by Rick Jones
The team gathered at the far end of the chamber. In the glimmer of light cast by the lamps lying by Red, the crystal bull shined iridescent spangles of dazzling light.
“Ms. Moore, how long will the lanterns last?” asked Carroll.
“They have lithium batteries. So let’s say about two weeks before they burn off.”
“Will the light keep them away?” He sounded completely distant and monotone.
She knew he was referring to the lizards. “Yes,” she told him. “The light will keep them away.”
But everybody knew that Red would be gone by the end of the day.
In silence, they pressed onward to the center of Eden.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They had circled the carcass in the Chamber of the Bull, the meat decaying to a softer texture, easier to rip, tear, devour and digest. But the light of the lamps kept them at bay—beyond the fringe, hurting the retinas of their eyes, having lived in the darkness for the entirety of their lives.
They paced back and forth, their olfactory senses deducing the best way to secure Red’s body. Whereas some spat at the circle of light as if it was a living source, trying to scare it into submission, others pawed at it with a swipe of their clawed foot, their mind clearly unable to register the light as something intangible.
Tapping commenced, metered measures denoting aggravation, causing lizards to climb and spill over one another, driving others to expand their frills in agitation, anger and frustration. In their agitated state, one lizard had swung its tail wildly and clipped the bull’s foreleg, smashing it into fragments so small along the floor that they looked like a cache of diamonds spread over black velvet.
A second swipe of the tail, ten feet long and as thick as a log, took out the lamp posted at Red’s feet, smashing it, the light gone. Several additional attempts finally took out the last lamp, immersing the chamber in complete and utter darkness.
Within moments they eclipsed Red’s body and ripped it apart with ease, then traipsed off into the shadows with whatever bounty they were able to tear free.
Even with the light, Red hadn’t lasted more than an hour.
#
The mood was a depressing one. For Hall’s team, it was the loss of Red. For Hall, it was the fact that everything was moving too slowly for his needs. For the rest, it was the realization that a dark fate was racing toward them at the speed of a freight train.
They had entered the Chamber of the Boar and the Chamber of the Lizard, a chamber her father had mentioned as one of the three chambers in the copied pages of his journal, but had omitted the lizard as the crystal carving, and mentioning the bull and the boar, instead.
“Is this what we’re up against?” Aussie asked rhetorically, circling the reptilian sculpture.
They circled the figure in wonder. It was a perfect rendition of the Megalania Prisca and like the other sculptures, it sat upon a plinth of black silica with its foreleg raised, its mouth open, and its frill extended around its head in sheer agitation—much like the bull and the boar. Why the creatures’ anxiety was so clearly stated was beyond Alyssa’s speculation.
The creature was twenty foot in length with a ten-foot tail that looked like a formidable weapon, serrated teeth, and a raptor-like claw bearing the means to rip and tear with the ease of a scalpel edge.
“This thing is huge, if they made it to scale like the others,” said Butcher Boy.
“It’s to scale,” confirmed Alyssa.
Hall stepped forward and raised his lamp. “I hope you have enough bullets,” he said blankly.
The eight of them stood around the structure, not sure whether to admire it or be afraid of it. “Let’s get moving,” said Butcher Boy. “I want the two Turks taking point with the lamps, Savage behind them, and Moore behind Savage. Keep your lamps high, people. If anything’s out there, then let them see the light.”
Of course Eser and Harika didn’t understand initially, but with a prodding with Aussie’s weapon, they understood fine. They made their way out of the chamber, the last before discovering the room containing the Crystal Wall.
It was as her father described it in her copies. Three walls of black silica with the fourth wall constructed of clear crystal quartz that looked like sheer glass. The chamber was huge, the room once serving as the temple’s communication center.
The wall was as large as the screen of a movie theater. It was a diagram of a Mesoamerica-type pyramid with three steps; the surrounding landscapes a depiction of rich fauna supported by a flowing river with creatures roaming the territory. The pyramid, if scaled in accordance with the surrounding landscape, was massive, maybe even larger than Khufu.
Clearly defined on the upper level, which was their level, they deduced was the temple cap that depicted the Chambers of the Bull, the Boar, the Lizard, and nine others, which they had yet to discover; making a total of twelve chambers.
This was the Central Chamber. Hall’s mind was already working out the details to have the wall removed. There was so much to choose from, he considered. So . . . much.
As they moved closer, they realized that they were dwarfed by the size of the wall. While Aussie, Butcher Boy and Carroll maintained a protective guard and John Savage kept his barometer in high tune, Alyssa, Hall and the young Turks touched the wall with the careful act of paying homage, that of stroking the wall calmly and gently, its feel as smooth as a thick pane of glass.
When Alyssa stepped back to study the images further, she realized that the Central Chamber was the entry point to the levels below. Savage joined her—her new found alliance that she had little confidence in. “It’s a map, isn’t it?” he whispered, making sure Hall was out of earshot.
“It’s a schematic,” she corrected. “This is a massive pyramid—should the scale model of the sculptures and cuneiform depictions is correct—that may be larger than Cheops. For such a structure to be built 12,000 years ago is . . .” Her words trailed.
“That’s all very nice,” said Savage. “But I need you to look for a way out. If you haven’t noticed, the closer we get to the main point, the quicker our lives end.”
Her eyes immediately shifted to the schematics of the second level and studied the floor plan. She saw rooms of every geometrical shape and figure, passageways that seemed to lead to nowhere and floors where none should be.
She shook her head. “The second level is a complete puzzle. Nothing makes sense. But there are passageways. Where they lead to, however . . .”
“What about the lowest level?”
She pored over the wall. The lowest level featured outer chambers of no particular significance with the exception of the burial chamber, which contained what appeared to be pods.
She clicked her tongue, another mystery. She could read ancient cuneiform and script created 10,000 years before Christ ever set foot on this planet, but this was not script, it was the schematics of a structure derived by the minds of ancient engineers. Panels, doorways, floors, ceilings and other configurations seemed geometrically illogical, their placements odd.
She turned to look at Hall, who was sliding away from them along the wall. “I don’t get it,” she told Savage.
“What’s that?”
“The two things the ancients were consistent about were the science of astronomy and the geometrical precision of their engineering by developing structures down to measurements of exactness. I mean down to the exactness within an inch on massive constructions. But to look at this,” she said, pointing to the wall. “The measurements are in a funhouse sort of way—in odd designs.”
“Puzzles?”
She nodded. “It appears that way.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Well, we’ll have to make that decision when the time comes. If you see something that looks remotely promising, then you let me know. I trust your judgment.”
“And what about them?” She nodded her head in the direction of Eser and Har
ika.
“We’ll keep them close,” he told her. “I won’t leave them behind.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes and saw the conviction within. It was here that she noticed that he wasn’t wearing his collar. She pointed to his throat. “Your collar.”
“I left it with Red.”
“Why?”
“A couple of reasons, I suppose. The first one being that I was surrendering my ties with the Vatican because it isn’t what I was looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Direction,” he said. “Simple . . . direction.”
“And the other reason?”
He shrugged. “I guess I thought Red could use some help seeing that he was facing his Day of Judgment. Thought the collar might provide some juice.”
“You really believe that?”
“Hardly.” Hall was making his way back admiring the wall like priceless art, obviously something he had to have. “Here comes the idiot,” said Savage. “When we get to the second level, stay close. If an opportunity arises, then we take it.”
“Have you forgotten?”
“What?”
As Hall was moving closer, their voices lowered to mere whispers. “Those things are still out there.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll have to take out one of Hall’s team and appropriate his weapon.”
“Are you nuts?”
“I don’t think we have a choice, do you? If we remain inactive, then we will surely die.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You find what you think is an opening and I’ll act. Trust me,” he added. “I have a very particular set of skills.”
“So do they.”
He winked at her. “Maybe so,” he said. “But they’re nothing like mine.”
#
Creatures of a simple mind are motivated by self-preservation and have no concept of numerical value. They do not understand the number eight, the number of those left impinging on their province, they only understood that they provided the basic need of sustenance.
While some gorged themselves on meat and lay in some dark recess for the slow process of digestion, others hunted, their advanced sensory system picking up the scent of their quarry the same way a shark can detect a wounded creature by a drop of its blood from hundreds of meters away.
With their frills expanded, they moved their heads back and forth like a radar dish so that the nerve endings could pick up vibrations, process them, and then zero in.
They knew they were in the room not too far from the Central Chamber and they sensed their prey was not grouped together but scattered, making them easy prey.
In the darkened shadows where the only light was the glow from fonts more than ten thousand years old, where the beasts had grown for generations in shadows and shade, darkness was their ally. They would move forward, circle, and attack with their tails, destroying the Light. And then they would converge. Taking them one . . . by one . . . by one . . .After the metered ticking of claws against the floor, and once the synapses of their brains transferred the process of the hunt, the creatures moved through the dark warrens as easily as if they were fully sighted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Vatican
Pope Leo was sitting in his chamber behind his ornate desk. Across from him sat the assistant director of the Servizio Informazione del Vaticano; a short man with doughy features and balding pate. His eyes were naturally hooded, giving him the look of someone between wakefulness and sleep. He was, however, a man with an astute mind, who was very omniscient about everything going on around him, a man with all the latest spyware at his fingertips. Stenciled on the pocket of Father Gacobelli’s shirt were the initials SIV.
“I was able to confirm that Savage entered the Göbekli Tepe dig site and spoke with Ms. Moore two days ago.”
“And?”
Gacobelli opened a manila folder that was sitting on his lap. Inside was the tracking data regarding Savage’s run into Turkey. “Everything’s minimal at this point,” he said. “But I believe Savage to be with the woman.”
“To be with the woman was not the goal of the Church.”
“I understand that, Your Holiness. But it is what it is.”
The pontiff tented his hands and bounced the tips against his chin in thought. “Are they still at Göbekli Tepe?” The ADD lifted a single sheet of paper and slid it across the pontiff’s desk. Pope Leo picked it up. “What am I looking at?”
“Coordinates to where they may be,” he said. “It appears that they have taken a course to the eastern part of Turkey.”
The pontiff looked at the sheet again, at the coordinates. “These numbers—are you telling me these are the coordinates to . . .” His words trailed one word shy of saying “Eden.”
“They’re numbers, yes, but to what we don’t know. They may mean something. Or they may mean nothing at all. All we know is that Savage left with the woman and her team two days ago for the southeast part of Turkey . . . The entire team disappeared at that specific location.”
The pontiff looked at the sheet.
“As you know, Your Holiness, we often dispatch the Knights of the Holy Order to global hotspots to save the lives of those within our citizenry who are in danger. Mr. Savage’s mission was to protect the interest of the Church. Although he was equipped with his own weaponry, he needed a special accessory form the KHO armory. He took one thing,” he said. “He took a suppressor embedded with a state-of-the-art chip in the cylinder used for tracking. By attaching the device to the weapon, it summarily activates the system and generates a GPS read. Since he did attach the suppressor, I can only assume that he intended to use it. But why I don’t know.”
GPS chips embedded within weaponry were becoming the norm, more notably with US troops fighting the Afghan War. Insurgents often took weapons from deceased US military and added them to their arsenal, not knowing that the embedded chip served as a beacon that gave away their guerilla encampment and set them up for future sorties.
“And this is where you lost him? At these set of coordinates?” The pope pointed at the numbers.
“That’s where the GPS signal ended, yes.”
“Why would it disappear?”
“It could have been a number of things,” he answered. “It could have been interference, like weather, causing the signal to fade in and out, to go dead. I just don’t have enough to go on to figure out why.”
“I assume you used aerial to these set of numbers?”
“Better,” said the ADD. He lifted a grouping of photos and handed them over. “These are satellite images zeroing on the given point.”
“It’s nothing but desert.”
“This is true, yes. But there’s a geographical anomaly, if you look closer.”
The pontiff leaned forward and saw nothing out of the ordinary. “I guess your eyes are better than mine,” he said. “I’m not seeing anything.”
“Here, let me show you.” The ADD took up next to the pope and began to trace his finger along the photos. “You can barely see it,” he started, running his fingertip on one image. “But there’s a geometrical figure here, a square. Can you see it?”
It was barely perceptible, but it was there. “Somewhat. Yes.”
“So we took more pictures, more images. And no matter which angle we took them from, the anomaly remained. There’s something beneath that desert floor. Whatever it is, John Savage is believed to be somewhere underneath, which is why we lost the signal. Most likely the surface is blocking the frequency.”
Without question . . . it had to be Eden! After all these years, it was hidden in plain sight.
The ADD waited as the pontiff pored over the photos. And then: “Notify the Knights of the Holy Order and ready them for assignment,” he said with firm measure. “I want the KHO sent to this location to implode this structure immediately.”
The ADD hesitated, puzzled. “But those inside?” he asked desperately. “Wh
at about John Savage?”
The pontiff fell back in his seat with the deeply sad expression of a man warring with his conscience, between his sense of duty and faith, of right and wrong. “I know,” he said sadly. “But as Pope, I must preserve the interest of the Church. And sometimes I can only pray that God will forgive and understand my reasoning over such matters.”
Father Gacobelli looked down at the pontiff with a puzzled look. “What’s in there?” he asked dryly. “What is it that you keep so secret?”
The pontiff was too ashamed to look Gacobelli in the eyes, but looked at his doughy chin instead, at his collar, at the SIV stitching on his shirt pocket, anywhere but his eyes. “Ask me no more questions. Give them the coordinates for the demolition. And tell them that no one will be hurt.”
“But that’s not true. You’re condemning some to die.”
This time he did look Gacobelli square in his eyes. “That’s if they're not dead already,” he said.
#
After Father Gacobelli left the papal chamber, Pope Leo went to the balcony that overlooked St. Peter’s Square and viewed the Colonnades and the Egyptian obelisk, and at the people milling about as he stood there questioning his sense of morality.
With great power comes great responsibility; this was clear. But did it also sanction the right to determine who lived or died? Such as the decision made by Pope Clement V when he ordered the burning at the stake of Jacques de Molay and the Knights Templar for the good of the Church? Did he have that same right?
Can I justify my actions in the eyes of God?
Feeling a great weight in his heart and at the core of his soul, Pope Leo XIV returned to his chamber.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Obsidian Hall was living the dream of dreams as he stared at the wall and its perfectly etched images. Eden was a magnificent trove of wonders. Alyssa Moore was standing before the wall with photocopied pages, what Hall concluded to be from the black journal of her father’s writings that had been sent to Noah. “I assume that’s from your father’s text?”
