Extinction Plague: Matt Kearns 4
Page 1
About Extinction Plague
Around the world entire towns are being wiped out, a trail of boneless bodies left behind.
Professor Matt Kearns, paleo-linguist, and a team of scientific and military specialists, rush to decipher the hidden secrets of a pair of ancient stones that prophesize the next great extinction on Earth. They soon discover that the ominous predictions are linked to a plague of unstoppable creatures that have risen from the center of the Earth.
In a heart-pumping adventure that begins in the hold of a sunken German U-boat, Matt Kearns travels to the lost Nazi treasure tunnels in Poland and dives deep down to sunken caves below Easter Island. Matt is fighting for his life, the ones he loves, and the existence of the entire human race.
Contents
About Extinction Plague
Epigraph
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 01
CHAPTER 02
CHAPTER 03
CHAPTER 04
CHAPTER 05
CHAPTER 06
CHAPTER 07
CHAPTER 08
CHAPTER 09
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR’S NOTES
About Greig Beck
Also by Greig Beck
Copyright
More than ninety percent of all organisms that have ever lived on Earth are extinct. Some species can take millennia to die out and some vanish in the blink of an eye. In Earth’s history there have been many mass extinctions, and in a handful of times in the last half billion years nearly all of the species on Earth have been wiped out. Asteroid impact, volcanoes, ocean acidification, and catastrophic climate change are all given as reasons. But some extinction events could never be explained. Until now.
The next great plague will be the last.
– Greig Beck
PROLOGUE
Guchengzi amber mines, Liaoning province, China – 1984
Liu Chen splashed water onto the rock face and then rubbed it with the heel of his hand. He held up his lantern and then grinned. The seam of golden fossilized resin shone like a ribbon of sunshine. And it was big.
He rubbed at it again. The Guchengzi mines had been in operation for one hundred and twenty years, and were one of the richest amber producers in existence. The amber mined here was of varying quality and all derived from woody plants dating back from tens of millions to hundreds of millions of years ago.
The miners worked in backbreaking eight-hour shifts, right around the clock. Whoever discovered a good find received a bonus.
Liu turned and called for the mine boss, Huang. The other miners moved aside as the stocky man shuffled closer in the confines of the narrow tunnel.
Liu held up his light again. “It’s big, very big.” He wiped it again with his hand. Just from what was exposed it looked to be a single block three feet in length.
Huang slapped his shoulder. “Well done.” He turned, snapped his fingers and called for more of the men to help remove the block from its age-old resting place.
Liu supervised them, trying to ensure no one damaged the huge block. Amber was highly prized in China. In the Middle Ages it was burned with incense as a sexual stimulant, and also ingested for rheumatism and dozens of other maladies. But these days, unmarked resin was made into attractive jewelry, and if the resin contained fossilized creatures it was either sent to the laboratories for study, or sold onto the global fossil market.
In another forty-five minutes, the men managed to loosen and then haul the block out. It was heavy and Liu and his three helpers groaned as they strained to lay it carefully on the mineshaft floor.
The now fully exposed block was just on four feet long, two feet wide, and that much again in thickness. Huang splashed water from his canteen onto it and rubbed it with his hand. Together the men all brought their flashlights and lanterns in closer.
It was then they could see what was inside. Huang crouched and then knelt, his nose almost touching the ancient resin.
“What is it? What has been caught by the amber?” He splashed more water and used the front of his sweat-stained t-shirt to rub the surface to create a clearer window into its interior.
Liu stared. The thing inside looked to be as thick as a human arm. But it was a glossy black like oil, and was covered in vicious spikes and bristled hairs.
Huang frowned. “Looks like a bug. A giant bug.”
Liu straightened. The bug would have been as big, or bigger, than a man.
Huang looked up at him. “Praise your ancestors this thing doesn’t live today.” He held out an arm to be assisted to his feet. “Bring it out.”
CHAPTER 01
Milford Sound, New Zealand west coast – June 1944
Captain Wolfgang Krause drew in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the smells of oil, metal, hot electronics, and body odor.
His submarine, UX-511, was one of Nazi Germany’s elite Kriegsmarine, a stealthy craft known as one of “the wolves of the sea”.
The Type IXC U-boat was slightly larger than the normal U-boats of the time, and, due to her two supercharged four-stroke, nine-cylinder diesel engines, produced a total of 4340 horsepower, giving her a maximum surface speed of 18.3 knots and a submerged speed of 7.3 knots, meaning she could outmaneuver, outrun, or chase down any vessel she chose.
Normally the UX-511 had a full complement of forty-eight sailors and officers, and was fitted with twenty-two torpedoes, a heavy SK C/32 naval gun, as well as a C/30 anti-aircraft gun. But on this mission Captain Krause had just six men, and no weaponry. Everything had been ripped out and stripped down. He carried nothing but spare fuel and an object he’d been ordered to retrieve from one of the most remote places on Earth and bring back to the Führer, personally.
Krause had been handpicked for the dangerous and crucially important job, as he was fearless, smart, and had never failed on any mission he had been tasked with.
He placed a hand against one of the railings, feeling the chill of the frigid steel. Outside, it was a murderous cold with the water a mere thirty-four degrees, and inside, the men could feel the cold permeating the steel skin of their craft. There was no excess fuel to continually run the heating units so the men had donned woolen clothing and gloves, and many looked like over-padded bears.
The U-boat hugged the New Zealand coastline to avoid shipping lanes, but the crew knew that soon they’d need to pull away and head up through the warmer Asia Pacific waters. It would be more bearable, but much higher risk.
It was their sonar operator who picked up the vibrations first. Then they all felt the shuddering through the iron-plated hull as the tremor shook t
he seabed below as well as the water around them.
“All stop.”
Krause breathed in and out slowly, ignoring the bite of freezing air in his nostrils as he fought to keep his impatience in check. In his submarine’s hold he might have the key to a German victory in the war – potentially a weapon of destruction or a savior. His sole job now was to get it home, at any cost.
Krause let the steel ship hang in the water as he waited and listened. They were close to the shoreline so if a tsunami followed, there might be a problem.
He decided he needed to be in deeper water; shipping lanes be damned.
“Hard to starboard, full speed ahead.”
The horns sounded throughout the steel corridors, and the muscular twin engines turned over with the sound of heavy machinery cranking up to speed. The familiar smells of salt water, diesel oil and perspiration swirled in the control room with the burst of activity, as the roar of engines became near deafening. Captain Krause ignored it all and stared unblinking at the instrument panels.
The outside vibrations passing through the U-boat reached a crescendo. Then came a new tearing and grinding sound that froze everyone in the command room.
“Landslide?” Krause asked his sonar operator.
“Bigger.” The sonar man frowned deeply as he concentrated on the sounds. “And seems to be coming from … everywhere.”
Then their boat was hit, or they hit something, and the crew was thrown to the panels and decking.
“We’re running aground!” Krause yelled. “Blow all tanks, all rise, all rise!”
Men yelled and hands flew over instruments. Krause couldn’t work out what was happening as just seconds ago they were at least twenty feet up from the seabed, had clear running, and there was nothing on the near and far sonar.
Then came the words every submariner dreaded: “We have a hull breach – nose heavy – shallow water, shallow water.”
“Surface, surface, surface!” Krause roared above the confusion and leaped forward to grab the console and read over his man’s shoulder.
It was true, suddenly they found themselves in only thirty feet of water, where mere seconds ago they had been in around seventy feet. Somehow the sea bottom had shifted.
“It’s not responding.” The engineer turned to face him as around them the machines hissed and strained, and the mighty vessel groaned like a wounded cetacean. “We’re flooding.”
Krause straightened; the water was shallow enough to abandon ship and maybe make it to shore. But then they would be alerting the enemy to their position, and possibly to what they carried. It could then fall into their hands.
Krause stiffened his spine. It could not be allowed; the enemy could never obtain what they carried.
“We need to close the bulkhead doors,” his man yelled over the din.
Krause looked back at their sweat-soaked and reddening faces. “Leave them open.”
Krause’s words were soft, but every man heard them. And every man understood them. Some came to their feet and saluted, while others sat back in the seats, hands slowly coming off their equipment.
There would be no rescue attempt as there was no record of their voyage. They all knew this might have been one of the outcomes of their mission. They all had chosen death before dishonor. And that meant death before letting enemies get their hands on the secret.
The next instant the U-boat’s engine room flooded and the mighty propellers stopped. The generators soon followed. The lights dulled and then they also went out. The iron craft settled on the bottom.
“Sorry, mein Führer,” Krause whispered in the ink black darkness. He heard men praying and perhaps someone softly sobbing. But over the top of it all he heard the roar of the bone-numbing water rushing up toward them.
“Seig heil!” He yelled as the freezing water exploded into the room to take them all.
CHAPTER 02
Milford Sound, New Zealand west coast – one year ago
Manawa Kawheina was thrown to the ground. At seventy-five years old, he was still a stout and strong man but his balance wasn’t what it used to be.
Earthquake. The tribal chief knew what to expect so he stayed down. He was up on the cliffs and thankfully wasn’t close to the edge. Huge chunks of rock were known to calve away from the cliff face and, if he fell with them, it was two hundred feet down to the water.
His jaws clenched as the earth shook even harder and with it came a noise like the grinding of a titan’s millstones. Underneath him the earth jumped. Then came the sound of cascading water but he didn’t fear a tidal wave as he was up too high. The small pristine bay down below was probably getting stirred up and would be muddy for days – and there’d be no fish for weeks.
A shimmer and shake and a sound like a deep sob, and then it was over. Manawa stayed down a moment more, and then finally sat up. Around him there were rips and wrinkles in the earth like a rumpled rug, but everything else was as it should be.
He quickly gave thanks to his gods and forefathers and then turned to his beloved ocean. Manawa could only stare.
The bay was gone. Really gone. The land had risen from the ocean and completely taken his beautiful bay. Where there was once sparkling blue water with a few shadows of reef just showing closer in, now there were rocks, weed, and patches of sand for hundreds of feet out to the headlands.
Stranded fish, some huge, flopped and danced on the rocks; crustaceans and shimmering blobs of large jellyfish were also left high and dry. But that wasn’t what made Manawa’s mouth gape – there, lying like a beached whale on the raised sea bottom, was a ship. An iron ship, heavily crusted with barnacles and weed, and lying on its side.
Manawa quickly edged down and along the cliff face, and carefully made his way out to the exposed vessel. Large fish were trapped in pools, and lobsters tried to take cover in mounds of exposed weed – it was a free feast that would soon rot in the heat and sunshine.
Up close he saw the riveted iron, the upturned bow and also the sealed deck. He was old enough to recognize the remnants of the flag and its insignia showing through the crusted sea life – red flag, black cross and at its center the swastika with iron cross in the top right corner.
“A German U-boat, eh?” He whispered. “What you doing here?”
Maybe the boat might have been hiding, or lost, or had come into the bay for repairs, and that was why it was so close to the shoreline.
Manawa stepped across more rock pools, and reached the hull of the boat. It was lying on its side with its nose slightly buried and already its exterior was drying in the sun. He leaned forward and rapped on it with his knuckles.
The returned sound was dull and solid, telling him the interior was flooded with either water or sand. He stood looking down at it for a moment. If he reported it the government would contact Germany and then the boat and all its contents would be taken away.
But this was Maori land, and Manawa claimed right of salvage. He’d do his duty and report the wreck, but first he wanted to find out why this ship was in this part of the world while a war was raging so far away to the north.
*
“Phew, stinks,” Rawiri said as he crowded in close.
“No worse than your place.” Manawa turned to his son and grinned. “Hurry up.”
The chief slowly moved his light around in the cramped space. The air inside the sub smelt of brine, rusting steel, and something else unpleasant, like a whale carcass that had washed up on the tide.
The pair had to crawl along the angled central corridor. It was darker than a moonless night inside and the algae-blackened steel was slick and slippery.
The next room they entered was crowded with dials, handles, pipes, and all manner of electronic devices stuck to the walls and ceiling. There was a periscope tower in the center.
“The control room.” The chief shone his light around. “And the crew.”
They’d finally found them. The black and slimy skeletal remains were piled up in the corner as if
a tidal surge had crushed them all together.
“Feking gross,” Rawiri whispered.
“You wait until the sun heats them up a bit.” Manawa turned his light away from the grisly sight. “Come on, one last room.”
They crawled to the metal door that was open only a few inches, and it took all their strength to drag the rusted steel wide enough for them to enter.
“This is more like it.” Rawiri smiled broadly as he rushed to crouch beside a huge metal chest. There was an ancient padlock still hanging on the front, but a few stout cracks with the butt of his flashlight and the mechanism fell to corroded pieces.
Rawiri lifted the lid with a squeal of protesting hinges. The stout chest looked to have been sealed with wax and inside was still dry after all these years.
“Something in here … wrapped.” Manawa crowded in closer and saw an object around four feet long tightly bundled in an oilcloth.
Rawiri threw the cloth aside and shone his light down on the thing. “What the hell, man?” He looked up. “It’s just a big green stone.” Rawiri slapped the steel chest with his hand. “Why would they seal an old stone in a strongbox?”
“Maybe because of what it says.” Manawa edged out of the way. “Bring it out. Just the stone.”
“Aw, man, it’s gotta weigh a hundred fifty pounds.” Rawiri scowled up at his father.
“Yeah, and I know you can bench-press more than twice that. I want to see it in the light.” Manawa headed back down along the slimy corridor, sick of the stench of rust, slime, and death.
CHAPTER 03
Boston, Massachusetts – today
Matt Kearns flopped into his favorite leather chair, picked up the TV remote while also sipping his beer. He let out a long sigh of satisfaction followed by an open-mouth burp that he was sure must have been a record breaker somewhere in the world.
He sipped again as he channel surfed, looking for something interesting. He stopped at a station showing a large triangular-headed insect capture another bug. It immediately started eating it alive, the rapidly moving mouthparts munching through its prey’s head like it was a large biscuit.