Night had almost fallen by the time Riley had come to the cliffs above the canyon. She laid flat and squinted down trying to figure out what exactly she was looking at. She had scene satellite photos of Haven and historical pictures from the time the ghost town had been a functioning mining community. Now it looked like some archeological dig, if the dig was excavating creepy ancient towns. Far below her was a sort of castle made out of broken up chunks of concrete and rebar. It reminded Riley of a sandcastle half washed away. It was about the size of two of the bungalows and had a huge round chimney in the center of it's shingled roof.
Riley wrinkled her nose. She had followed the black smoke to the cliff. She had heard screams, definitely human but beyond male or female in the depth of their torment. It was a sound that once heard can never be unheard. Riley shivered. She licked her lips. There was also a horrible smell that seemed to coat the back of her throat. It smelled like burnt hair and dead animal. Riley fought to keep from gagging. There had been a group of people in simple hippie wear that sat cross legged and unmoving as the screams crescendoed then gurgled away. After a gong had sounded they all rose silently and filed out of the dirt open area.
Even babies that normally would be squirming or crying made no noise. Riley wasn't close enough to see their faces, but they all seemed to have the same body language, the same clothes and haircuts. If Riley had any doubt that she was looking at a cult, they were gone. Riley stood up. Torches and hand held lamps were the only lighting in the settlement below. As the sky became more draped in blackness, the shadowy places seem to come alive like Jack the Ripper hunting Whitechapel. Riley shivered in the hot, stale air.
Scanning the top of the cliff she saw ahead of her along the primitive road, a zigzagging path that seemed to lead down to the canyon floor. Riley gulped. It was no more than 6 inches and led to a steep drop off. Taking a steadying breath, Riley climbed on and slowly half slid, half climbed her way down. Riley often teased Mac about his fear of heights, especially since he always seemed to be jumping off something, or flying out of somewhere. She totally owed him a heartfelt apology.
The floor of the canyon was completely dark. Riley let out a yelp that was almost scream when she fell off the ledge only to find herself falling a couple of feet to packed dirt. She layed there breathing hard waiting for the blind panic to settle. Luckily no one seemed to be nearby, or if they were they weren't really worried about visitors. She rolled to her feet. She could see bright torches placed around the stone building, some sort of temple she guessed. Inside the temple flickering flames lit misshapen windows and an open doorway. It looked like a really evil Jack O'Lantern.
By the dim light she slowly picked her way towards the building. The canyon was so quiet even from far away that Riley could hear the snap and rustle of the torches as she approached. She paused but saw no outside movement. She crept to the open doorway and peeked in. Her eyes widened and she darted back, covering her mouth and trying not to puke. She found out what the smell was-burned flesh. In the center of the misshapen room was a huge fire pit. In the center of the fire pit was a cage, in the cage a melted twisted black corpse. They had burned someone alive.
Riley breathed through her mouth forcing herself to remain calm, or at least not give into a total freakout. She braced herself for another, longer look. She had to know if it had been Mac or not, if she could. She peeped around the edge and studied the corpse. Since the skin had been melted and carbonized the features were unrecognizable, but the body was too tall, to broad at the shoulders to be Mac. Riley ducked back letting out a relieved gasp. She crept along the wall.
Riley had almost turned around to the front of the building when she stopped hearing low murmuring. She peeked around the corner. An older man, with a dark shadow on his head, soot? Whiskers? Dressed in a toga that looked like gold satin, was standing before the front open doorway.
He looked like burnt beef jerky. Before him Thing #1 knelt.
"How is my Son?" The man asked in a hoarse whisper. Riley wondered if he had been caught in a fire himself at some point.
"The Beloved rests. His wound is healing well, though he is warm to the touch." The older man put a hand on Thing #1's head.
"She calls to him, Michael."
"Yes, Father."
"Soon...soon she will be here and we will all leave, we will all follow my Son to the After." The man spoke in a hypnotic hissing voice. Riley felt the pit of her stomach, did they mean Mac? She thought of the caged burn victim and felt her spine chill. Were they going to sacrifice Mac? Thing #1, Michael stood, bowed then backed away vanishing into the blackness as if he were part of it. The older man looked up to the sky and breathed deep a beatific expression on his mangled face. Riley went to creep closer, but froze and crouched as a familiar figure striding out of the dark.
Derek Travers. Riley frowned. She had so hoped he'd been in the part of the plane that had vanished in the forest fire. He was immaculately dressed in another tailored suit. On one hand it was nice to see a reminder that there was a world outside of this creepy canyon, on the other it was so out of place it made Riley feel disjointed somehow.
"Father!" Derek said. The older man's face went blank.
"I have heard of your activities in the World, Derick and I am not pleased. Why did you try to destroy my Son?"
"He is not your son, I am!" Riley's eyes widened. The pictures she had seen of Henry Travers made him look like a kind if eccentric grandfather. Obviously whatever had mutated him into this...had sent him well around the bend. He glared at Derek with a look that Riley had seen in documentaries about serial killers.
"He has my blood flowing through his veins…"
"Because you gave him a transfusion!" The man sighed and shook his head.
"Derrick, when will you see? Our Beloved has returned to us, just as our Lady comes to bring us to the After."
"Father, why do you always choose MacGyver over me? Ever since we were kids...I might as well have never been born." The elder Travers walked past Derick.
"You may be the son of this body, but MacGyver is the son of this Flame. The Lady brought him back to us as she strides upon her earthen sled." Derek stared at the man, and Riley could see his eyes gleaming, but she couldn't tell if it was tears of hurt or hate. Derek turned to follow his father as they strolled off toward the silent village.
"Father, it wasn't destiny! I set a trap…"
"And corrupted one of us to blow up an inconsequential building. When judgement comes it will be on the fiery horses of the Lady…" The voices trailed away as they vanished into the blackness. Riley crept forward and slowly followed the sound of their clopping sandals. Her shoulders twitched and she looked back. The temple behind her looked like some hunched Titan ready to rise out of the ground and start breaking the world. Riley refused to be creeped out, but she did find herself walking faster.
The small street of bungalows had silent people moving along the middle of the street carrying torches. Riley crept close to the buildings and stayed in the shadows, but the people moved like automatons looking neither right or left. Even the small babies didn't make noise when they turned and looked curiously in her direction. Riley ducked back into the shadow between two bungalows wincing as her boots crunched glass. No one turned to look at her or break their routine. She breathed out in relief.
Michael flanked on either side by two women with identical rough haircuts held torches more bright than the others. Michael carried a tray that had four bottles of water and a covered plate of food that made Riley's mouth water. She crept behind them. If they revered Mac then this was probably headed his way. Riley hid as the two women turned and flanked the door as the door screeched open and Michael disappeared inside. Riley's heart pounded and she smiled. She heard a murmur of voices and one was Mac's. Riley waited impatiently. It seemed to take forever before Michael came back out and he and the two women made their way back the way they came.
Riley crept forward. No one seemed to be close. She slowly opened the door, wincing at the slow squeal as it opened. She stepped inside and paused. Her eyes widened. She found herself in a living room full of bunkbeds where she could easily see people sleeping in each one. They slept as silently as they lived. From somewhere in the house Riley could see the familiar flickering light. She walked slowly wincing at every tiny floor squeak. No one moved. She breathed out in relief as she followed the glow to a small bedroom.
"Mac!" She hissed happily as she came around the corner and saw Mac sitting on the bed leaning his back against the wall. He looked up and his jaw sagged open, he grinned.
"Riley!" He stood up as Riley went and hugged him. She froze when she heard him hiss in pain and felt him sway. He stepped back clearly dizzy. Gently she pushed him back to sitting. She frowned and put the back of the hand against his sweaty forehead. "Is Jack with you?" Riley shook her head.
"Mac, you have a hell of a fever." She said softly. He looked up at her his mouth quirking in a smile she thought she'd never see again.
"It's been one of those weeks." He joked in a soft murmur. He glanced at the door. "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay back."
"a) You waved angrily at me and b) hell no I won't stay back!"
"Riley, you have to get out of here." Mac demanded. Riley tilted her head. Mac huffed at her stubbornness. "Jack is going to kill me if something happens to you!"
"Well, what do you think he'll do if something happens to you?" Riley countered. They glared at each other. Finally Mac nodded, his shoulders sagging. He dipped his head and wiped his face. It was stifling in the room without windows and with the torches burning. "Why don't we both go." Riley hissed.
"I'll just slow you down." Mac protested. Riley ignored him and grabbed him by one arm. Mac staggered to his feet. Riley winced as she felt the full heat of his fever. He was trembling and was slick with sweat. Riley ducked under his arm, they made it all of five feet when Michael looked in the room. He looked at them with placid curiosity then smiled.
"Ah, Beloved your friend is here. We've been expecting her."
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Finding Oliver Flint's home was an effort in following deer trails, Jack thought as they drove their rental down a tiny rough dirt road. Bozer sat beside him and yelped as they went over a particularly big bump and cracked his head against the roof for the hundredth time.
"Jack, have you actually tried to avoid any bumps." Bozer growled. Jack spared him a glare.
"Look at this road, where exactly am I supposed to go to avoid them?" Bozer grunted as they were both thrown back in their seats. "Man, are you OK? You look a little green." He could feel Bozer's sour look.
"If I'm going to puke, it's going to be all over you! This is all your fault!"
"My fault? How is this my fault?" They were interrupted by a horrible shriek as a thick branch scraped the side of the rental. "Damn there goes my deposit."
"Why don't you ever get the insurance?"
"Why should I pay extra if we don't need it?" Jack replied.
"Jack, when the hell have we never needed it?" Bozer said in a raised voice, hissing in pain again as his head rapped against the roof of the SUV. Jack didn't answer focusing on the road as the SUV slithered around a sandy corner.
"Boy someone woke up on the wrong side of the campfire." Jack muttered.
"Are you fricking kidding me?" Bozer roared. The road switched to gravel and Jack was relieved. Over the pelting noise of the kicked up stone, he got to hear only part of the rant Bozer threw his way.
"...every rock...deer...frickin' cats...all your fault! And where in the hell did you learn to drive? My blind aunt drives better!" Bozer finished. Jack waited to make sure the younger man was done complaining. Jack had learned over the years sometimes people just needed to vent, usually when he was driving for some reason.
" On the bright side, I think you'll pass your wilderness training, if we survive." Jack said loudly.
"You THINK? I damn well better…" Jack tuned out the rest of Bozer's rant. He slowed, stopping at a cross road that was actually pave, but no wider. He glanced at the directions he'd written down. Even GPS didn't know where the hell they were. Jack had asked a camping outfitter back in Yellowknife.
"I think we're almost there." Jack said cracking his neck. He turned right. The road ended about a hundred feet later at a dirt driveway with a hand painted sign "Flint's" over head. Jack nodded, simple, direct. He liked it. He had to gun the engine causing the SUV's motor to growl and tires to spin as they climbed the steep curvy path. Eventually the path flattened out and then ended at a small dirt lot in front of a small cabin. Through the thick pine trees around them Jack could see the flashing lights that told of an airfield nearby. He heard the whine of a small plane landing.
"Oh my ass!" Bozer whined as he got out and stretched. Jack smiled and led the way up to a small set of stamps lit overhead by a single light. "Why aren't you hurting?" Bozer demanded. Before Jack pushed a small lit up doorbell. He grinned over at the long suffering, tired Bozer.
"Practice, dude. And I'm just that good." Before Bozer could reply, the door was opened by a man who could only be Oliver Flint. His son looked almost identical to him, except the elder Flint's hair had white streaks of hair that looked lightening streaming through his fire red hair. Instead of a bushy beard, the man had a classic mutton chop moustache.
"Dalton?" He rumbled. His voice had the same deep timber of his son, but a much more pronounced Quebec accent.
"Yes, sir." Jack answered, his voice held some of the deference he had learned in the military. This man carried himself in a way that commanded respect. The man held open the door and waved them in. Jack heard a loud yip of a dog. He looked down and saw a small dog, white with long perfectly brushed gleaming fur. The fur over it's eyes was held up by a bright red bow. Jack smiled and looked at Oliver with a raised eyebrow. Oliver chuckled.
"Pele was left behind when my youngest daughter went off to college in Honolulu." The man said. He led the way into a comfortable living room. The place was a shrine to firefighting with uniforms, pictures and relics from the 1800s to present, Jack guessed. He saw some familiar models of trucks like those from the states and many more he guessed were from other countries. The furniture was well worn leather. The tables were covered with stacks of papers, charts and magazines. There was no TV or chimney, but the far wall had a huge radio command center set up.
A pretty freckled blond turned and waved at them, then turned back to speak into a thick microphone, responding to something coming over her headphones.
"Penelope, my wife." Oliver said. He pushed aside some papers and waved Jack and Bozer to sit down. Pele was on Bozer's lap before he got settled. Bozer grinned up at Oliver and Jack and lost himself petting the little dog. "So tell me." The older man said. Jack leaned forward and laid it all out. By the time he'd finished. Penelope had turned in her chair and was listening, her earphones around her neck.
"You said you had something on your phone?" Jack nodded and pulled up what Matty had received from Riley. Oliver put on a pair of half rimmed spectacles and scrolled through it slowly. He handed it to his wife then reached over to pull out a thick rolled up chart. He unfurled it and looked over his specs at his wife. His wife nodded.
"Yeah, that's the northern burn. Looks like it'll be going right over that ghost town late tomorrow." He said.
"We have to leave now!" Bozer said sitting up enough for Pele to grumble a complaint and jump off his lap.
"Hold up, son. Let's think this through." Oliver said. "First that is a fast moving fire, there's no real predicting where it's going to go when with any accuracy. I've had spotters watching it, but they can only go through every four hours or so, the last one landed just as you were coming up so we'll see what she has to say."
"The town is in the middle of a canyon so unless firebrands directly land on something it's unlikely the town itself will go up." Penelope said.
"Great! Then they'll be safe." Jack said. Oliver frowned and removed his specs, his puffy eyes serious.
"Two problems, one the fire will suck the air out of that canyon, and that round lake beside them is tainted with mercury and cyanide runoff. One touch and you're dead. With the heat this fire's putting out, it'll probably boil down…"
"Poison gas." Bozer whispered. Jack shared the horror he saw on the other man's face.
"So we go in before the fire gets there?" Jack asked. Oliver stood up and paced, thoughtfully.
"Time is not on our side, we…"
"Hey Dad!" A tall lithe woman with a long ponytail of auburn hair walked in the room. She had on fire gear minus the tank and equipment. Jack flew to his feet. The woman looked at him, her Jade eyes amused. She held out a hand and Jack shook it surprised by the dry, callused strength. "I'm Lucy. Here's what Rudy pulled." She handed over a scroll of white paper. Oliver put his specs out and studied squiggles on the paper as he unrolled it. He breathed out and looked over his glasses at Jack.
"Good news the fire is getting smaller, mostly because it's running out of fuel."
"Great!" Bozer breathed.
"And it's travelling slower, bad news is the path of timber and wind tomorrow is heading directly to this Haven place." He frowned removed the specs and tapped his lips with the legs of his shades. "And we don't know if they're even alive." He finally added gently. Jack stepped forward a flash of anger in his eyes.
"You listen to me, they are alive! I don't know how you do things up here, but down south we got a saying I live by 'leave no man behind'. I aim to do that with or without you." Jack snarled. Bozer stood up, backing him up. Oliver stared at Jack then nodded.
"Ok, what the hell. Penny, get out a route, Lucy take Rudy and prep Elsa." The man turned to face Jack and Bozer. "You both have jump experience or fire experience."
"I was Delta." Jack said. Oliver Flint nodded impressed. He looked at Bozer who sighed and shook his head.
"Ok, you can stay and help Penny. We'll get everything ready for tomorrow before first light. You get some rest." He waved at Lucy and Lucy motioned for them to follow her. She led them out to a long bunkhouse in a building behind the house. Rows of basic bunks with rolled up mattresses lined each side of the building. Jack had seen similar bunks in some of the larger ranches in Texas. He guessed that no matter what Freddy had said, if a big enough fire broke out it was all hands on deck retired or not.
"Thanks." Bozer murmured. Lucy smiled at him, then at Jack then ducked out the way they had come in. Jack stood watching her leave. Bozer slapped him on the arm. Jack looked at him surprised.
"Seriously?" Bozer demanded.
"What?" Jack asked frowning. What the hell was up Bozer's butt now?
"You were totally checking her out! Flirting while Mac and Riley…"
"I was not." Jack said going over the closest bunk and unfurling the matress. He found basic sheets and personal items in a small bedside table with a lamp on it. Jack paused then shrugged, "If I was it was habit."
"Habit?" Bozer exclaimed. Jack shrugged and yawned. Bozer smiled and yawned. Then Jack yawned again.
"Will you quit that?" Jack complained. Bozer tried to talk around a yawn, Jack couldn't understand him and yawned again. They both flopped onto half made bunks and were soon snoring.