The Immortality Curse: A Matt Kearns Novel 3

by Greig Beck

  Matt sighed. “Yeah, there are hostile forces at work; been several attempts on our lives.”

  “We heard,” Joshua said. “I think that’s why we brought them.” He thumbed over his shoulder to Khaled’s commandos.

  Rachel flopped into her seat, her face like thunder. Matt grinned. “And I brought her.”

  She scowled, but Matt ignored her. “So what did you make of the organism? It’s weird to say the least.”

  Joshua raised his eyebrows. “Sure is, weird and unique. We mammals, and in fact all animals, have been hosts to all sorts of intrusive creatures for millions of years. Did you know that they uncovered a T-Rex skull with trichomonas boreholes in it? Parasites have been around longer than we have.”

  “But in human beings, have you ever seen anything like this?” Matt asked.

  “Not exactly.” Joshua bobbed his head. ‘No, never. We normally deal with two types of parasites. There’s the ecto-parasites, like fleas, scabies, nits and the like that infest the external realm of our bodies, and then there’s the endo-armies, that live in our organs, blood and cells.”

  “The harmful ones, right?” Rachel said without turning.

  “Sometimes. The dumber they are, the more harmful they are. The smarter ones can actually alter their environments; alter us, to be better, healthier and stronger – the healthier we are, the healthier their homes are. And of course the really exceptional ones are the symbiotes, that are beneficial to us – we give them a home and food, and they look after us.”

  “Sounds like what the worms were doing to the human body – extending life and health.” Rachel said, turning to face them.

  “I’m going to ask a dumb question.” Matt faced Ebadi. “Have you ever heard of something like this in your religious studies? Anywhere? This seems somehow to be inexplicably linked to the biblical flood.”

  “There’s always been an association of worms with biblical plagues,” Ebadi said. “There’s the taking down to the worms referring to the degradation of mankind in just about every holy book, but there’s nothing I know of that offers some sort of divine immortality.” The man seemed to think for a moment. “I would have thought that would have been godlike, and for man to aspire to it, would be seen as blasphemous.”

  “Matthew…” Eleanor’s voice floated up from behind them.

  “His master’s voice.” Rachel smirked.

  “Oh boy,” Matt muttered before turning in his seat. “Yes, Eleanor?”

  “Come back here, dear, and tell me what you’re talking about.”

  Rachel half-turned back to the window. “Go on, dear. Go tell Mommy what you’ve been doing.”

  Matt groaned, and leaned toward Joshua and Ebadi lowering his voice. “She’s not really my mother.” He stood up. “Excuse me.” He headed down to the rear of the plane where Greta and Eleanor waited.

  “Ladies.” Matt sat facing both the women. “How’s your flight been so far?”

  The old woman pursed her lips, her eyes half-lidded. “Long, uncomfortable and very down market.” She half-turned to the large men just back from her. “And overly crowded.”

  “We’re nearly there now. But we did warn you that it wasn’t going to be very pleasant.” Matt smiled patiently.

  “That was supposed to be when we arrived, not when we were traveling.” Her eyes slid to Khaled and her lips pursed momentarily.

  “Please sit down.” Eleanor smiled sweetly. “You haven’t yet told me what the specialists are talking to you about? They look more like the bookish types; scientists like you. Are they?”

  Matt nodded. “Religious expert and a biologist; Prince Najif has managed to assemble quite a good team, plus security. We were just talking about the evidence as we now know it – nothing you aren’t aware of, so no new revelations yet.”

  “Matthew…” her voice became softer. “Thank you for helping me; you’re the only one I trust.” She eased herself closer and put a hand over his.

  “I’ll do what I can.” Matt patted her hand that was little more than wrinkles over gristle. He looked to Greta and smiled. But the large woman never flinched, and in her eyes he saw something unpleasant. Matt slapped his hands down on his knees. “Well, if I find out any more I’ll let you know. Like I said, only a few more hours now, and probably not long until we start to cross into Chad.”

  “Goodie.” Eleanor eased back into her seat, and Greta pulled a blanket around her shoulders making her look even more like a tiny animal snuggling back into its nest.

  Matt walked back to his seat and sat down. Joshua and Ebadi had left, maybe frozen out by Rachel. Her eyes were on him.

  “Well?” She asked.

  He shrugged. “She’s impatient, uncomfortable and bored.”

  ‘Welcome to the club.” Rachel snorted. “And how are you holding up?” She looked at him from under lowered brows. “I’ve never known anyone to have such bad luck, or is it good luck, in my life.”

  “Don’t worry about me; I’m a survivor, and I’m lucky. Right about now, I’m just looking forward to what we might find.” He swallowed and looked away from her eyes.

  Rachel grunted and settled back in her seat. “Well, just make sure you save some of that luck for where we’re going. I hear we might need it.”

  “Me too.” Matt settled back, closed his eyes, but still couldn’t sleep.

  Chapter 14

  N’Djamena International Airport, Republic of Chad

  Khaled’s plane taxied into the airport, stopping several hundred feet from the main doors. Security was little more than six feet of wire fencing running around the perimeter of the runways and airport building. Men, some in uniforms, some not, seemed to wander around and over the runways.

  Khaled joined Matt and Rachel. “We will be met by a local official. We should not need to enter the main airport building, but…” He shrugged. “… things tend to change quickly here. Be ready to move on my word.” He straightened.

  Matt got to his feet with Rachel, and Joshua and Ebadi stuck close by, probably preferring Matt’s company to that of Khaled’s Saudi commandos, or worse, spending time with Mrs. Eleanor van Helling and her intimidating companion.

  The door was pushed open and Matt heard a greeting in Arabic. Khaled responded and was first down, smiling broadly. The waiting official had a shaved head, and was the color of dark coffee. He wore a blue suit that was dust-brown from the knees to his shoes.

  Khaled shook his hand vigorously, as the Saudi’s security team came down the steps and fanned out, their eyes moving from the low buildings to the trucks, and then lingering on the stragglers moving across the airfield. Matt bet they were armed, but doubted there’d be any sort of screening when he saw Khaled hand over their passports for stamping, plus a thick envelope which vanished into a breast pocket as if it were something unpleasant.

  Matt and Rachel came down next, and to her credit, Eleanor managed to be carefully led down the steep steps, which took a while, but proved she was mobile when she really wanted to be.

  “Oh god.” Rachel winced.

  The heat was as bad as Saudi Arabia, but here there was very little sense of the healthy clean air from the Saudi capital. Instead, what was in the Chad air were bugs of a frightening size and number.

  Matt turned to Ebadi. “Now this feels like a biblical plague.”

  “It’ll be better when we’re away from the city.” Ebadi grinned. “I hope.”

  Khaled came back with their passports. “All done. And now…” he pointed to a small plane waiting on the tarmac.”

  “We’re not staying?” Rachel grimaced. “It’s so nice here.”

  “No.” Khaled spoke quickly to one of his security team, who nodded and went to a carryall bag and removed a small, black handgun in a black holster. He handed it to Khaled.

  The Saudi Arabian checked it, and then handed it to Rachel. “I assume you didn’t bring a weapon?”

  “You know I didn’t.” She took the gun, half-pulling it from the holster. “N
ice – Glock 17 – reliable, lightweight, and a 17-round mag. This’ll do just fine.” She tucked it down the back of her pants. “Expecting trouble?”

  “Here, you must always expect trouble. The wide desert country has marauding bandits, terrorists and opportunists, but they are spread far and wide. Worse to stay in the city, where you can get your throat cut just for taking a wrong turn.”

  “So where to?” Joshua asked.

  “Salal,” Khaled said. He looked up at the sun and pointed north-east. “About 250 miles that way – take us a few hours to get there by small plane. It’s the closest settlement to where our map seems to point.”

  “Or ends,” Rachel said.

  “I know the area,” Ebadi said. “Dry, very dry. The terrain of this country is dominated by the low-lying Chad Basin.”

  “And that basin was once the bottom of an inland sea,” Matt said. “And why we’re here. How far is it from Lake Chad now?”

  “To the water’s edge, around 300 miles, less in the rainy season when the lakes double in size. But the important thing is where Salal is now, only a few thousand years ago it was all under water.”

  “Good a place to start then,” Joshua said.

  Khaled had his security team transport their gear and Mrs. van Helling to the smaller plane.

  “Gonna be cramped,” Matt said to Rachel who watched with compressed lips.

  “It already is,” she said softly.

  “Well, we’re not here on holiday and look at the upside; at least you’re packing heat again.” Matt grinned.

  Khaled led them to a twin prop plane that was roughly the same size as the jet, but from a vastly different era. Its nose and wing shoulders were bug splattered, and oil stains streaked its sides.

  “That’s our ride?” Rachel groaned.

  Khaled grinned. “Commander Aero-680. Built in 1968 and still running – just. Not many around now, and I’m betting this one is held together with twine and black magic.”

  This time their flight was noisy, cramped, and if there was once air conditioning, it was either turned off to conserve fuel or had stopped working decades before.

  Matt spent his time looking down on a dry, featureless landscape. Chad was one of the larger African countries and more than three times the size of California. Thankfully, their trip was short and in no time they were dropping fast toward a long, flat, dusty track – the airport, Matt assumed. The pilot then lined the Aero-680 up, and they came down hard, bouncing, slewing to the left, and then overcompensating to the right. Matt thought he heard laughter coming from the cockpit.

  Matt would have pulled his belt a little tighter, but there wasn’t one so he just sat back in his chair and clamped his teeth. The plane finally straightened and slowed. Matt ducked to look from the window, and saw a couple of goats scampering away from the plane as careened down the dirt runway.

  He dragged out his backpack. His shirt hung slack against his chest, already soaked in perspiration. He felt a weird sensation in his gut and put a hand on his stomach. It was a strange coiling and twisting, not so unpleasant, more like a bad case of butterflies except a dozen times worse. He licked his lips again, parched, and drew forth his canteen and sipped. It quenched his thirst but didn’t satisfy him.

  The door was pushed open, and a cloud of dust and several bush flies entered in a rush. Things the size of his thumb belted around the cabin. Matt hunched his shoulders; he knew there were large biting bush flies, locusts, praying mantis as long as his hand, and also a delightful thing called a flying scorpion. It didn’t really fly, but instead had a flattened body that allowed it to be picked up by the wind so it could glide to attack. Thankfully it wasn’t deadly, but had a sting that would bring more than a few tears to your eyes.

  He turned his collar up, pulled his hat down, and headed for the door behind Rachel. He brushed a huge fly from her shoulder and it took exception to his attack and flew straight at his face. Matt clamped his mouth shut, and it bounced harmlessly from his cheek to zoom lazily away, searching for something else of interest in the rear of the plane – Eleanor van Helling, he bet. There was one thing that excited insects out in the bush, and one thing he remembered Oscar Ojibwe warning them never to wear: perfume. And the old woman was drenched in it.

  Three covered army jeeps bumbled out from a low, squat building and roared to a stop close by. Khaled waved and jogged toward them. A tall man the color of mahogany stepped out of the lead jeep. He wore an iron-gray uniform and black beret, and mirror glasses with a cigarette dangling casually from his lips. He sauntered toward them.

  The man flicked the smoke away, saluted, and then reached out to shake Khaled’s hand. Straight after, just like in the airport, the Saudi handed the man a thick envelope that the officer opened and peered inside. Satisfied, he slid it into his shirt, and clicked his fingers for the other drivers to step out and load luggage.

  Khaled gathered the group together. “Captain Abdulla Okembu has given us these drivers who will take us out to the geographic point we wish to go to.” He grinned. “He said there’s nothing out there, but sand, dust and giant bush flies. They think we’re all crazy.” He grinned. “I think he’s right.”

  Joshua turned to the group. “Has everyone taken their medications?”

  “I’m practically rattling,” Matt said.

  “They make me sick,” Eleanor added.

  Joshua scrutinised her for a moment. “Mrs. van Helling, what will make you sick is avoiding your anti parasitics and getting bitten by something like a local deer fly. They carry a particularly nasty creature called the Loa Loa filariasis, also affectionately known as the African eye worm.” He held his hand up, inching his finger along in the air. “As a nymph it makes its way to the tissue of your eye. Once there, it feeds and grows, and when it’s large enough to be observed moving just below the surface of the eyeball, usually the only way to get it out is through total removal of the eye.”

  “Goddamn hellhole,” she muttered.

  “Sorry you came?” Rachel’s mouth curved into a smile.

  Eleanor’s lip curled. “Don’t try and tell me you’re happy to be here, girly. At least I’ve been to places like this before. I’ll wager the farthest you’ve been is Central Park.”

  “Boom.” Matt grinned at Rachel who turned gritted teeth on him.

  The joys of a family field trip, Matt thought, and looked over his shoulder at Eleanor. Tough old buzzard, he thought.

  Khaled chatted briefly with his commandos. They all seemed to know Khaled well, and they shared a few jokes before he separated them all into three groups: himself, Matt, Rachel and one security team member named Saeeb. The next jeep would hold Eleanor, Greta, Ebadi and a second security team member named Rizwan. And the final jeep would just hold Joshua, Zahil and Yasha, the last two security guys, as well as most of their luggage.

  Matt headed to the lead jeep, and jumped in next to the driver. Khaled slid into the back and Rachel beside him, and the blocky commando, Saeeb, sat in a sort of rumble seat at the rear.

  Captain Okembu stood with folded arms watching them load up. Even though the man wore mirrored sunglasses, Matt felt his eyes on them, scrutinizing their every move. Matt turned to the driver and greeted the man in Arabic. The driver gave him an insolent nod and turned back to the windshield.

  Oh well, he thought. We’re not here to make friends. He turned in his seat. “How long?”

  Khaled shrugged. “Just a few hours; but better to ask him, he knows the terrain better than I do.”

  Matt looked at the man again and sucked in a breath. “Okay, how long until we are at our destination?”

  The driver looked at him, his eyes still half-lidded, and the whites of his eyes yellow from being in proximity to an open fire one too many times. There were also tribal scars on his temples, and Matt bet there were more hidden under his cap.

  He fished a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket, stuck one in his mouth, and then lit it with a plastic lighter. He blew
thick smoke at the dashboard, and then casually looked at an enormous fake Rolex on his wrist. “Two hours, maybe little more.”

  “Thank you, very helpful,” Matt responded in Arabic.

  The driver scrutinised him for a few moments, taking in the long, sandy hair and blue eyes. “You speak Arabic well, but you are not an Arab.”

  “I’m a teacher – of languages,” Matt said.

  The driver blew more smoke and turned his yellow eyes on Matt again. “You should not go there.” He spat out some tobacco. “Why does a teacher need to drive out into the middle of our country during the dry season? What do you think is out there that requires a language teacher?”

  Matt turned back to the windscreen. “Maybe nothing but a legend.”

  The man grunted. “Then this is the country for that.”

  “My name is Professor Matthew Kearns. What do they call you?” Matt kept watching him.

  The man’s lips pursed for a second as he decided whether to reveal his name or not. He shrugged. “Mohammed Asalem.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mohammed.” Matt examined the shining dark face. “I have a question for you; what do you think is out there?”

  He smirked and then blew more smoke. “Bones. Nothing but bones, dust and death until the end of the world.”

  “I see.” Matt twisted in his seat to check on the other vehicles. Everyone and everything was loaded up except for Captain Okembu. The tall man slowly scanned the horizon, and then seemed to make a decision – he climbed in next to Joshua. Okembu then banged a hand on the side of the jeep and the three engines started in unison.

  Matt turned back to Mohammed. “If there’s nothing but bones, then why has your captain decided to come with us?”

  Mohammed looked over his shoulder and then his eyes briefly flicked to Matt. “Maybe he thinks you know something.” He then put the jeep in gear and stamped on the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward, throwing them all back into their seats.

  Matt was glad he was in the lead vehicle as behind there was a huge plume of dust being kicked up. Beside the dirt track that doubled as a road, there were skinny children with feet so dusty they looked to be wearing long, pale socks. Matt waved and the children stared back at him as if he were an alien from outer space. Don’t think they get a lot of visitors, he guessed.