by Ben Hammott
Boyd nodded and fished the radio from his pocket.
Colbert took it and walked over to Richard. “Contact your brother to let him know what’s happening.”
Taking the radio, Richard walked away until he was out of earshot of the Russians before contacting his brother.
Colbert joined the Russians. “The only way down and up is by the ladder. Is that okay with you?”
“Da. Is not problem,” confirmed Nicolai. “We climb now?”
“Richard is just letting his brother know we are here, and then we can go down.”
As Nicolai updated his comrade, Colbert went to join Mason at the wire rope ladder. “Is it secure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” replied Mason. “The ladders aren’t the easiest things to climb, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Okay, we’re all set. David knows what’s what,” announced Richard joining them. “Who’s going first?”
“That’ll be me,” said Mason.
“I’ll go next.” Richard waved the Russians over. “You two climb down after me, and we’ll get your photos done so you can get back to hunting bear.”
Nicolai nodded. “Is good.”
Richard looked around. “Where’s Boris?”
“Sheltering in the truck. I don’t think he likes the cold wind,” said Sullivan.
Dressed in his warm clothes, Richard hadn’t noticed the drop in temperature. He turned to Nicolai. “Do you have a spare jacket or something I can borrow for Boris until I can find him something below?”
“Da.” He glanced at his comrade to check his attention was still focused on Mason climbing down. “Come. Alyosha has a…err what you English say?” he mimicked pulling something over his head. “A pull over, yes?”
“Yes, a pullover or jumper.” Richard followed Nicolai to the back of the van and climbed in.
They emerged a few moments later with Boris wearing a green thermal jumper that hung to his knees. It was another astonishment Boyd had to endure. Who had ever heard of a chimpanzee in Siberia?
Boris chattered at Richard.
Richard grinned at him. “No, you don’t look silly. It suits you.”
Colbert waited until the others had descended before climbing down.
*
Peering at the image on the smartphone’s camera app, Richard motioned with a hand. “Nicolai, move to the right slightly.”
Doing as instructed, Nicolai adjusted position and holding his hunting rifle across his chest, placed a foot on the shoulder of the large cave lion where Alyosha knelt beside its head with his weapon aimed at its skull.
David groaned at the abuse of his prized specimen. Ever since the SEALs had kidnapped his brother, he had been worried about Richard’s fate. So thankful had he been when his brother had safely returned, he had rashly agreed to the reward Richard had offered to the Russians in return for their help. Though also grateful Richard had survived his encounter with the alien creature he had briefly told him about, he was on the verge of calling a halt to the impromptu photo opportunity.
After one more posed photograph with the cave lion and two with the woolly mammoth, Richard handed Nicolai his phone, so he could check that he had kept his end of the deal. The Russians’ excited exclamations and laughter as they flicked through the images, revealed they were pleased with the results.
After taking them to look at his meteorite which the SEALs were currently digging out of the permafrost—Richard had taken full advantage of their cover story and had set them to work as soon as they were in the crater—Richard led them to the ladder, shook hands and watched them climb out. Their fume-belching truck roared to life a few moments later, fading when they drove away.
Richard placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder as they headed away from the towering side of the crater. “Thanks for doing that, David.”
“I’m glad to have you back safely.”
“There’s another favor I need to ask of you.”
David sighed. “And that is?”
“Will there be room on the helicopter coming to collect your frozen mammals for my meteorite?”
“And us,” added Colbert joining them, he had worked up a sweat digging. “This ground is like concrete.”
“Is it out?” asked Richard.
“No thanks to you, it is.” Colbert looked at David. “Is there room for all of us?”
David shrugged. “I’ll have to check with the helicopter pilot, but the worst-case scenario, it will have to make two trips.”
“Where is the ship anchored?”
“East Siberian Sea.”
Colbert worked out the logistics of getting them back home to America in his head. The helicopter would probably be a CH-47 Chinook fitted with extra fuel tanks. Depending on the weight of the frozen mammoth, the cave lions, and the meteorite, it’s possible they would be pushing the Chinook’s safe lift weight and with it, its fuel-to-flight time limit. If they could get from Batagaika crater to the cargo ship on the East Siberian Sea, and have the Chinook take them to the nearest friendliest airbase, hitch a flight to Nome, Alaska, and from there, arrange for a C-130 airplane home, with a refueling stop in Montana, or Canada if necessary. Arrangements could then be made to get Richard and his space rock to England.
Having made his decision, Colbert informed David. “The helicopter’s going to have to make two trips. As I believe it’s important we are gone from here before some Russian official turns up to check on your activities, as they are prone to do even way out here, and discover we are SEALs, which might result in you being thrown off your dig site, we, Richard, Boris, and the meteorite will go first, it will then return for your specimens.”
David scratched at the back of his neck his fur collar tickled. “It’s not ideal as we have the lions and mammoth out of the ground. I suppose though that we could cover them to prevent them from thawing further. Also, the sooner you lot are gone, the sooner I can concentrate on the reason for my team and me being here.”
“Might be worth contacting the ship to see if the helicopter can come earlier,” suggested Richard. “The meteorite’s out of the ground. We just need to winch it onto a pallet, which we can soon knock together, and it’s ready to go.”
“Okay,” David conceded. “I’ll do that now while you construct a pallet.” David pointed at a nearby tent. “There are some short planks over there you can use, and some tools and nails in the tent. There’s also a hand-operated come-along that should be strong enough to drag your rock.”
“Thanks again for your help, brother.”
David nodded. “If it helps you get your life and career sorted out, it will have been worth the bother.” He headed off to contact the cargo ship.
Colbert watched him go. “I’m not sure you deserve such an understanding brother.”
“I’m certain I don’t,” agreed Richard. “Now, let’s go grab the stuff we need. If the helicopter can fly out today, it doesn’t leave us much time to prepare.”
“We could always leave the meteorite.”
Richard scowled at Colbert. “That is not an option.” He walked off.
Grinning, Colbert followed.
The cargo helicopter arrived later that day. Its internal winch hauled the meteorite up the aft cargo ramp and onboard.
As the SEALs and Boris, still wearing Alyosha’s jumper they had forgotten to return, entered the helicopter, Richard said goodbye to his brother. Promising to stay in touch, Richard boarded and waved goodbye when it took off and flew out of the crater.
After watching the helicopter grow distant, David turned away and went to check on his team.
CHAPTER 4
Homeward Bound
A few aircraft changes, hundreds of miles traveled, and a few hours into their final flight aboard the huge C-130, Richard gazed around at his fellow passengers. He wondered how they could sleep on the uncomfortable seats set either side of the sparse interior. Even Boris was snoring away beside him. Unlike a commercial airline, this plane had none of
their comforts and, by the constant backdrop of the roar of its powerful engines, inadequate soundproofing. Things rattled, banged, and pinged as if it was coming apart at the seams. He licked his dry lips. He could do with a real drink about now, but booze and cabin service were other luxuries this flight lacked, and he had to make do with bottled water.
Richard’s thoughts flicked back to what had happened in his life recently. His encounter with the alien creatures in Antarctica aboard the huge spaceship, twice, and then another alien monstrosity in Siberia. He was fortunate to be alive. Pleased that he had destroyed every last remnant of the black alien in the nuclear explosion, and his dealings with alien lifeforms were behind him, he sighed. It was time to start rebuilding his career.
Focusing on more pleasurable things, he turned his head to the meteorite. He hoped it would scrub away some of the ridicule he had received after the various governments and military institutions involved had reported his story about the spaceship and the alien menagerie inside as a load of cock and bull. If the meteorite turned out to be as unique as he suspected, he would write scientific papers about it. He might even be able to get someone interested enough to make a documentary about it. Nat Geo would be his first port of call. If he pitched it right, and they agreed, their involvement would add credence to the find and go some way to re-boosting his seriousness as a scientist.
“Can’t sleep, Richard?”
Richard focused on Kelly, the SEAL pilot, sitting opposite. “In this rattling junk heap, not likely.” He nodded at the rack of parachutes. “The next lot of turbulence, and I’m putting one of those on.”
Kelly grinned. “Admittedly, it’s not the first-class travel you are no doubt used to, and she may rattle and shake a bit, but that’s part of her charm. She’s sturdy enough and will get us there safely.”
Wishing he shared the man’s optimism, Richard turned his gaze to the pilot’s cat that sauntered out of the cockpit like it owned the place. By all accounts, it was the airbase’s mascot. It padded over to the litter tray, squatted, and did its business. Balking at the evil stench wafting through the plane, he watched it ineffectively kick cat litter in the rough direction of its smelly spoils. Its disinterested glance at its barely litter-splatted feces seemed to satisfy the feline that it was adequately covered.
With its bowels emptied, the cat turned to play, attacking a swinging tassel dangling from one of the SEAL’s bags. When its playful gaze around the plane picked out the meteorite, it sensed the strangeness of the object. Curiosity led it over to investigate.
It halted and scratched claws at the rough wooden frame encasing the meteorite to the pallet. It then stretched out, and after walking around sniffing the strange rock, it jumped on top and set about its cleaning routine, licking parts of itself most humans had no hope of mimicking.
When turbulence shook the plane, Richard again gazed around what he was beginning to think of as a flying coffin. Wondering how many more hours he had of enduring this hellish flight, he closed his eyes in another attempt to drift off to sleep. If he could manage it, hopefully, he wouldn’t wake until they had reached their destination.
*
The cat’s scent and heat radiating from its body seeped into the rock and aroused the long-dormant organism within. It didn’t ponder how long it had been hibernating, where it was, or what lifeform emitted the heat. Only three things mattered to it: energy, reproducing, and survival. It tunneled from its cocoon of dead brethren that had shielded it from harm during its long voyage and slithered toward the warmth. Halting at the protective blockage its kind had placed in the crack when they had sought refuge inside the rock, it extended a tendril, stiffened the tip, and cut away a section.
*
Standing beside the podium where he had just orated his lecture on the meteorite that had astounded the scientific community, Richard turned to the three men that walked onto the stage and graciously accepted the three highest accolades someone in his field could hope to receive: the Nobel prize, the Copley Medal from the London Royal Society, and lastly, the Albert Einstein World Award of Science. Clutching two in one hand, he moved to his meteorite on the stage, held the Nobel Prize aloft, and proudly gazed around the room packed with his peers who had risen from their seats to give him a standing ovation. Bathed in flashes of light from the reporters’ cameras who worked for the newspapers that had previously ridiculed him, his smugness morphed into a worried frown when the room began to shake. A piercing screech that brought back many bad memories ended his pleasurable dream.
*
Richard’s eyes shot open. The plane’s vibrations faded. Noticing Kelly staring at the back of the aircraft, Richard worriedly followed his gaze. “What screeched?”
“The cat,” answered Kelly. “I think it fell off your rock.” He unbuckled his seat restraint and approached the meteorite.
Sensing something was wrong, Richard held his concerns in check as he watched Kelly.
When Kelly drew level with the meteorite, he focused on the twitching tip of the cat’s tail protruding from the far side until it disappeared from his sight. He moved one step closer and emitted a startled gasp when it leaped out and screeched at him. It ran the length of the plane and entered the cockpit.
Spooked, Richard also jumped when the cat had made its appearance. Anxiousness clouded his thoughts when it dashed past him.
Kelly returned to his seat. “What do you think that was all about?”
Richard shrugged and looked at the meteorite.
Kelly did likewise. “That thing is safe, yes?”
Richard nodded. “It’s just a space rock.”
“Maybe it just had a bad dream,” offered Kelly.
Richard could sympathize with the feline there; he’d had his fair share of nightmares over the past few months.
The C-130 pilot, Dave Simmons, turned and smiled at his cat as it climbed into its bed. “Take control, Bob?” he said to his co-pilot.
Bob took charge of the aircraft. “I have control.”
Dave unbuckled his harness and knelt beside the cat bed. After tickling Gizmo under the chin and stroking his head, he stood and pulled some Temptations cat treats from a storage locker. He tipped a few next to Gizmo’s head and placed the packet back in the cupboard. Moving out of the cockpit, he glanced into the hold. Most of the men were asleep. He nodded at Kelly and his civilian passenger, who were both looking at him, before entering the toilet.
When Dave returned to his seat a few moments later, he noticed Gizmo hadn’t eaten the treats, which was unusual; they were his favorite. He knelt and made a fuss of him.
“You feeling okay, buddy?”
The cat looked at his human. His eyes, dark and emotionless.
“We’ll soon be back on terra firma.” He bent to kiss his pet on the head before returning to his seat.
Gizmo stretched out to nap.
*****
Richard yawned more from boredom than tiredness. Kelly had fallen asleep about an hour ago. Wondering for the umpteenth time how long it would be before they reached their destination, he decided to stretch his legs and go find out.
Halting inside the cockpit doorway, he was surprised at the number of windows—he counted twenty-three separate panes—it had the effect of walking into a greenhouse. Resting a hand on the door frame for support against the vibrations, he gazed out at the cloud filling the screen. He found it unnerving not being unable to see where they were going, something he assumed pilots were used to, relying on the instruments rather than line of sight.
“How much longer before we land?”
Rob checked the gauges and looked at his watch before turning his head to Richard. “Approximately one hour and fifty-five minutes.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you not enjoying the flight?” asked Dave.
“Seats could do with some padding, and the inflight service is atrocious,” replied Richard good-naturedly.
“Sorry to hear that, sir,” apologized Dave, pl
aying along. “We pride ourselves on our customer satisfaction. Please feel free to lodge a complaint at our website wedontgiveacrap.com so we can use the feedback to make improvements to our service.”
Richard smiled and looked at the cat when it stretched out. “I’ll be sure to.” He was about to return to his seat when he noticed something moving under the cat’s skin.
Past fears resurfaced.
He stepped back.
The cat convulsed as creamy tendrils erupted from its body with small bursts of blood. Black tendrils slithered from its mouth and latched onto the cat's cheeks. Its jaws were forced apart when the tendrils dragged out the attached fungus-furry body.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
Richard had seen enough. As he turned to flee, he shouted, “Land this plane, now!”
He entered the hold and glanced around. Trapped thousands of feet in the air, he had nowhere to run. Options flashed through his brain. The only place the thing that had emerged from the cat could have come from was the meteorite. He focused on the sleeping SEALs.
Had one or more of them also been infected by the same alien organism?
Had he?
They had all been near the meteorite, him more than most.
Would he know if he was infected? Would they?
Richard prodded his stomach. It seemed normal, and he felt fine, health-wise.
His self-preservation kicked in.
If that thing is a threat, as he was certain it was, then even if the SEALs failed to kill it, he would rather it went after them than him. As he rushed to wake the men, he focused on the parachutes, his only means of escape.
The co-pilot turned in his seat to join Dave in watching as Richard rushed away. “What on earth is he on about, land the plane?”
In a better position to see from his seat, Dave noticed the tendrils that had emerged from Gizmo’s body. Immediately thinking they were worms, which the cat shouldn’t have because he kept up with his medication to combat such parasites, he unbuckled his seat harness. “You have control; something’s wrong with Gizmo.”
