Primeval: An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “Let’s follow,” Jack said placing his arms around his sister and Sarah. “Marla is back there, let’s get her and go home.

  “There could be a hundred of those . . . those animals back there, Jack,” Lynn said.

  “Giganticus Pythicus, my dear,” Charlie corrected, thinking he was helping out.

  “Whatever . . . there could be—”

  “There are. Not just hundreds, but thousands. They live here, in each and every single plateau in this area. There is a cave system that must stretch from the Stikine to the Alaskan border.” Charlie smiled wide. “Oh, yes, there is indeed something back there young lady.”

  Jack looked at Everett and he shrugged. Then he took a flashlight and Everett another. They had to see if they could find the girl.

  “Should we take this?” Carl asked, holding up the AK-47.

  “No,” was the fast and simple answer from Jack.

  “Okay, but I’m going with you,” Sarah said. “You owe me Jack, for that trust you asked for.”

  “And how do you figure that, Short Stuff?”

  “Because, what made you think Alexander wouldn’t pull that trigger if he thought all was lost.”

  Jack smiled. “Because Punchy is the kind that always thinks he can luck his way out of trouble. I knew different.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m still coming.”

  Collins nodded, not really wanting to leave Sarah behind anyway. “The rest of you stay put,” He gestured at Sarah with her arm around his battered body she started forward.

  Charlie Ellenshaw smiled and nodded his head. If the people around him could learn to live without guns and take a chance on nature, and live with it for what it is, or very possibly could be, there was hope indeed.

  They saw a bend in the wall of the cave as they slowly advanced. Jack was in the lead with Sarah in the middle and Everett taking up their rear. As Collins neared the wall and the bend, he saw something that looked vaguely familiar. Then he recognized it: It was a steering bar for a horse-drawn wagon. As Jack drew nearer, he could see something on the ground. He shone the light on it and then turned to Sarah and Everett.

  “Well, someone lost their lunch money,” he said, smiling and showing both Sarah and Carl the lost treasure of L. T. Lattimer as it glimmered even through the hundred years of dust.

  On the ground were spilled bags, and even some stacked gold double eagles. Lattimer must have done the stacking before he vanished into Ellenshaw’s past.

  “Now that’s impressive,” Carl said as he stared at the millions just sitting, spilled on the ground.

  Jack shook his head and moved on, shining the light left and then right. He was looking for any trail the girl may have left in the soft earth of the cave’s floor, but as it was they only had the giant prints of the beast as it had went this way with its sorrowful load. As he approached the second wagon, he flashed his light on its tarp-covered bed and squeezed by. Close behind him, Sarah stumbled into the wagon’s wooden side. It was Carl who heard the sound of cracking wood and ran to push Sarah out of the way. As they cleared the side of the wagon, Jack pulled them out the rest of the way just as bags upon bags of gold double eagles fell free. It was Sarah who saw it first.

  “Wow,” Everett said and that was followed by a whistle.

  Lying among the bags of gold was the skeletal remains of a man dressed in a plaid shirt with suspenders. The skull looked as if it had been crushed as its blank eyes stared out at nothing. Jack saw that the skeletons arms seemed to wrap around two of the large bags of coins and to him it looked as if the skull were grinning.

  “The late Mr. Lattimer I presume,” Sarah said, staring at the remains.

  “Well, he got what he came for,” Jack said as he pulled on Sarah’s arm. They left the two wagons behind and allowed L. T. Lattimer to have his gold.

  As they advanced, the cave became more humid. They saw where several tunnels branched off the main cave. Jack was starting to think it would be an impossible task to find Marla. That was when he heard a sound that sent chills down his back. It was the cry of a baby, or more precisely, several babies.

  Everett pointed toward one of the shafts of the cave that bent to the right. Collins shone the light in that direction and then he looked back at Carl and Sarah. He shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t want anyone barging in on my children, and Charlie’s beasts seem to take things the way humans would.”

  “I am in total agreement,” Everett said.

  “Look,” Sarah whispered.

  As Carl and Jack followed Sarah’s eyes, they saw the small footprints that led up a small incline and into another shaft fifty feet above their heads.

  “At least the tracks don’t lead through the nursery,” Jack said as he started up in that direction.

  As they moved upward from the cave floor, the paintings on the cave walls became more numerous. There were scenes of family life, not of humans or even ancient man, but of the animals that they had encountered that night. The gathering of vegetables and berries, even the killing of small animals were shown in stark detail in a rainbow of colors. Jack was amazed at the differing views that the artist had, a very steady and talented hand was at work here and they all knew by looking at the paintings they were dealing with an advancement of a mammal that went far beyond that of mere evolution. It was like they were looking at themselves a millions years before.

  “Jack, look at this,” Sarah said as she examined a larger than normal drawing. Collins shone the light and was amazed to see an articulate and colorful painting of a large bird: an eagle.

  “Why does it have two heads?” Sarah asked.

  As Collins examined the painting, a sense a familiarity came into his mind. The eagle was displayed with wings spread and the heads were facing opposite of one another. The colors were red and yellow. What plants were used to make this he didn’t know, the colors were so bright.

  “I don’t know why it has two heads, but why would that seem strange in a place like this?”

  “Point taken,” Sarah said as she moved along behind Jack.

  As they climbed, they all could smell a change in the air. It was cooler and there was more of a freshness to it after the oppressiveness of the lower cave system. Suddenly, Collins stopped and shut off the flashlight.

  Sarah saw it, too. There was light up ahead.

  “It must be dawn outside,” Everett said standing next to Sarah.

  “Listen,” Jack said, tilting his head toward the dull light coming through the passage ahead.

  “It sounds like crying, or moaning,” Sarah said in wonder. She reached for Jack as he started forward, suddenly realizing there were limits to her natural curiosity.

  Jack climbed toward the diffused light ahead. Sarah and Everett followed, while Carl was wishing he would have brought the AK-47 along—just for comfort. Jack saw the opening up ahead. The noise coming from outside was sorrowful and again he got the cold chills. It reminded him of a time in Mogadishu and the funeral rites for forty-seven children murdered by a warlord. The sound was that of mothers mourning their young—or a lost husband.

  As they came to the large opening that led out onto the top of the plateau, Jack held Sarah close by. When they looked out of the opening, they froze. It was if they were looking at a scene that would have been described by some ancient architect of primordial recordings. Collins had seen pictures and read books about the American Indian tribes and how they respected their dead. The scene spread out before them was one of the most fantastic sights they had ever seen. The trees were the first thing they saw. Among the branches of these trees were placed the bodies of the giant apes that had been killed that night by the Russian mercenaries. Jack counted three of the large animals that were raised to the highest branches of the trees.

  “Look,” Sarah said pointing from their high vantage point.

  The animals, from what Jack could quickly count, numbered in the hundreds as they stood around and watched as some of the larger beasts lift
ed the bodies of the dead upward into the thick trees. Jack quickly saw their savior as it lifted the body of the beast from the cave. It was as though he was witnessing a father morning his son.

  “Is this where the Indians got their burial traditions?” Sarah asked no one in particular.

  The moaning and crying was being done by most of the animals on the ground. Some sat on the ground, other stood, but all had the look of bereavement that everyone in the world has felt at one time or another.

  When the three bodies were situated in the top branches, Jack could see the large animals remove long straps of what looked like leather, or rawhide. They wrapped these around the dead to secure them to the branches. It was amazing that these giant beasts were smart enough to have a ceremony for the dead and actually grieve, which placed them at the head of the entire animal kingdom and just below the intelligence level of man. They actually knew and understood the concept of death.

  “Oh my God,” came a voice behind them.

  They all turned and saw Charlie Ellenshaw as he took in the scene before him.

  “I would give my right arm to have a camera,” he said, swiping at a tear that coursed its way down his old cheek.

  “Jack, you won’t believe this,” Carl said as he started shaking his head.

  Off in the distance, covering at least ten miles of trees at the uppermost portion of the plateau, were the raised remains of thousands of creatures. Some were old, others ancient, and some looked as if they had died recently. They covered the tops of trees for miles around.

  “How long have they been here?” Sarah asked.

  Collins could only shake his head.

  The ceremony was finished. They saw the larger of the animals drop from the lower branches of the trees after securing the dead. Then the Sasquatch moved off in small groups, in what looked like family units. Then they vanished before their eyes, blending in with the trees and shrubs of the mountain. Jack, Sarah, Charlie, and Carl were silent. To be a witness to what modern man brought with them to the nature of their own world was quite unsettling.

  When Jack looked back down onto the plateau, he saw a sight that froze his heart.

  “I’ll be damned,” Jack mumbled.

  Sarah, Charlie, and Everett looked down and saw what Jack was seeing. There, huddled where a hundred giant beasts had been a moment earlier, was Marla. She was on her knees and she was praying over a body.

  “Oh my God,” Sarah said. “It’s Helena, her grandmother.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jack, Sarah, Ellenshaw, and Everett reached Marla from the ledge, and joined her on the top of the plateau. The girl had stopped praying and was just looking straight ahead. When Sarah touched her on the shoulder, Marla didn’t do anything other than place her own hand on top of Sarah’s.

  “Honey, how did your grandmother get here?” Sarah asked.

  Marla patted Sarah’s hand and then half turned. “They Who Follow brought her from home.”

  “They Who Follow?” Carl asked.

  Marla finally stood. She had been crying heavily, just as the giant apes had been. She wiped at her dirty face and looked at Everett.

  “That’s what the old ones called them. They Who Follow. They say they got their name by coming across from Asia thousands of years ago—the last time when man was forced to this continent by drought and ice. Legend has it that they followed the clans of men. They have been here ever since.”

  “Marla, why would they bring your grandmother here?” Jack asked.

  The young girl looked curiously at Jack for a long moment, and then she turned to face the rising sun.

  “I’m happy you escaped alive from those men—those Russians.”

  Jack didn’t ask why she didn’t answer his question, he just looked at Carl and Sarah and waited while the girl figured something out. It had been the way she had looked at them a moment ago that told Jack to be patient.

  “The others—” She looked at Jack for a split second. “Your sister, is she alright?”

  Collins dipped his head in answer, silent because of the unvoiced sympathy the girl had been prepared to deliver if Lynn hadn’t been safe. He could now see that this young woman had been around death all of her life, and she understood it more than being afraid of it.

  Marla reached out and took Jack by the hand. Then she started walking. Sarah looked at Carl and Charlie, and they slowly followed along. They walked for about a quarter mile when Marla took them into a copse of young trees encircled by far more ancient pines. She led them into a clearing where Jack stopped and allowed Marla to go on alone. She stopped and then turned. Jack waited for Sarah, the Doc, and Carl; they all slowly approached. Marla was standing in front of five objects that were half buried in the ground and covered by small bushes that had sprung up in front of them.

  “My grandmother didn’t allow me to come out here by myself. She was always wary of They Who Follow. She said that no matter how smart we thought they were, they were still animals in their own right.” Marla turned and smiled at the three people who stood silently, waiting for her to say what it was she brought them here to tell them. “My grandmother will be buried here along with my mother, my father, and the rest of our family.”

  “Marla,” Sarah said, removing Jack’s hand that tried to stay her from talking. “Why are they buried all the way out here, and not close to your home?”

  “They need to be safe—safe from people like those men that came here. There will always be men like that; men that seek to take what is not theirs to have.”

  As they watched, Marla uncover the first of the headstones that had been carved by a Tlingit Indian, year after year, every time there was one of her family to be buried. The secret had been kept close to the hearts of the inhabitants inside the Stikine Valley, and known only to a few.

  Jack stepped forward and saw the first two names on the first two stones. It was the names of Marla’s parents. She ran a loving hand over the cool stone, and then stood and moved to the far right of her parents’ burial spot.

  “Sarah had said you and yours have run into things that would amaze and astound the rest of the world, so maybe you can keep a secret. That is the least I can do for stopping you men; share what has only been known to my family for almost a hundred years.”

  She started pulling the small bushes standing guard in front of the last three headstones. Marla looked as if this was something she had wanted to do since she had been born, maybe as a way of explaining herself—her very existence.

  As the first carved name was uncovered, Jack stepped forward and his mouth fell open as he read the headstone.

  “Colonel Iosovich Petrov, beloved husband and servant to Tsar Nicholas, died 25 September 1955,” Jack said aloud. He looked back at Everett; Ellenshaw, and Sarah, all of whom stood dumbfounded.

  When Marla had removed the bushes from the last two stones, the entire story behind the fishing camp, the gold and the Twins of Peter the Great came into sharp focus and understanding dawned in Jack’s eyes. The words were clear and they were literally earth-shaking.

  Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicolaievna Romanov

  Beloved wife of Iosovich

  Born 5 June 1901 Died 18 February 1956

  Tsarevich Alexei Nikolayevich Romanov

  Beloved son of Nicholas II and Alexandria

  Born 12 August 1904 Died 3 March 1919

  Marla finally turned and faced Jack, the professor, Sarah, and Everett. She smiled, almost embarrassed at what she had shown them.

  “They didn’t deserve to be separated from their mother, father, and sisters, no matter what the outcome. My great-great-grandfather Nicholas should have understood that, without family, there is nothing.”

  Jack swallowed; he was speechless as to what he was witness to. Sarah swiped at a tear as she looked at the words on the tombstone. Charlie was amazed to the point of grieving for the girl and her long-lost ancestors. Everett, for his part, placed his arm around the girl.

  “My family, since be
ing here, has taken on the responsibility of something just as great, or even greater: the protection of the wildlife that live here. You see, they used to roam the open spaces from Canada to Mexico—now they have only this place,” Marla said as she gestured around her. “We lost our home once, for reasons that were brought on by arrogance and class, something we will never attain again.”

  “The Crown Prince Alexei and Anastasia, your great-uncle and your great-grandmother,” Sarah said as she couldn’t take her eyes from the stones in front of her.

  “You once said your people were good at keeping secrets—I hope this is true,” Marla said as she smiled sadly, and moved off to bury her grandmother alongside a family lost to history.

  Jack swore that this was one secret that would be kept.

  EPILOGUE

  13

  LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Lynn Simpson sat at the rear of the office. Her arm was in a sling from the twelve-hour surgery she underwent for the infection in her hand after the crude amputation by Sagli. She waited patiently staring at the back of her boss’s head.

  Nancy Grogan would turn around and smile every few minutes as she waited with Lynn and the director of CIA, Harlan Easterbrook, for a day of judgment that was long in coming. The director sat silently waiting for the visit they all were expecting.

  A buzz sounded and the director hit his intercom. It was his male secretary.

  “Mr. Rosen is here, sir.”

  “Send the boy right in and also give the order I gave to you earlier.”

  “It’s already in the works, sir.”

  Easterbrook sat back in his chair and waited. Soon, a knock sounded and the door opened. Stan Rosen, the assistant director for operations stood smiling at the door.