The Tombs of Eden

by Rick Jones

  More guttural sounds—a death rattle. And then he was gone, his eyes having settled on something in the far regions. Slowly, his hand fell over the horizontal arm his body remained horribly attached to.

  Aussie sighed with legitimate remorse. Losing one of their own was a way of life in this business, but it was never easy to accept. “We can’t just leave ‘im ‘ere,” he said dismally. “We got to do ‘im right by lying ‘im down, like we did Red.”

  Butcher Boy remained quiet. He had seen so much blood and gore in his lifetime that he had grown numbed to it but to see Carroll hanging over the pongee arm with the tips of the spikes punching through his backside dripping with blood was something he wasn’t so sure he could ever forget.

  “Butchy?” Butcher Boy looked at Aussie, at his disfigured eye and saw the insufferable pain of loss.

  “We gotta do ‘im right,” he repeated.

  Butcher Boy’s answer was to reach out and grab Carroll’s flak jacket by the shoulders. “You push, I’ll pull.”

  Aussie nodded. “Let’s do this, mate.”

  Butcher Boy’s muscles strained as did Aussie’s, but Carroll didn’t budge, didn’t slide an inch along the spikes even though they were lubricated with blood. They tried again. And again he didn’t budge. Carroll would remain like a scarecrow impaled upon its post.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Megalania Prisca.

  In the millions of years of its existence, it had evolved little, relying on its olfactory senses and its advanced system of neurotransmission. One asset was its capability to process smells from great distances.

  Within the dark warrens and dark recesses, the smell of blood and copper permeated the air, causing the reptiles to tumble and writhe over one another in a state of agitated hunger, the scent of blood always the sign of a wounded animal.

  From their stone perches, from hidden alcoves and darkened nooks, they scurried to the source of the smell, honing in by the sudden need to feed, driven by the spill of so much blood.

  #

  Carroll’s eyes had lost their luster as blood dripped abundantly to the floor, a pool spreading like black tar in the feeble lighting around his feet.

  “We got to leave him,” said Butcher Boy, backing away.

  “And what?” asked Aussie, genuinely angry. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere!”

  “We can’t stay here,” he responded, pointing to the blood pool. “They’ll be coming.”

  All of a sudden, it clicked with Aussie. They weren’t alone. They’d never be alone. And then he concurred, rubbing the back of Carroll’s head with his hand. “Sorry, mate. I gotta leave you like this. But we’ll be dining together in Hell for sure, you and I.”

  “Check for ammo.”

  Aussie did, coming up with clips and ammo but not much. “We’re running a bit skinny,” he said, holding up a clip. “I don’t know how many of those things are out there, but we may not be able to hold up against them for too long should they make a run at us.”

  Butcher Boy expressed himself with a concern that was beyond mild. “Let’s hope that’s not the case,” he said. When he turned, he noted those standing by the Circle of Rings. No one moved. No one dared.

  . . . And then there were seven . . .

  Butcher Boy stood his ground, not wanting to venture the same course he took to get to Carroll. “Ms. Moore?” She was looking at him, taking for granted that her silence was answer enough. “Ms. Moore, have you figured out the riddle of the rings?” She looked at the numbers on the final circle. “Ms. Moore, we haven’t much time!”

  I’m looking!

  1

  11

  21

  1211

  111221

  312211

  13112221

  ?

  What is the final—

  “Ms. Moore!”

  —sequence?

  And then it clicked like an epiphany, a sudden realization.

  She quickly maneuvered onto her hands and knees and grabbed the dowel situated with the numerical sequence 1113213211.

  “Do you have it, Ms. Moore? Do you have the right one? I don’t think I’m inclined to go through this again should you make a mistake,” said Hall.

  “I see a pattern,” she told him. “After the first ring, each ring describes the following ring as follows: 1 is read off as "one 1" or 11; 11 is read off as "two 1s" or 21; 21 is read off as "one 2, then one 1” or 1211; 1211 is read off as "one 1, then one 2, then two 1’s” or 111221; 111221 is read off as "three 1s, then two 2s, then one 1" or 312211; and so on. This is the only numerical value that fits.”

  She began to push the dowel, causing the ring to move forward in a clockwise direction.

  “I hope you’re correct, Ms. Moore.”

  “It can’t be any worse than your guess,” she told Hall adamantly.

  The ring moved smoothly. And when the numbers reached the alignment point with the other numerical sequences, she punched the dowel home. The pin went all the way in, locking the wheel. Alyssa smiled. She had found the right combination.

  But her smile disappeared as quickly as it came when the world around them began to shudder with another rendition of moving walls and floors.

  #

  Some waited close by, sensing their prey, whereas others were drawn to the scent of blood like vultures to carrion.

  Their numbers were amassing; those in distant locations now joining with those who held close to their quarry, causing ire between them. Though they had no concept of statistical value, their olfactory senses told them there wasn’t enough meat to go around.

  Lizards tangled with their needlelike teeth tearing at the hides of others, opening wounds. Others fell back and gave them a wide berth.

  In the end, however, brute savageness gave way to a hunter’s patience. And then the earth moved. After a while, when everything was once again quiet, when the earth was once again still, they moved toward the light with glacial slowness.

  Nothing was going to stop them.

  #

  Even though the earth stopped moving, everyone remained on edge, wondering if Alyssa Moore had initiated another series of calamities waiting to take the lives of more victims.

  Just as Obsidian Hall was about to make a rude comment, the floor began to vibrate as hidden weights and balances began to move. Suddenly, the crystal rings began to drop downward, starting with the center circle. Then the surrounding rings began to drop one by one. Where there had once been a spectacular display of crystal rings, was now a gaping hole in the middle of the chamber’s floor that led to unfathomable darkness.

  “You did it,” said Savage.

  The smell of blood was so thick in the air it galvanized Butcher Boy and Aussie to grab their gear and head for the hole. Since the riddle was solved, both men assumed that the trips had been reset, the danger was gone. So with lack of prudence they urged everyone into the passage to the chambers below.

  “Will you be able to close this behind us?” Butcher Boy asked Alyssa with urgency.

  “I doubt it. At least not right away. There’re probably more riddles that have to be solved in order to alter the balances and weights to reset this room.”

  Butcher Boy chewed on his lower lip. And then he looked toward the opening at the far end of the room. Savage did the same. And Alyssa came to a conclusion: Their barometers were up.

  Which meant that something wicked was coming their way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Vatican City

  The SIV Unit was situated in modified chambers beneath the Basilica. The rooms were small, but smartly converted with high-tech electronics and state-of-the-art wizardry. In the center of the room was an expansive table, with a top made entirely of a high-definition viewing screen; which, at the moment, was showing off a live satellite feed of desert landscaping in Turkey.

  Six men surrounded the table, with the light of the monitor shining up against their faces. One was the SIV’s ADD, Father Gacobelli; t
he other five were members of the Vatican’s black-op unit, the Knights of the Holy Order.

  Father Gacobelli leaned against the table, placing both hands along the edges. “Zoom in twenty times to these coordinates,” he said. “Scan to 36° 13′ 23.88″ N, 37° 55′ 20.64″.” The image on the tabletop reacted to his voice command, zooming eastward then inward, the landscape growing closer, the clarity becoming crisper as the pixels recalibrated.

  “Now zoom in another ten times.”

  The tabletop image reacted, zeroing in on a landscape with enormous rock formations poking through the parched wasteland, as windswept dust sped across the plain like sea swells. In places, the clay was brittle and worn, the surface fragmented over time from the elements of searing wind and unforgiving heat. It appeared an unforgiving place where the caretakers—the scorpions, snakes and lizards—adapted to a wasteland that offered little rainfall and blistering sun, thereby inheriting a kingdom that no one else cared to rule.

  On the surface, marginally seen unless pointed out, was a geometrical anomaly.

  “If you look here, gentlemen,” said the ADD, tracing his forefinger inches above and around the shape of the abnormality, “you’ll see an image just under the surface that’s perfectly squared, with the sides equaling one-half kilometer in length per side down to the millimeter. This is your target.”

  Leviticus was joined by teammates Isaiah, Nehemiah, Micah and Job, who took their monikers from names of the Old Testament. They were basically nondescript in appearance, wearing pressed shirts and pants, attire that wouldn’t divulge identities beyond what they truly were; soldiers.

  Leviticus leaned over the table for a better view. The light shone up against his face. “I can barely make anything out,” he said. “But I see it. I see something.”

  “What is it?” asked Isaiah.

  “A structure,” Father Gacobelli said simply. “However, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say more than that. What I can say is that it needs to be imploded immediately. How this is to come about is up to you.”

  “Semtex,” Leviticus stated without consideration. Semtex is a plastic explosive containing the elements RDX and PETN that is often used in certain military applications. It had become popular with terrorists because it was extremely difficult to detect, as in the case of Pan Am Flight 103 when it went down in Lockerbie, Scotland. “It’s an incredibly powerful explosive. But it’ll take bricks to collapse something of that size.”

  “Can you acquire the amount necessary?” asked the ADD.

  Leviticus nodded. “That’ll be easy enough. But how are we going to get it into this part of Turkey?” He pointed to the map. “There’s nowhere to land a chopper. The terrain is too rough.”

  “We’ll have to rappel,” said Isaiah. “There’s no other way.”

  Leviticus agreed. “We’ll need a second chopper to lower the bricks,” he said. “And we’ll set charges here—” He pointed to a single point dead center of the square “—and at multiple areas along the perimeter. That should take care of the situation.” He looked up at the ADD, who stood with the light from the tabletop shining upward and casting eerie lines across his face. “When do you want the operation to commence?”

  “How long before you can get the necessary supplies and ready yourself?”

  Leviticus thought it over as his eyes moved upward in his sockets, calculating. “Several hours,” he said. “At the most.”

  “Several hours it is, then,” said the ADD. And then: “Prepare yourselves.”

  #

  They hastened their way to the level below, the winding staircase made of indigenous sandstone rather than black silica. As usual, Eser and Harika were forced to lead the way with Butcher Boy behind them and Aussie bringing up the rear. The spiral stairwell seemed to go on forever when, in fact, it was less than 50 stairs.

  When they touched bottom, they quickly congregated and held their lanterns high. The darkness was barely penetrated by the light in all directions.

  “Ms. Moore, do you remember the routes according to the schematics on the Crystal Wall?” asked Butcher Boy.

  The riddle as to why the pyramid didn’t show walls and floors where walls and floors should be was quite clear. The engineers only mapped out solid structures. Anything moveable was stricken from the blueprints since they were not set pieces. This was cause for concern since the second level was void of supports and structures, which led her to believe that this level had several moving parts.

  “Ms. Moore, do you remember?” he repeated.

  She nodded. “We have to move as if we heading back to the perimeter of the pyramid.”

  “Back to the way we came?” asked Aussie.

  “The major pathways leading from level to level are in a zigzag configuration,” she said. “We entered from the top and made our way inward. Now that we’re on the second level, we now have to work our way outward, back to the structure’s walls. There, we will find the next riddle that will lead us to the last level. From there we’ll have to work our way back to the center. It’s a zigzag pattern from top to bottom, from one chamber to the next, which ultimately leads to the Burial Chamber.”

  “That’s all well and fine,” returned Aussie. “But where I stand there’s three hundred and sixty degrees of direction. Which way do we go?”

  She raised her lantern to get her bearings. However, the light barely penetrated more than thirty feet in every direction. Carefully she moved eastward, the lantern held forward, until she came to a black silica wall with script.

  Τὰ θεάματα τῆς οἰκου μένηςγῆςגַּן עדןἑπτὰ

  πτά θαύματα του αρχαίου κόσμ

  лічб তএআশ্চর্যজনক лічылася ьвятой лічбай প্রতিটি лёямёр প্রকাশিত праць এই স্থাপনাসমূহকেФіў,драцоўলিকাএকটিতালিকাданьнеьпінайвыдаকটিপ্রাচীনকালেসালের ейшых паэтаў, філёзафаў, палкаводцаў, অবশ্যই вялікіх цহেলেনীয় ароўяк цтва дыцыйны ы যুজনপ্রিয় গেই грэцкай эліністычнаথেকে й паэзіі і йооду пথেকে তালিকার সমসাময়িক ыкавнь প্রকাশ рырыцы. ∑ыбар তাসভ্যতার ліку быў асьв নাম মনুষ্য নাম স্থান পায়। হতে হয় ঐতিহাসিক ও ঐতিহ্যগত গুরুত্ব সম্পন্ন। পর্যটকেরা প্রথম ўтэктуры এ ধরণের করেছিল। সেই এই সর্বশেষে ৭ জুলাই হয়।ячонস্থাপনাসমূহের ы найстараবিশ্বকোষ жытнымপৃথীবীর і তালিকা হয়েছে। ўяўленьнямі бпа২০০৭ ўц তারিখে чанасьউইকিপিডিয়া, ці дасканалযাতে асьমুক্ত ціцудаў жанр প্রকাশিনির্মিত

  “Can you read it, Ms. Moore?” This came from Obsidian Hall.

  “It’s difficult,” she said. “This is all pre-Sumerian, pre-everything. Some characters are similar, however. The best I can do is to piece them together and interpret this as best I can.”

  “Then I suggest you do so,” Hall said demandingly.

  She examined every line and character, finding it nearly impossible to decipher in its entirety, but she was able to put together enough to identify the meaning behind the text. It was a warning, stating the way to the Chamber of the Primaries was the path to Nirvana. But in order to get to Heaven, One must go through Hell. And they must do so by using the testaments of courage, faith and deliberation. Should anyone choose to test their fortitude, then the path lies to the left of the scripted wall.

  She held the lantern up and to the left. Nothing but absolut
e darkness.

  “Ms. Moore, have you deciphered the message? Does it tell us where to go?” Hall sounded very much on edge.

  Above them, shuffling sounds could be heard through the passageway in the Room of the Crystal Rings, like sandpaper against sandpaper, scales rubbing against scales.

  “Let’s move, people!” said Butcher Boy. “Ms. Moore, which way?” She pointed and made her way left. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” But you won’t like what’s ahead, she thought. And none of you will be able to stop it. Not with your bravado. Not with your guns. And not with your machismo.

  Above them, the coarse whisper of sandpaper rubbing against each other became increasingly louder.

  #

  They entered the chamber by the dozens, each drawn by the coppery scent of Carroll’s blood as it spread across the floor. Like flies to dead matter, they converged to the spot where the former soldier lie draped over the crystal arm with his head aside, and his eyes staring at nothing in particular.

  They sniffed at the blood and at the body, their olfactory senses picking up the miniscule odor of decay, telling them that this creature was dead. In a quick reaction that galvanized others to feast, one of the lizards grabbed Carroll by the hip area and tried to pull him free, wrenching; Carroll’s body coming apart, the strings of flesh pulling like rubber bands until they snapped, his legs coming free while his upper body remained attached to the horizontal post.

  Lizards swarmed with frenzy, ripping and tearing at what was left of the soldier, his body finally torn free from the pongee spikes, becoming the subject of a brutal tug-of-war between two males who twisted and pulled the body apart, then left to find a dark recess in which to gorge themselves on the remains.