Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,127

them and shouted, “Stop!”

They listened, freezing in place only feet from the two newcomers. Rook laughed when he saw them, faces blanched and bewildered—Bishop with Knight clinging to his back like a baby monkey. The Neanderthals parted for Rook and allowed him to approach his confused teammates. But it was Rook who was even more confused. Bishop was alive . . . and well. Very well, it seemed.

“Bishop, how? I saw your head come off.”

Bishop grinned. He actually grinned. Then shrugged. “I guess it didn’t come all the way off.”

“And you feel okay? You’re not, you know, feeling extra hungry?”

“He was,” Knight said. “You don’t even want to know what he threw up back there.”

Bishop fished the crystal from his pocket. “Something about the crystals here make it go away. I feel better than I have in years.”

Rook chuckled. “Well, I don’t give a crap what’s doing it. I’m just happy to see you guys alive.” He clapped both of their shoulders.

“So . . .” Knight cleared his throat. “Would you like to introduce us to your harem?”

“Watch it, little man.” Rook turned to the group of Neanderthal women, still poised to attack. He motioned to Knight and Bishop. “Friends.”

“Dangerous,” Red said, her hackles raised high on her back.

“No. Bishop. Knight. Friends.”

Some of them began growling. A low hoot came from the back of the group.

“Assert your dominance,” Knight whispered. “Big and loud.”

Rook pushed down his embarrassment at having to do this in front of his friends, but there was no other choice. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “No, damnit!” He turned fully to the mothers, snarled, and opened his arms, ready for a fight. “I am the father. They are friends! You will not hurt them!”

The group backed off as one. Red nodded, hackles lowering.

Geez, Rook thought, talk about dysfunctional.

Knight looked over Bishop’s shoulder and gave Rook a smile. “I found Weston’s journal. He discovered how to control them years ago. I was going to have Bishop try that out, but you fit the role so much better.”

Rook looked back with a wicked grin. “Stuff it before I tell them to put you back in the meat locker.” He turned to the old mothers. “Now then, let’s go find Weston.”

Red smiled. “Yes, Father.”

SIXTY-ONE

FROM HIGH UP on the temple’s first staircase, King had a clear view over the fifth gallery wall. He could see the city laid out before him in the dim light cast by the absolutely gargantuan crystals hanging precariously above. Worse, he could see the advancing VPLA troops as they charged through the fourth gallery gate, weapons sweeping for enemies. They moved with confidence, not just in their actions, but in their direction, as though they knew where to find them. But he would do the same. The center of the city, with its tall walls and single entrance, was the most defensible position and clearly the optimal place to make a last stand.

King worked faster, squishing the last chunk of C4 into a fissure at the top of the stairs. C4, unlike the way it’s portrayed in movies, cannot detonate from being manhandled, shot, or burned. It’s extremely safe and pliable; that is, until a blast cap or detonator is inserted, which King did next, pushing the two detonator pins deep into the putty as he had with the ten other explosives, filling gaps along the stairs and temple walls surrounding the cruciform-capped giant fish tank.

King activated the small wireless detonator in his hand, its single light blinking green. The explosives were armed and the electrical detonator would set off the explosives in a millisecond. The detonator in his hand had only one safety feature. The lone red button at the top of the pen-sized device needed to be pushed once, which would raise the trigger up, and then pushed again, which would send a signal to the receivers imbedded in the C4, signaling the detonation. Of course, switching it off, by twisting the base, could undo the first push of a button and reset the trigger. All in all, it was an advanced little device. King wondered if Weston might have actually taken it from the VPLA.

Reminded of the approaching force, King looked up again. Through the downpour he could no longer see the soldiers. They’d either entered the city’s side streets . . . or reached the gate.

A blast of gunfire from below confirmed the latter.

King bounded down the steep temple stairs toward the courtyard full of palm trees and flowers below.