The Tombs of Eden

by Rick Jones

  Above the entryway was the archaic lettering of man’s beginnings:

  α Ϯ Д Ѡ

  “Ms. Moore?” It was Obsidian Hall. “Are you all right?”

  “You got to see this!” she hollered, sounding exuberant. “Noah!”

  The old man slipped into the opening with his lamp in the lead and was quickly followed by Hall, his team, Savage, Eser and Harika. Aussie, still incensed, entered last.

  As she stood as quiet as a Grecian statue looking wonderfully amazed and mesmerized at the same time, everyone gathered around her and followed her gaze to the space above the opening.

  α Ϯ Д Ѡ

  “Does that mean anything of significance?” asked Red.

  “It means everything,” she answered. She moved closer and reached up, wanting to run her fingertips across the etchings but she was too short.

  Noah nodded, smiled, suddenly realizing what it said.

  “What?” asked Carroll. The young warrior was standing next to his brother Red when Noah’s face lit up. “What’s it say?”

  “I never imagined,” he said softly. “I just . . . never . . . imagined.

  “Never imagined what?”

  Alyssa pointed to the letters and read them off one at a time starting from the left side. “E-D-I-N,” she said. “Eden!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  At the vibration of Aussie’s gunfire, the creature’s olfactory senses heightened, which incited the beast to raise its head and expand its frill, the collar-like expansion a sensory mechanism capable of detecting sensations for up to two kilometers since the creature, by nature, was virtually deaf.

  From all points of the chamber came the metered tapping of claws, causing ambient air to vibrate. The creature swiveled its head back and forth, its frill acting as an anatomical radar by picking up the rhythms and processing them.

  . . . tic-tic . . . tic-tic . . . tic-tic . . .

  And then a period of silence followed as its brain functioned strictly on olfactory drive, the synapses of its intellect transmitting messages quickly, causing its scaly hide to prickle the same way the hackles of a dog rise when sensing great danger.

  A moment later it began tapping its claw once again, this time at the pace of a nervous tempo, which brought similar responses.

  . . . tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap . . . tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap . . . tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap . . .

  . . . tap-tap . . . tap-tap-tap-tap . . . tap-tap . . .

  One by one they slid off their perches with graceful agility and raced toward the source of gunfire. Having been hardwired to defend their territory, the great beasts hastened to guard their province as they had done for tens of thousands of years.

  #

  Suddenly, a thought struck Alyssa. Her father was here—somewhere. Whatever was left of him was probably hidden in one of the chambers.

  “The walls,” somebody said. Alyssa snapped out of her disconnect and to see Eser and Harika running the flats of their palms against the black silica. “It’s like glass,” said Eser to Noah in Turkish. Since Eser and Harika could not speak a word of English, Noah was only too glad to act as interpreter.

  Alyssa joined them by running a hand over the surface. “It’s black silica,” she said.

  “Here?” asked Hall.

  Black silica is sand that comes from a source rock called mafic, and is consistent in areas where the extreme difference between the ocean temperature and the temperature of flowing lava cause the lava to fracture into tiny shards of black glass. Such conditions exist in the Pacific Ocean, most predominantly the Hawaiian Islands and though there were multiple volcanoes in Turkey, Mount Ararat included, the conditions weren’t conducive to creating black silica. How did so much of it end up half a world away?

  “All right,” said Aussie, “so the walls are nice and pretty. Let’s move.”

  “Aussie.” Butcher Boy spoke as if it was a firm command to stand down.

  Aussie took a moment before nodding. “Aye, sir.”

  From that point, every minute seemed to crawl with the slowness of a bad dream to Hall and his unit. Alyssa wanted to catalogue every ancient meaning and archaic script, which appeared everywhere. Hall stood with mild interest, wondering if he could remove a squared unit of wall and hang it in one on his stately rooms aboard the Seafarer like a painting. But there were even greater treasures, he considered, with a trove of goods somewhere below. “Is this necessary?” he finally asked.

  Alyssa gave him a onceover and noted that his shirt and pants were filthy, and the posh Oxfords he wore were scratched beyond expert buffing. What Hall thought was a smile of geniality forming at the corners of her lips was actually a smile of humor at the way he looked.

  “Is what necessary?” she said.

  “This,” he said, pointing to the myriad symbols on the walls.

  “It’s history, Mr. Hall. And because it is, it will be recorded as such.”

  “There are far greater treasures,” he answered, “beneath us.”

  “No more than what’s right here in front of us,” she answered. “We will not rush this. So you need to be patient.” She went back to her studies, leaving Hall to chew on his lower lip.

  “Fine,” he said. We’ll do it your way, for now.

  Noah and his Turkish seniors were recording what appeared to be the wedge-like symbols of cuneiform, with Savage standing uncannily patient with his hands clasped in front of him. Hall’s team stood in a straight line along the perimeter of light, the entire team looking directly into the veil of darkness.

  Not one of them moved.

  Hall sidled up to Butcher Boy, turned to make sure he was out of earshot from Alyssa and her team, then leaned closer to whisper his ear. “I’m running out of patience—”

  “Shhhhh.” Butcher Boy held his hand up to quiet him. Nobody took their eyes away from the wall of darkness.

  Obsidian Hall whispered into Butcher Boy’s ear. “What? . . . What is it?” Butcher Boy was incredibly still—as was his entire team, each man focused. “What is it?” he repeated.

  Butcher Boy barely moved his lips. “We’re not alone,” he said.

  Hall said urgently, “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something in the shadows.”

  Hall looked down at the line of men who stood unnaturally still, their assault weapons raised and leveled. Hall listened. Then: “I don’t hear anything.”

  “It’s in there,” Butcher Boy confirmed. “And it’s watching us.”

  #

  They were in their element in the shadows, easily negotiating the dark warrens.

  As they clung to the camouflage of shadows well beyond the fringe of light, their tongues—a supersensitive mechanism to compensate for poor sight and hearing—lashed in and out, intuiting a clear and present danger. There were many, some grouped together, having the presence of mind knowing that something was close and waiting, predator and prey. Their metabolism was quite slow and they had feasted on the prior expedition, so they were in the game not to feed, but to defend.

  One beast slithered over another, the darkness moving. And then they withdrew seeking the marginal comfort of distance while determining the safety factor of the hunt. But they remained within the limits of striking range.

  #

  “What’s watching us?” Hall asked apprehensively.

  “That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?” returned Butcher Boy.

  Hall squinted his eyes as if to pierce a darkness that was blacker than black beyond the edge of light. Then: “Ms. Moore.”

  She didn’t hear him, Hall’s hushed tone unable to carry to her location. So he called out to her in a louder, somewhat irritated manner, which prompted a severe look from Butcher Boy. “Ms. Moore.”

  “Keep it down,” Butcher Boy whispered.

  “Ms. Moore.” He finally caught her attention.

  “What.”

  “The thermal imager . . . Quickly.”

  She noted Hall’s men standing in a stra
ight line across the width of the corridor watching the darkness with laser-like intensity, their weapons raised. She didn’t hesitate. She went to her backpack, removed the thermal imager, turned it on, and joined Hall’s side, pointing the imager eye down the hallway. The screen lit up in colorful arrays of reds and yellows and blues. With red a heat signature and blue the color of cold vision, she was able to catch a flash of movement, that of blue, and then it was gone.

  “See!” said Hall, pointing at the small screen in her hand.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Rewind it, then.”

  She did. On the imager there was a hint of blue that moved quickly off screen, but not enough to determine if it was something alive, cold-blooded, or otherwise. She rewound it several times and she came up with the same answer each time. The image was inconclusive.

  Hall’s team, nevertheless, continued to stand riveted, which made Alyssa uncomfortable.

  “Ms. Moore.” Butcher Boy’s voice remained calm, the voice of someone exhibiting grace under pressure. “Despite the imager—there’s something out there. Either we abort the expedition right now, or we move on. Staying here only gives whatever it is time to maneuver around us.”

  Alyssa looked into the darkness, then at the screen of the thermal imager. “But I don’t see anything.”

  “We either abort the mission right now,” he stated firmly, “or we move on. It’s your call. But we can’t stay here.”

  She wheeled slowly around and noted the signature looks on the faces of her team. John Savage maintained his relaxed, sad expression; Noah the look of concern, which was weighted by his need to know more despite the dangers involved; and the looks of senior archeologists Eser and Harika seemed to want both, knowledge and escape. In essence, they were the faces of people wanting direction, hoping that the decision made the correct one.

  She turned to Hall. There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted to move forward.“Can you protect us?” she asked.

  Butcher Boy maintained his focus. “That’s what we were hired for.”

  “Can . . . you . . . protect . . . us?” she asked determinedly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then give my team about an hour,” she told him. “We’ll be able to wrap things up by then . . . Just an hour and then we’ll move on. I promise.”

  She could see Butcher Boy clench his teeth, the muscles in the back of his jaw moving. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally said. Let’s hope your decision is not an improper one.

  For the next hour they maintained a skirmish line. But unfortunately for Alyssa her decision had been the wrong one. They had waited too long.

  Something from the darkness had finally come forward.

  #

  The creature’s cognitive recall had suggested that this quarry was a simple creature with little or no defense mechanism. Recently it had taken down similar game, its senses telling it that they offered no resistance, an easy kill that succumbed to their fate.

  In the lower chamber, some of the bodies continued to putrefy, the meat becoming tender as it aged, rotting. These creatures would only add to the banquet, as the creatures waited for hunger to build.

  It moved forward, slowly and carefully, its tongue lashing in and out, its mind processing information as to the best tactic to take in order to strike and kill. It was graceful and poetic in its movement, the sweep of its tail along the floor moving in balance with its upper body, the motion in itself like the gentle billowing of gossamer drapes moving with the course of a light breeze, back and forth, dreamily slow.

  When it was within twenty feet of its prey, it hung back, looking for a moment to strike, choosing the weakest link as its victim, the one that would provide the least resistance the moment it clamped its jaws tight.

  After choosing, after setting its sights, it geared itself to strike.

  What was once slow was now blindingly fast, its movement providing a snippet of sight, the quarry then taken.

  In the darkness, the creature set itself to spring forward with powerful legs.

  #

  Alyssa was wrapping things up by putting her electronic tablet in her backpack. To her left stood John Savage, who looked separated from his surroundings, his eyes glazed as if he was seeing through things rather than at them. “Everything all right?” she asked. It was then that she realized that he was focused on something beyond her, toward the fringe of light. He was looking into the same wall of darkness as Hall’s team.

  “You know,” he said quietly, “we’re all born with a sixth sense. Did you know that? We simply lost it over time, allowing technology to become our instinct to lead us.” He never took his eyes off the darkness beyond the light. His manner caused Alyssa to take a brief look before turning back to him. “But when you’re in the military and trained to work in battle situations, that sixth sense—that instinct that’s in all of us—comes back in a heartbeat. It’s that little creature in all of us that tells us that danger is lurking, telling us that you need to be constantly alert . . .”

  Although Alyssa was looking right at him, she did not see Savage reaching for his Glock, his hand tracing slowly along his backside, the tips of his fingers feeling the barrel, and then the grip.

  “They were right,” he said.

  “About what?”

  He never tore his eyes away. His hand now gripped the weapon.

  “About what?” she repeated.

  “About there being something in the darkness.” He pulled the weapon free and pointed it. Alyssa, seeing the Glock, didn’t have time to scream as Savage pulled the trigger in rapid succession.

  #

  The creature had leapt as if from a springboard, the distance of twenty feet covered in a split moment, its jaws wide, serrated teeth showing, the maw of its pink gullet waiting.

  And then bullet holes appeared in its hide like magic, Savage coming forward with his hand extended, firing off rounds.

  Its jaws latched on to Red’s shoulder, the teeth wrenching and tearing before the creature was knocked back by the impact of the bullets. Hall’s team raised their weapons in unison and fired, the hallway lighting up in a strobe-light effect from the volley of muzzle flashes, the bullets ripping at the hide, sending chunks of flesh and matter into the background. The creature was highly disturbed, its fanned head twisting and turning in throes of agony, teeth gnashing at nothing but open space, then screeching and crying out, its tail flailing about wildly hoping to catch something its path, the power behind it capable of smashing bones clean.

  And then it fell to the ground, its hide peppered with gunshots, its sides greatly expanding and contracting its final breaths before it finally stilled. Aussie took a few steps forward, placed the point of his assault weapon inches away from the beasts head, and finalized everything with a quick burst of gunfire.

  The smell of cordite filled the air as the soldiers leaned over the beast, weapons aimed.

  The two senior archeologists were clinging to Noah as much as Noah was clinging to them. Alyssa was just as stunned, her mind registering the events at a very slow pace. And Obsidian Hall had somehow backed his way as far from the scene as possible but still within the light of the lamps, with his crotch bearing the stain of wetness.

  John Savage, however, stood at the fringe of light with his Glock pointed directly into the wall of darkness, a ribbon of smoke rising from the mouth of the suppressor.

  With the toe-end of his shoe, Aussie managed to move a lamp closer, keeping his weapon directly on the creature. Leaning against the wall and biting on his lower lip, with his shoulder rent and bleeding, sat Red who was quickly aided by his brother.

  In the circle of light, the creature’s black eyes were at half-mast, the tip of its pink tongue peeking out between its jaws. Its head was large and shovel-like, its ruined hide the color of old pewter. And it was long and thick and powerful looking, the muscles beneath its skin extremely dense.

  Aussie tapped the head lightly with his boot, causin
g the head to roll loosely to one side. “What the hell is it?”

  “An alligator of some sort?” offered Butcher Boy. Alyssa moved closer with her hands balled and held close to her bosom. She moved into the light. “You know what this is, Ms. Moore?”

  She leaned down and studied it. Her fear left her as curiosity summarily took its place. With her hand, she carefully reached down and grabbed the loose flesh of its frill, lifting it. It felt like sandpaper, very course and rough. And then she raised the lip of its mouth, allowing her to study the teeth and gum line of the upper jaw. Its teeth were small and serrated, the gums oozing a copious red fluid, a living bacteria that was most likely virulent.

  She looked at Red. “How are you holding?” she asked.

  “I’ll live.”

  Don’t be so sure.

  Hall came forward, unaware of his accident. “Do you know what it is?”

  “I've got a pretty good idea,” she said. “It’s a species of monitor lizard. It’s a relative of the Komodo dragon.”

  “I’ve seen Komodo dragons before,” said Aussie. “And this ain’t even close. This thing is huge. It’s gotta be about twenty feet long.”

  She stood and clapped her hands clean. “The closest thing I can equate this to would be the Megalania Prisca, a type of monitor lizard that lived about ten thousand years ago, believed to have been seen in Queensland, Australia in 1979.”

  “Yeah, I remember that,” said Aussie. “They found footprints on a farm believed to be from this thing thought to have been extinct. Stories of monsters abounded for years thereafter.”

  “Extinct creatures are popping up every day,” she added. “It’s not that we kill them off, it’s that we drive these species deeper into terrain. The further we encroach on their territory, the more we’re apt to learn that they never went away at all. But this—” She pointed to the beast “—is somewhat modified from the Megalania Prisca by the hood of its frill. In related lizards, it’s believed to be a defense mechanism, where the flesh expands around its head to make it appear much larger and more aggressive. It’s also believed to be some kind of sensory device, a form of built-in radar used to pick up vibrations whereas the data is processed through olfactory means, and makes a determination of its surroundings. This is in lieu of their senses of sight and hearing, which are extremely poor.”