The Seventh Plague

by James Rollins

  She shifted to the ramp’s edge and studied the wall. It was made up of giant bricks, each the size of a small car. She had seen blocks of this shape and magnitude before, also made of limestone.

  At the Great Pyramid of Giza.

  “Elephants didn’t build this,” Derek said. “I don’t care how good they are at tool use.”

  The elephants behind them did not let their group tarry there for long, grunting their displeasure at being kept from their home.

  Jane reluctantly allowed herself to be herded over the ramp and down the far side.

  Beyond the wall, the cliffs circled wide and around to enclose a small valley. On the far side, the fissure continued yet again, but it was the sight at hand that captured Jane’s full attention.

  The valley held a piece of the forest along with a spread of green meadow, though all of it had a manicured look, as if maintained by its caretakers. Other elephants greeted those that returned, trumpeting softly, entwining trunks, rubbing flanks. The ones left here looked far older, with sagging skin and bony chests, likely elders who were too enfeebled for the journey.

  The arriving herd spread out toward various little trampled homesteads within the larger valley, mostly located near the cliffs where the overhanging jungle canopy offered shade. Jane knew elephants were normally nomadic and didn’t truly have homes or nests, but this group was unique in their isolation, driven by their biology and genetics to hide from the sun, developing a new way of living.

  Still, none of this fully captured her attention.

  Instead, she stared off to her far right. A small grotto lake filled one corner of the valley, half in the open, half buried into the cliffside. She imagined the pool was fed by an ancient spring rising from the unique hydrology of these rift mountains. The scalloped granite roof that overhung the grotto glowed with what looked like incandescent lights, blinking and shimmering, but flurries of those lights fell away, fluttering low across the water, then swirling across the valley like a gust of burning embers.

  “Fireflies,” Noah said.

  Their illumination was enough to reveal the dark crimson surface of the lake.

  They all knew what that portended.

  “My god . . .” Derek murmured.

  Still, as they all watched, a juvenile bull sauntered over to the pond’s rocky bank, dipped his trunk, and drank deeply from that toxic font. Jane cringed, but the elephant flapped his ears as a few fireflies pestered him, then wandered away.

  Their party gave that side of the valley a wide berth.

  Gray gathered them at the edge of a copse of broad-leaved trees. The elephants mostly ignored them, going about their usual routine. Still, a few larger bulls stood nearby, plainly on guard, tails swishing.

  “What do you make of this place?” Gray asked.

  Jane cast her gaze from the lake to the limestone barrier wall. “I know exactly where we are.”

  Gray turned to her.

  “We’re standing in the mouth of the river. Like it was written on that tattooed scrap left by my father. It’s all so clear now.”

  Kowalski frowned. “To you, maybe.”

  Derek understood. “Thousands of years ago, there must have been a dramatic shift in the weather pattern, a rainy season like no other. It flooded this region, enough to swell the Kagera River and all of its feeders.”

  Jane pictured a storm surge flowing through these mountains. “That drowned forest we passed through would have been neck-deep, maybe more. It would have swamped these highlands, filling in all the cracks of this cliff, flowing all the way here.”

  “Where it merged with that toxic pool,” Derek said. “Allowing the microbe to escape this valley and flow out of the mountains, spreading to the Kagera River, then Lake Victoria.”

  Gray stared off to the north. “Where it eventually flowed down the rest of the Nile Valley.”

  Jane nodded. “Spreading death in its wake, cascading into the other plagues like we talked about before. Even the eruption of Thera—as it swept a dark column of ash over this area—may have been the atmospheric change that triggered the flooding to begin with.”

  Gray stared toward the tall wall, understanding dawning on his face. “During or shortly after that, someone from Egypt came looking for the source. Following that bloody trail.”

  “To here,” Jane said. “And to prevent that tragedy from ever happening again, they built a tall wall, a stone dike to make sure any future flooding didn’t reach this inner valley.”

  “But that’s not all they found,” Gray said, turning his attention to the elephants. “Like us, they must have wondered how these elephants survived. We know the beasts were living here at the time since they were mentioned on that same tattooed scrap.”

  Jane put a palm on her forehead. “But how do they survive here? Is it some natural immunity? Something unique to their genetics?”

  “I don’t think so,” Gray said.

  “Why?”

  “Whoever came here long ago discovered their secret. I don’t think the Egyptian explorer who found this place came with the equipment necessary to perform immunological or genetic assays. No, something else is going on here.” He stared toward the lake. “But what would make these elephants risk drinking from that pool to begin with?”

  Noah offered a possible explanation. “Because it might have given them an evolutionary advantage.”

  Gray turned to him. On the boat ride here, Jane had overheard Gray giving their guide the gist of what they were looking for. “How is it an advantage?”

  “Life in this region revolves around water. Each animal develops unique strategies to survive the dry seasons, which many times in the past, have turned into decade-long droughts. I told you about that elephant plugging up his watering hole to protect it.” Noah waved to encompass this valley. “This is a biological version of that. If you’re the only ones who can safely drink this water, then no one could compete with you for it.”

  Derek conceded this point with a nod. “But how did they learn to drink the water?”

  Noah smiled. “Elephants are smart and patient. They love a puzzle to solve. So the adaptation strategy could have taken them decades to figure out through trial and error. So the better question is, why reinvent the wheel? Why don’t we simply try to learn what they already know?”

  Jane wondered if whoever had come here thousands of years ago had done exactly that.

  Noah offered a modern example to support his position. “In Kenya, elephants chew on leaves of a certain tree to induce labor. Local tribesmen learned to follow that example for the same medical benefit. So you see, you can learn much from our large friends.”

  “But if you’re right, where do we even begin?” Jane asked.

  Gray stepped away from the shadow of the trees and searched the dark valley, his gaze lingering on the flickering glow of the grotto. He finally faced the group. “The strip of tattooed skin that your father hid. It didn’t just mention elephants. It mentioned something about elephant bones.”

  Jane stood straighter. “That’s right.”

  Gray turned to Noah. “You mentioned that elephants are the only mammals to have a ritual surrounding their dead. What do they do exactly?”

  “It’s about respecting the deceased. It involves a period of mourning over the body, then a ritual burial of tossing dirt and twigs over the remains, sometimes covering them with branches. Afterward the bones are revered, even if they’re not from your own family. Sometimes herds will even take bones and move them with them.”

  “So where are the bones of this tribe?” Gray asked. “As secretive as they are, I wager they wouldn’t want their dead to be found out in the open valley.”

  “And they’d still want them close by.” Derek nodded toward the fissure at the back of the valley. “How about through there?”

  Gray nodded. “We should go look.”

  Before they set off, Seichan pointed back to the wall. “As far as we know, that’s the only way in or out o
f this place. So while you go look for bones, I’m going to go man those ramparts.”

  Gray nodded. “Stay on radio. Holler if there’s trouble.”

  She patted a large gun at her hip. “Oh, you’ll hear me.”

  He gave her a fast hug, and she trotted away.

  Gray got them all moving the other way.

  Noah kept Roho close by, especially as they passed the toxic grotto. They circled far from its shores, crossing through a meadow of knee-high grass. Elephants stirred as they passed, snuffling and piping at them. A young bull came charging, ears splayed wide. Everyone froze, but when it was about ten yards off, it stopped, shook its earflaps, then sauntered off with its tail held high.

  “Juvenile posturing,” Noah explained.

  Kowalski frowned after it. “Typical teenager.”

  They crossed the rest of the way unmolested.

  Noah nodded as they neared the cleft in the cliff. “The idea of an elephant’s graveyard is only a legend,” he said, as if warning against disappointment. “Old elephants don’t go to a place to die. There’s a good chance this herd is no different than others and simply lets their bones lie where they’ve fallen.”

  Jane wasn’t so sure. She suspected there was nothing ordinary about this tribe. As they neared the opening, a bull elephant—the biggest seen so far—suddenly pushed out of the dark fissure, confronting them, blocking their way. His ears flared, trunk curling high.

  “Something tells me that’s not juvenile posturing,” Kowalski grumbled.

  “What now?” Derek whispered.

  The answer came from beyond the bull, a wheezing trumpet, almost sounding exasperated. The bull eyed them a moment longer, staring daggers at the group, and shifted reluctantly out of the fissure, stepping aside.

  “Looks like someone wants to see us,” Derek said.

  With the way open, the group set off into the fissure. The bull closed up behind them, blocking the exit with his bulk. He followed from a distance, moving quietly, barely making a sound, as if he placed much reverence upon the ground he tread.

  Or maybe it was more about who waited for them.

  Jane stared ahead. This fissure was darker, heavily canopied above, but Gray’s helmet lamp offered enough illumination for them to see. The path was jagged, cutting back and forth. But eventually it ended at a bowl with no outlet.

  End of the road.

  And Jane meant that in more ways than one.

  The floor of the next canyon was covered in mounded piles of branches and twigs, some intact, others scattered. Curled yellow tusks poked from a few, along with bleached white bones. At the back of the bowl rose a small grove of tall trees, but otherwise there was little sign of life. The barren ground was salted with white sand, pebbled with round stones, mixed what looked like broken shells cast up by an ancient sea long gone.

  Jane stepped out with the others and realized she was wrong.

  Underfoot was not sand and shells—but crushed bones.

  She stared down, overwhelmed with horror, wondering at the depth of this grim bed. She pictured millennia of elephants coming here to die, crushed by others, ground down by time and the elements into this gritty sand.

  Kowalski was no less pleased. “So much for an elephant graveyard being a myth.”

  But they were not alone here.

  A handful of elephants stirred throughout the canyon, walking slowly, or standing vigil over a pile of sticks, or gently touching a trunk to a protruding bone. No sound was made, except for the gravelly tread of those visiting the dead.

  Some of the horror faded from Jane, as she recognized the respect shown here, the genuine grief. One young bull hung his head over a mound, a glistening tear track running from the eye on this side.

  No wonder the bull tried to block them from entering.

  We don’t belong here.

  But as Derek had mentioned, they had been summoned.

  An ancient elephant strode feebly toward where they stood, a grand matriarch. Her skin was gray-white, a near match to the bone crushed around her. She seemed to beckon them forward with her trunk.

  They went to greet her, sensing she deserved this respect.

  “I think she’s nearly blind,” Noah whispered.

  It seemed he was right. The beam of Gray’s light swept over her face, and she didn’t blink or shy from its glare.

  As they gathered, she came forward, her trunk arched before her. Drawing on senses keener than sight, she came first to Jane. Her nostrils sniffed, then her trunk found her wrist and wrapped softly there. Jane was tugged closer, drawn away from the others.

  She glanced back, but Noah nodded to her reassuringly. So she let herself be guided forward, placing her trust in his years of experience working with the great beasts.

  After a few steps, her wrist was released.

  Then the great lady returned to the group, weaving her trunk, and chose one more.

  Noah also encouraged this reluctant recipient of the matriarch’s attention.

  “Komeza, Roho,” he whispered to his friend. “Go on now.”

  The cub followed the tip of the trunk as it fluttered through his tiny mane, huffing and rubbing his neck. The cat was drawn to join Jane.

  The two stood before the majestic beast. Jane noted the curled white lashes of her old eyes as the elephant bowed her head, bringing her crown to touch Jane’s chest. At the same time, the side of her trunk rubbed Roho’s side, earning a contented rumble from him.

  When the queen lifted her head again, tears glistened from those tired eyes.

  9:32 P.M.

  Gray studied the old matriarch as she communed with the pair. The pink tip of her white trunk explored tenderly, almost sadly.

  “What is she doing?” Derek whispered.

  Noah shook his head. “The old girl’s grieving, but I don’t know why.”

  Gray did. “She’s remembering.”

  Derek turned to him.

  He nodded forward, surprised it wasn’t obvious to Derek. “A woman and a lion.”

  Derek’s eyes got huge, returning his attention to the tableau playing out here. “You can’t think . . .”

  “She picked those two. That seems beyond coincidence.” He pictured the symbols carved in the tomb and sculpted on Livingstone’s oil vessel. “Perhaps whoever came here looking for the source of the Nile was a woman, someone who brought along a unique hunting partner for such a long journey. Didn’t Egyptians worship cats, occasionally raising lions as pets or as hunters?”

  Derek slowly nodded. “According to records, some pharaohs and others did. But while an elephant may never forget, I don’t think they have memories that go back thousands of years.”

  “Normally, no. But that old elephant certainly seems to remember this ancient pairing. I can’t explain how yet, but maybe that evolutionary advantage we talked about before was not so one-sided.” He turned to Noah. “You mentioned before about the big brains of elephants.”

  “Indeed. Bigger than any other land animal. Around eleven pounds. With a cortex holding as many neurons as our brains.”

  Gray nodded. “So for a microbe that has a predilection for electrically charged nervous systems, such a host would be perfect, a veritable feast. So maybe over time the two worked together, achieving other benefits. Maybe the microbe is able to electrically stimulate the elephant’s brain, enhancing its already considerable memory . . . and maybe it serves somehow as a vehicle for passing knowledge from generation to generation.”

  Kowalski interrupted his train of thought. “Look. She’s moving. Taking those guys somewhere.”

  The ancient elephant had turned and worked her way slowly across the canyon, urging Jane and Roho to follow with quiet huffs from her trunk.

  “C’mon.” Gray set off after them, keeping his distance so as not to spook the beast.

  She took the pair over to the edge of the only stand of trees here, to where a mother and calf were rooting near a pile of dry branches. She drew Jane and Roho
to a stop, blocking them from interfering with her trunk.

  Gray hung back, too.

  Derek gazed toward the wide bower of the neighboring trees and pointed toward its fruit-laden branches. “Plums,” he said. “Those are Mobola plums.”

  Gray didn’t understand the significance.

  Derek must have realized this and explained. “When Livingstone died, his heart was buried under a Mobola plum tree. And when his body was shipped back to England, it was in a coffin made of this tree’s bark.”

  “Why?”

  “That particular bark has resins used for tanning purposes. It was part of the natives’ method in mummifying Livingstone’s remains for the long journey home.”

  Gray frowned and looked over at the pile of branches covering these mounds. He wagered they all came from these trees. Were the elephants using the branches to serve the same purpose? He sensed something important about this detail, but it still escaped him.

  “What are they doing?” Kowalski asked.

  The disgust in his partner’s voice drew Gray’s attention back to the mother and her calf. The elephant cow drew a chunk of bone from the burial mound. From its concave shape, it looked to be a piece of a skull. She placed it gently down and cracked it into smaller pieces with the hard nails and pads of her foot. She picked up a sliver, drew it to her mouth, and set about chewing it. She encouraged her calf to do the same.

  The cow moved her jaw, likely grinding the sliver between her molars. She did this for half a minute, then a small rounded pebble fell out of her lips. It was a polished piece of the bone she had been gnashing.

  Gray looked down at his boots, at the crushed bed of bone. All around, the ground was littered with these pebbles.

  What the hell?

  Again he felt that itch at the back of his brain, telling him this was important, but he couldn’t put it all together.

  I’ve got the pieces, but I can’t see the puzzle.

  As he stared across the canyon, the brilliant white of the boneyard had begun to shimmer with waves of color. It took Gray a moment to realize the source. The crystalline bed was reflecting the sky.

  He craned his neck as waves of energy swept across the stars.