Robert W. Walker

by Zombie Eyes

  “Good!”

  “—on Etruscan discoveries.”

  “Indeed,” said Wisnewski. “I am curator of the New York Museum of Antiquities.”

  “Dr. Arthur T. Wisnewski, I know,” said Stroud. “I’m overwhelmed … So glad to meet you, gentlemen.”

  “And we, you!” replied Leonard.

  Wisnewski begged, “Please call me Wiz … everyone does.”

  “But what’s this all about? Why’re you here? And why the commissioner of police?”

  “Well, that will take some explaining, and we have you standing in the rain. Please come with us,” said the man calling himself Wiz.

  As they approached the waiting vehicle a man in a three-piece suit climbed from it, coming toward them. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” he called in a tone that mocked the term. “We can’t keep the C.P. waiting forever.” The limo’s trunk was popped and Stroud’s bag put in by the driver, who’d jumped out with the aide.

  “I am Lloyd Perkins, Dr. Stroud, the C.P.‘s aide. Anything I can get for you while you’re in the city—”

  “C.P. of the NYPD, that’d be James Nathan, wouldn’t it?” Stroud cut him off.

  “It would. Now, if you’ll join us, Dr. Stroud?”

  “Yes, of course, but I’m not sure I can be of any assistance to New York.”

  “I agree one hundred percent,” said the aide, “but who am I?”

  “Yes!” shouted Wiz. “Who are you, Mr. Perkins?”

  “Well said,” added Leonard.

  Leonard, Wisnewski and Stroud got into the limo, but when Perkins poked his head in, the huge man who was the commissioner of police of the largest city in the country said, “Lloyd, you’ll ride with one of the squad cars. I need a moment alone with these gentlemen.”

  Perkins looked piqued, but he did as he was told without a word, closing the door on the foursome. James Nathan asked Stroud, “How was your flight, Doctor?”

  “Restful, fine.”

  “How very good. You will need your rest. Would you care for a drink from the bar?”

  “I would much rather have some answers.”

  Nathan laughed lightly, without meaning. “Yes, of course. Dr. Leonard and Dr. Wisnewski will bring you up to date. Suffice it to say that I have had you checked out with the CPD and the commissioner there, and from what I am told no one else may be as qualified to deal with this … this outbreak as you.”

  “Outbreak?”

  “It’s like a curse,” said Leonard.

  “Remember when King Tut’s burial chamber was disturbed and everyone connected with the find died mysteriously after?”

  “A curse?” asked Stroud again. “Like that of King Tut’s? Here in New York City?”

  “We fear so,” said Leonard, who fixed himself a bourbon. Leonard’s leathery yet white skin made him look ill and weary-worn. “Wiz and I have been up all night with this thing.”

  “What exactly is this thing?”

  “A few months ago construction began on a new building in Manhattan,” said Nathan.

  “Was to be the biggest building on the face of the earth,” added Wiz.

  Leonard, shaking his head after a sip on his bourbon, said disparagingly, “Another steel and glass temple glorifying mankind.”

  “At any rate, the foundation moldings and pylons had to be sunk deeper than anything built in the city before,” continued Wiz.

  Stroud hadn’t heard a word about either the building or the construction or anything that’d come of it, but it stood to reason. “You’ve made a discovery?” he asked.

  “More than a discovery, an incredible find, Stroud,” said Wiz, his small eyes glinting with suppressed excitement. “We’ve found a ship, but not just any ship.”

  “A buried ship?Beneath Manhattan?”

  “Exactly, but also a ship like none that has ever before been found, an Etruscan ship.”

  Of course, it explained why the two top Etruscan men were involved. “There’s never before been an Etruscan ship unearthed. Remarkable, fantastic.”

  “Not altogether, Stroud,” said Leonard shakily.

  “This curse you mention?”

  He nodded, drank more.

  “Tell me more about the curse.”

  “Protecting the ship, perhaps … we can’t be sure,” said Wiz, his round hands circling one another. “Or for some other reason.”

  “What possible other reason?” asked Leonard. “It must’ve been a sacred ship, and so—”

  “Assumptions, assumptions, Doctor! We must have more than assumptions.”

  “What else is the purpose of a curse?”

  “Gentlemen!” shouted Nathan, bringing some order to the discussion, the limousine well out of the confines of the airport now. “You have not convinced anyone there is a curse, and as for me, I do not wish to be the brunt of political savagery or comedy in the press, so please … and you, too, Stroud, please watch what you say and how you say it.”

  “Is the press aware of the situation?”

  “Only to the extent that some archeological treasures have been located below the site, and that some mysterious goings-on have occurred at the site.”

  “What kind of goings-on?” asked Stroud.

  “We’ll supply you with all the information you need. Seems a guard and an old man stumbled on the thing first and came out the worse for wear,” said Nathan.

  “The worse for wear?”

  “They’re hospitalized now in something like a sleep or coma,” said Leonard as he twirled what remained in the bottom of his glass, staring at it.

  “Like a pair of zombies,” said Wiz. “We theorize—and it’s only a theory—that when the seal to the crypt in which the ship was encased was broken, something leaked out.”

  “Leaked?”

  “Spores, a germ perhaps,” said Leonard. “We can’t be sure yet, but we are working on this assumption at least, aren’t we, Wiz?”

  “It’s not uncommon for a sealed crypt to leak deadly gases, germs or spores, no,” said Wiz, “and in the end it was ruled a deadly spore that got the Tut people, as we’ve explained to Nathan here. Of course, we can’t rule this possibility out, and I have lab technicians searching for this.”

  “I presume, then, that all safety precautions have been taken?” asked Stroud.

  “Presume away.”

  “Are you taking me to the site now?”

  “I presumed that it would be your first choice. We can show you slides later.”

  Stroud and Wiz continued their discussion as if the other two men were not present.

  “Photos?”

  “Photos, yes, and film.”

  “All the mapping has started?”

  “Only at a snail’s pace. We haven’t many volunteers. The press has played up the ‘zombie curse’ aspect of the find, and the families of the two men are suing the construction company as though that might help.”

  “So you’re working with a skeleton crew?”

  “I tell you, Stroud, even the lab people are fearful of this thing. If it is a bug, any one of us could contract it.”

  “You seem skeptical that it is a bug.”

  “I was born skeptical. Force of habit, occupational hazard. How on earth did an Etruscan ship get to America in the first place? Why did it sail here? We know nothing. Only that the ship predates Greek and Roman culture! Was it set adrift with the body of a king inside it? No, for it was deliberately brought here and encased in a crypt of stone below the earth in what would have been, by all accounts, an unknown and unpopulated land. Why? How? Who did the ship belong to? Why were his remains encased here instead of Etruria? Why? This is all we know so far, and so, we know nothing.”

  Stroud mentally ran the gamut of what he knew of Etruria. The origins of the people known as Etruscans remained obscure. No Etruscan records or literature had ever been found, but no lack of speculation existed about the mysterious race that did battle with Greece and Rome, teaching the peoples of these great cultures the art of war and
statesmanship. The speculation on the Etruscans began with ancient records and documents of the Romans and the Greeks that told of a place called Etruria, an ancient place of great power on the Italian peninsula.

  “At the time of the Etruscans’ greatest power, about the seventh to fifth centuries b.c., Etruria embraced all of Italy from the Alps to the Tiber River,” said Wisnewski, as if reading Stroud’s thoughts. “Etruria as a name derives from the Latin version of the Greek name Tyrrhenia or Tyrsenia, and the ancient Romans called the stocky, olive-skinned people Tusci.”

  “Present-day Tuscany,” added Leonard.

  “Of course archeology has shed some light on the Etruscans from discoveries along the coastal land of Tuscany.”

  “The first settlements, Vetulonia and Tarquinii, have been dated as ninth century b.c.”

  “They were eventually overcome by war with Rome.”

  “Anything new on their religion?” asked Stroud.

  “Some of the names of their gods survive, but the exact functions of each remains unknown. Many were adaptations from ancient Mesopotamian countries,” replied Leonard.

  Wiz cleared his throat and added, “Certain late-Roman writers believed—or tried desperately to believe—that certain of their deities were counterparts to their own, such as Jupiter, Juno and Minerva, by calling attention to Tinis, Uni and Menrva respectively.”

  “Tinis being Jupiter,” said Stroud, nodding. “Uni being Juno, Menrva Minerva.”

  “Guesswork at best,” said Wiz. “Sethlands was Vulcan, Fulflans was Bacchus and Turms was Mercury,”

  “Catha was the sun-god, Tiv the god of the moon,” added Leonard, on the edge of his seat now, “and Thesan the god of dawn.”

  “Of course Apollo to them was Aplu, and Venus was Turan,” finished Wiz.

  “Oh, please, get on with it!” said Commissioner Nathan.

  “In any event,” continued Wiz, ignoring Nathan, “above these deities resided a group of nameless powers, personifications of Fate, and quite likely the very first chthonian.”

  “What the hell’s a chthonian?” asked Nathan, getting irritated.

  Outside the limo the noise of New York’s traffic must have been deafening as it squeezed through the seals all around the car, trying to get in. Stroud saw that they were crossing into Manhattan.

  Stroud said, “That would be the original chthonian?”

  “Yes! Don’t you see, the first evil deities of the netherworld and the underworld,” said Leonard. “Original evil.”

  “Primeval evil,” quipped Stroud.

  “We know that the Etruscans practiced divination; we know they practiced sacrifices to underworld deities; we know they foretold the future from bones cast into a pit; we know they slaughtered animals and sometimes humans to offer up their entrails to such things as wights and lichs.”

  “Wights?Lichs?” asked Nathan.

  “Creatures of the underworld, Commissioner,” said Wiz. “At any rate, Stroud, this ship … this find?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve only seen the beam of what appears the bow, but the thing is … well, enormous; two, perhaps three city blocks long, encased in a stone pyramid. The stone has been torn away at the beam, so it’s below the earth yet, and it is definitely Etruscan in origin, which means it was sailed across the Atlantic, then was intentionally buried and encased by an army of men. Fantastic … beyond reckoning.”

  “And something of a curse,” added Leonard. “For one thing, there is no possibility whatever we can raise the thing.”

  “Not without taking out several city blocks of skycrapers, no!” shouted Nathan. “Out of the question. You have a month before the injunction says you’re finished there, and then construction resumes, gentlemen. As for this curse, these two men hospitalized … well, the reason my office is involved, Stroud, is that … the number has risen to four.”

  “Four?” Both Leonard and Wiz stared at the commissioner.

  “The two police officers who took them in later came down with something unusual, and are … wasting away … their bodies rejecting all food, even intravenous, I’m told.”

  “Sounds like some sort of a plague organism,” said Stroud.

  “That’s why we’ve flown in a an investigator from the CDC in Atlanta. You’ll meet her at the hospital,” said James Nathan. “Now, as for you, Stroud, you’re bound to draw a lot of attention, and it goes against my better judgment to draw any more attention to this thing than necessary, but you came highly recommended and Leonard and Wisnewksi here want you on the case. But no one’s asked you how you feel about endangering yourself in this manner. Are you certain you are up to it?”

  Stroud thought for only a moment and then said, “It would take your entire department to keep me out of it, Commissioner.”

  “Good luck, then. Here we are.”

  The limousine pulled to a stop outside a barricade and beyond this was the huge construction site. Stroud, getting from the car, felt a shiver move with the tendrils of a tarantula up his spine. He sensed evil in the air that was being only weakly contained by the light drizzle that had turned the bottom of the construction site into a mud hole.

  Dr. Wisnewski called for Stroud to follow him, and the men went into a large white van parked at the scene. Inside they were outfitted with protective wear. The white ensembles, full-face helmets and space boots were a far cry from the Wellington boots Stroud had worn in Egypt. Every precaution was being taken against a germlike virus that might be in the pit, on the mystery ship that had sailed from Etruria somewhere between the seventh and fifth centuries b.c.

  Stroud noticed that they had gotten his size right as the technicians helped him into the protective gear. Attached to the suit was an ample oxygen supply and a gauge, as well as a microphone.

  “I see you’ve thought of everything,” he said to Dr. Wisnewski. “And I see you know my pants size.”

  “Of course.”

  “I suppose you even know my shoe size.”

  “I know everything about those with whom I work.”

  “Everything?”

  “Dr. Cage has filled me in completely.”

  “And Leonard?”

  “No secrets between us.”

  Stroud wondered just how frank Cage had been with these men. Had he told them of Stroud’s “impairment”? Perhaps if they knew of the steel plate in his head, of the seizures that sometimes overtook him in stressful moments, of the ghosts in his head, perhaps he would not be accompanying them now. “How much does Nathan know?”

  “Fucking little, unfortunately, like most politicians.”

  “About me, I mean?”

  “Ditto, Stroud. What he’s read in the papers, most likely.”

  But Nathan had said he’d been in touch with the commissioner in Chicago, a man who had wanted Stroud’s help when it suited his needs, but who had turned him out to the dogs the moment those needs were met. He wondered if Nathan was cut of the same cloth.

  “Are you ready, Dr. Stroud?” asked Leonard.

  “I am as ready as I ever will be.”

  “Good, then we’re about to take the first step on an incredible journey.”

  “A camera will monitor us,” said Wiz, indicating a tiny electronic eye, no larger than a poker chip, attached to the crown of the helmet on his suit.

  “Each of us is equipped with this device?”

  “Yes, and we’ll be sending signals back.”

  “Are there any inroads to the ship? How far have your men dug?”

  “Nothing’s been dug, actually. Just a hole between the ship and the encasement. We’ll be journeying in, to see what’s there.”

  “Do you think these suits will protect us altogether?”

  “If it is a germ, yes.If it is a curse? Who knows?”

  -3-

  Small burrowing in the sand and dirt about the entranceway was what Stroud noticed first, a bit larger than a gopher’s hole, disrupted mounds. He made note of it to Leonard and Wisnewski as they
half slid, half walked down into the pit once they’d had to leave the crudely constructed stairwell. From above, Nathan and a host of others looked on, including men in hard hats. One in particular, wearing a suit and tie, appeared to be most important. He and Nathan were in heated debate but out of earshot. Stroud asked Wiz to identify the man.

  “Construction boss?”

  “The man himself,” said Wisnewski. “Gordon—”

  “The financer of the project,” added Leonard. “Very upset over the delay. Wanted to blast the site, close it over, go around it … typical.”

  “Ass-wipe of the highest order, British, you know.”

  “None of the ill people said anything of significance about this place before slipping into coma?” Stroud asked.

  “The old man, Weitzel—”

  “His name is Weitzel?” Stroud recalled his strange dream about a man of this name.

  “That’s right. He’d spoken to his family and co-workers about something in the hole down here that—I don’t know—called out to him, kept bringing him back to the site until he became an annoyance. So when he was caught trespassing, the police were called, and that’s where Nathan’s department got into it.”

  Leonard spoke to the people above monitoring in the van. “We’re at the threshold. Above my head you see what we presume to be the bow of an ancient ship, barely visible, encrusted with mud.”

  “From the size of the beams, as you see, the size of the ship can easily be estimated,” said Wiz.

  “It is enormous,” agreed Stroud.

  “So far as we know there has never been a larger ship discovered, and no one thought it possible such a giant vessel could be made in the fifth century b.c.,” continued Leonard, his tall frame barely fitting through the dark opening beside the bow.

  Stroud thought the dark, razor’s edge of the bow ominous-looking and for a moment he thought he heard a whispered voice in the spirals of his brain telling him to run. He braced himself, however. The other two men continued ahead, their high-powered lights glistening along the body of the enormous craft. Stroud occasionally flashed his own light against the casing of mortar and stone along which they walked. It was covered with green mold and lichens. “Plenty of moisture in here,” he commented. “The hull is in remarkable shape for such dampness.”