“What is it?”
King didn’t answer, he just ran for the tunnel that led beneath the road. He entered the tunnel at full speed, made his way through, and rounded the ramp on the far side. At the top he saw his fears realized.
Stonehenge was missing.
Circles of large pits were all that remained of the ancient monument. Knowing a golem constructed from the bluestones of Stonehenge wouldn’t be hard to find, King spun around and found the giant much closer than he expected. Standing thirty feet tall, the gray giant was as large as it was featureless. But even without a face of any kind, it glowed with malice. And right then, the target of its rage was a ruby red, double-decker tour bus.
Lauren.
Not only was the bus in mortal danger, but it was also their best chance of escape. Realizing this at the same time, both men hopped the chain-link fence and waved down the bus. It screeched to a halt next to them and the doors opened.
“Get in!” Lauren shouted.
As Alexander leaped up the steps into the bus, King said, “Let me drive.”
Lauren complied immediately, closing the doors as King took the driver’s seat, threw the bus into drive, and gunned the gas. Looking in the rearview he could see the golem nearly upon them and gaining. His only chance of escape was to outmaneuver the behemoth.
Right, King thought, I’m going to outmaneuver this thing in a double-decker bus.
The bus gained speed quickly as they headed downhill, and maintained it at the bottom, but King saw a new problem ahead. The tunnel they had followed from the Durrington Walls to the tomb hidden beneath Stonehenge had collapsed, creating an impassable sinkhole that stretched the distance.
“Hang on!” King shouted, yanking the wheel and sending them into a sharp left turn. The driver’s side tires lifted off the ground for a moment, but King turned the wheel the other way and righted them. The bus crashed through the fence that lined the road.
King saw the large golem pass by behind them, unable to turn as quickly. But it reached out with its long arm and struck the back of the bus. The back half of the upper deck was torn away with a shriek of metal.
Lauren screamed, ducking with her hands over her head. “What the hell is that thing!”
King looked back, his view clear thanks to the missing back half of the bus. They had gained ground on the golem, but it hadn’t given up the chase. “You know the story about Merlin using giants to carry the stones to Stonehenge?”
Lauren looked incredulous. “Yeah?”
“It’s not a story.” He looked back again. The golem was gaining as the bus fought against the slick soil of the field they were speeding through. “Though I suppose no one needed to carry the stones if they could carry themselves.”
Lauren let out a nervous laugh. “Please just drive.”
King steered the bus through a second fence and onto a straight dirt road that was part of a large grid crisscrossing through the fields. With a road beneath them, they began distancing themselves from the golem again, taking the large vehicle up to eighty miles per hour. The copious amount of potholes made the drive rough, but it wouldn’t be catching them any time—
“Incoming!” Alexander shouted.
King whipped around and saw a large rectangular stone hurtling through the air toward them.
“It’s throwing parts of itself!” Lauren shouted.
King watched the stone sail overhead. It crashed into the road, twenty feet ahead. He turned away, plowing into the field. A second stone slammed into the field to their right. King veered back on the road and shouted at the bus as he pushed the gas pedal all the way down. “C’mon you piece of shit! Move!”
A loud crash rang out as the bus shook violently. King looked back and found one of the small Stonehenge stones hanging impaled in the ceiling. Had it been one of the larger stones, they would all be dead.
“Something’s happening,” Lauren shouted.
Looking back, King saw the golem fall to its knees, still reaching out for them but unable to move. Then it fell to pieces, reducing Stonehenge to an unceremonious pile of giant stones. King had no doubt the stones could be returned to their proper place, but the destruction of a national treasure such as this would draw unwanted attention. “We need to get out of the country,” he said to Alexander.
Alexander opened his cell phone and dialed a number. “Ready the plane,” he said, and then hung up.
Lauren looked back and forth at the two men. “Who the bloody hell are you two?”
King drove the bus onto a main road and pulled over. “It’s better if you don’t know who we are,” King said. “And it’s better if you never remember seeing us … for your sake.”
Lauren gave a quick nod. “Just be glad I’m insured or I would have killed you both myself.”
As a car drove up and stopped, King and Alexander both exited the bus. King drew his weapon. “Out of the car!”
The man inside went wide-eyed. He turned the car off and exited, the keys held in a raised shaking hand. King took the man’s keys and said, “I’ll make sure you get the car back.”
The man bobbed his head to acknowledge that King had addressed him and stepped away.
King slid into the driver’s seat as Alexander climbed into the passenger’s side.
Inside the car, King asked, “Where to?”
Alexander held up a chunk of the Stonehenge bluestone that had impaled the bus. “Back to Israel.”
“You think Davidson can figure out how to resurrect a golem?”
“If he can, we might learn how to kill it.”
The plan made sense to King. When it came to the unknown, research and understanding usually won over brute force. Though he doubted Davidson would be happy to see them again. He steered the car around the bus and gave Lauren a subtle nod of thanks as he passed.
The stunned driver of the car approached Lauren and looked over her ruined bus. “Who the hell were they?”
Lauren shrugged. “I have no idea.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
Siberia, Russia
ROOK’S EYES BLINKED open to the sound of a creaking door. Disoriented from the cold, lack of sleep, and loss of blood, Rook almost called out to the visitor, but came to his senses in time. He drew his .50 caliber Desert Eagle handgun and inched toward the door. He would defend this refuge if need be, but prayed the visitor wasn’t aggressive. He barely had the energy to pull the trigger, let alone find a new place to hide.
He had run north for days. And the farther north Rook ran, the colder it got. The patrols searching for him had dropped away along with the temperature, but the chill threatened to drain what was left of his strength. After fleeing through woods, across rivers, and over mountains, he had finally evaded the Russian military. Not that the Russians needed to put a bullet into him to kill him. His failing health would do him in on its own. His body shook from cold and fever. His mind spun with each step. If not for the cabin he had found, deep in the pine forest, he would have died from exposure the previous night.
The cabin, which consisted of three rooms—a living room that also served as a kitchen and dining room, a bathroom, and a small bedroom—was quaint and casually decorated with quilts, a few cracking landscape paintings, and a reindeer head mounted on the wall. White lace curtains hung in the windows. Dried wildflowers sat in a small vase atop a table big enough for two. It smelled of pine, mildew, and animal furs, which covered two chairs in the corner next to a small bookcase.
He paused at the bedroom door, leaning one hand against the wall for support. With several shotgun pellets still lodged in his side he had to fight to not grunt in pain. He focused on the sounds coming from the living room. He heard the thumping footfalls of a single person walking over the cabin’s wood floor. Then came a dragging noise.