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The Four Corners Cycle Feedback- Cherished and answered: Spookey247@msn.com Summary - Truths lurk in a dark place. Our friends descend and delve. Summary - Truths lurk in a dark place. Our friends descend and delve. Notes and Acknowledgments at the beginning of 1/9 More notes and thank-yous at the end of 9/9. Yekaterina leans against the wall in the medical bay, staring up at the ceiling. She's been standing this way for several minutes, fists balled against the wall behind her back, right knee slowly bending, then straightening again, over and over like a cog in a machine. She's prowling the corridors inside her soul, looking in vain for an empty place to dump her latest load of rage. She was fifteen the first time she noticed him staring. She had just come back from bathing in the depths of the cave, and was sitting on the sofa, combing the tangles out of her hair. Sneaking a look at her father through the soaking wet locks that hung in her face, she'd caught him gazing over his book at her. There was a look on his face that she'd never seen before: surprise, mixed with reverence, mixed with hatred, mixed with awe. It was a shocking expression, and she'd tried to pretend she didn't notice, continuing to comb her hair and humming to herself like nothing whatever was amiss. That was not the last time she would see that look. The staring went on for six months or so, gradually giving way to more disturbing behavior. He touched her every chance he got, found excuses to be in the room when she was dressing... Yekaterina shudders, waiting silently for the lump in her throat to melt. She slams the palm of her hand against the wall in frustration. Why didn't I kill him, she thinks, what the hell is wrong with me? If she could only see Dana, everything would be all right. Smooth, red hair, softer than a spider's web. Dana's hair had been like nothing Yekaterina had ever seen. She would spend hours brushing that hair, holding Dana's hand and singing to her...nothing more beautiful, she always thought. Nothing more beautiful. Every time they woke Dana up she flipped out and gave them holy hell. Yekaterina always admired Dana's spirit. She would brush her own fiery tresses and dream of being just like her. Sometimes, when she was young, she used to fantasize that... Oh, whatever. She shakes her head. It's been a long time since she's been that naive. Parenti and Fields are in the lab. A few minutes ago Yekaterina stormed in and demanded that they tell her what happened to Dana. The two doctors traded a stiff, panicked look and muttered senseless, transparent things. You'll have to ask your father, they said lamely, scratching their hairless heads and clearing their throats. That told her all she needed to know. For her father and his colleagues, hoarding knowledge has become a reflex. They've got no more compassion than a bunch of reptiles. There's really no point in sticking around, she thinks. They'll never help me understand anything. Not what I am or where I came from. Certainly not what we're trying to accomplish here. She rolls her head to one side and stares intensely at Wallace, who sits on a folding chair nearby, rolling himself another cigarette. "That's not good for you, you know," she announces. "I read that." "Whatever. What are you doing back here, anyway?" "I need to see him again." "Why?" "I don't have to tell you that." Yekaterina pushes herself off the wall and heads for the door Wallace is guarding. Wallace sighs. "Whatever. Hey, no funny stuff. You're gonna get me killed." Yekaterina stops, her hand on the door. "Yeah. No funny stuff, I promise." The kid is sitting up in the bed. He looks about a hundred times better than he looked half an hour ago. The color drains out of his face as she approaches. His breathing quickens, and he glances furtively around the bed. Probably trying to get his hands on some kind of heavy object, Yekaterina thinks wryly. The kid has a good reason to be scared of her. It's going to get worse for him before it gets better. She marches up to the bed and seizes him by the head, staring into his eyes. "What's your name?" He pulls away defiantly. "What's *your* name?" he asks, his voice low and hostile. "My name is Katya. How are you feeling?" His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "Huh?" "Now you have to tell me your name." "Oh. Dru. It's Dru." "Where do you come from?" "What?" "Where do you live?" "Tuba City." "How far from here is that?" He looks confused and annoyed. "How the hell should I know? Where are we?" "I don't really know. A canyon." "A huge fucking canyon, right?" "I guess. How far is the place that you live from Desert View?" "That's easier. About ninety miles..." "Is that a long way?" "What? What kind of question is that? It's a long way to walk, but not so long if you've got a car." "Can we get there from here?" "Well, shit..." He runs his hands through his tousled hair. "Damn, lady, are you always this weird?" "Look, Dru. If you stay here things are going to get very bad for you very fast." "Well, that's a shame. They're so fun now." "So I'm taking you out of here but I need to know where we're going." He shifts painfully in the bed. "Look, I'd love to. But I don't know if I can walk." "Be still." Yekaterina reaches up and cups her hands behind his head. He resists. "What are you doing?" "Just be still," she commands, pulling his head toward hers. Their lips meet. Yekaterina has never done this intentionally, never touched anyone specifically for the purpose of healing. Although she's frequently suspected that she had this ability, no one has ever explained it or instructed her in its use. She's not at all sure how it works. She tries to relax and focus on his injury, tries to channel the energy that surges through her body, tries to pour herself into him. Dru moans, his hands lifting weakly, pushing her away. She reaches down and pins them to his sides. "I know it hurts," she whispers, "but the pain is good. It helps you." Whimpering, he surrenders. His mind races like a bird in flight. God, she thinks, it's beautiful, he's so incredibly alive. She'd like to stop and enjoy him further but there isn't time right now. She pulls away, leaving him gasping, and lowers the guard rail on the bed with a bang. She spins on her heel, searching the room and finding a pair of jeans folded inside a cabinet. "These yours?" she asks, throwing them at him. "Yeah, I think..." "How about these boots?" "Yeah, those are mine." "Get up and get dressed." "Um, whatever your name is, I don't think..." "Just do it. You can do it." Suddenly they hear a strange, muffled sound. Like a small explosion somewhere just beyond the wall. "What was that?" Dru asks. Looking amazed, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Shit, what the hell did you do to me?" "I think that was a gunshot. Stay here, I'll be right back." She runs into the hallway. Wallace is standing by the intercom. "Hey, what's going on? What was that?" "I don't know. Birch didn't say. He just said meet him in the crypt. I have to go. Listen, Yekaterina, I want a live kid when I get back here." "Yeah, yeah, right. I'm done in there, anyway." She watches Wallace stalk off down the hall. As he moves out of view, she takes a few steps backward, turning very quickly to return to Dru's room. She gasps. A unfamiliar old man is blocking her path. His hair and beard are snow white. He's dressed in very strange clothes. His eyes are frightening: desperate and intensely sad. "Oh my god," she says, "Who are you?" He doesn't answer. He just starts walking. She follows him down the hallway. "What are you doing here?" she calls. "Who are you?" He rounds a curve in the passage. By the time she reaches the bend in the hallway, he has disappeared. Heart in her mouth, Yekaterina stops, opening doors and calling for him. The exit to the central chamber lies nearby, just a few doors down. She knows she didn't hear it open or close, but she checks it anyway, on the off chance he may have gone out into the darkness. When the door creaks open she hears angry, unfamiliar voices echoing off the ancient walls of the central chamber. Pulling a small flashlight from her pocket, she slips through the door. They're down in the crypt. Once, long ago, this room was a temple and burial chamber for the people who built this place. The god of the underworld sits on a pedestal, looming up out of a circular pit that is lined with empty sarcophagi. Yekaterina's never seen its face, which perches in the dark, somewhere near the ceiling, but she's always been struck by the fact that the hands folded in its massive stone lap seem to have animal claws. Holding her flashlight in her teeth, Yekaterina drops to her knees, then flattens herself on her belly and crawls across the floor to the edge of the pit. Switching her light off, she peers over the side. Wallace is holding one of the big, strong lights that Birch only uses for unloading supplies. There are two forms lying prone on the floor of the crypt. The smell of blood rises on the damp, stony breeze. Birch and Jonah are pointing rifles at two people. All she can tell from looking at their backs is that one is a man and one is a woman. Birch levels his rifle. "I said, don't move!" The woman struggles in the arms of her companion, trying to get to one of the people on the floor. "Goddammit," she shouts. "He's dying, he needs help. If you won't let me take care of him, please get someone else. I know there are doctors here. Why don't you call them?" "Jonah," Birch commands, slowly, thoughtfully, "check the boss. Is he alive?" His voice is strange, strangled and high-pitched. He doesn't sound like himself at all. Yekaterina stifles a moan. Yes. Check the boss, Jonah. She closes her eyes. It's too much to hope for. Jonah lowers his gun. Arranging his feet carefully to avoid soiling his boots in the pool of blood on the floor, he squats by what she now recognizes as her father's body, rolling it over. "He's dead, Mr. Birch," he says. Yekaterina has to bite her hand to keep from crying out. The woman breaks free from her companion and runs toward the other body, which lies several feet away, very close to where Birch is standing. Her hair flashes red-gold in the bright, white light. Oh my god. Dana. Yekaterina instantly starts crawling. She wriggles on her belly in the darkness toward the top of one of the ancient stone stairways that leads down into the crypt. Her heart is thumping so hard and so fast she fears that it might wear out. It's a miracle like nothing she's ever seen. Dana is walking. Dana is talking. Dana is alive. Yekaterina's going to make sure that she stays that way. Dana bends over the man's body as Yekaterina slowly descends on the stairway, just far enough to hear what they're saying. "His skull is fractured. He's bleeding internally. But he's still alive, please get someone..." Jonah speaks softly, awed. "Jesus, Mr. Birch, is that..." "Yeah." Birch's voice sounds pinched. "Take a good look, Jonah. That's who the boss was waiting for. He's the Original." Jonah's voice fills with horror. "But...god, don't you think we should get Parenti? Someone's got to save him." "Get someone," Dana pleads. "Get Parenti. Please." "I don't know..." Birch muses, keeping his gun trained at her head. "What would you do, Miss Scully, if you were me? I've worked for these people for a very long time. They've been in this operation for over thirty years and they're not any closer to success than when they started. There's been so much mismanagement. As things stand, they have no chance of winning." "Winning what?" Dana whispers. He lowers his gun. His voice is ice cold. "The planet, Miss Scully. The planet. I don't know if you were aware of it, but, as a species, Homo Sapiens has arrived at the end of a long and dubiously successful run. Now that the old model's out of date, the race is on. Whoever comes up with the most efficient design gets to go home with all the marbles." "I don't see what that has to do with him." Birch stands quietly, thinking hard. "Jonah." "Yes, sir?" "Get Parenti. Let's see if we can save him." Yekaterina eases herself back up the stairway as Jonah orders Wallace to find Parenti. She tries not to think about the blood that stains the floor of the crypt, choosing, instead, to rejoice in the knowledge that Dana is alive and aware. All she wants now is to talk with her, to thank her for all she's done. Her mind buzzes with Gary Birch's unexpected words. If I play my cards right, I can have everything I ever wanted, she marvels. Birch has the answers and he's willing to talk. But none of it will be any good until she knows that Dana is safe. She crouches in the darkness and feels her way toward the wall. Cupping her flashlight in her hand to dim the bulb, she switches it on. She's sure she only has a few minutes. Birch will be busy. She has to get to Dana. She can take her into the catacombs under the compound and hide her there until they figure out what to do. Yekaterina hears a rustling sound. Someone is coming through the portal. She hits the switch on her flashlight and flattens herself against the wall, sidling toward the small, square opening that glows more intensely with each passing moment. She waits in the shadows, holding her breath, as a hand pushes a lantern through the hole. It is followed by an arm, then a head, then a body. A tall, handsome young man lifts himself to his feet, straightening and pulling a rifle out of the portal behind him. Yekaterina pounces, kicking his lantern over, grabbing his rifle with one hand and wrapping her other arm around his neck, slapping her hand over his mouth to muffle his cry. She drags him down the wall to a place a good distance from his point of entry, pushing him against the hard stone with her left arm, pinning him in place with every ounce of her strength. She flips her flashlight on and shines it in his face. His family tree is unmistakable. "You look just like your brother," she mutters. "You're in danger. You have to be quiet." ~~~~ They wait quietly by the wall while Jonah carries out Birch's instructions. Every few moments the young man starts to speak and every few moments Yekaterina silences him. When the heavy steel door of the medical bay has clanged shut, leaving them in darkness, Yekaterina flicks on her flashlight and shines it toward him. "Now," she whispers. "If you want your brother to live you have to do exactly what I tell you." "What was all that about, down there?" he whispers back. "I couldn't hear, it was too far away." "The shit's hitting the fan. That's what it was about." "Who was that man they carried up the stairs?" "I don't know. There's no time to talk about it now. Stick close to me...the stairs are really dangerous." She leads him down the steep, narrow stairway, placing her feet carefully in the dim gold light. They cross the floor of the crypt, arriving within moments at the foot of the pedestal that fills the center of the pit. Circling toward the back of the stone cylinder, Yekaterina pushes open a carved wooden door. They step into a murky vestibule. "What the hell is this?" the young man gasps. He stares in astonishment at the winding stairway that leads up to the heavens and into the earth below. "It's the Axis Mundi, buddy" Yekaterina answers, grimly. "It's the way out of here. Let's get your brother." The small flashlight is dimmer than what Yekaterina usually takes with her into the catacombs, but she knows the stairway and the passages below it so well she could walk them in her sleep. She grabs the young man by the hand and pulls him after her, winding lower and lower into the bowels of the earth. ~~~~ Dana walks behind Ben, down the dreary hallway toward whatever fate Birch has ordered for them. She feels bloodless and transparent; her soul consumed by rage. The large, loutish man who accompanies them nudges her with his pistol. "Stop here." He takes a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the steel doors. "In here, both of you," he commands. Ben steps inside the darkened room, turning back to face her as she follows him inside. His features are rigid. The door clicks shut behind them, leaving them in blackness. Dana fights to keep her sanity. "They shouldn't have moved him," she mutters. "He shouldn't have been moved." "Dana..." Ben's voice is tender, cautious. "You don't move a person with a head injury like that," she cries. "The risk of trauma to the brain is too great..." "Dana, you heard what the doctor said..." "No. Parenti is a fraud. I don't believe him." Dana paces, breathing hard, making a tight little circle in the dark. "I've got to find a way to get back to the lab. I can save him, Ben. I can save him." He finds her, grasps her hand. "Dana, please, this isn't good for you. He wouldn't want you to do this..." "What do you know about what he would want?" Dana rips her hand away from his. Ben falls silent. Dana crouches on the floor, burying her head in her hands and trying to concentrate. There's got to be a way out of here, she thinks. There's got to be a way to get to him. ~~~~ Yekaterina kicks the grate off her usual ventilation shaft and climbs out into the hallway. She turns to her companion. "No one's around. Hurry." When he emerges, she replaces the grate and they run down the deserted hallway. They find Dru waiting, fully dressed in his jeans and the blood-spattered shirt he was wearing when Birch brought him in. "Holy shit, Sam." Dru falls into his brother's arms. "How the *fuck* did you get here, man..." "God, Dru, I'm not really sure. Will came here after you, with Dana and Ben, and I followed them, but um," he turns and casts a cautious glance at Yekaterina, "...I ran into her first." "Dana?" Yekaterina's brain works frantically. "Your father came here with Dana and another guy?" Sam nods, looking bewildered. "Your father. Shit. He's your father." Yekaterina takes a few steps toward the door. "Shit." "Who?" "What do you mean?" "Boys, I hate to tell you this..." "What?" She starts for the hallway. "Things just got a whole lot more complicated. Both of you wait here. I have to see what's going on." ~~~~ "Yekaterina!" "Wallace. Shit, what's the matter, man? What's going on?" "Aw, shit, Katya, everything's going to hell. When Birch called me...damn, I don't know how to tell you this...it's your father." "I know, man, I know. I was out there. I saw." "Shit. Listen. Birch has lost his fucking mind. He sent me to lock those people up, and when I came back...aw, shit." "What?" "You're not going to believe it. That guy...the one he calls the Original, well, I think he must have died, and Birch...shit. Motherfucking shit." "Calm down, man. Just tell me what happened." "Parenti and Fields...bullet through the head. They're both lying on the floor in the lab." "Holy shit." "Yeah. It gets worse. Jonah met me in the hall and told me to find you. We're leaving. Birch told him to cut the generator and rig the place to blow." "Holy shit, Wallace, what about the mothers?" "I don't know. Katya, you gotta come with me, we only have a few minutes." "Where's Birch?" "In records, Jonah said, getting stuff he needs." "Listen, Wallace, you have to help me." "Did you hear me? This place is going to blow, we have to leave now." "Where are those people? What room did you put them in?" "There's no time. Birch wants them dead." "No. No, we've got to help them get out. I'll take them. Which room?" "Dammit, Katya." "Wallace, now." "He's gonna cut my throat!" "I'll take the blame!" "Katya, your father can't protect you anymore." "Birch needs me. Come on, Wallace." "Room four, okay?" "I'll meet you...where?" "The crypt, Jonah said. In fifteen minutes...hell, no, ten, now." "Ah, shit. The lights." "Power's cut. Shit. SHIT. Hurry up!" End 7 of 9
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