The Trial Of Summary James — Chapter Eleven

A great African nation has risen in North America. But something is… wrong. Chapter 11 of 20 in the novella.

Jun 27, 2024

Chapter Eleven

The largest pyramid in Nzâmbi City rises nearly fifteen hundred feet from the center of the city’s complex of plazas. It’s one of the grandest displays of architectural beauty on the planet.

It is most easily appreciated up close, with shelves and rows of sculpture decorating its ascent as if its designers wanted each layer to carry an epic story with a unique narrative. Its summit began life as a flattened structure, but over time it grew more tapered as its builder, the Navasota Episcopal Congregation, added on.

There is one stone ladder that surrounds the entire structure, clinging desperately to its exterior. This ladder is the only way to reach the bottom of the pyramid to its apex. There are other ways to get around inside, of course, but nothing else goes directly from top to bottom, much to the chagrin of first responders.

At the building’s summit, a colossal indigo statue of a panther looks upon its surroundings with a proud gaze that insists on forever sheltering the mystery of why the ladder was built.

It is said that the entire team of sculptors who cast the panther died during the year it took to establish, but nobody knows whether that is true, because it was finished during a time of Comanche rebellion, of which there have been several.

The rebellion during which the pyramid was completed occurred during World War One, which some call the Last Crusade, a cause that had not been supported by most who lived in Comancheria, which borders Nzâmbi City. When Comancheria is restive, so is Nzâmbi City, and as such, Nzâmbi City went dark during those years, shut off in many ways from the rest of the country.

I found myself acting as a tourist after I left Trace’s hideaway, staring at the incredible structure, thinking about its rich history and the legends that filled the city’s cultural tapestry.

I pulled my new phone out and checked the time. My new phone was a replica of my old phone. I would have hoped for an upgrade, but Trace had gotten it to me hours after dragging me from my certain death. I couldn’t complain.

I had a little too much Sonata Holmes on my mind. I didn’t know what to do about that. Playing tourist was not helping, because my imagination had me walking around with her taking in the sights. I wondered if, as an empath, she knew that.

I also wondered if she had a talent for knowing when someone was tailing her, as I realized that someone in a dark T-shirt was following me. “For how long?” became my next question.

I dodged into a coffee shop and stood in line, looking at my phone in such a way that I could see behind me. A pleasant young lady handed me a cup of coffee as I ran my phone over the currency terminal. I found a table inside. Looking out the large window, I sat down. I didn’t see any sign of my pursuer. I tapped Trace and told him the situation.

That, in turn, raised a red flag for him. Whoever was following me had seen me enter or exit Trace’s domicile of covert operations, which in turn meant they were no longer so covert.

Luckily, I was feeling it. It had only been about a month since my last competitive triathlon. I was going to test my pursuer’s athletic skills. After a few sips of coffee, I purchased two waters and drank them down. Still no sign of anyone. I knew they were waiting out there for me somewhere.

I tapped Trace again and asked him to send me the floor plan of the Indigo Pyramid.

Unsurprisingly, he sent it within a few minutes. When I studied it, I paid particular attention to the first floor. When I was finished, I opened the door of the coffee shop, then fled down the busy sidewalk, dodging people here and there, prompting a few honks as I dashed through stoplights, leaping over a vendor who had spilled paperwork onto the sidewalk.

I didn’t look behind. I knew whoever it was would be trying to keep up, although I was pretty sure he’d be having a tough go of it. I ran towards the Indigo Pyramid.

I passed through its revolving doors and allowed a moment for my eyes to dart around. The interior of the building looked to be the size of a small city’s downtown, but a lot busier.

The plaza in the center was surrounded by decks of floors containing offices, restaurants, stores, and, probably, I sighed, a militia hideout or two. It looked like each floor had its own ecosystem, but I wouldn’t have time to check any of them out. The plaza’s ceiling was the peak of the pyramid.

I ran until I found the doorway I had seen when I looked at the blueprints Trace had sent me. It was not only unlocked, but there was no door on it. I ran through the exit to the ladder. Or should I say, The Ladder?

I wasn’t crazy about heights, but I wasn’t inclined towards vertigo, either. The only way to reach the bottom rung of the ladder was with a running leap. The ladder, I knew, started inside the building but led quickly to the exterior. I breathed in deeply a few times.

Then I made a leaping run for that bottom rung, which I barely made, and pulled myself up. Being a tall triathlete has its uses. Without looking behind, I began the long fifteen hundred foot climb to the top of the Indigo Pyramid.

The real length of the ladder was much longer than that, because the ladder wound its way around the pyramid several dozen times, with a small resting platform every few hundred feet, followed by a walkway that acted as the lead to a sort of switchback before the next tall set of rungs.

I was wearing long canvas shorts with zippered pockets, so I knew my phone was safe. My shirt was a Comanche-style deerskin with wide sleeves ending at the elbow. It would be a good bulwark against the stronger wind gusts as I progressed up the building.

I lapped the building about five times before I noticed that the man was pursuing me. It wasn’t Horse Luemba. This guy was more of a wiry cat who was not having any problem negotiating the ladder. He was several levels below me. I realized that with us alone on this thing, the chase would end up in a showdown with the height of the ladder as the final referee.

The sculptures on the outside of the pyramid were as advertised. At one level, I was looking at intricately carved animals of many kinds, and at another, I was passing detailed stone engravings and village scenes crafted from limestone.

Other times, I saw jazz musicians blaring their concrete horns. I saw gargoyles doing battle with angels, and hunters stalking prey with bows and arrows. I saw buffalo and deer, children and old people, fat and thin. I saw Africans banging on drums and First Settlers making theirs. I saw musicians with harps, writers at desks, singers in choirs. All of these seemed to whisper as I passed them, urging me on, encouraging me as the climb grew more difficult and challenged my athletic and mental stamina.

Finally, about halfway up, I breathlessly decided I would stand my ground and wait on one of the switchback platforms. I hid behind a corner on the ladder, where I hoped I’d lunge or kick at my opponent, who wouldn’t see me before he turned the corner.

I hoped to smack him with my heel as he made his way around. I was also hoping that by now, he was sure that I was continuing my ascent as I had been. I was wearing deerskin moccasins, so I knew my footwear would do no added damage. I would have to rely fully on the force of my kick to achieve my goal of knocking him off his perch. My feet were my greatest weapons. A lack of hard soles would not significantly reduce their effectiveness.

I was more tired than I thought I would be, but I knew the pause was making me think about it. I could have kept going, but I wanted enough energy for the fight in case he was well-trained. I took several long, slow, deep breaths in preparation for his arrival, and listened for him. The wind whistled loudly while the ladder itself, being made of stone, made no noise. I needed a way to know he was coming.

I cursed myself for thinking of this, for the fact was, I was about to lose another phone. I took my phone out, scuffed it hard against the side of the building, and carefully placed it at the landing on the other side of the corner so that only its top side was revealed to me.

People are suckers for phones. They’ll pick one up under almost any circumstances, and he did. I reached around with my leg at the phone’s first movement, twisting my body around the corner and blindly kicking with my left foot, hoping to connect with anything.

It didn’t matter what part of him I hit with that first leg thrust. The surprise would put him at an immediate disadvantage. It looked like I just barely caught his temple with my left leg as he was bending down, so I quickly thrust my right foot up into his chin, then my left against his right jaw. That last kick opened a sardonic red smile of a wound stretching from his ear to his chin, one of the cleanest blows I had ever landed. I quickly struck his neck hard with three forward arm thrusts.

I was able to quickly get behind him to lock his neck. I demanded to know who sent him, although I already knew the answer. He cursed my mother, so I threw him off the ladder. He fell about fifty feet, slid along the angled wall, then bounced around a bit on a ladder platform below, which looked like a thin escarpment from where I was.

I looked for my phone but couldn’t find it. It was probably somewhere below, but I didn’t really care, thanks to Trace and his magical delivery services, so I bounded down the ladder as the man slowly rolled over, barely able to move. I arrived as he groaned some additional words of discouragement. I kicked him in the temple to let him know I wasn’t quite finished with him. I didn’t want to kill the guy, but I wasn’t at all happy with Philippe Alon’s lawless congregation.

I sorted through the few belongings he had. There was a small wallet in his vest, which was like the one Rhino wore but made of deerskin instead of cowhide. He also had, oddly, a few baseball cards with him. I took them, said thanks, and stepped hard on his face as I made my way back down the ladder to the bustling city below. I was pretty sure he cursed my mother again, but it was difficult to understand the words coming out of his swollen mouth.