Legacy by David Lynn Golemon Page B

the weapon in Ben’s hands, making Goetz flinch. “As well,” he added, “as the expertise behind their discovery and examination. To help you in your decision, I will say that over two hundred German soldiers were killed very recently by machines—machines designed to fight as men. Mechanicians designed millions of years before man walked our planet. Perhaps I may show you?”
    “No, General, you may not. You and your kind may find sympathetic ears in my government, you may even find those that will turn a blind eye to what you and other murderers have done in Europe, but I’m not one of those people. I intend to kill you, and the only deal I’ll make with you is if you want it easy or hard. I prefer hard, maybe both of your kneecaps first. What do you say?”
    “You’re insane, young man; you are throwing away knowledge that will astound your superiors!” Goetz said, his eyes never wavering from the machine gun.
    Ben gestured for Goetz to move away from the large crate where he had placed the satchel. His eyes were drawn to the strange symbol marking the sides and top of all of the crates in the compartment. Four circles, each smaller than the one before it, each partially eclipsing the one behind it.
    As the general moved to his right, Hamilton felt movement behind him. At that exact moment one of the guards sprang up from behind a row of crates Ben had not been paying attention to. The man must have been there the entire time. Ben turned and fired. The machine gun spewed forth bullets in an arc that caught the man across his chest. Too late, Hamilton saw Goetz rush forward, producing a long and lethal knife as he did. Before Ben could bring the machine gun to bear, Goetz brought the knife up and into the young agent’s stomach, slicing deep into his abdomen. Several more shots sprang from the weapon Ben was holding but all they did was slam into the largest of the crates.
    “You see, we are pretty good at conducting business also, my young friend.” Goetz withdrew the knife and rammed it into Hamilton a second time. Ben felt his body go numb and he let his weapon fall from his hands. He thought he could smell the German’s hair oil and the powder he used against being chafed by the South American wind. As he slid down Goetz’s small frame, he tried desperately to stay on his feet. He reached out and grabbed for the top of a large crate on top of another the same size. Ben’s mind started swirling, even the sound of the train seemed distant, but he could swear the crate he snatched at looked like a coffin. He finally held on hard enough that he thought he had arrested his fall when Goetz pulled the long knife free of his insides. As he continued to fall, he pulled the crate free and Hamilton fell along with it to the train’s shaking floor. The crate broke open and its contents fell over Ben. It and he rolled and then all was still.
    As Ben was starting to lose consciousness, he smelled dust, old mildew, and dirt. As he tried to focus he could see rocks and black shoes. The shoes moved as the sound of large caliber rounds filtered through Hamilton’s dying breaths. The shoes Ben was looking at started dancing and then they magically flew away. As he closed his eyes against the flying dirt, Ben thought he heard cursing. As he opened his eyes again and tried to sit up, he came face-to-face with a grinning skull. Ben blinked and tried to clear his eyes. When he opened them the skull remained. It was encased in something round—a helmet, he thought. Yes, a helmet. The view was confusing because everything—the skull, the helmet, even bits and pieces of clothing—looked to be made of stone. He was questioning what he was seeing when his body was pulled up. He blinked again and then he saw Garrison Lee was looking at him. His wounds had opened up and he was bleeding heavily.
    “We better get you to a doc,” Ben said, so low that Lee had to get close to his mouth to hear the words.
    “I’m fine,