell flat on his back and instantly rolled to avoid Necro's foot. Leaping to his feet, Alex grabbed one of Necro's suspenders and pulled his opponent towards him. He then reared his head back and slammed his forehead into Necro's.
The Russian's arms wound around his head and he curled into a ball, cursing.
Alex rubbed his own head. "Ow." When Necro stayed in that crouched position for a few more moments, Alex said, "Hey. I didn't mean to hit you so hard. Are you all ri—"
"Magnetic Storm!" Necro suddenly shrieked, and Alex leapt backwards as electricity began to accumulate on his opponent's skin. Necro raised his head, and his eyes seemed to glow a brighter yellow than normal. The electricity crackled and grew in intensity, and the room's lights began to flicker above them.
Then all at once, Alex had the sensation of being drawn towards Necro against his will – as if magnetized towards him! The electric bands running all over Necro's body reached towards him, threatening to wrap around him.
"Whoa!" Alex yelped and jumped back, only to be drawn in again. He held up his hands and tried to back away. "Okay, okay! You win! I give!"
This seemed to shake Necro out of his sudden temper and the electricity instantly dwindled.
Alex, relieved, collapsed onto the floor. "Geez. If I knew my head butt was gonna make you that mad, I wouldn't have done it."
Necro frowned and also sat, a few feet from Alex. "…sorry," he said sheepishly after a few minutes. "I was distracted. I…I was thinking about Effie," he added quietly.
Alex nodded, lowering his eyes. A few more quiet minutes passed between them before he said, "Is she your girlfriend?"
Necro nodded, his head sinking even more between his already-hunched shoulders.
"I'm sure she's fine," Alex said encouragingly. "Don't worry, Necro. We'll all get back home."