Free Doomsday Warrior 13 - American Paradise by Ryder Stacy Page B

out, the sun was hot like a fire above the blue water. The Polynesian crew members were in great spirits. “It is said that chief-son on voyage is great good luck,” one said, pounding the American mountain man on the back vociferously.
    Archer smiled and let rip a giant fart—his only comment.
    “That good luck, too!” the irrepressible native added.
    “Archer—stow it!” Rock snapped. “Good luck or not, don’t fart—that’s an order!”
    Leilani pointed out the flying fish off the starboard, their scales of blue and green catching the sun like sequins on an Arab woman’s dress. “See, the sky-fish too give us direction. The fish tell me the bad men came this way.”
    “How do they say?”
    “The way they wiggle, plus—I feel with them. Oh, look—see that foaming place near the ship?”
    “I think so,” Rock replied.
    “That’s the turtle again. Mirogoga is ancient, older than the ocean itself. He learned to swim from the giants that first swam when the rains fell and made the big pools—before the ocean. The god-turtle want my present!” Leilani took off and threw one of her flower leis in the water. “Oh, Mirogoga, don’t fear,” she said. “We will not harpoon you—if you show us the way to the crystal, to the island of bad men!”
    The third day out, Leilani grew somber. “The Gnaa is closer now, much closer,” she said emphatically. “It calls to me, says it is afraid, and that we must hurry!”
    “The crystal is afraid? Does it think? What is it afraid of?” Rock, despite his openness, found a psychic weapon dubious.
    “Gnaa fears being used for evil. It knows what is in the mind of the evil man that possesses it.”
    Rockson chewed on that as dolphins came jumping up high near the ship. Was Leilani imagining all these messages?
    Rock kept tracing their course on the maps. He was glad to occasionally see their companion’s ship, the Surf City, on the horizon, keeping the Dragon company.
    On the fifth day out, Chen came to Rock as he stood at the ship’s wheel. “Rock, you gotta see this.”
    “What is it, Chen?”
    “Just come up atop the mast and see.”
    The Doomsday Warrior climbed behind Chen into the little crowsnest. He saw on the horizon what looked like an amber, glinting eye high on a lattice-work, metal tower! Rockson’s worst fears were realized. “That’s it,” he mumbled.
    “Are you sure it’s the crystal?” Chen asked. “What else can it be?”
    Rockson met with Knudson, Leilani and Murf at the helm. They decided to drop the sails and signal the Surf City to do likewise. They would wait until dark, then approach Killov’s island.
    When the sun set, lights came on under the “eye,” making even clearer the Eiffel-like spire holding the crystal.
    “I can’t believe,” complained Rockson, “that Killov has already built a tower like that. The evil bastard works fast.”
    “Or maybe,” said Chen, “Killov’s found some ready-made tower!”
    On that suggestion, Rock carefully checked the maps. “We’re looking at the island of Bikini—does that sound familiar to you, Chen?”
    “Yes, it’s the place the hydrogen bombs were tested in the 1950’s and 60’s. The island was so radioactive that the natives who evacuated it for the tests never were allowed to return. It was part of the U.S. trust territory.”
    “Do you suppose,” asked Detroit, “that there was an old nuke test tower there, and that Killov’s mounted the crystal weapon atop that?”
    “I doubt such a tower would have survived until now.” Rockson took up the binocs. He trained them on the ten-mile-distant tower. A thousand electric bulbs on its structure showed its entire three hundred plus meters height. There was a building in its core. As Rock studied it, Leilani cried out, “Oh—PAIN! PAIN!”
    “What is it?” he responded, putting the night glasses down.
    “The crystal calls to me. It—feels—pain. It doesn’t want to be used for death. It says it must kill.