Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

stalked through the treacherous journey here, and I ached for the lost funds to make this trip. It had been for nothing.

My sister was right. It was time to give up on these foolish dreams.

“What now?” Marcus asked, letting out air from his cheeks.

“We go home.”

Marcus’ shoulders slumped, and he’d started for the exit, when I heard the footsteps. I shoved my apprentice to the side, slapping my palm over his mouth. “Quiet,” I hissed through my teeth. I pulled the old Beretta from its holster, acquired a few days ago from a seedy fellow a hundred miles from here. I flipped the safety off and kept one hand on Marcus, indicating he should stay put.

The corridor we’d entered had a single exit, and I moved forward, Marcus trudging behind me while he continued filming. We’d left a lantern in the main room, and a shadow blocked the hall’s entrance momentarily before stretching away from us.

Each breath felt far too loud as I listened to the muffled footsteps, and I had to turn to Marcus, pressing a finger to my lips. His eyes were wide with panic, and though I’d never shot someone, I was confident enough with a gun. My hand still trembled as I clutched the metal grip.

We returned to the circular open room, our ropes hanging from their secure mounts above ground level, and I motioned for Marcus to start the climb. He didn’t hesitate. His compact camera slipped into his pocket as he darted for the exit. Whoever had followed us had gone into the adjacent archway, down another corridor. I wasn’t going to wait for their imminent return.

Marcus was up the twenty-foot rise faster than I thought possible, and I clutched the ascender as the ground under my feet shook violently. Dirt and debris rattled loose from the ceiling, and long cracks formed in the stone walls and floor. The entire place was about to collapse.

Fear drove me up, my gun returned to its holster, and just before I arrived at the top of the hole, I saw the figure dash into the room. My abandoned lantern cast its glow over the black-clad man. He stared at me, but I couldn’t make out a face in the shadows.

“Rex, time to hustle!” Marcus called, and I felt him clutch at my armpits, helping to hoist me above ground.

The earth shuddered, and I knew what was about to happen. Part of me felt terrible for doing it, but that man hadn’t come to befriend us. “Cut the ropes.”

Marcus did so without hesitation, and I pulled at him while rain poured over us from the storm. The stone slab cracked, and water rushed by our feet as we splashed from the causeway. I breathed heavily, my lungs aching from the effort by the time I let us take a pause, and we gaped at the location we’d emerged from, seeing the entire region buckle and drop.

“What the hell just happened?” Marcus shouted.

My gaze spun around, and I caught sight of the searchlight. I heard voices heading for the opening. Whoever we’d left down there hadn’t been alone.

“We need to hide,” I told Marcus.

There were ten of them, and I yanked my binoculars from my pack, keeping most of my body behind a thick Ceiba trunk. I saw six men, all wearing black, and four locals holding assault rifles. Marcus must have seen the arsenal as well, because he was already running deeper into the trees.

It was going to be a long trek home, and we were leaving empty-handed, but at least we were alive.

2

Cassie’s hand stuck in the air, her question spilling from her lips before I’d indicated she could ask it. “Professor Walker, are you suggesting a higher power called on them?”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I said. I was only reminding you that each of the civilizations we’re studying this semester showed proof of worshiping deities, many relating to the skies and beyond.”

“Like heaven?” Luca asked. I saw a twinkle in his eyes. He loved to stir up debates in class, and tended to time the comments with the last five minutes remaining in the lecture. I appreciated his spirit.

“Sure. Kind of like heaven. As a people, no matter where we originated from, we always look to the stars for unanswered questions. All around the world, we have sun gods, or gods who ride dragons to Earth, visitors from afar. We have dozens of races paying homage to entities from space—or the heavens, if you will, Luca. We still do it to this day,” I told them, crossing my arms as I leaned against my desk at the front of the classroom.

The seats were mostly full, which was a good sign. Many of the college classrooms would be missing forty percent of their students before Thanksgiving weekend, so I took pride that mine stayed engaged in my lessons.

Cassie’s arm flew up again, and I smiled at her. She wore a sweatshirt, the college’s acronym printed across the chest. Had I looked that young when I’d started post-secondary? It wasn’t that long ago, only twenty years, but standing there, watching my students, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

I nodded at her. “Yes, Cassie.”

“Do you believe in heaven?” she asked, and everyone regarded me with interest.

“I…” I didn’t know how to answer them, but the bell rang, the clock striking three, and I shrugged as they started to rise. “I guess you’ll have to wait until after the holidays to find out. Everyone stay safe and enjoy your time with your families. Don’t forget that your paper is due when class resumes, so make sure you take a break from football and eating pie to comb through the assignment.”

A few of them groaned at the news as they flipped laptops closed and slung packs over their shoulders. The rush to escape was on, and it only took a minute before I was alone in my classroom again. The silence was welcome.

My phone buzzed