The beat-out path on the forest floor held little to no light.  J.T. used his sight to avoid any traps.  “You okay back there, Thomas?”

“Yes.  I’m fine.  Up ahead is the area I told you about.  The one where there’s a waterfall.”

“Copy that.”  J.T. zeroed in on the vicinity of the falls.  “You say there’s an opening behind the falls?”

“Yes.  The Sultan uses the opening for his goings and comings from his facility.  The prisoners should be inside that cave.”  Indicating the area up ahead, Thomas took point, heading straight for the falls. 

J.T. had to admit, without his help, locating any structure of the Sultan’s would have taken a lot longer.  “Thank you,” he whispered to any gods listening.  “Let us find them.”

At the base of the steep rock ledge, a pristine waterfall fell into a serene blue pool below.  Steam rose from the pool casting the scene in a mist of sorts.  Winter did not have the same grip on the Netherworld like it did on Cheniere Station.  Grateful for small favors, J.T. moved in.

As was his habit, he wanted to go in solo.  Since he was already dead, he mused.  “Stay here.”  Giving the command to Thomas, he skirted the perimeter of the open area as well as the water.  In the shallows of the water, fish swam while frogs jumped in pleasure.  The trip to the cave had taken almost an hour.  No quick travel from camp to camp.  The Sultan must be able to travel as a vampire.  He rolled his shoulders before cracking his neck from side to side.  The bloodsucker had one more aptitude J.T. needed to add to his list of skills.

Inching forward carefully, he examined the falls.  There didn’t seem to be an opening visible.  Using his sight, J.T. scanned through the water tumbling over the rocks above.  He spotted a small shadow about ten feet off the base of the ledge.  Undoing his gear, he stripped out of his Kevlar to skirt the rim of the pool’s edge.  Glancing up, he spotted an opening carved out of the face of the stone wall.

The sound behind him frightened his dead soul into life – almost.  “Thomas!” he hissed.  “Don’t you know better than to come up behind a man from the back.”  He scowled at the Cajun.

Thomas shrugged before giving J.T. a cocky grin.  “Sorry.”  Inclining his head, he motioned for J.T. to examine the opening.  “See, I told you so.”

J.T. managed to tamp down his irritation long enough for Thomas to scramble up, and then into the opening.  They were due a talk about recon procedures when they got back.

“Come on.”  Thomas gestured toward the door.  “There’s nobody here.”

Carefully listening to each sound, J.T. followed Thomas to the opening!  “Got your light?”

“Right here.”

“Good, use it only when you think you’ve discovered something.  Got that?”

“Okay.”  Thomas shouldered his rifle in a show of solidarity.  “This way.”

The darkness held moisture from the falls.  Doing his best to remain upright, J.T. weighed the options as they advanced on the unknown.  They could come upon the lair of the Sultan or perhaps the blood slaves.  Jessie would be thrilled with the news.  Sure, she would.  How did it make a difference?  She had her life to live.  He had his to endure.  The two were either team members or friends with benefits, he supposed.  Nothing more.  Shaking off the sense of loss, he kept going.  “Get a grip, man,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”  Thomas turned sharply, peering at him in the darkness.

J.T. supposed his imagination was playing tricks on him.  Thomas’ eyes glowed red.  Convinced he saw things because of the dark, he shook his head.  “Nothing.  Keep going.”

In the distance, a light appeared.  A small, flickering light danced in place.  More illusions, J.T. decided.  He nudged Thomas.  “Do you see it?”

“The light up ahead?  Yes, looks like a campfire.  We may have blood slaves.  Come on, let’s move.”

The order, given in a tone J.T. recalled made him hesitate.  “Wait.”

Thomas halted, turning slowly.  “What?”

Eying him carefully, J.T. shook his head.  “Nothing.  You just sounded like someone I used to know, is all.  Rattled me.”

“Memories hold secrets for those we leave behind.”

J.T. narrowed his eyes at the statement.  “Where did that come from?” he asked quizzically.  Unable to see more than a dark form of Thomas, he scowled at the shrug that one shared.  “Never mind.  We’re clocking time.  Let’s move.”

Together, they reached the small campfire burning bright.  No one was there.  Maybe the scene was a trap to lure them inside.  Scowling the corners of the opening for clues, J.T. discovered clothing piled in a makeshift trunk.  Atop the clothing lay a weapon.  A Glock, like the kind used by the military.  He turned to Thomas.  “Look.”

“That’s military issue.  Refugees can’t get their hands on such a thing, can they?”

J.T. rubbed his thumb over the cold steel.  “Maybe we were wrong.  Maybe this is a guard post for the Sultan’s guards.”  Glancing about, he noted a few rations nearby.  “Look for an entrance or opening to the interior of this place.  There’s got to be a way inside.”  Kicking over the trunk, he spotted computer zip drives along with a drone nestled in a blanket laden hole.  “Look at this,” he said with some incredulity.

Thomas stepped closer, peering at the stash.  “Would the Sultan approve of such storage I wonder?”  Glancing at J.T., he smirked.

“I don’t think so.  This isn’t the usual hiding place for valuable intel.  Dump that in your bag.  We’ll have to get it back to the warlock for analysis.”

“Copy that.”

J.T.’s brain registered the response.  A civilian slave, especially one from south Louisiana swamps, didn’t answer with military lingo.  Something was off with Thomas.  J.T. felt the unease roll in his gut.

Scouring the area, they managed to find little else of help.  Then the momentum shifted with the unearthing of a hole dug out of the wall.  Using a tactical light, J.T. examined the inside.  Big enough for a man to crawl into, yet narrow as well as void of light, the opening seemed more of a hideout than an entrance to the interior of the cliff.

“All right, let’s gather the evidence and get out of here.”  Glancing at his watch, J.T. figured they had about an hour left before he would need his own dark hideout.

Thomas scooped up the drives before pocketing the Glock.  “Should we leave a calling card?”

At J.T.’s bemused stare, he added, “Something to let whoever’s hunkering down here know we found their little secrets.”

“If it’s the slaves, then they may gain some confidence in a return visit, but if it’s the Sultan’s guard dogs, he’ll know we are on to him.”  Usually J.T. didn’t like stirring the pot, but in the Sultan’s case, he welcomed the idea he could make that one squirm.  “Do it.  Leave one of the dirt boomers Logan charmed for us.  Not much of a deterrent, more of a defuse trigger.”

Thomas nodded.  “Good thinking.”

With the boomer in plain sight, they left the way they’d entered.  At the mouth of the hole, J.T. hesitated.  “Aim and fire, Thomas,” he ordered.

Thomas bore down on the boomer.  With one efficient shot, the boomer exploded in a few million pieces.

“Okay, let’s haul ass.”