by Chris Fox
Blair removed his pack, moving to the far side of the jeep. He opened the rear door and slid inside. The pack fit neatly between his legs. Jordan jumped in the front passenger seat ahead of him, rolling down the window and positioning his rifle so he could fire if needed.
Bridget picked up her pack in a massive clawed hand, reaching inside for a camouflaged shirt. She began to shift, pulling it over her head as she did so. By the time she was human, she’d slid into the back seat next to Blair, her bare legs tantalizing. She gave him a knowing smile as she caught what he’d been staring at.
He stared at the back of Liz’s head, conflicting emotions raging between them. What the hell did he want out of all this? It was going to be a long trip.
Chapter 25- Waking Up
Trevor stared at himself in the small shaving mirror he’d taken from one of the corpses he’d devoured back in the jungle. Parts of it were familiar. He was still a freckled ginger, even if his face was more pale than it had been. His goatee was exactly the same. The hair had stopped growing when he’d died, so at least there was no more shaving.
He’d even retained the battered green baseball cap he’d brought when he, Blair and Liz had flown to Peru to wake the Mother. If someone didn’t look too closely, they might think he was the same man. That illusion was shattered the second he opened his mouth, especially if he smiled.
Every last tooth now ended in a sharp point, a mouthful of fangs sharks would envy. The scientist in him knew why of course. They were the most efficient way to rend flesh. Human teeth were largely flat because they were omnivores. He’d become a carnivore and subsisted purely on flesh. The tastiest kind was living human.
It amazed him how gratifying the simple act of staring at the mirror could be. For weeks now he’d been a prisoner trapped in his own body, unable to exert even rudimentary control. That had changed over the last two days, as he’d fed over and over. Each brutal act had horrified him, but the worst part was that feeding was already becoming normal. It revolted him less than it had yesterday. How long until he began to enjoy it?
He glanced at the camp, sizing up his companions. Irakesh sat on a wide rock near their little fire, leafing through a pocket-sized copy of the King James Bible liberated from one of their victims. He turned each page with deliberate care, treating the battered thing with a reverence Trevor found surprising.
Cyntia was curled up in a sleeping bag on the opposite side of the fire. Her heartbeat was slow and strong, breathing even and deep. She was asleep, thank god. He liked her and had things been different they might have become romantically involved. That was no longer possible, given what he’d become. Even if it were he didn’t like what was happening to her. Irakesh had encouraged Cyntia to feed often, and Trevor could already see it having an effect. Her gaze had grown wild, and she was more prone to violence. He wished he could tell her to flee, to get away from Irakesh.
“Your world is a very strange place,” Irakesh began, closing the tattered black bible. It was the sort a soldier might carry into combat. Irakesh set it on top of the backpack he’d recently salvaged. “This tome contains such strange mythology. Do your people really believe this?”
“A lot of them do,” Trevor admitted, unsure how to answer. Speaking still felt strange, but part of him was pleased that he could manage it now. “Or if not that book, then another book they claim is holy. I imagine you’d find them equally strange.”
“Genesis in particular amused me. The idea that earth was created in a single day by some sky god in robes? It’s preposterous,” Irakesh scoffed, rolling his eyes. The gesture seemed too normal somehow, out of place on his master’s monstrous face. “The world is far, far older than your people can conceive.”
“You might be surprised,” Trevor shot back, setting down the shaving mirror and taking off his hat. It was reflexive. He wasn’t sweating. He couldn’t sweat. “Our scientists estimate the world is about four and half billion years old. It will live another four to five billion before the sun goes out.” He squinted up at the brilliant orb, shading his eyes.
“Why do you scrunch your eyes like that?” Irakesh said, shaking his head with an amused smile. “We are deathless, not humans. The sun is our ally. Staring into the sun for at least three minutes a day is actually good for you.”
“Fuck,” Cyntia growled. Trevor glanced over to see her recoiling from the sun as she sat up in her sleeping bag. Had she just stared into it?
“I guess the same isn’t true for werewolves?” he said.
“Her kind rely on the moon,” Irakesh raised an eyebrow at Cyntia, delivering a look that bled contempt. “But I was speaking of your holy tome. This Bible. Did you know there is a passage that says, let me see." He picked the book open and thumbed to a slim page. “Ah yes, Timothy 2:12. My favorite absurdity thus far.” He cleared his throat, effecting a mocking pose. “'I do not permit a woman to teach nor to hold authority over a man; she must be quiet.' Do your people practice this? Isis will be furious.” He grinned like a mischievous frat kid who knew that a professor was about to be pranked.
“Yeah, that part only flies with a very small part of the world,” Trevor argued, a bit floored by the passage. He’d never really studied the bible, but he’d never heard that part. “Women are equal to men where I come from, at least legally. There’s still a wage gap, but it’s a lot better than it used to be.”
“You treated women as lesser beings?” Irakesh asked, looking at Trevor as if he'd sprouted a third eye. “They did not have all the legal rights of a man? I don’t understand how your society functioned.”
“Not well. So your society was matriarchal?” Trevor asked.
“Mine was, as were those Isis founded on this backward continent and the one to the north,” Irakesh said, shaking his head. “Not all were. Osiris ruled the sprawling continent north of the Cradle. There were others, though I had no dealings with them.”
“Is there nothing of our world you like?” Cyntia asked, hovering at the edge of the conversation. Trevor hadn't heard her get up, but then he rarely did unless she wanted to be heard. She settled on a stump not far from Trevor as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.
“Oh yes, many things fascinate me,” Irakesh admitted, setting the book on a rock next to him. “It amazes me that nearly everyone possesses the ability to write. Very few learned in my own time, and most of those recorded religious texts or important history. We wrote on stone so our words would last. The idea of using this paper your kind discovered never occurred to us. For all of our advancements it seems your world has done things ours could not.”
“Were you there to see the creation of the deathless? What are we exactly?” Trevor asked, picking up his rifle and checking the slide for the fourth time in the last hour. The question had been bothering him, but he’d been reluctant to ask as he was still feeling his way with Irakesh.
“Ahh, I’ve been wondering when you’d find the courage to ask,” Irakesh said, a toothy smile slipping into place. He rose, moving to a tree stump near Trevor. “The deathless arose from the desperation of Isis. The woman you know as the Mother. In our time her lover Osiris lay dying. She sought a way to preserve his life, and after many trials and with the aid of my mother, she finally found or created the secret to eternal life."
“The Mother was responsible for making the deathless? I thought she created the werewolves,” Trevor asked. The two seemed contradictory.
“She created both,” Irakesh explained. He picked up a stick and sketched a shape that might have been Europe. “Isis, her mate Osiris and my own mother Ra were born in this place.” He tapped an area near the north east edge of the continent. Trevor wasn’t great at geography, but he guessed it was meant to be England. “They discovered the First Ark, the one with the greatest strength and largest store of knowledge. They were pursued by Set, a cruel and sadistic tyrant even I feared.
“She pioneered a science you might call genetic manipulation, the shaping of human DNA. She created a virus that would allow one to
live forever, but with the unfortunate side effect of killing you first.”
“The zombie plague,” Trevor said, suddenly understanding.
“Just so,” Irakesh replied with a nod. He seemed to really enjoy the tale, each part punctuated by grand flourishes. “Initially Ra was adamantly opposed to the creation of the virus, but in time Set’s strength grew. In order to stop him, she accepted the virus and became one of the most powerful deathless.
“Isis tried to stop her, but the virus was potent,” Irakesh said, grin growing predatory. “It dramatically improved Ra's ability to shape. She was much, much more powerful than she’d been before. Where Isis had once been the undisputed master, now she was little more than an irritation. Ra could have killed her, but in honor of their centuries of friendship, she banished her from the Cradle. Isis fled to these shores, leaving Ra to rule. My mother forged a powerful army of deathless, using them to create an empire that spanned continents.”
“That’s horrible,” Trevor said, aghast at the slaughter.
“Is it?” Irakesh asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed genuinely confused. “Why?”
“I can’t speak for your time, but my world had seven billion people. Almost all of them are dead now because of what she did,” he explained. Irakesh merely laughed.
“Seven billion people. I can see from the memories I’ve ingested that this world has been poisoned. The oceans are filled with your refuse and at the same time empty of fish. Thousands of species have been wiped out. Forests cut down. You’ve gutted this world, prying every resource you can from her dying body,” Irakesh said. He shook his head sadly. “Our kind are violent. Brutal. Yet we exist in harmony with our environment. We keep the population in check, and it is a good thing. Only through the virus will this world have a chance to heal. Those you call innocents are choking the life from her. So tell me, Trevor Gregg, which is a better world? One poisoned and robbed of resources, or one where the deathless rule over a controlled society? One that exists in harmony with its surroundings.”
Trevor didn’t answer immediately. His heart said that the deathless were wrong. They were unnatural and shouldn’t exist. Yet Irakesh’s words made sense. Humanity had raped the world and if something like the zombie plague hadn’t come along, how long would it have been before they wiped out all life?
“What about the werewolves?” he asked, setting his rifle against the rock. “They’re powerful enough to rule over mankind without spreading a plague to wipe out everyone.”
“Ahh, you’re wondering if Isis presents a better way,” Irakesh said, giving a warm laugh. It seemed out of place coming from a mouth full of fangs. The scarlet eyes didn’t help, either. “She set up a class-based society. Only a handful killed come back as werewolves, making her champions very rare. Ra’s method gives anyone a chance to rise among the deathless. Take you, for example. In time you will learn shaping and become powerful and respected by your peers. If you’d been slaughtered by a werewolf, you’d probably be dead now.”
“I guess,” Trevor said, though he wasn’t sure he agreed with that logic. He had many more questions about the ancient world, but needed time to digest what he’d learned. “So where are we going? I still haven’t figured out what your plan is. I know we’re heading north, but you haven’t said why.”
“You are simply full of questions,” Irakesh replied, amused grin slipping back into place. “I must admit I am very pleased at how quickly you’re learning. It’s nice to have decent conversation. I wasn’t expecting that. My plan? I’m going to found an empire. I’ll use the Ark of the Redwood to control the northern continent.”
“Ark of the Redwood?” Trevor asked. It sounded like the name of a bank.
“Isis and Ra spent centuries exploring the world. They discovered many Arks. The one to the north is called the Ark of the Redwood. I stole the key from Isis, and we’re heading north to seize it,” Irakesh said. He rose from the rock, peering down at the river. “I will use that as my power base and will forge every deathless for a thousand miles into an army the likes of which this world has never seen. By the time Isis can turn her attention to me I’ll be too well entrenched to remove.”
“So we’re going to walk all the way to North America?” Trevor asked. “That will take months. Longer if we encounter resistance on the way.”
“I do not plan to walk. There is a port for the craft you call planes in the kingdom of Panama. It is there that we will find transport,” Irakesh said, arching an eyebrow. The grin was gone. Evidently he didn’t like being questioned.
“How are we going to fly it?” Trevor asked. He’d never learned to fly, but he was willing to bet it wasn’t that hard. Garland had done it. Of course the learning curve was likely to be both steep and fatal.
“We must find a corpse who possesses this knowledge. Surely there will be at least one between here and there. If not we will decide on another course of action,” Irakesh said, giving a shrug. The grin was back. “Either way we will escape our pursuers.”
“You’ve mentioned these pursuers a few times,” Trevor said, scratching his goatee. “Who are they? Couldn’t we just turn around and ambush them?”
“They’ve been sent by Isis to stop us. She has gathered a small pack of champions and sent them after us. It’s possible we could overcome them, but until I am certain I see no reason for a confrontation,” Irakesh explained. He turned back to face Trevor. “I fought a pair of them, a Ka-Dun and Ka-Ken. Both were powerful, though untrained. We will face them again, but before we do I must teach you the rudiments of shaping.”
Trevor knew immediately who Irakesh must be referring to, but carefully schooled his features to neutrality. It was best Irakesh not understand his connection to Blair and Liz, or it might be used against him.
Cunning, my host. The voice whispered, slithering through his mind. Keep such knowledge to yourself. Be a dutiful servant and diligent student. The day will come when you are able to best your master.
“I can learn to shape?” Trevor asked. He remembered the fantastic powers Blair had demonstrated.
“Of course,” Irakesh scoffed, waving dismissively at Trevor. “You will be one of the most powerful shapers of this age. Your ability to shape is dictated by three things. The strength of your bloodline, the strength of your will and your imagination. Your bloodline is impeccable, only one step removed from the native virus. Your will is stronger than any I’ve ever seen, and you clearly possess the ability to think creatively. With training you will be an incredible force.”
“Can we start now?” Trevor asked. So much had been taken from him, and he sensed that the key to his freedom lay in mastering shaping.
Chapter 26- Disobeying Orders
The Director picked up the clipboard attached to the door. So odd that with the level of tech Mohn had they still used paper charts for patients. Of course the medical industry was always the last to adopt anything, so maybe that shouldn’t surprise him. He scanned the contents, noting that the surgery had been a success and there were no complications. What's more the patient would be ready for active duty the following day. Excellent.
He pushed open the heavy door, closing it gently behind him. The white-walled room was dominated by a wide hospital bed in an elevated position. Its occupant was pale but awake and alert. His normally well-trimmed goatee had grown into a scraggly black beard, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Yuri Filipov, looking considerably better than he had in the firefight in Panama. His legs lay on top of the sheets, both the flesh and blood one and the newly installed chrome cyber leg.
“How are you feeling, Yuri?” Mark asked, pulling a metal chair to the side of the bed and sitting down.
“Is good,” Yuri said, giving a wide grin through the beard. “Replaced Yuri’s leg. Better than new. Yuri cannot believe.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve read your report on the incident. In your estimation the pyramid is lost then?” The Director asked. Satellite footage had already confirmed
it, but he wanted to hear Yuri’s assessment anyway.
“Werewolves everywhere,” Yuri said, shaking his head. “Commander ordered extraction team to pull out after big red werewolf tear off leg. Commander’s position very bad. Did not see what happened after, but if commander survived would contact Mohn.”
Despite the man’s brevity and incredibly thick accent he had a keen eye. It just took a little effort to tease out the details. In this case, it sounded as if he’d missed the end of the fight. “You said that the package was still in Peru?”
“Is there,” Yuri replied, giving a tight nod. “Beacon still broadcasting. Could be retrieved with small team. Drop in hot, enter hangar, get back on runway. Give Yuri team of four and could be done.”
“Can you do it quietly?” The Director asked, leaning in close to the bed. “Off the books.”
Yuri gave him an unreadable look for a long moment before replying. “Is possible. Is cover story for return? Landing will be questioned.”
This was one of many reasons the Director trusted Yuri. He didn’t ask why it was off the books. He didn’t even want to know. All he was interested in was accomplishing the mission he’d been assigned.
“Let me worry about the landing. I’ll have a flight cleared for this evening. Head down to hangar six at 7 pm. Your team will already be assembled,” Mark said, rising from the stool. He walked to the door, then turned back to face Yuri. “The mission is critical. If the package can’t be retrieved, it must be destroyed. I don’t care if you have to detonate Panama. No one gets that weapon.”
He stepped through the door and closed it behind him. This kind of flagrant disobedience would likely be the end of his career. In the past he’d been able to examine things with a clinical detachment, to make tough choices and commit unthinkable acts when needed. So why was he struggling here?
Maybe because the whole god-damned world had ended. Mohn had a responsibility to protect the human race, and for the first time in Mark’s life morality was overriding self-preservation. Maybe there’d be a clever quote about that on his tombstone.
