‘We can’t be certain of that,’ Dagmar said.
Selene Dubois moved closer and held Sarah’s gaze, perhaps trying to assess the truth by the sense of sight alone. She then turned her attention to the sheen of metal that had merged with the bone on Sarah’s chest.
‘If she was lying, the interrogations you conducted would have told us,’ Selene said. ‘And if she was unaware of its power, its current state is beyond repair and any separation and re-forging process would be time-consuming. If the pendant you’ve just removed proves adequate, you will have the luxury of dissecting Ms Morgan at your leisure, but for now her knowledge of the pendant’s power may yet prove useful.’
Dagmar’s expression soured, his exuberance quashed. ‘As you wish.’ He looked at Sarah with disappointment, then hobbled away and motioned to his surgical team. ‘Seal her up.’
A surgeon and two nurses moved into Sarah’s restricted view, while in the background the mysterious Selene Dubois picked up the pentagonal pendant to inspect.
More warmth flowed into Sarah’s veins, a male nurse removed the tape on her eyelids and her mind drifted into the dark of the unconscious.
♦
The sound of a door slamming startled Sarah awake. She sat up and looked around the spartan carriage of the train she’d occupied for the last few days. A grey, metal shell with no windows and a hard metal floor left little room for comfort. She looked down at her clothing, a simple white smock made of wafer-thin paper. Bloodstains had seeped through from her chest, where she’d pulled a stitch from the brutal surgical procedure conducted over a fortnight ago.
Dark red circular welts on her palms and feet had failed to fade since their inception many weeks before, perhaps months before, such was her lack of meaningful contact with anyone willing to disclose even the most basic of information. She had no idea what day it was, let alone the date. She stroked the ugly scar on her bare foot, the raised blotch a reminder of her brush with death. And yet, despite the price she’d paid – almost the ultimate price – the ancient device she’d activated in an attempt to save the life of the man she loved had been in vain. Riley Orton, the man of her dreams, was dead, and all the light in her life had gone with him.
She looked at the near identical mark on her other foot, before comparing it to the similar scar first on her right palm, then the left. As she touched the four marks in turn she thought of those she’d left behind, the only two people in the world who meant anything to her. Her best friends, her family: Trish and Jason. An image of their smiling faces made her heart ache and a tear of self-pity trickled down her cheek.
Footsteps above echoed through the empty shell and down the staircase at the opposite end of the railway car. Sarah hurriedly wiped away her tears as a woman appeared, her white coat and name badge identifying her as one of Dagmar Sorensen’s underlings.
‘Time for your medication,’ the nurse said, her stern uncaring face as cold as her voice.
Sarah sat up straighter and held out her arm, noticing as she did so her hand shook from withdrawal.
‘This will take away the pain,’ – the woman smiled as she produced a syringe – ‘for a while.’
Sarah rolled up her sleeve, eager for the suffering to stop. Soon after the needle entered her arm and the familiar relief sent a burning sensation tingling over her scalp and down her back.
The shaking in her limbs subsided and she sank back against the wall, momentarily content.
‘Feel good?’ the woman said, withdrawing the syringe.
Sarah nodded dumbly, her mind foggy from the rush of chemicals.
The nurse chucked a bottle of water at Sarah’s feet. ‘Enjoy it while you can,’ she said, walking away. ‘The director is planning to finish what he started as soon as we reach our destination.’ She paused at the bottom of the stairs. ‘He said I can assist, as well. I’ve always wondered what beautiful looks like on the inside.’
The woman disappeared back upstairs, and Sarah remained where she was, the fear of what was to come tarnishing her current state of euphoria: the memory of her dream still fresh in her mind. Except the problem was it wasn’t a dream at all, but a recollection, a recurring nightmare of reality. She bowed her head as the drugs flowed through her veins, the familiar sensation of pain dulled.
As she sat there thinking about her impending death, she leaned her head back against the wall, the sensation of movement once more lulling her to sleep, the muffled sound of the train emerging to the fore, clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.
BOOM!
The train shuddered, brakes screeched, and seconds later movement ceased.
Sarah opened her eyes and ran a hand through her short blonde hair, her blue eyes scanning the carriage from her vantage point on the floor. She sat up, listening, but no other sounds filtered through to her ears. The clarity in her head told her she must have drifted off to sleep after she’d been given her drugs.
BOOM!! The carriage rocked and lights flickered out as another distant explosion shook the train.
Surrounded by darkness, Sarah wondered what to do. Her parched throat made her seek out the water left by the nurse. Feeling about, her hand closed around it and she unscrewed the top and took a sip, before spraying it out in a fit of coughing.
It wasn’t water at all, but urine.
Sarah spat on the floor and wiped at her mouth, feeling sick, the anger at her treatment igniting a rage within she’d thought long dead.
Throwing the bottle away in disgust, she got to her feet and felt her way to the stairs. With difficulty, her body weak from lack of nutrition, she climbed to the top and met resistance in the form of a door. She pushed against it and felt surprise as it swung outwards.
Moving through it, she found herself in the top deck of her carriage, but unlike below, this level had windows and a glance outside told her it was night. The pale light of the moon filtered through the trees of a snow-laden forest, illuminating the interior with a ghostly sheen. Shelves of medical supplies lined the walls. A sink and shower area stood next to a decontamination room, which took up one side of the entire coach. There was no sign of the nurse and Sarah moved to the sink and washed out her mouth before drinking her fill. With her thirst quenched, she thought about going downstairs to retrieve her bottle; she didn’t want to go thirsty again. What are you doing, Sarah? she thought. This is your chance. Take it!!
She grasped a white lab coat, struggled into it and slipped her bare feet into some blue disposable overshoes. They were better than nothing.
She looked both ways, deciding which way to go.
Is that gunfire? she thought, her ears straining.
The sound came again from towards the rear of the train.
She made for the other end of the carriage, only to see its door opening. Diving to the right, she wedged herself behind some crates and prayed she wouldn’t be seen.
Heavy footfalls clanked down the gangway at speed and four GMRC commandos ran past.
‘... multiple hostiles,’ one of the soldiers said, as they reached the other end, ‘it’s an ambush.’
‘We can’t leave it unguarded,’ said another.
‘I don’t care what Sorensen said, if we don’t fight back we’ll be overrun, and besides, it’s secure.’
The sound of a door opening and slamming closed plunged Sarah back into solitude.
Whatever was going on, her tormentors had their hands full, and if she was to escape it was now or never.
She left her place of concealment and reached the door the soldiers had emerged from, pulled down the handle and found herself outside, between cars, still on the upper deck of the static train. Snowflakes sifted down from above, continuing to cloak the dense forest that lurked in the dark to the left, while on the right moonlight reflected off a partially frozen lake, its jagged and broken surface disappearing into the distance.
Sarah glanced back at the forest, knowing that was where salvation lay.
The rat-a-tat of automati
c weapons made her pause and the light from a drone whooshed past overhead.
Sarah’s stomach clenched in fear and she moved to a ladder. She was about to descend to the ground when the sight of approaching flashlights moving amongst the trees forced her back into indecision. She looked at the entrance to the next carriage, its nondescript exterior the same as the last.
She cursed. The door had no handle.
A gust of wind rippled her clothing, drawing her gaze back to the treacherous lake and certain death.
Just as she considered going back, the door before her slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
The woman who administered Sarah’s meds stood framed in the opening, her expression revealing that she was shocked to see Sarah standing there, staring back at her.
The nurse’s eyes narrowed and Sarah shoved her in the chest.
The woman stumbled back, before disappearing with a scream over the edge of a steep drop.
As the door inched closed, Sarah jumped inside, then the door shut behind her.
Sarah peered over the ledge to where her abuser had fallen.
The woman lay at the bottom of a ladder, moving weakly, her limbs at odd angles to her body.
Unlike the one Sarah had been in previously, this carriage only had a single deck, the ladder before her leading down to an empty floodlit hold.
Turning round, she clambered down the metal rungs, and stepped over the prone woman at the bottom, whose eyes followed Sarah as she passed.
Despite how the nurse had treated her, Sarah felt like going back to see if she could ease her pain. Are you serious? the voice in her head said. The bitch deserves it! Sarah couldn’t argue with the logic, especially as it was her own, but just because the nurse was bitter and twisted, didn’t mean Sarah had to be. Despite her drug-fuelled empathy, however, Sarah didn’t stop; sometimes you just had to be selfish, and this was definitely one of those times.
Moving down the empty coach, she reached the other end, opened a metal hatch and climbed through.
On the other side, in yet another part of the train, a formidable barrier halted her progress, the obstruction replete with various warning and biohazard signs. Sarah closed the hatch behind her then turned back to the frosted glass panel.
There was no obvious way in. She tried pushing on it, to no avail, before spotting a digital keypad on the right. She tapped in some random codes and wasn’t surprised when nothing happened.
As she realised she had no other choice but to go back, a deafening detonation sent vibrations sweeping through the floor beneath her feet. The whole train lurched sideways with a terrifying shriek of sound. White lights flickered out and the floor twisted, before stopping at an odd angle.
Low-level red emergency lighting flooded the compartment and an icy chill permeated the air.
Sarah looked down to see water seeping into the carriage, the level rising by the second.
The train’s entered the lake, she thought in terror. GET OUT!!
She turned and yanked at the hatch, but the distorted chassis of the train had jammed it closed.
I’M TRAPPED!
The creaking superstructure told Sarah if she wanted to get out, she didn’t have long.
In desperation, she threw herself at the glass.
Her shoulder exploded with pain.
With her strength fading, the surge of adrenaline gone, Sarah slid to the floor, her cheek pressed against the frosted panel in defeat.
I tried, she thought, as the water reached her feet.
A beeping noise made her look up.
A line of red numbers moved above the keypad, each digit spooling through the possible ten permutations of zero through nine.
The first number stopped its rotation, fixed on the display as ‘2’.
The next digit in the ten-figure sequence was the next to stop, and then the third and fourth also locked into position.
Sarah hauled herself up as more of the numbers finished their endless search, until the whole row flashed once, then remained static.
A panel below slid open to expose a biometric scanner with the outline of a hand in its centre. Two ice-blue laser lines intersected each other, as they swept across its surface from right to left and from top to bottom.
A buzzer sounded and the frosted panel that blocked her escape separated in the centre with a hiss of gas.
Cast in deep shadow, low hanging clouds of mist-like vapour swirled around a dark laboratory, cloaked in diffuse red light that flickered in sporadic flashes.
With the floor still on a slope, Sarah crept inside; wary, but knowing time was of the essence, she increased her pace and reached yet another door that looked the most secure yet, it’s vault-like facade an immovable certainty. And yet, despite the array of security features that adorned a panel on the right, this most secure of entrances was ajar, the mechanisms ... unlocked.
Chapter One Hundred Three
Sarah pushed open the heavy barrier, the door swinging inward on silent hinges to reveal a pitch-black interior.
Her gut told her to go back, to not go inside, but her mind told her this was the only way to safety – or so she hoped.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the faint glow of red light seeped through from behind her, illuminating more of the swirling mist that smelled like sulphur. She stepped forward, noticing dim transparent screens lined the side of the room to her right, their data and graphs still adjusting to whatever they monitored.
The floor beneath her shifted, reminding her of the precarious nature of her survival, the train most likely on the verge of sinking into the lake’s frigid depths.
As if to confirm her fears, a painful chill bit into her feet.
Sarah gasped as icy liquid penetrated the thin material of her flimsy overshoes.
She stumbled up an incline and away from the rising water, feeling her way in the dark, the cold gases making her eyes sting and flesh tingle.
The creaking groan of metal echoed through the railway car, like a submarine buckling under pressure.
With the fumes making Sarah’s head pound, she decided to up the pace again, before something brushed against her arm.
She yelped and jumped back, heart beating ten to the dozen.
She froze in shock, and the sound of sibilant breathing permeated the quiet, reminding her of dark tunnels and a shimmering light.
Terror gripped her as she imagined what lurked within.
‘Pharos,’ she whispered, praying it wasn’t so.
Disorientated in the mist, she panicked, rushed forward, and careered into a shadowy form.
She screamed as it grasped her wrist in an iron grip.
Unable to escape whatever held her, she was hauled through eddies of gas towards a glowing light.
‘Who are you?’ said a husky voice.
The mists thinned and the figure of a man resolved itself.
Sarah opened her mouth, but no words came.
A brighter light appeared, illuminating the speaker’s face, half concealed behind a simple cloth mask that covered his nose and mouth. He wore white camouflaged tactical gear, without armour; there was no sign of any GMRC logos, or any emblems of any kind. His mane of shoulder-length brown hair was tied back into a loose ponytail.
He grasped her shoulders, his piercing green eyes holding hers as he dragged her closer, his breath hot on her face.
He shook her. ‘Speak, or we’ll both die here.’
‘I—’ She gazed into those eyes, those powerful eyes, and felt her strength fading, her mind faltering. ‘Sarah,’ she said, and sagged against him. ‘Sarah Morgan.’
He lowered her to the floor and prised open one of her drooping eyelids, then produced what looked like a syringe.
She shook her head in protest, but he’d already administered its load.
A surge of energy flooded her body and mind. More icy water grazed her flesh and she struggled back to her feet, her bare legs prickling with goosebumps.
The man removed his
mask and reached out to touch her short blonde hair. ‘Sarah Morgan,’ he said in wonder, searching her face.
Not knowing what to say, she nodded.
His eyes met hers and his expression turned angry. He grabbed her arm and twisted it, making her gasp in pain.
‘Stay here,’ he said, and then moved away into the dark.
Sarah shivered as the lake’s waters lapped at her feet, but whatever this stranger had given her made her feel impervious to its life-sapping cold. She followed his light, splashing after him through the mists.
As she reached his side, a glass partition projected their reflections back at them, the man’s flashlight attached to his chest casting their faces in an eerie halo of light.
He gave her a furious look at her disobedience, then reached out to the glass and activated a security panel hidden in its surface. Individual numbers on a pad lit up beneath each strike of his fingertips and the faint instrument panels located ten feet away beyond the glass grew brighter, their glow revealing a dark form immersed in shadow, a form that moved beneath the sheen of monitoring equipment that now penetrated the black.
The sound of breathing she’d heard before came again, a ragged inhalation followed by a long exhale. The sound didn’t emanate from the man next to her, but from inside the large glass enclosure that occupied the entire length of the train car’s wall.
Sarah felt her eyes drawn downward as the vapour inside the transparent chamber cleared, revealing the monstrous form of a creature that lay on its back, strapped to a metal slab.
Sarah gasped at the sight before her: the unbelievable vision of an Anakim giant, Homo gigantis, and not just bones and dust, but living, breathing flesh and blood!
‘It’s alive,’ she whispered, watching the comatose creature as its chest rose and fell in time with its laboured breaths.
The man drew a large serrated knife from his belt. ‘Not for much longer.’
‘You mean to kill it?’ Sarah said, aghast.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he activated another panel and the glass screen before them rose into the ceiling, releasing clouds of gas as the forgotten water level inched ever higher.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 53
