Book of the Dead

by Greig Beck

  “Yes, so it can move among us…its prey, I assume. But I doubt it would hold up to any sort of close scrutiny – it doesn’t speak, or at least it hasn’t with us. It’s primitive, but we think it has a base intelligence. It’s very clearly an ambush predator.”

  “What is it? Is there anything even remotely like it? I need something to work with.” Decker’s frustration started to override his nausea.

  “What it is? We have no idea,” Ford said. “Its physical composition is more akin to some sort of amoeba, but it’s so primitive, it predates anything we’ve ever seen. Any trace of a close relative probably never survived in the evolutionary geological record – how could it? It doesn’t seem to have bones.” He sighed. “And as for where it’s from, we can only assume it came from deep underground. There was a sinkhole that had opened up below the house. Traces in the basement drain indicate it came from there.”

  “Jesus Christ, Eric. What’s it doing in there? It hasn’t moved since I’ve been down here.”

  “Hasn’t moved a muscle for hours. It’s waiting for stimuli – let me show you.” Ford pressed an intercom button. “Martin, send in a sample.” He folded his arms. “This is what it’s waiting for…and all it wants for now.”

  A door slid open in the rear of the cubicle, and a goat was quickly pushed in. Its ears flickered, and its nose twitched as it caught the scent of something strange. It took a few steps along the side of the room and then froze. Its nose worked some more.

  “Keep your eyes on Harry,” Ford said softly.

  While Decker watched he saw Harry’s expressionless face start to palpitate. One of his unblinking eyes started to slide – not the pupil, but the entire organ – across his face, to now be situated on his temple. It stared unblinking at the goat. Another eye formed and popped open, this one on Harry’s cheek, before the head started to slowly turn.

  The goat’s legs started to tremble, and its head dropped. It bleated constantly as it backed into the farthest corner of the room.

  In the next second, Harry opened his mouth, wide, then wider than was humanly possible. From that dark hole, an explosion of black tendrils shot at the goat. The animal screamed in a voice that was too human for Decker’s liking.

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes as if to try and shield himself from the horror.

  The goat was dragged toward Harry, who started to grossly inflate into a mass of writhing and squirming blackness as the Shoggoth finally revealed itself. Perhaps it couldn’t maintain the pretense while it was focused on capturing its food, or needed to be in its primary shape to feed at all. Regardless, the thing now resembled a giant thrashing blob of putrid black flesh, with tentacles that were a mix of tendrils and muscular trunks. Some thrashed in the air, others pounded down on the ground, like elephantine legs. All the time, new organs formed and unformed over its bloated body – ears, eyes, mouths, not all human, and not all even from creatures the watching soldiers recognized.

  A giant orifice formed on its side, and opened stickily. The goat was dragged across the cell and then stuffed inside. The hole closed over it. The animal’s shape could just be made out inside the Shoggoth’s form, and its screams were still loud over the speakers. Ford quickly reached out to shut off the sound just as the screaming turned into a wet crunching.

  “Shit.” Decker couldn’t drag his eyes away from the horror. “Can it get out?”

  Ford’s mouth turned down and he shook his head. “The room is a level-9 containment cell – reinforced, blast-proof walls, ceiling and floor, and nonporous to even liquids and gases. Harry isn’t going anywhere.” He folded his arms. “We need more time to study it. This thing is the true primitive, but we know it has some level of intelligence.”

  “Intelligence?” Decker sucked in a deep breath, and blew it out hard, as if to expel the vision. He turned to the scientist, talking through clenched teeth. “I don’t care if it’s fucking Einstein; you just find me a way to kill them.”

  PART 2 – Rise Up The Ancient Gods

  Chapter 15

  It was just ten-fifty pm when the two teams walked across the warm tarmac and headed for the square three-story cream building. Matt was in the lead team with Abrams, Tania Kovitz and Adira. The plane had been crowded but as it was continuing on to Cairo, only about fifty people disembarked in Alexandria – still, it was enough to give them cover, as there was a good number of Westerners in among the returning local businesspeople.

  Adira looped her arm through Abrams’s. “Smile: we are on holiday, remember, husband?”

  Abrams gave her a grin that was more like a grimace.

  Tania did the same to Matt. “Hey, you too – and don’t we make a pretty pair?”

  Matt grinned. “Army life, huh? One minute you’re being shot at, and the next you’re on a dive holiday with a professor.”

  “I like to think I’m ready for anything.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows momentarily, before becoming serious, and looking hard into his face. “Do you trust her?”

  Matt shrugged. “She’s a combination of spy, agent and assassin – and she’s tough as hell.” He looked down at the military woman. “Don’t mess with her, Tania; I’ve seen what she can do.”

  Tania snorted and looked away for a moment. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Matt honestly wasn’t sure whether he did or not. “Look, I trust she’ll do what’s best for herself and for Israel. But…” he remembered the woman on the Black Mountain in the Appalachians, who went way off course for the most basic human emotion – love “…she’s human and has a soft side. Well, not sure it’s still there – I think she’s been re-educated.” He looked at Tania and gave her a look of mock horror.

  “Well, that sounds unpleasant.” Her smile widened. “Good.”

  When it was their turn at the desk, the sharp-looking immigration official flashed his eyes up and down at Matt, before letting them rest on Tania for several seconds. He looked back at the passports, studying them as if they were the Dead Sea Scrolls.

  He stamped and read, stamped and read, and then spoke without looking up. “When were you married, Mrs Kearns?”

  Tania gave him a wide smile and leaned forward against the high desk. “Twenty-twelve, in Minneapolis.”

  He grunted and then let his eyes flick up to Matt. “You have no diving equipment. How will you dive – hold your breath?” His mouth turned up on one side.

  Matt nodded and grinned. “It’s too expensive and too much trouble to cart it around. Our travel agent told us that there’s a dive shop on Eastern Harbor…What was it called, honey? Alexandra Dive? We plan to hire everything we need there.”

  They waited – there was more stamping – and then the passports were pushed back to them, and with a brusque “Next!” the official made it clear they had ceased to exist.

  In twenty minutes they were out in the front of the building, avoiding shouting taxi drivers and private car owners touting for their fares. Adira walked a hundred feet down the road to where a faded green Mercedes Benz was pulling up. She nodded to the driver, opened the door and motioned for the other three to get in.

  “What about Hartogg and Andy?” Abrams asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “Forget them.” Adira waved him off. “Baruk will look after them. Another car will pick them up shortly. We must leave and go in different directions. Get in.”

  Abrams slid in the back next to Matt and Tania.

  Matt grinned. “That was pretty straightforward.”

  Adira stopped her conversation with the driver and half turned. “Our documentation is good, but there will be GID watching – there always are.”

  “GID?” Matt asked.

  “Egyptian secret service – the General Intelligence Directorate.” She fully turned in her seat, resting her arm on its back. “But they might not be the biggest problem we have. She looked at Abrams. “Your contact, Dr Hussein ben Albadi, has been slaughtered, along with all of his house staff.”

&
nbsp; Abrams went red, before he punched down hard on his thigh. “Goddamnittohell. Was it the terrorists?”

  Adira’s face was expressionless. “No, it seems he was tortured, and the work was carried out with far too much skill for simple barbarians.” Her eyes were level as gun barrels. “I assume he knew everything that you do. So now…”

  “They do,” Abrams finished.

  “Except for this last part,” Matt said. “He only knew we wanted to get to Pharos, and what we were coming to find, not how we were going to get here. They can’t possibly know about you.”

  Adira’s face betrayed nothing. “We must assume that whoever tortured Albadi is already here.” She looked at each of their faces. “They are playing hard. If they take one of us, we can expect the same sort of interrogation treatment – vicious. Better to be dead.”

  “Do you know who it was? Did they leave any clues?” Abrams asked.

  She shook her head. “None, but we do not think they were part of any militia. Like I said, these people were very skilled at what they did and the techniques they used were very precise – surgical almost. It may mean they are Westerners. With luck, perhaps we can spot them before they spot us.”

  *

  It was late, eleven-thirty pm, when their car pulled into Matrouh Road, and eventually stopped out front of a large sprawling building. Faded letters spelled out the name Aida on the façade.

  Adira stepped from the car, looking up and down the street. Matt, Abrams and Tania followed her out, stretching. “The Aida hotel,” she said, turning to them. “Old, but just down a single road to the water and the site of Pharos Island.” She shrugged. “Better than some, but not so good as to attract attention – so don’t be disappointed by its rundown appearance.”

  “We’re not here on holiday,” Abrams said.

  “That’s not what my passport says,” Matt said. “I know we’re not, but best to at least look like it.”

  Adira nodded. “I have arranged accommodation for a week. Hopefully, we’ll be gone in a few days.”

  Matt waved as Andy and Hartogg’s car pulled in slowly beside them. “That poses the obvious question – when do we call it quits if we don’t turn anything up? Adira’s week? Longer?”

  “Can’t answer that, Matt,” Abrams said. “Not until we’ve at least had a look at what it is we’re dealing with.” He acknowledged Hartogg and then turned to Adira. “What about the equipment?”

  The driver gave Adira a small, heavy package, and she placed it in her bag. “It’ll be ready for us in the morning.” She checked her wristwatch. “It’s late. I suggest we check in, get some rest and meet out front at oh-six hundred.”

  *

  Matt sat in the bar; his beer as yet untouched in front him. He was tired, but knew sleep would be impossible, and hoped that some alcoholic anesthetic might help. He smiled dreamily and watched a bead of condensation run down the side of the green bottle. He followed it with his eyes, preoccupied.

  The Al Azif, The Necronomicon, The Book of the Dead, whatever they called it, it had become the key to everything. Would it even be real? he wondered. Not long ago, he would have laughed at the suggestion, but now…

  Well, we have all our eggs in one ancient Middle Eastern basket now, he thought, so it damn well better be.

  He remembered reading the words of the copy of the Book, and that, as he read, images had formed in his mind – magnificent and horrible in equal measures. They had conjured up scenes of beauty, monstrous wonder, and decrepit horror. He had been a scholar of languages and words all his life, and he still didn’t know how words, marks on a page really, could actually do that.

  Matt knew some writing was bland and informative, and that some was powerful and persuasive. But this went far beyond that, into the realm of words as magic. And if what he had seen had that effect, what would the Celestial script, the actual speech of the gods, be like?

  “Penny for them.”

  He jolted at the light touch on his shoulder.

  “Jumpy tonight.” Tania Kovitz slid onto the stool next to him.

  He half smiled and shook his head. “I’m okay, just thinking about the day ahead.” He nodded at his drink. “Get you something?”

  “Sure, one of those’ll be fine.” She looked around at the remaining people sipping drinks late at night in the hotel bar. “I didn’t think they’d serve alcohol here.”

  Matt shook his head. “There’re a lot of purists who want to make Egypt totally alcohol free, but there are also a lot of businesses that rely on the tourist trade. No alcohol, covering of women, segregation of sexes might just detract from the fun in the sun holiday lifestyle. So we’re okay…at least for now.” Another beer arrived on a coaster, and Matt reached out and lifted his drink. “Enjoy it while you can.”

  “Salut.” Tania lifted the small green bottle and clinked it against Matt’s.

  He sipped, looking at her and smiled. He watched her soft lips just close over the top.

  She smiled as she sipped, and held his gaze.

  *

  Matt woke about four, and lifted Tania’s arm off his body. The room still smelled of perfume, sex, and beer. He winced as he moved, feeling the scratches on his back.

  “Hellcat,” he whispered.

  He got up and went to the bathroom to relieve himself and then on the way back poured a glass of water and sipped it slowly while looking out over the huge central pool. It was a beautiful blue, empty of swimmers: a picture of serenity. He so wanted to dive in and wash himself clean.

  Matt heard sheets move behind him.

  “Hey.”

  He turned. “Hey.”

  “Come back to bed.”

  He padded back to the edge and slid in, immediately feeling her hand searching for and finding him. She squeezed and caressed, and once again he wanted her.

  “I wish I could have read the Book.” She tugged at him gently. “Tell me about it. What did you learn? What can it do?”

  He sighed as her hands worked harder and faster and she started to kiss her way down his stomach.

  “It’s strange; it could be older than anyone thinks. It’s too descriptive and powerful to have been written by Abdul Alhazred. I think he was the writer, but not the original author. Maybe he was someone who had read the original and transcribed it.” He placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her down, hurrying her.

  She slid lower, plucking at his tip with her mouth, but then stopped. “Go on.”

  “What?” Oh, he talks of Cthulhu – the Old One – its power and its horror. But I get the feeling all the real secrets are hidden in the strange language – I haven’t seen that yet. But look, if it is true Enochian, I doubt I’ll be any help.”

  Her mouth engulfed him, and he arched his back for a second. He placed his hands behind his head, and began to talk softly in his bliss, telling her everything as she worked her magic.

  *

  At six on the dot, Matt and Tania walked from the entrance to the building. Baruk was already there with Adira, who watched them approach. Her eyes were like dark gun barrels on the pair, and Matt could have sworn she was reading his mind, and not liking at all what she saw in there.

  Abrams, Andy and Hartogg immediately followed. Hartogg whispered something to Abrams and then stood a few feet out from them on the steps.

  Abrams came and stood next to Adira, but kept his eyes on the water in the distance, the sun only just rising above its edge. “We have eyes on us.”

  Adira didn’t turn. “Yes, I know: in the Mercedes. Do not worry; they’re ours – a couple of field agents from our local office. After hearing about Albadi in Syria, we decided it might be prudent to have someone watching our backs. They’re good operatives.” She nodded to Baruk, who loaded diving gear into the back of an SUV.

  “Baruk and I will be running a proximity shield defense, but if they get in that close, it will mean we will already be fighting for our lives. I want some advance notice if we have a team of butchers on ou
r trail.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Abrams said. “I’ll let Hartogg know. Be good to have some weapons as well.” He nodded to his SEAL. “He’s also good.”

  Adira smiled. “All taken care of. Baruk has been busy.”

  The young, rugged-looking man closed the rear door of the SUV, stood back and waited.

  Adira took one last look around, and then headed for the passenger door. “Let’s go.”

  *

  They pulled to the side of El-Geish Road, and sat looking out over the azure water. Three-foot waves crashed onto the shoreline, and there was nothing between them and the horizon.

  Tania leaned forward, putting her hand on Matt’s thigh as she went. “Just how far out is our dive site?”

  Matt squeezed her hand once and quickly lifted it free. He had a sudden sense of panic over what Adira would do if she thought they were suddenly a couple – for that matter, he didn’t want anyone in their group to get that impression. For a start, Andy would freak out, and he remembered Adira’s glance on the front steps, and it still scalded his conscience.

  “Closer than you think.” He cleared his throat and sat forward. “Pharos was a small island about a mile off the coast. In 332 BC Alexander the Great founded the city of Alexandria on an isthmus opposite Pharos and he built a link to the island – it was so wide they used it as a walkway. But over the millennia, that silted over, and then centuries of erosion and various earthquakes destroyed the island, and what was left was buried. Now it’s all under water.” He pointed. “Somewhere arou-uund, there.”

  They followed his hand – to nothing but blue water.

  In the front seat Adira’s fingers danced over a tablet and she called up several maps – ancient and new. She adjusted size and orientation, and then lined them up one over the other. She turned in her seat, holding the screen up.

  “We are here.” She pointed to a long road running along the shoreline. “And we need to start our search, here.” Less than a mile offshore there was the outline of the island. “This coastal section has been reclaimed from the sea, so the good news is the island is closer to us now than it would have been on the coast of a thousand years ago.” She sat back. “Of course, it might not be the actual island we’re looking for.”