The Lost Valley, page 11
Jess felt a warm hand in hers; the Neanderthal child had come across and was clinging tightly to her, the child’s face a mask of fear as the cat crept forward, never taking its eyes off the two spear wielders in front of it.
It was only then she remembered Danny’s words of earlier.
If anything approaches us, we fight it with fire and hope it holds them off
She had to let the girl’s hand go; the child responded by grabbing Jess around the waist even as Jess fumbled with the glass door of the oil lamp to get at the flame inside.
Danny’s decision to stand with the Neanderthal hadn’t been conscious at any level; he’d turned, seen Jess with the child, and had moved. He had more in common with the figure with the spear than he had with the cat, even despite the violence of their recent history.
The cat roared in their faces. Its breath stank of rotted meat and sweat and blood. Danny wondered whether there was any burnt wolf among the odors. Then there was no time for thought. The cat went for the Neanderthal, lunging toward the bloodied left arm. It gave Danny an opening he didn’t hesitate to take, allowing him to thrust the spear hard into its neck where it met the left shoulder. The Neanderthal hadn’t waited to be bitten, he’d stepped back with the same alacrity he’d shown earlier and thrust his spear forward, but the blow was slightly off, sliding off one of the great fangs and cutting a long gash through the beast’s cheek.
Hot blood flew; it tasted nearly as bad as the cat’s breath smelled. Danny had to roll aside as the tiger flew into a rage. Two other male Neanderthals had joined their leader, trying to face down the beast. It knocked one of them aside as if he was a doll and had his chest ripped open before the others could move. The cat roared again in a blood rage and leapt for the Neanderthal’s leader. Danny caught his balance, ran forward, and thrust his spear into almost the same spot as the last time but with more weight behind it. Great gouts of blood pumped from the wound.
But the cat was far from finished. It turned its attention on Danny and as it moved, it tore the spear, still embedded in the wound, from his hand, leaving him face to face with a roaring fury.
He raised his knife, aware how puny it looked when faced with such a raging beast, and waited for the killing bite that was surely coming. But he hadn’t taken Jess into account.
“Down,” a voice shouted behind him, and as before, he’d complied before he thought about it. A wash of heat passed over his head and he looked up to see Jess thrust the burning firebrand into the cat’s face. With her other hand, she swung two oil lamps, smashing them against the tiger’s head where they immediately burst into a wall of flame.
The cat flew into frenzy trying to get at the fire. The Neanderthals moved in for the kill. They lost another of their number in the process, for the cat still had plenty of fight in it, but within seconds, the clearing fell still and quiet, the dead cat lying a bloody, burnt, and smoking ruin at their feet.
- Jess -
It had all happened so fast and now Jess couldn’t quite believe it was over. She stood at Danny’s side while the Neanderthals poked and prodded the dead cat to make sure it was going to stay down.
The young female Neanderthal came to Jess’ side again. She carried Danny’s fleece jacket in one hand and the last surviving oil lamp in the other. Jess saw with surprise that it was still lit. The girl handed Jess the jacket but gave the lamp to the tribal leader. He took it, examined it, and then held it out to Jess. The implication was obvious.
Show me.
“What now?” Jess said to Danny from the corner of her mouth.
“Show them,” he said. “I think this is our chance to trade for our release.”
Jess searched around for some dry moss and twigs and showed the Neanderthal chief the principles of making a fire. He, and the girl with him, caught on fast. He had some of the tribe start collecting more wood and there was soon a large pyre blazing on the hillside. The chief picked up the brand Jess used to distract the cat. He stuck it in the flames then raised it, burning furiously above his head.
The tribe roared their approval.
The leader turned his attention to Danny and Jess. He looked them both in the eye then stepped to one side, clearing their path to the tree.
Danny nodded and slapped his palm against his chest in a salute that was replied in kind.
“What say we get out of this dump,” he said to Jess.
The young female came over to Jess as she was turning away and put the bone flute in her hand. Jess put it to her mouth and played, I’m Popeye the sailor man.
The girl laughed, an almost human giggle, and ran off before Jess could return the flute to her. Jess stuck it in her jacket pocket and followed Danny as they headed for the trees by the cliff.
She looked back as she clambered out onto the snow slope. The Neanderthals were gathered round the fire, roasting chunks of meat that the leader was carving from the big cat.
- Danny -
“We’ve got to talk about our story,” Danny said much later. They’d made it up out of the valley without being bothered by eagles, they’d traversed—carefully—the saddle beyond the pyramidal peak, and were now making their weary way toward where they’d left their gear at the high camp.
“Story?” Jess said.
“Yep. Four people are dead…or at least missing. When we walk out of here, somebody’s going to start asking questions. What do you want to tell them?”
He watched her thinking, wondering if she was coming to the same conclusions as he was. Finally, she answered.
“Can we make it seem like an accident? I mean, an accident somewhere else, so that nobody will think of looking in the valley?”
“I’m sure I can come up with something plausible,” Danny said, “but it’s a lot of gold to give up. You could have it all?”
“Fuck the gold. Just give me beer and pizza.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Danny replied as they turned the last corner and the last of that day’s sun showed them the tents of their high camp only a hundred yards away.
The End
Read on for a free sample of Objekt 221
Chapter One
The Final Specimen
IT SOUNDED like the end of the world. Heavy, thick drops of rain fell in sheets across the landscape, pummeling trees and flattening grass. The air—filled with a palpable dewy sweetness only an hour before—hung as fatly as a gloomy fog as far as the eye could see. Blinding lightning and screaming thunder shook the building to its core.
Jason Beale looked up at the faint line of dust that fell from the ceiling. He could still feel the reverberations of the last blast of thunder as it rattled its way through the building. The sky, black with clouds, had sucked all light out of the building. He reached up and clicked a button on the side of his protective acrylic facemask. He immediately saw the world in night vision—a high-contrast green glow. The corridor lit up in front of him. He turned to look at the rest of the group.
“NVG,” he called out over the faceplate’s microphone. “Let’s keep this shit-show moving.”
Nothing had gone right for the advance team all day. From Jacobi clipping a boulder when taking a corner too fast in one of the military-grade LSVs—Light Strike Vehicles—to an equipment failure while trying to catch a bonus specimen on the list, to this ungodly thunderstorm they were now wading through. But they persisted. All 10 men—a combination of field scientists and retired Army Rangers—were crowding through the large corridor at the back of the main floor of Building 5. Beale was in charge of this force as he started counting off names and pointing. Two soldiers per scientist except for Beale’s own group.
They had run down the list that intelligence had prepared. As of today’s hunting migratory patterns, they were likely to find a specimen in Building 5.
“Roscoe. Halverson. Tenna. You’re with me.” He stood off to one side. “We go north. Smith. Wilson. Jacobi. You’re east. The rest of you take the west branch. We only need one more NR-401G for the lab. Any other specimens can be subdued or eliminated.” He hefted the shoulder strap of his Mossberg 500 shotgun—the Persuader—off his right arm. “Quiet if possible.” He grinned. “Loud if not.”
“Hoorah,” the other five soldiers called back as the three teams split apart.
* *
“Do you know the history of that bit of military slang?” Halverson asked. He was dressed in similar camouflage to the two soldiers in his group, but he held a motion detector in one hand and a waterproof computer tablet in the other.
“No, sir, I do not.”
Beale was the point man of the group, his shotgun held at eye level. Just behind him were the two scientists, Halverson and Tenna. They were both carrying sophisticated tracking equipment. Tenna had what looked like an electronic checklist blinking away, clipped to his utility belt. They all wore the futuristic-looking acrylic faceplate which had a small soda-can-sized air canister attached to the underside.
Roscoe, a tall man of 25, brought up the rear. He was carrying a Belgian-made FN FAL battle rifle. Many on the team preferred this weapon, or its British variant. He held the rifle in the same manner as Beale held the shotgun but was sweeping his eyesight back and forth in the middle distance of the huge corridor. Roscoe was on high alert, unblinking and staring into the green gloom.
“Radio operators in World War II,” continued Halverson without taking his eyes off the motion detector, “shortened the response Heard Understood Acknowledged to HUA. When spoken, it sounded like hooah.”
“Fascinating,” Beale said, checking his watch. “Six more hours of air.”
“Oh, that’s not all,” Halverson said. “Airborne Rangers adopted the acronym into one of their own. HOOA. Hooah. Head Out Of Ass.”
“Shocking,” Beale said.
“It caught on from there,” Halverson said.
There was no additional response from Beale as they reached the first doorway on the left. The doorways were larger than expected and it always gave Beale pause. He wasn’t paid to break down the mysterious findings of the advance team—it was his job to deliver them home safe and secure. Right now, he had a bad feeling about Building 5.
“Entering courtyard,” Beale said into his faceplate mic to the entire team.
* *
“Entering courtyard,” came Beale’s voice over Smith’s earpiece. He and Jacobi were escorting their assigned scientist—Wilson—through the east branch of the main corridor. Wilson was carrying a thermal imager while the two soldiers carried weapons—FN FALs to match Roscoe. On his back, Jacobi carried a large, collapsible trap. It would expand to a six by six cube that could be slightly modified to reduce the dimensions as the combination of high-tensile steel and PVC piping was designed to telescope in on itself.
“Copy that,” Smith responded. “Leapfrogging rooms along the east hall. Stand by.”
* *
There was no update from Harrison, Baker, and Leafly in the west corridor.
* *
The courtyard of Building 5 was immense. It seemed like a multi-purpose room with a stage on one side, a set of stone bleachers on the other, and numerous structures that defied definition. The room was dominated by a series of sculptures along the north wall. The largest one, nearly filling the space from stone floor to curved ceiling, was a tree that was carved to resemble a woman. Her features were blurred and out of proportion. She looked like the 3D representation of an impressionist’s painting. All the right pieces were in all the right places but the proportions seemed somehow…wrong.
Beale entered the room first, the big Mossberg held at the ready. Roscoe kept the two scientists in the corridor for a moment. He was swinging his battle rifle first down one path followed by the other. For his part, Halverson held a motion detector through the doorway into the courtyard. It was picking up Beale and nothing else.
While there was only one effective entrance into the room, there were dozens of places to hide. Beale was clearing as many of them as possible and finally motioned for the rest of the team to come into the giant 100 meter by 100 meter room.
Halverson, gently sweeping the motion detector back and forth, walked into the room. As he aimed the unit at the far right corner of the courtyard, he caught a small blip of activity and then nothing. The screen faded back to its default light purple.
“There was, uh,” the researcher said, sweeping the small black box back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of what had triggered the electronic response. “There was some movement over there.”
Beale turned to look at Halverson, who indicated the corner of the room.
“NVG off,” Beale said and clicked on a powerful flashlight attached to the side of his shotgun. The strong beam penetrated the gloomy darkness caused by the thick clouds outside. He slowly swept the beam around the area Halverson had indicated. It was a tangle of branches of varying thickness. It looked like a nest. Ten meters above ground.
“What the—?”
And then it jumped.
* *
Blood.
In the west corridor, the three team members had been literally torn to shreds. The screen of a motion detector was covered in gore, but the warning klaxons were still audible. Suddenly, however, the insistent beeping halted.
Whatever had killed these men had slithered out of range of the tiny machine.
* *
Smith cleared room number four along the east corridor. He and his team were making quick work of their section of Building 5. Unfortunately, they were having no luck finding the specimen that had led them here.
He activated the advance team’s chat by simply speaking.
“Beale, come in.”
He heard static and then a clipped reply.
“Stand by,” Beale said over the radio.
His voice was calm and cool, but there was something behind it. Something screaming. And then gunfire.
The three men ran down the corridor to the Y-junction that would lead them to the courtyard.
* *
Specimen NR-401G dropped from its nest and landed gracefully in front of the team. It immediately skittered to the right and tried to find an exit.
While muted in the night vision filter, the team knew that this specimen was colored a deep brown with dark green stripes. In the natural light, amplified by Beale’s flashlight, they could see it a bit more clearly. It was nearly three feet tall and had a tail that seemed too short—just over a foot and a half long—that started the entire width of its body and quickly tapered to a sharp point. No one had yet observed NR-401G using its tail as a weapon, but it seemed more an obvious use than one of balance. The specimen had a long snout full of razor-sharp teeth and what looked like a Mohawk of thick brown bristles from between his eyes halfway down his long neck.
“Stand by,” Beale said into his faceplate.
With a quick look left and right, the specimen lunged at Beale who fired his shotgun into the ground to halt the giant lizard’s approach. Halverson yelped. Roscoe muscled around the scientist and hurled the protective cage toward the beast.
Four things seemed to happen all at once. First, Roscoe hit the red button on the small black remote attached to the combat webbing across his chest. Second, now activated, a blue laser beam shot out of the control surface of the containment pod as it hurled toward the specimen. Third, the specimen halted, frightened by the gunfire. It had no frame of reference for weaponry, but the sound was scary enough. Fourth, the containment field automatically expanded along its telescoping pipes and fully engulfed NR-401G. It slowly clacked back into place coming to rest on the floor of the courtyard.
Five seconds from start to finish.
It took 20 more seconds for Smith and his team to arrive at the courtyard. By then, NR-401G was sedated after receiving a carefully dosed vapor from Halverson.
“You got him?” Smith asked, holstering his sidearm.
“Yeah.” Beale nodded and pointed to the nest up in the corner of the room.
“Shit,” Smith said. “When did they start doing that?”
Beale shrugged.
“Not sure,” he said. “Gonna have to remember that one, though.” He turned to the three scientists—Halverson, Tenna, and Wilson—who were standing around the collapsible containment box. NR-401G seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Occasionally, its tail would thump against the reinforced PVC. “Send it home.”
Halverson nodded and hit a few buttons on the rear control surface of the unit. Outside, a red light started blinking on one of the LSVs. Inside Building 5, dozens of bearings snapped into place on the bottom of the containment unit and the whole thing started sliding through the courtyard along its mapped path back to the waiting vehicle.
Led by Beale, everyone reached up and snapped their masks back into night-vision mode.
“Anything else?” he asked the group. He gave the question a few seconds of silent response. “Okay. You three,” he said, nodding to the three researchers who still huddled together as the containment pod left the room, turned right, and headed down the hallway. “Go with the specimen. Get it secured in an LSV. And you get locked down also. We don’t want any more surprises. Jacobi, you’re with them.”
“Hoorah.”
“Roscoe, Smith,” Beale continued. “You’re with me. We’re going to locate Harrison’s team and evac double-quick. This building has some bad mojo right now.”
* *
The team of Army Rangers made it back to the Y-junction and turned left to follow the path laid out in Harrison’s original orders. Both the soldiers and the scientists were maintaining radio silence with only Roscoe trying to raise the west team every 30 seconds or so.
They slowed at the top of the corridor. Each of the three soldiers had activated NVG with a detailed HUD (heads-up display) overlay. They were getting real-time readings of their environment. Temperature. Distance measured by their reticule. It was a line of data along the right side of their vision.
