The Tombs of Eden

by Rick Jones

  It shimmied through, the sharp edges of black silica, which was really a glass, scraping its thick hide. When it got more than halfway through, it dropped, landing hard in an unfamiliar corridor, one it had never seen in its fifty years of existence since there had never been a catalyst to upset the balance of the walls within the temple before. It was a land that was alien and familiar at the same time. It was a place that harbored abominations that did not belong.

  Sending up its frill, its receptors were picking up the vibrations of motion. So its brain, no larger than a grapefruit, but with the majority of it in use unlike the human brain, processed the data of its quarry and centered in on their location. Having determined their position, the alpha predator moved through the warrens.

  It was just moments away from the Chamber of the Primaries.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Well, Ms. Moore, tell me. Where is your sense of spirituality now?” Hall asked.

  Sitting inside the pod was a small being, perhaps four feet in height when standing. Its limbs were thin and wispy with the digits of its fingers long and tapered. Its head was elongated and bulbous, with the orbital bone structures surrounding its eyes large enough to fit a peach into each socket. Its mummified body was nude and sexless and at a stage of decomposition where its skin had browned to a slick and waxy appearance.

  And then in a sound that was barely above a whisper, she said, “Adam.”

  “Adam?” said Hall. “Take a good look at it, Ms. Moore. It’s an abhorrence that correlates to the pictograms along the walls. It’s hardly human.” But what an amazing addition it would be in my collection.

  “It’s obviously a child,” she told him, “that had gone through the head-binding technique of ancient royalty, which makes sense here. They’re clearly the first monarchs of their time. The length of the fingers, its limbs, is a natural occurrence of decay. As soon as the body loses fluids and begins to dehydrate, the skin shrinks and pulls tight against the skeleton.”

  “Then how do you explain those rather inhuman eyes?”

  She looked at the orbital rims surrounding the eye sockets, which were so large that only an eye of great size could fill the socket’s void. “Craniofacial neurofibromatosis,” she said. “It’s a deformity of the bones surrounding the orbital region of the skull. What you see is a clear result of that facial defect.”

  Everyone stared at the body. It did appear less than human. Vets like Savage and Aussie and Butcher Boy had seen worse in the field but that was after the bodies had been mutilated. This body was different.

  “Cranial . . .”

  “Craniofacial neurofibromatosis,” she said.

  “And that’s what you truly believe? You have no other theories?”

  “Hall, there is nothing otherworldly about this, if that’s what you’re alluding to. There is a plausible explanation for everything. And I have given them to you.”

  Nevertheless, Hall was intent on having this as part of his display. He had found the Holy Grail of all finds, of all relics or artifacts; the bodies of Adam and Eve.

  The tombs of Eden would be safe after ordering the executions of Alyssa Moore and John Savage. The location would only be known by him and two others, Butcher Boy and Aussie. He would seal the entrance, hide it, and then return with a well-equipped team more than capable of handling anything natural or otherwise. He would also bring the necessary gear to hoist and haul away as much of Eden as he could, leaving nothing behind but naked warrens.

  “Open the second pod,” Hall said evenly.

  Aussie maneuvered the knife in the same manner as he did with the first pod, in between the seam until it was wedged tight, and worked it until he breached the access. As the small entry panel pulled back, the pod drew air into its void in what sounded like someone sighing.

  “Now pull the panel back,” said Hall. “But gently.”

  Aussie did, pulling the door to its widest point.

  Inside the pod was a facsimile of the other. It had brown and waxy skin, fingers that were long and tapered, a head that was bulbous and elongated, and the orbital bones of facial deformation. The only difference was that its breasts had diminished to leathery folds of flesh against its chest. Something the other body lacked.

  “Eve,” commented Hall. His collection was looking grander by the moment. “This is more than I could ever have imagined.” His face lit up with the look of someone enamored, of someone in love, but the only thing Obsidian Hall ever loved besides himself were the material goods he surrounded himself with.

  “You’ve done well, Ms. Moore. You got us to the hub of mankind’s beginning, which is all I could ask for. Unfortunately for you and Mr. Savage, you’ve both exhausted your worth to me and to my team. Since the tripwires have been initiated, then I assume the return trip to the surface will be a quick and safe one.”

  “You’ve forgotten one thing,” said Savage.

  “I’ve forgotten nothing,” returned Hall. “Those lizards, like most creatures, are drawn to blood. You and Ms. Moore will be here, in this chamber, bleeding out slowly and drawing those things to you, while the rest of us make an exit to the surface.”

  Aussie removed his knife slowly, the sound of the metal blade sliding along the scabbard a long draw. “The missy is mine,” he said. “You promised her to me, Hall.”

  “And you shall have her as agreed upon. But I can’t allow you to kill her.”

  “Don’t worry about that, mate. I’ll cut her up with a thousand little slits—make ‘er bleed real slow.”

  “And then cut the Achilles’ on both of them,” added Hall. “I don’t want either one of them to leave this chamber.”

  “It would be my bloody honor to do so,” he said, smiling with anticipation. Savage swept Alyssa behind him. “And what’s this?” said Aussie, turning the knife over in his hand. “You playing the ‘ero to the bloody end, are you?”

  In fluid motion, Savage quickly got to a bended knee and removed the knife lodged in the behind him and the knife wedged by his ankle, and took a stance with a KA-BAR in each hand.

  Aussie and Butcher Boy appeared caught off guard by this as well as Hall, who pedaled a few steps away from the strike range.

  “You stole those bloody knives from Red and Carroll, didn’t you? From dead soldiers you did. ‘Ow bloody low can you get?”

  “Let’s just say I borrowed them,” he said. “I promise I’ll give them right back to you. Is putting them in your chest, okay?”

  “You think you’re that good, mate?”

  “Better.”

  Butcher Boy hooted like a cowboy. His MP-7 leveled at Savage. “This is gonna be fun.”

  “Are you neutral?” Savage asked Butcher Boy. “You plan to cut me down with your MP, or are going to let two big boys go at it?”

  He lowered his weapon. “I still got five rounds, Savage. But I don’t think I’ll need them,” he said. “I know for a fact that you’re highly skilled with the use of double-edged weapons. But what you don’t know is that Aussie is just as skilled. There’s nothing more primal than watching two men kill each other. There’s a certain macabre fascination to all this, don’t you think?”

  “And if I should win?” asked Savage.

  “I won’t kill you,” he retuned firmly. “But I will take you out at the knees and leave you for those things as Hall suggested. Either way, Savage, your time is up.”

  “Except it appears that Mr. Savage ‘ere ‘as the bloody advantage, since he ‘as two knives and I only got one.”

  “Then let’s even the field a bit, shall we?” Butcher Boy removed his KA-BAR and slid it across the floor to Aussie.

  Aussie picked it up. It felt good in his hand. “Now it’s even,” he said.

  “John . . .” Alyssa was terrified.

  He spoke over his shoulder to her in words barely above a whisper, words beyond the earshot of anybody but them. “When this goes down, I want you to escape through one of the drainage holes.”

  “The
y could be deep.”

  “They’re not,” he whispered. “They drop about ten feet into rushing water. The water has to flow somewhere, right?”

  “Let’s go, mate. Or are you going to bend Ms. Moore’s bloody ear all day long?”

  “Go,” he finalized, then took an aggressive stance.

  “What about you?”

  He didn’t answer. The man who was sent to assassinate her was now standing his ground to protect her. She backed away, but not far from the watchful eyes of Butcher Boy or Obsidian Hall.

  Aussie circled Savage, moving one knife in his hand a pattern of figure eights, the motion to draw Savage’s attention and focus away. But Savage was seasoned and maintained a steady eye.

  Aussie immediately struck out and slashed with killing blows, but Savage met his strikes with blinding speed, deflecting the knives, the contact coughing up sparks as the blades pounded against each other as metal struck metal. Alyssa’s mouth dropped in amazement as she watched her champion ward off deadly blows with fluid effort.

  With uncanny skill, Savage’s motions became faster, his circular motions repelling the blows that seemed to come faster and with far more brutal force. By inches, he pushed Aussie back, the Australian losing ground, the strikes coming to the point where their arms were moving in blurs and blinding revolutions. Sparks radiated in numerous pinpricks of flame before dying out. And then came an opening.

  With surgical precision, Savage drove the edge of his blade across Aussie’s bicep, slicing the muscle. The man screamed in agony, took a knee, then ambled back from the battle line after dropping the knife.

  Aussie stood there looking less confident. And he appeared deeply winded.

  From the corner of his eye Savage could see Butcher Boy raise the barrel of his MP-7. Aussie raised his one knife.

  The message was clear. Savage evened the field by tossing one of his knives aside, the blade skating off somewhere deep into the shadows.

  The men began to circle one another. Aussie, keeping a worried eye on his opponent, held his wounded arm close as blood coursed down its length and to the floor. Again, he swung the knife in a pattern of figure eights. Savage smiled. Some habits were hard to die.

  And then the men collided, blades striking.

  As the fight waged on, Savage seemed to pick up steam rather than lose it. His motions were deft and with purpose. The two blades warring against each other seemed to favor Savage as he pushed Aussie near the edge of the tier. They were running out of room.

  Aussie sized Savage for an opening, attempted to circle, and found what seemed to be an opportunity. He tried to cut the man with a sweeping horizontal arc across Savage’s abdomen before Savage would realize that he had been gutted. But Savage grabbed the attacker’s wrist, forced the man’s arm over his head exposing the armpit, and drove the sharpened point of the nine-inch blade deep until the pommels of the knife would go no farther.

  Aussie’s eyes widened at the approach of oncoming darkness, his mouth widening in shock of his own mortality.

  The large man fell to his knees, and then leaned forward against Savage’s legs. Savage stood a brief moment before stepping back, allowing the Australian to fall forward, dead, the knife deeply imbedded.

  Butcher Boy’s face seemed without reaction, stiff and detached. Until he raised his weapon and directed the mouth of the barrel to Savage’s knees. Savage took a quick peek over his shoulder. Alyssa was gone.

  Good girl. He then faced off with Butcher Boy who now had his finger on the trigger.

  Savage smiled. He had done his job.

  #

  Alyssa stood at the edge of one of the drainage holes. It was as black as black could get but she didn’t have a choice but to believe in John Savage.

  She waited for the opportune time. At least that was what she kept telling herself. But the truth was she was deeply concerned about Savage. The man was sacrificing himself on her behalf.

  For a long moment she watched them fight, watched Savage toy with Aussie and drive him back toward the edge of the tier. And then she watched the crippling blow across Aussie’s arm, rendering it useless. No matter what, she considered, the odds favored Savage greatly, but only until the moment Butcher Boy would intervene with strafing shots to Savage. It didn’t matter how well he fought because in the end he would ultimately lose, which was something she couldn’t bear to witness.

  She looked into the hole, then at Hall and Butcher Boy, who were thoroughly engrossed, and took the initiative by leaping in.

  The drop was a quick journey as Savage claimed, the fall only ten feet before she struck water. But the river wasn’t deep, perhaps four feet. Upon impact with the muddy bottom, she hit her ankle hard, twisting it. She clenched her teeth against the pain and squeezed tears from her eyes.

  After wading a few feet forward, she saw the lamp Savage had cast away wedged between the gatherings of stones. She picked it up and examined the bulb. Everything worked fine.

  She then turned the lamp to the hole, could hear the clanging of metal striking metal.

  And then the fall of a terrible silence.

  The fight was over.

  Good-bye, John Savage.

  In water that was blissfully cool, Alyssa Moore struggled along with the current on a bad ankle that was growing worse with every step she took.

  #

  John Savage waited for the strike of the bullet, to see nothing but ensuing darkness. But Butcher Boy made his way forward with the MP-7 directed right at him.

  “We need him alive,” said Hall.

  “Shutup!” Butcher Boy came forward with true anger. His eyes bulged, the muscles in the back of his jaw worked, the Y-vein in the center of his forehead throbbed with the beat of his quickening heart. The man was in an absolute rage.

  Savage closed his eyes and waited.

  From the depths of the chamber the Megalania Prisca launched itself from the shadows and snatched Butcher Boy into its jaws. Bones collapsed beneath the pressure, his rack of ribs sounding off in audible snaps and clicks. When the creature shook his head like a dog toying with a doll, Butcher’s Boy’s weapon went airborne.

  The creature then swung its tail in an arc, the tail missing Savage and Hall but clipping the tomb of Eve, sending the egg-shaped pod off its pad and skyward with such force that when it landed the pod exploded into ceramic-like shards that skated across the floor. The body of Eve was limp, a doll-like creature twisted into odd shapes amidst the chalky substance.

  Hall was beside himself, his hands to his face, the material worth of Eve forever lost.

  As Hall lamented, Butcher Boy was screaming at the top of his lungs before blood gushed from his mouth. With feeble attempts he slapped at the creature’s snout but the Prisca hung on, intending to have its prey die within its grasp.

  Savage backed away, taking glances at the hole while trying to keep a keen eye on the creature, a difficult task. When he reached the edge he did not hesitate. He brought his shoulders together, hands in front of him, and took the leap.

  His last sight before disappearing was of Obsidian Hall hunkering down by the remaining pod, thinking how much he deserved everything he got.

  With that thought on his mind he splashed down.

  The water was cool.

  But where was Alyssa?

  #

  Butcher Boy was as limp as a dead body could be with his arms and legs flaying randomly about as the creature shook the life out of him. Hall was crazed with fear but not so crazed that his penchant to fulfill his personal needs outweighed his underlying panic.

  To his left, not too far where the pod of Eve had stood before the creature sent it flying, was the KA-BAR Aussie dropped when Savage bested him in battle. Timing the precise moment, he scooted across the tier, grabbed the knife, and then scooted back behind the cover of Adam.

  The creature was tearing Butcher Boy apart, blood running everywhere. So much blood, in fact, Hall had to wonder where it all came from. Certainly the human body
couldn’t hold that much, right?

  Holding the knife in both hands with the point of the blade downward, he knew time was limited. Peeking over the pod at the Prisca, who was still busy with Butcher Boy, he looked right at Adam.

  “Sorry, boy, but I got to go.” With the KA-BAR, Obsidian Hall reached into the pod to feed his penchant.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Alyssa worked herself onto a nearby bank where she lay back, exhausted. When she found the power to pull herself into a sitting position, she held the lamp high. She was in a cavern that had been formed by the tributary remnant of the Gihon River, which flowed beneath the temple. Within fifty years, perhaps less, it would completely dry up. But the tributary had eroded the earth beneath the temple to the point where the temple’s foundation served as the cavern’s ceiling. There was no support with the exception of the dirt walls along the temple’s perimeter. Eventually the weight of the temple’s center would be too much for the edges to support it and someday the temple would collapse and Eden would be lost forever.

  She checked her pocket and sighed with relief that she kept her father’s papers, albeit they were in rough shape, the papers sopping wet. As far as she was concerned, she had made this journey alongside her father, never once believing that he abandoned her. Now to punch this home and get out of here, she thought.

  She struggled on, her ankle throbbing, the pain becoming unbearable. She sat down, knowing that it was an unwise decision. Just beyond the edge of light something glittered, a spangle of a reflection, a quick wink of something obviously metal. She slid across the dirt on her backside to the source, her teeth grinding in pain. And then she saw it. Her heart raced in her chest, realizing that the water was the key sustenance of life. Where there was water, there was life.

  Before her were several gastric pellets containing watches and rings and teeth and hair. In another pellet were belt buckles, a man’s necklace, and the frames of eyewear. She had stumbled upon a Megalania Prisca lair. Once the food is digested, then the lizard will regurgitate masses of things not wholly digestible into a malodorous pellet.