Chapter 35
Catalysts

Warren King was tall, dark-haired, and immortal.

He strode through the hallways of the M.O.R.D.O.R. skyscraper as if he owned the place. In a way, he did. As second in command to Czaron, he could do whatever he wanted. On his last mission, King had worn a suit. Now, he was outfitted in a full military uniform, complete with rows and rows of medals and insignias from M.O.R.D.O.R. But he was no general, or commander. He was special. He was unique.

Warren King was the leader of the Nine. He was the most feared man in the entire M.O.R.D.O.R. Empire. He was the head of the snake, so to speak.

He strode down the hallways and through doors that said “Restricted Access Only!” and “Danger! High Voltage!” until he came to a final door. This he opened and strode into a room. It was a huge room, the heart of the skyscraper. Around the walls were balconies and metal beams winding up to the ceiling, hundreds of feet above. The floor was bare, and room was dominated by only one thing.

Him.

Czaron himself was in the center of the room, a towering cylinder of metal. Around the side of the cylinder were computers, hundreds of them, winding around the central core. From somewhere above, the computer hummed, and a faint red light shone at the top of the massive structure.

When Czaron spoke, it was not to KingÂ’s ears, but to his mind.

YOU HAVE COME.

King knelt. “Yes, my lord, giver of death. I have come to do your bidding.”

RISE.

“Yes, my master.” King rose to his full height and saluted.

SEAN WHITE IS GOING TO BETRAY US. YOU MUST PREVENT THIS.

“How, my lord?”

YOU WILL GO TO THE UNITED STATES. YOU WILL SLIP IN USING ONE OF THE M.O.R.D.O.R. STEALTH PLANES. AND YOU WILL INTERCEPT THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING BEFORE “EMPEROR” WHITE HAS A CHANCE TO GET THEM.

“I understand.” King turned to go.

ONE OTHER THING.

King whirled around and saluted again.

I DESIRE TO KNOW HOW THE BOY THAT CARRIES THE RING MANAGED TO ESCAPE ME FOR SO LONG. BRING HIM TO ME ALIVE. THOUGH HE MAY NOT COME OUT OF HERE THE SAME.

“I understand, my master, lord of death and night,” King said, then turned and left the room.

* * *

There was one notable difference between their journey before Lórien and their journey after. And that was the RV. The fellowship (or, more notably, Aaron) decided that they needed to get to the airport in Oregon in less than a week. The only way they could to that was to take cars. And Aaron didn’t want to split up the fellowship, so that meant only one thing… they had to take an RV.

This presented several problems.

Problem 1: Someone had to drive 24/7. At first, it seemed as if Aaron was going to drive the whole way, but wiser heads prevailed, and the group decided to trade off every three hours.

Problem 2: There wasnÂ’t a lot of room for sleeping. Martin and Phil eventually won out the bunk bed in a high-stakes game of poker (Phil later told Fred that he had aces up his sleeves, but never had to use them), and the others slept on the couches and the floor.

Problem 3: The aforementioned Martin and Phil took the opportunity to raid a Wal-Mart’s CD collection while they stopped for gas. They grew particularly fond of a certain song. The rest of the fellowship got a little tired of “I like big butts and I cannot lie”, but they knew if they complained, Martin and Phil would find something worse.

Problem 4: There was only one bathroom.

Regardless, the fellowship continued without much problem. Until one night, about two days after they started from Oregon.

They had stopped to rest at a trailer park for the night. Fred lay down on one of the couches and dozed off. He was awakened several hours later to a strange sound. It was sort of a humming noise, but faint, and soft. It sounded like one of those classic sci-fi movies where a UFO lands. Fred stood and looked around the room he was in. Everyone else was asleep.

Fred walked over to the window and peered out. Something was moving in the trees on the other side of the open space they were parked in. Fred squinted into the darkness. Something emerged from the trees and walked slowly towards the RV.

Fred slipped over to where Aaron was sleeping and gently shook him. “Aaron!”

Aaron stirred. Then his eyes popped open. “What’s happening?”

“There’s someone outside. Come take a look,” Fred said. Aaron got up and tiptoed over to the window. He peered out into the darkness. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled out his handgun and started firing shots though the window. The rest of the trailer descended into chaos as the shots woke up the other members of the fellowship.

“What’s going on?” Bradley demanded, grabbing a rifle from the storage closet.

“It’s him!” Aaron shouted. “Czaron has sent Warren King after us!”

Bradley joined Aaron at firing out the window. Fred snuck a peek. The figure was still coming, walking slowly. The bullets were hitting their marks, but he wasn’t flinching or showing pain at all. Swiftly the figure (this “Warren King” person) drew two pistols and started to fire at the RV. The bullets tore through the flimsy walls. Fred threw himself to the ground as the deadly missiles shot overhead.

“Someone get to the wheel! Get us out of here!” Aaron shouted. Liam dashed from the back, where he had been preparing a sniper rifle, to the front. He ran into the driver’s cabin area and slammed the door closed. A moment later, the engine started, and the RV started to pull out of the trailer park.

King seemed to make an almost superhuman leap and vanish through the top of the window. For a second, Fred thought he was gone. Then there was a terrible crack and a dent appeared in the ceiling. Bradley and Aaron shot at it, but almost as soon as their shots broke through the ceiling, another dent appeared further down the roof. George grabbed a rocket launcher and hurriedly loaded it. The first dent seemed to explode inwards, and a hand reached through and started to grope around. George shot it with the rocket launcher. There was terrific bang, and a huge hole was blown in the ceiling. There was the sound of something smashing on the road behind them, and then silence.

Aaron walked over to the driver’s cabin and opened the door. “Keep driving,” he said to Liam. “We must reach Oregon tonight, and the airport in the morning. Czaron knows we’re here, and we all know King isn’t dead.”

* * *

True to AaronÂ’s orders, about twenty hours later they drove into the airport in Oregon. As they pulled into the parking lot, Fred watched the horizon through the front window. The sun was just beginning to go down, and little strips of red were starting to appear in the blue of the sky.

Aaron went in first. Fred could see him talking through a man in the doorway. Then Aaron motioned for the whole group to come in. He introduced the man as Jim Peters, the owner of the airport.

“The place is deserted,” Jim said. “No flights in or out today except yours. Also, I went over the place myself with a bug-finder. No bugs. You can speak freely in here.” He turned. “It was nice to see you again, Aaron. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

He left. Aaron watched him go, then motioned for all of the fellowship to take a seat. “Well,” he said slowly, “We need to talk.”

* * *

Jim Peters sat in the air traffic control tower, nervously fingering the microphone. As much as he liked Aaron as his friend, he couldnÂ’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with this whole thing. Aaron was a magnet for trouble; heÂ’d proved that in Paris. All Jim had wanted was to leave that risky life behind and run a quiet business. But it didnÂ’t look like that was going to happen.

A voice came over the radio. “Tower, come in.”

Jim leaned forward and spoke into the radio. “This is the tower. Can I help you?”

“We are going to be landing three planes full of troops at your airport in fifteen minutes,” the voice said, calmly. “You will not resist. You will allow us to land. You will not call the police. If you try, we will kill you.”

“Who are you?” Jim demanded, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

“Commander Ling of the Chinese military. You would do well to show me respect.”

Jim reached for the phone. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll call the police. I’ll call the military. I’ll call-”

The last sounds Jim Peters ever heard were a door opening and safety being taken off a gun. Before he could turn around, there was a terrific bang and a blast of white light, and then eternal silence.

To Be ContinuedÂ…