Revelations (Extinction Point, Book 3)

by Jones, Paul Antony

  While they watched, Emily became aware of another sound. It was a high-pitched quavering, growing quickly in volume and sharpness.

  “You hear that?” MacAlister said.

  “Hard not to,” Emily whispered back as she continued pressing the fire button on the camera.

  The high-frequency trill suddenly transformed into a sharp metallic screech…as, unbelievably, one of the machine’s massive legs began to pull itself free from the surrounding wall of the crater, along with chunks of earth that tumbled in an avalanche of rock and dirt to the crater floor. The leg rose up into the air, extended forward, and then came down again with a resounding thump and geyser of shattered rock as the barbed tip of the machine’s mechanical leg sank itself back into the ground, this time above the lip of the crater.

  “Oh, that’s just bloody priceless. The thing can walk?” said MacAlister.

  A second, then a third leg followed the first, pulling free and repositioning itself on the outer edge of the crater. The throbbing pulse resonating through the rock began to beat faster and faster until it became a wavering thrum that sent the tiny pieces of rock and dust scattered across the ledge, skittering over the ground and the lip of the outcrop.

  MacAlister finally dropped his eyes from the binoculars and turned to look at Emily. “I don’t like the look of this one—”

  He was interrupted by a new sound, like splintering rock. It flooded upward from the crater as the articulated legs suddenly flexed in unison as they heaved the giant, gray body of the ship out of the ground and then upward, revealing the full extent of the machine’s size.

  A shovel-shaped, curved “head” about the length of a football field was buried deep into the foot of the mountain on the eastern side of the crater. As it pulled free, masses of earth and shattered bedrock cascaded from it into the pit below. Emily saw the newly revealed front of the ship had a flat underside but the top was slightly curved and, given its massive size and distance, Emily estimated it must be at least four or five stories high.

  For a moment the machine stood, its gray body reflecting the sunlight, then, one after the other, each leg began to move, grabbing at the ground as the machine hauled itself away from the pit. Each gigantic leg stretching forward as it nimbly, for such a massive mechanism, began to climb out from the huge pit along the side of the mountain. Each time a leg lifted and plunged back into the ground Emily felt the side of the mountain tremble, like dynamite blasting away at its face.

  “Dear God, look at the size of that thing,” MacAlister said, his voice filled with a raw mixture of awe and suppressed terror as he began to scramble his way backward along the outcropping, away from the ledge.

  The machine moved in a fluid, distinctly organic manner, each leg rising and falling in a perfectly timed motion that propelled it along the foot of the mountain parallel to the ravine, its spiked feet coming down on either side of it as though it was following the path it had arrived from.

  Emily could hear Thor begin to whimper and then bark as the machine thumped its way past the outcropping Emily and the other survivors had chosen as their hiding place. The noise of the machine’s passing was stunningly loud, huge clouds of rock and dust were ripped from the ground as the legs lifted and then moved on, the main body blotting out the sun as it strutted across the landscape.

  It continued to follow the base of the mountain then suddenly cut right and began to head south, moving out into the deeper jungle that had taken root and flourished in what had once been the open desert of Clark County bordering California. It picked its way almost daintily through the trees and thickets of the jungle; Emily could not see one tree uprooted, not one indication of any kind of disturbance or damage to the new vegetation. She was reminded of her father when she was a kid: he a keen gardener, she watching as he carefully maneuvered between the rows of cantaloupes, and tomatoes, and strawberries, and other vegetables, always wary of stepping on one of his prized plants. Yes, that was exactly it, there was a carefulness to the giant machine that seemed so out of place with its size and latent power.

  As the machine grew distant, so the sound of its pounding mechanical legs faded only to be suddenly replaced by a louder, much more chaotic sound. The noise was coming from somewhere behind them, Emily realized. She turned just in time to see a stretch of the mountain above them crack and break.

  Then, almost in slow motion, a massive slab of the mountain began to slide toward them.

  “Run!” MacAlister shouted. Scrambling to his feet he sprinted across the ledge, his feet sliding on the loose gravel, and leaped off the side, landing roughly in the scrabble next to where Reilly and Thor had been waiting. But as Emily landed next to the Scotsman a second later, she could see Reilly already hightailing it away from the outcropping, dragging a reluctant, panicked Thor behind him. The malamute strained at the leash until finally, Reilly dropped it and continued on without him. Thor instantly began to run back toward Emily.

  “Head for the forest,” MacAlister yelled through panting breaths, his voice almost lost in the rumbling clatter of the avalanche of rock behind them.

  It was impossible to run directly down the side of the mountain, it was littered with too many large boulders to trip over, too many chuckholes to slide a foot into and snap an ankle. The only way to maneuver with any safety or certainty was with a sideways lope, like a deranged crab.

  MacAlister was just six feet ahead of her, Reilly was already halfway to the border of the jungle. Thor was leaping forward then back again, barking loudly not at but toward Emily and the source of the thunderous roar that sounded as though it was just feet behind her.

  She chanced a quick glimpse over her right shoulder and in that fleeting moment she saw what looked to her like a wave of rocks and boulders flowing across the ground toward her, not more than fifty feet away. The shingle and rocks in front of the tsunami of shattered mountain bounced and shook as it flowed like water down the slope, sending up a plume of gray dust that billowed into a cloud, blotting out the sky. Tiny splinters of crushed and shattered rock flew through the air ahead of the wave, smacking against the back of her jeans and jacket. An inch-long piece sliced across her cheek but her panicked mind did not even register the pain.

  Thor’s rapid barking, barely audible over the roar as he sprinted ahead of her, his paws acting like a four-wheel drive on the treacherous terrain, drew her attention back to what she should be concentrating on: running for her life! She turned back just in time to see MacAlister throwing his hands out to his side as his foot slipped off a rock, he twisted to try to regain his balance but then fell and tumbled twice. She managed to leap over his rolling body, narrowly missing his head with her foot.

  “I’m okay,” he yelled as she flicked her head in his direction. He was already back on his feet and running dangerously fast to make up the lost ground.

  “Mac! Look out!” she yelled as a rough boulder, shaped like a soccer ball and about six times the size, broke free of the main wave of rock, speeding through the air toward MacAlister. Instinctively, he ducked, just as the boulder flew past him, bounced off the scree a few feet ahead of them, then careened crazily down the remaining slope, crushing a row of freshly sprung saplings in the half-naked approach to the jungle, before stopping between the blood-red roots of an alien tree.

  MacAlister, his eyes wide with fear, grabbed Emily’s hand in his own as his longer legs ate up the distance between them.

  “I can’t make it!” she pleaded, even as she forced her legs to move faster, her breath a steamy hiss between the slit of her lips. MacAlister ignored her, his only response was to squeeze her hand even tighter.

  But then they were on flat ground and able to sprint full bore for the safety of the jungle, Thor leading the way ahead of them. The giant trunks, thick chaotic tangles of roots, and walls of brush had never looked inviting until now, the jungle their only hope of escaping the rushing avalanche that
seemed so intent on burying them here forever.

  Shards of rock began to smack into the ground around them like meteorites, impacting with the sound of shattered china.

  Mac hissed in pain as he grabbed at his left elbow, a bloody stain already forming around the torn jacket where a dagger of flying rock had hit. “Just keep running,” he yelled as he dodged around the stump of a tree. “Don’t look back.”

  The roar of the rock enveloped them entirely now, and ahead of them, Emily could see the fronds and leaves of the trees at the leading edge of the jungle vibrating and shaking. Reilly, with a hundred-foot lead, was already at the edge of the jungle. He looked back at them and Emily saw his eyes go wide before he climbed over a knot of black roots and disappeared past the tree line.

  Emily’s breath was coming in short, rapid bursts, her lungs fighting to suck in air even as they inhaled the choking dust pushed ahead of the falling debris. The ground seemed to pitch and heave as the pressure wave from the millions of tons of rock following behind them raced ahead of the slide.

  The blue sky vanished, replaced by the red hues of the jungle canopy before Emily even realized she had made it to the jungle’s edge. She leaped over a root, letting go of MacAlister’s hand so she could keep her balance. Thor landed beside her, ducking under another root and heading deeper into the forest, his leash trailing behind him. Oh, God, if that got caught on a root or a branch! She pushed the thought aside and managed three more strides before the sound of snapping branches and splintering tree limbs added to the roar of thunderous rock.

  MacAlister dodged to the left, then vaulted over a root that was as thick as his body. Emily propelled herself over the same root, landed awkwardly as she tried to avoid a second limb obscured by the first, and succeeded only in tumbling headlong to the ground. She scrambled to her feet just as a wall of white dust enveloped her. Half-blinded she staggered forward, her hands thrown out ahead of her trying to feel her way, choking and coughing as the dust stung her eyes and filled her nostrils.

  The rumbling of crashing rock and splintering trees grew; it seemed to come from all sides now as she staggered through the white fog of pulverized rock, unsure even whether she was still moving in the same direction or whether she was running back the way she had come from.

  She stumbled forward.

  Ahead of her, a shape materialized out of the white curtain that had descended over her; it was MacAlister. He was lying on the ground ahead and staring up at her. She could see his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. From somewhere she found a reserve of energy, enough to sprint to his side. She grabbed his outstretched hand and began to pull him.

  “Get up, Mac,” she yelled. “Get up.” He didn’t move. She could see his lips moving but the words made no sense to her. She yelled again, tugging harder, “Get up…please!” she pleaded.

  Again his lips moved, but this time she heard him over the buzzing pounding in her head and the plug of dust and dirt that had clogged almost every orifice of her face, including her ears.

  “It’s okay,” he yelled. “You’re safe. You can stop now.”

  Emily relaxed her grip on Mac’s hand, although she did not let go completely, and turned around to look back in the direction of the mountain. The dust still wafted through the spaces between the trunks and vines and branches, but it was already beginning to settle like a drift of snow over the ground. Through her watering eyes she could see a few splintered tree boles, but the rockslide had stopped, slowed to a final halt by the jungle.

  Emily sank to the ground next to MacAlister, coughing up and then spitting out the dust that peppered her tongue, lips, and throat.

  MacAlister, his face as pale and coated as she was sure her own looked, reached out and wiped dust from around her eyes, knocking bits of gravel from her hair.

  Before she could convince herself not to, she leaned in and kissed the Scotsman full on the lips. He tasted of concrete, and after a moment of shock he kissed her back, his hand cradling the back of her neck.

  They broke away as a rustling from a bush nearby drew their attention. MacAlister began reaching for his rifle but stopped when Thor emerged, his coat a lot grayer than usual thanks to the coating of dust covering it. “Come here, you little bastard,” Emily said, holding her hands out to embrace the malamute, who willingly accepted his mistress’s affection.

  A sudden twinge of panic overcame Emily and she grabbed for the camera around her neck. If she had lost the only evidence of the alien craft then their journey would have been for nothing. But it was still there, dangling against her chest.

  MacAlister struggled to his feet. Blood streaked the right side of his face and his elbow, and his knuckles were skinned raw, his gloves in tatters.

  “Hello?” Reilly’s voice echoed through the trees.

  “Over here,” Mac yelled in reply and a few moments later Reilly appeared from behind the trunk of the tree they stood next to.

  “Shit, are you two okay?” he asked.

  Emily’s eyes met MacAlister’s and she felt a smile rise unbidden to her lips. “Yes,” she replied, “we’re just fine.”

  MacAlister returned her smile with one of his own, “Come on, let’s go home.”

  Despite their cuts and bruises, and having been almost buried alive by a couple million tons of rock, they made surprisingly good time on their journey back to the helo waiting for them at the Tacoma, buoyed in part by the knowledge that they had successfully completed their mission. It was a strange positivity, when Emily thought about it, but finally knowing beyond a certainty of a doubt what it was they were dealing with, that Jacob had been correct in most, if not all, of his wild theories, was a relief much like the relief she had heard some people experienced when they finally knew with utter certainty that they had cancer.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” MacAlister asked Emily for the fourth or fifth time since they had begun the long slog back to the hotel.

  “I’m fine. Just a few bumps and grazes. How about you?”

  He lifted the elbow that had been hit by the shard of rock up to try to examine it, but it was too awkward an angle for him to see. “How’s it look?”

  Emily stepped over a twisted root and leaned in to inspect the bloodstained slash that ran along the elbow of Mac’s combat jacket. “The bleeding has stopped, so I doubt there’s any chance of you bleeding to death just yet,” she joked.

  Thor gave a sudden deep growl, his hackles rising in response to some unseen threat ahead. He stopped mid-step and Emily froze too, causing Reilly to almost walk into her.

  “Mac!” Emily called out, as low as she could. The Scotsman, midway through straddling a fallen streetlight, turned and raised his eyebrows questioningly at her.

  She stabbed a finger at Thor. The dog was frozen in place at her side, the flews of his muzzle pulled back to reveal his teeth as his head swiveled from side to side as if he was trying to identify the location of what it was that was disturbing him.

  MacAlister jumped down and stalked back to them, his head scanning from side to side, his finger pressed against his rifle’s trigger guard.

  “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  “Don’t know. Thor just started acting squirrelly all of a sudden.”

  Reilly chimed in, “Come on, it’s just a dog. He probably smells something dead or needs to take a piss. Let’s get going.”

  “Listen,” Emily said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, “this dog has saved my life on more than one occasion. I’ve learned to trust him. If he thinks there’s something to be worried about out here, then you should be real fucking worried too.”

  MacAlister’s eyes had not stopped moving the entire time Emily talked. They scanned the depths of the jungle, constantly alert for any movement, any sign of a threat. “Okay, let’s keep it as close and quiet as we can, we’re too exposed here anyway,” he said. �
�We need to find somewhere we can lay up for a while, until Thor here tells us otherwise.” He gave the dog a good-natured rub behind the ears.

  The group began moving again, toward what had probably been some kind of store before the rain, but now looked like the entrance to a cave, covered in low-hanging vines and partly obscured by the trunk of a huge tree that had pushed its way up through the sidewalk in front of it.

  Thor slunk along beside Emily, panting rapidly, his nose moving back and forth in the air as he again caught a scent only he could smell, his mood becoming increasingly jittery and nervous. Emily fastened the leash back onto his collar and held it loosely in her hand. They were almost at the entrance to the store when Thor gave a deep growl followed by three sharp barks and lunged at something in the foliage of the jungle. The suddenness of the movement pulled the leash from around Emily’s wrist with a whipcrack as the dog sprinted off into the jungle, his barks resonating through the tightly packed trees.

  “Thor!” Emily yelled after the quickly disappearing dog, but he kept on running. She stood transfixed for a second, unsure of what she should do. “Shit!” she sighed, then took off after her dog.

  She could hear the boots of MacAlister and Reilly pounding after her. They didn’t call out to her, and she became painfully aware that if there was anything threatening nearby, she had almost certainly alerted it to their presence. But she did not care, something had spooked Thor so badly that he was either running toward it or from it, she had no idea which it was, but there was no way she was going to leave her dog behind.

  “Thor!” She yelled again, as she scrambled over a protruding explosion of roots, just in time to see the rear end of the malamute wind his way around the trunk of a particularly huge tree, leaping over the roots as though they did not exist. Emily had to slow and carefully maneuver over them. When she was on the other side she saw Thor disappearing around a bright purple bush with dark-red, gelatinous berries that hung like grapes in bunches.