Final Solstice - David Sakmyster Page 0,13

your fucking skull?” Mason’s hand clenched the phone so hard he heard the plastic crack.

“Last I checked, a twenty-year-old had to be missing at least twenty-four hours before they’ll consider it a missing person’s case, and since I know you’re not the murdering kind …”

“Damn you, you don’t know what I’m like when someone screws with my family!”

“Be careful with your curses, Mason. Words are weapons.”

“Then listen carefully, asshole. I’ll kill you if …”

“If I’ve harmed a hair on her head, yes I know. Clichés. We’re not in a tired Hollywood thriller here, Mason. Just trust me, show up tomorrow. Bring a gun if you wish, but you won’t need it.”

Mason lowered his head; he was certain his wife could hear some of it, at least, but what she couldn’t hear she could read by the look on his face.

“Why me?” he said at last.

“You’ll find out.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Book yourself an early flight and we’ll see you at nine, Mason, when I will show you the new world.”

Chapter 8

Mason stood outside the towering entranceway, finding himself in the shadow of the monolithic centerpiece of Solstice headquarters. The sun had just cleared the mountains, only to be blocked by the immensity of this black slab of concrete and opaque glass. Feeling awestruck, like one of the astronauts before the black obelisk in 2001: A Space Odyssey, he shook off the certainty that he would be radically altered by what happened next. He moved forward, opened the door, and headed inside.

Flanking the entrance were what he initially thought were two replicas of great sequoias; but on further inspection he realized that the archway’s architecture had been carved directly into nature, molded to fit the still thriving, pillar-like trees. Far above, Mason squinted at the painful expanse of bright blue sky stretching past the tower’s edge, and he noted the swaying branches, the shielding leaves creating a dense canopy around the upper levels, providing a living roof for the penthouse balcony.

He yanked open the main door, expecting to be met immediately by armed guards to secure him and drag him to whoever was in charge, and again he wished he had brought some backup, or had the police shadow him here. But as soon as he set foot inside the marble-floored interior, everything changed.

He saw the birds first. Doves maybe, white wings fluttering in circles overhead, spiraling higher and higher up the hollow center of the building. Dazzling light streamed in from the sun, scattered by the rectangular panes and shimmering down like lances, spearing through the trees and sparkling off the clear stream running through the ground floor. An arched, cobbled bridge spanned one section, leading workers to a quiet grove surrounded by eight standing stones, like a miniature Stonehenge. Inside the circle were several tables that appeared to be hewn from the trunks of great old redwoods, and all around the stones were flowering vines, the same lush green vines that covered entire sections of the walls, the fences and the bubbling fountains. Butterflies hovered in colorful groups, and a trio of dragonflies sped toward Mason as if to greet him.

In the middle of the immense chamber stood a series of glass tubes. Elevator shafts, Mason realized, carrying employees and visitors up to some unseen height—and down perhaps, into the subterranean depths with the promise of just as much wonder below as above.

Still standing there gaping, staggered by the sheer unexpectedness of the natural setting, Mason didn’t hear his voice being called until his daughter was almost right in front of him.

“Daddy?”

He blinked, looked down and there she was, alone, grinning, and reaching for him in a huge hug. “Daddy, I—”

He snatched her up, held her tight, nearly squeezing the breath out of her lungs. Kissed her face, her hair, then froze, seeing movement intended for his attention. There by the stones, emerging from the shadows: Gabriel. Arms folded, a content smile on his face.

Fury boiled in Mason. He set Shelby down and started for his son.

“Daddy, wait.”

He turned, started to sign, his fingers moving too fast he knew, jumbling the angry words. But then she held them, fingers clenching his own.

“Daddy. I don’t … need that … anymore.” She said it so clear, enunciating perfectly without slurring, as if …

His eyes went wide, as wide as her smile.

“Daddy, I can hear.”

O O O

He spoke, hand over his mouth. “How is this possible?”

Shelby grinned so hard tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “I woke up here, in this beautiful place,

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