The Tomb of Shadows. Peter Lerangis
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popping open the trunk. “Must be smarter and stronger.”
Aly reached in to hand us each a small backpack with supplies—flashlights, flares, and some stun darts. I slipped mine on quickly.
Before us was a small metal shack with a badly dented side. The entrance to the Massa headquarters looked like a supply shed, but it led downward into a buried pyramid untouched by archaeologists. Deep under the parched ground was a vast network of modern training rooms, laboratories, living areas, offices, and a vast control center, all interconnected. Some of the tunnels and rooms had been built during ancient times to honor the ka, the spirit of the dead pharaoh. To make that spirit feel coddled and comfy when he visited the world of the living.
The only spirit down there now was pure Massa evil.
“Moving now,” Aly said. She darted ahead of us and reached for the door handle.
With a swift yank, she pulled it open.
“What the—?” Cass said.
“No lock?” I said, staring into the blackness beyond the door. “Weird.”
Aly and I peered through the doorway and down concrete steps. It seemed overheated. I remembered this place being cold. At the bottom, a single lightbulb hung from a wire.
“It’s so quiet,” Cass said.
“What now?” Aly asked.
A soft, plaintive screech wafted upward. A pair of eyes moved erratically toward us out of the blackness.
“Duck!” I said.
We fell to the dirt as a bat flew over our heads, chittering. Torquin thrust his arm upward, snatching the furry creature in midair. It struggled and squeaked, trapped in his giant man-paw. “Not duck,” he said. “But very nice breaded and fried, with mango salsa.”
Aly’s face was white with horror. “That is so unbelievably disgusting.”
Torquin scowled, reluctantly releasing the critter. “Actually, is pretty … gusting.”
The Jeeps had stopped now. Men and women in everyday clothes were filing out, spreading around, surrounding the area. They carried briefcases, heavy packs, long cases. They nodded imperceptibly toward us, their eyes on Torquin for instruction.
“These are all KI?” Aly said.
“New team,” Torquin said. “Brought over after you escaped.”
“They’re armed!” Cass said. “Isn’t this overkill?”
Torquin nodded, his brows knit tightly. “Not for Massa.”
He had a point. Keeping low, I walked to the entrance and dropped to my stomach. Slowly I thrust my head out over the stairway. A sickly-sweet smell wafted up from below: mildew and rotted wood … and something else.
Something like burning plastic.
I pulled the flashlight from my pack and shone it downward. The stairs were littered with broken glass, wires, empty cans, and torn scraps of paper. “Something happened here,” I said.
“Need backup?” Torquin lifted his fingers to his lips in preparation for a whistle signal.
“No,” I said. “The Massa have surveillance. They’ve got to be seeing the Jeeps right now. If we go in together, with all the KI personnel, they’re likely to react with force. That could end badly.”
“So … you want just us to go down there?” Cass said.
“I’ll do it alone if I have to,” I said. “I need to see if my mom is really alive. If she’s down there, she won’t let anything bad happen.”
Cass thought for a moment, then nodded. “Dootsrednu,” he said softly. “I’m with you, Faisal.”
“Me, too,” Aly said.
“Mm,” Torquin agreed.
“Not you, Torquin.” I said. No way could we risk scaring the Massa with him. “No offense. We need you out here. To … be commander of the KI team.”
I began descending the stairs, swinging the flashlight around, trying to remember the layout. I could hear Aly’s footsteps behind me. Cass’s, too. “Commander?” Aly whispered.
“Had to make him feel important,” I said.
“Ah … choo!” Cass sneezed.
“Shhhh!” Aly and I said at the same time.
At the bottom was a hallway that sloped downward, feeding into rooms with different functions. As we tiptoed, I flashed the light left and right. The floors were littered with debris. The overhead lights were out. So were the security lights.
I peeked through the first door, a storage area. Metal file cabinets had been pulled open. Some of the drawers were strewn on the floor. A round, old-timey wall clock lay broken among them, fixed at 3:11. Wrappers, newspapers, and assorted garbage had been hastily dropped in piles.
“What the—?” Aly said.
Cass stepped into the room across the hall. He stooped down and picked up a string of beads, which he flipped so that the beads slid up and down. “I think these are called worry beads,” he said before slipping them into his pocket.
I shone my light into the room. Tables lined all four walls, with another long table stretching across the middle of the room. Cables lay strewn about like dead eels, chairs were upended, and trash littered the floor. No computers, no files, nothing.
“Looks like there was more hurrying than worrying,” I said.
“It’s impossible,” Aly said, shaking her head numbly. “There were hundreds of people here. It was like a city.”
Her voice echoed dully in the silent hallway. The Massa were totally gone.
A TRICK.
It had to be.
No one cleared out of a space this large in such a short time, for no apparent reason. They were up to something, I knew it. “Be careful, guys,” I said, ducking back into the hallway.
“Should we contact Torquin?” Aly asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
If the Massa were luring us in, Mom knew about it. And Mom would make it all work out. Despite everything, I had to believe that.
As we tiptoed deeper in, the burning stench became stronger, more acrid, until we emerged into a familiar-looking corridor. This one was wider and brighter than the entrance hallway. Like much of the HQ, it had been built in modern times, for a modern organization.
“We took this route when we escaped,” Cass said, peering around. “Remember? We went toward an exit to the right. That was where we found the Loculi. To the left was the huge control room …”
His voice trailed off as he looked left. The hallway was lit by a dull yellow-orange glow. We stuck close to the wall. I checked my watch—seven minutes since we’d left Torquin. He would be coming after us soon.
We rounded a bend and stopped short. The main control room’s thick metal door was hanging open. Days ago, the place had been a hive of activity, Massa workers at desktop consoles and laptops, in consultations, shouting to one another across a vast circular space. An enormous digital message board hung from the domed ceiling, dominating the area.
Now the board was in pieces on the floor, engulfed in flames. Shattered glass lay everywhere, and tables had been reduced to splinters.
“It’s