Extinction Plague: Matt Kearns 4

by Greig Beck

  “Not too bad.” Matt nodded. “And what about –”

  “Oh boy.” She laughed softly. “There’s twenty-five thousand in the Pacific Ocean.”

  “Oh good grief.” He sat back. “Twenty-five thousand?” His brows slid in defeat.

  “The rim of fire,” she said. “The Pacific Ocean islands are on the edge of a tectonic plate and are mostly formed from volcanic activity. Plus from coral sandbar accretion. More form up every single year.” She sat back. “So, which one will we start with?”

  “We have an image of the small landmass we are looking for. It even has marks on it where we are supposed to look.” He sighed. “Look for that geography as a first pass.”

  Lana grabbed the image and scanned it; she came up empty. “The computer doesn’t recognize it. And for all we know it’s not an island at all. Maybe it’s a state boundary, or a physical boundary. After twelve thousand years the land identified might be totally submerged or washed away.”

  Matt nodded, and then turned to point at her. “What you said.”

  “It’s a state or physical boundary?” Lana asked.

  “No, no – that it’s all wiped out or washed away.” He clicked his fingers. “Because of course.”

  She glided closer. “What have you found?”

  “We’re looking for an island shape based on today’s geology, and sea level. But twelve thousand years ago, the sea level was hundreds of feet lower, so …”

  “So the island today will be smaller, and its shape different.” Lana clapped. “Very well done.”

  Matt entered a subject date into the computer, and then ran a simulation of the global landscape as it would have looked about twelve thousand years ago. The computer gave him his answer back almost immediately.

  “Now we’ll see if this global model matches to our island shape.”

  He entered the new data and ran it again. The small circle turned on the screen as the processor searched for a match.

  While it did its work, Matt snuck a glance at Lana. He knew he’d never met her before, but something about her was familiar.

  Lana caught him looking and smiled back a little mischievously. “Have we met before?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.

  Matt snorted softly. “I’d remember.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, with one delicate eyebrow arched.

  The computer pinged with a proximal hit on their search. Matt turned back to the screen and read. “Close enough, I guess.” He folded his arms and turned to Lana. “What do you think?”

  “Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Easter Island?”

  “Why not?” He hiked his shoulders. “Remote, Pacific Ocean, has been inhabited for about eight hundred years, and before that, it was a remote uninhabited jungle paradise – a green jewel.”

  “That’s the place with the huge statues that are half buried, right?” she asked.

  “That’s the one. Now let’s see what we have to deal with.” He created a three-way comparison of the image from the stone with the extrapolated map of the island of how it would have looked twelve thousand years ago, against how it looked today.

  Matt resized them so they were a physical match. The stone’s image showed a mark on the lower western area of the map. The extrapolated version showed a green peninsula, and then Matt looked across to the current satellite version of the map.

  “Somewhere around here.” He pointed. “There’s the south-western end of the island, water, and then an even tinier island that’s more like a rocky outcrop.” He traced the map, following where the coordinates took him. “Damn.”

  Lana’s eyelids drooped. “Well, who didn’t see that coming?”

  “It’s underwater. It’s between Easter Island and this small island.” Matt shook his head. “Come on, guys, you couldn’t have picked somewhere a little more inland?”

  “Oh well, look at it this way: if there’s anything to find, it’ll be in some place that people haven’t been tramping over for eight hundred years.”

  Matt got to his feet. “We’d better tell Hammerson he’ll need some divers.”

  CHAPTER 31

  The Schneider Compound, Treptow, Germany

  Rudolph Schneider watched as his first team equipped with helmet cams entered the cave. He steepled his fingers as they approached the large slab of stone and eased it aside.

  Without taking his eyes from the screen he lifted his hand to the microphone headset and repositioned the receiver bead in front of his mouth.

  “Be careful, no trace now. Let’s not show our hand.”

  “Roger that,” came the reply. Then: “There’s goddamn something in here with us … alive.”

  Schneider sat forward. “Stay quiet, go to infrared, and hurry up.”

  After another few moments of watching his team progress, Schneider smiled and sat back as he saw the inside of the receptacle revealed. “One step ahead, always one step ahead.”

  He chuckled and then turned to the bell jar and the flaking head within. “You were always one step ahead, mein Führer. If you weren’t double-crossed, this world would be yours now.”

  He turned back to the screen.

  “But we’ll fix that aberration very soon.”

  Schneider waited until his first team secured their objective and were on their way out, and then turned his attention to the next element in his plan. He had organized for some samples of the creatures to be collected, and he had dispatched a second team of his best workers under the supervision of one of the top university biology professors he funded to facilitate the animal gathering.

  Right now they were approaching one of the smaller swarms on the outskirts of Inzlingen, a small village in the district of Lörrach in Baden-Württemberg.

  His team were equipped with cameras, and he only needed to press different keys on his keyboard to swap between images.

  The university professor, Deiter, led them from a scientific perspective, but Heinrich, an ex paratrooper, was the point man on the ground. Two other men carried glass specimen tanks and three-foot long metal poles with a steel claw on the end for grasping the things.

  All of the men wore thick neoprene tear-proof suits that he bet were stifling even in the mild heat down there. He smiled – better you than me, but that’s what you’re paid for.

  From Heinrich’s camera he saw Deiter point to the hill.

  “I see the approaching swarm. We’ll collect two live specimens and then withdraw.”

  “Proceed,” Schneider said and pursed his lips, watching intently.

  The swarm came at them like a wall – some flying, some crawling, but all of them bristling and shining like black ceramics in the sunshine. From the men’s microphones he could hear the deep insectoid zumm and the beating of thousands of veined wings.

  “Gott im himmel,” he heard one of the men whisper.

  In a few seconds his team was engulfed and over the speaker he heard the scrabbling of thousands of tiny sharp feet. The creatures clung to the men, first a few, then dozens, and then many more. He watched from Heinrich’s camera feed as the man grabbed one from his arm and held it up in one large hand. The eyes were amazing and horrible in that they seemed more mammalian than insect, and they swiveled to stare up at Heinrich with great interest.

  Schneider narrowed his eyes as he watched; there was intelligence in the thing’s gaze that unsettled him. He reached for his cup of coffee.

  “Ouch.”

  The single word spun Heinrich around to see Deiter trying to brush one of the things from his shoulder.

  “They’re puncturing the suits,” Deiter wailed. “They’re getting in.”

  “Impossible,” Schneider countered.

  Heinrich held up his hand, and Schneider leaned closer to the screen. The creature he held was the size of a small dog, all over black, had around eight legs, and bristled with spikes and thick insect hairs. It wriggled furiously in his hand, but then it stopped, leaned forward, and let its proboscis bloom open like a
fleshy flower.

  It used those tiny pulpy digits to attach itself to Heinrich’s hand, and then something that looked like a needle shot out from their center, and went straight through his toughened glove and obviously into his hand.

  Schneider was entranced and watched open-mouthed as Heinrich roared a curse, and flicked his hand. But the thing clung on, its legs also digging in. Heinrich used his other hand to grab it and wailed his anguish. In the background Schneider could see the other men battling the horde, with one of them down on the ground.

  “Pull back,” he said softly. The men continued to wrestle and fight with the things. Schneider licked his lips. “I said, pull back, you fools.”

  Heinrich’s hand suddenly sagged, and then the forearm. Other creatures joined in, clinging to him, from his feet to his face.

  “It hurts.” Heinrich’s scream was extraordinarily high for such a big man, Schneider thought as the ex paratrooper flopped to the ground.

  The man continued to scream, but oddly, his voice became mushy and the words indistinct as though his tongue was too big or he had cotton wool in his mouth.

  There was a deep sob, a wet blubbering sound like a fart, and then silence. Schneider breathed out slowly through his nose, and reached forward to turn the screen off.

  He slowly took his hands away from the monitor controls. That … did not go well.

  CHAPTER 32

  Inbound, Easter Island, south-eastern Pacific Ocean

  Roy Maddock half smiled. “You live an interesting life, Professor Kearns.”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah, and sometimes whether I like it or not.” He sat back. “So, the sub, how long until it gets there?”

  “It’s already on its way,” Vin said, grinning. “We have a navel base, Fort Aguayo, in Concón, ninety miles north-west of Santiago, Chile’s capital. The rescue submersible we’ve been loaned will accommodate all of us.”

  “Who’s going to pilot it?” Matt asked.

  “Them. Chile doesn’t trust us that much.” Vin grinned. “But all HAWCs have submersible experience, so we’re all good.”

  “I’ve been snorkeling, but diving to two hundred feet is beyond my capabilities.” Matt turned to the scientists. “Have you dived that far down?”

  Phillip Hartigan nodded. “I’ve deep dived before on wrecks in California Bay. I have my own kit, but I’m told I won’t need that.”

  “Nope, not dived that deep. I can swim like a fish, snorkel, and surf, but that’s it.” Lana Miles smiled up at him.

  “Where do you surf?” Matt smiled back.

  “Everywhere.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Klara glared. “We’ll only be in two hundred feet of water, not two thousand. Hull ruptures at two hundred you might burst your eardrums but can still survive. Most of you anyway.” Klara laughed and nudged Matt.

  “Thanks for the pep talk.” Lana scowled at the female HAWC.

  Klara lowered her face a little closer to the female scientist. “Don’t forget your water wings.”

  “That’s enough,” Maddock ordered. He turned to Lana. “We’ll be fine, and probably won’t even need to leave the submersible.”

  Lana nodded and exhaled through circled lips. She turned away to face the small porthole window of the airplane.

  Maddock turned to Phillip Hartigan. “Remind me again what we’re looking for. Briefing notes says some sort of tall fungus that doesn’t exist anymore.”

  The chief scientist nodded. “That’s right. It’s called a prototaxite, and died out around four hundred million years ago. Perhaps we have, or had, some sort of remnant species existing there, or at least some further answers.” He smiled and turned to Matt. “We’re all following Professor Kearns’ trail of breadcrumbs on this one.”

  Matt shrugged. “Wish I felt more confident. Unfortunately, the place we’re headed to might have been the perfect isolated laboratory for a remnant species. That was until people turned up around eight hundred years ago. And don’t forget that where we’re supposed to look sunk under two hundred feet of water,” Matt added. “My limited understanding of fungus and fungal spores is that it has a physical aversion to salt water.”

  Lana turned from her window. “Obligate marine fungi grow exclusively in seawater. But they’re a very different species. Most perish very quickly.”

  Klara snorted. “So could be a waste of time?”

  “We know next to nothing about the ancient fungi – its preferential growth conditions, lifespan, composition – so it might not be a waste of time at all.” Lana faced away again.

  “No, it won’t be.” Maddock’s voice had an edge. “Given what’s occurring around the world right now, I don’t think any search for answers is a waste of time.”

  Klara sat back. “Just saying we could have dropped a submersible drone. Done some advanced recon, and saved us a trip.”

  “The colonel disagrees with you. Feel free to take it up with him on your return, Second Lieutenant.” Maddock eyeballed her. “We’re already in motion, so let’s do our job.”

  In another forty minutes, the chopper landed on the green grassy cliff top, and a few local Chilean military personnel were already there waiting for them. There were tents set up, which made Matt wonder just how long Hammerson expected they’d be there.

  They had touched down on the western side of the main island alongside a long-dead volcano crater that had been worn down. Its rim only rose a few dozen feet and in its bowl was a shallow, marshy lake.

  The chopper bounced and the group piled out. They dropped their gear and the HAWCs grabbed the last of the equipment and then waved the chopper off.

  Maddock saluted the Chilean soldiers and talked to them by himself while Vin and Klara headed straight to the tents.

  Matt, Hartigan and Lana stood on the grassy slope and turned slowly.

  “It’s just a green desert,” Lana said. “Nothing growing above a few feet.” She turned to Matt. “The Aztlanteans described this place as a jungle so green it was like a jewel.”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah, I had to do some research on Easter Island in my final year of studies. It was a sad tale, and a warning of using up scarce resources. Everything is gone; even the original culture and language has been lost.”

  The group gathered in closer to listen, and Matt cast his mind back to his notes and the pictures of the island’s sad demise.

  “At their peak, the Rapa Nuians, as they called themselves, numbered about three thousand. When a Dutch navigator by the name of Jacob Roggeveen first arrived in 1722, he described a place of robust natives, magnificent stone idols, and lush forests. It wasn’t a happy visit as he was attacked, and it ended with the death of around twenty of the islanders.

  “People steered clear for half a century, but then in 1774, the Englishman Captain James Cook arrived and also mentioned the idols, but sadly, he noted that many were knocked over, made no mention of forests left at all, and he found the natives in a terrible state.”

  Matt sighed. “It seems that something happened. Perhaps the last of the trees was felled to assist in the rolling of the giant idols into place. But their beautiful island and idyllic life were gone.”

  “That’s terrible,” Lana said.

  “It was.” Matt turned to them. “Everything was consumed or lost, even their ability to read and write their own language, the Rongorongo script. It’s why I became involved because it was the only Polynesian script to have been found to date, and there was no one left who could decipher their lost language.”

  “Those poor people.” Lana looked around the green desert island. “Did they ever recover?”

  “No.” Matt shook his head. “The visiting sailors also left the survivors with smallpox and then tuberculosis. By the mid-1800s there were only just on one hundred people left here.”

  “It’s like they were cursed,” Klara said evenly.

  “Maybe they were. Maybe destroying the island’s ecology, or not maintaining the upkeep of their moai statues, angered th
eir primitive gods. But this once island paradise, the green jewel, was turned into a prison of disease and death.”

  “The island was cursed with people.” Lana put a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked out over the sparkling ocean. “It must have been magnificent twelve thousand years ago, when the Aztlanteans first came. It’s just a grassy lump in the middle of the ocean now.”

  Roy Maddock walked closer to the cliff edge. “Right now, what’s happened above sea level is of no interest to us. Let’s just hope whatever is waiting for us below is worth our time.”

  “What are we expecting?” Vin asked.

  “Good question.” Lana turned to Matt. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  Matt snorted softly. “Answers.” He shrugged. “Anything out of the normal.”

  “Seriously?” Klara’s laugh was like a bark. “Define normal.”

  *

  Matt joined Roy Maddock who stood on the cliff edge looking down at the dark blue stretch of water between the Easter Island landmass and the smaller rocky outcrop just on half a mile out.

  Maddock acknowledged Matt and then nodded toward the outcrop. “I read that, as a rite of passage, the young Rapa Nuians had to swim out to that island and grab a bird’s egg and then swim back. The only problem was the area was infested with sharks. Big ones.” He turned to smile. “And I thought the HAWC entry testing was a tough gig.”

  Matt laughed. “So what do you think? Will we find anything?”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Maddock shrugged. “This whole island, Easter Island, is basically three volcanic cones joined together. The thing about volcanic rock is it weathers in different stages.” He turned to Matt. “And that means it leaves plenty of holes. So, if I had to guess, I’d say there is a cave down there. But I’m betting it was hidden, and at two hundred feet we start to lose the light, so …”

  “So it might be there, and we might never find it,” Matt said.