The Deathless Quadrilogy

by Chris Fox

  He passed the paper to Bridget, who took it hesitantly. It was difficult not to scramble backward from the man. She still remembered when he and his team had taken her down after she’d shifted. Utterly without mercy.

  Bridget examined the paper. She expected more glyphs from the inner chamber, perhaps some bit that Sheila was struggling with. To her shock, she saw a line of Egyptian hieroglyphs. They took her back almost a decade, to the days when she and Sheila had passed messages back and forth using such notes.

  He does not know this message’s true nature. The day will come soon when you will be free. I will help you.

  That was only a rough translation, of course. Hieroglyphs were less precise than that. But they had a spin on them that Bridget and Sheila had cooked up, a way to tweak the basic meaning of a glyph to include more modern context. They had created the system back in college as a kind of prank. She’d never expected them to use it again.

  “Tell her I’ll need some time to consider this but that most of the message is clear to me,” Bridget said, handing the paper back. They’d never let her keep it. “Was there another reason you came?”

  “Yes,” Jordan said, nodding at the camera. “For starters I wanted you to know that the camera is off for the duration of this discussion. I’ll catch hell for it, but I’m past caring.”

  “So anything we say is private. Why risk the Director’s wrath? This seems a lot like aiding the enemy, and I can’t imagine they’ll go easy on you,” she said.

  “It is aiding the enemy,” Jordan agreed. He sighed heavily. “At this point I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. Sheila is convinced some sort of apocalypse is coming. I faced Professor Smith in San Diego recently, and he said much the same, that the werewolves are our only chance.”

  “You saw Blair?” Bridget asked, trying not to sound too eager. A surge of elation passed through her. He was alive, and Mohn didn’t have him. Otherwise Jordan would have said captured, not faced.

  “He’s alive and well. And has some damn-scary friends,” Jordan said, cracking the first genuine smile Bridget had ever seen him give. “My team came home empty handed. He got away, but I’m almost positive he’s coming here.”

  “To wake the Mother,” Bridget said. She could hug Jordan, though she doubted he’d react well to that. “He’s always been resourceful. I’m sure he’ll make it back here somehow, and I doubt you’ll be able to keep him out of the pyramid. He’ll find a way.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right,” Jordan admitted. He didn’t look terribly concerned. “When he comes, we’ll do everything we can to stop him. You know that, right? He was seriously wounded in San Diego. He might not survive an attempt on the pyramid. Especially not with all the ordnance that Mohn has moved in. We’re prepared for war, Bridget. And I’m the guy they’ve put in charge of the battle. I can’t let him get to the Mother. I know you and Sheila disagree with that, but I’ve been given a job and I have to do it.”

  “So you never question orders, then?” she asked, wielding the accusation with the expert skill she’d learned first dating Blair and later, Steve.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Jordan growled, though she wasn’t sure if he was angry at her or with himself. “I don’t know if stopping Blair is the best decision, but that’s the job I’ve been tasked with, and I’ll do it to the best of my abilities. Mohn isn’t some soulless corporation. We believe we’re doing the right thing. Sheila has me questioning things, but if we’re in the wrong here, it’s through ignorance, not malice.”

  “Then why are you here?” Bridget asked. Then she hurriedly raised a hand to forestall him. “Not that I’m not grateful. I haven’t had any company in weeks. It’s just that if you’re so determined to stop Blair, and you know I want the same thing he does…well, I guess I just don’t understand your motivation.”

  “I promised Sheila I’d deliver that note,” Jordan explained, darting a nervous glance at the door. “Beyond that? I think you’ve been given a raw deal. I like you, Bridget. You’re smart and capable and you get results. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now you’re suffering for it. Me? I think you can be trusted, and I think it’s the worst kind of idiocy to lock you away. I’ve seen what female werewolves can do. You could shred this place like paper if you really wanted out.”

  “You’d be smart to kill me,” she said, shocked by her own honesty. But Jordan was being honest. Didn’t she owe him the same? “You know I’ll help Blair if given the chance. So if you think I can break out of this place, doesn’t that make me a threat?”

  “Absolutely,” Jordan admitted, smiling again. It looked good on him, and it almost gave her hope that they could be friends. “But I’m drawing a line in the sand. I’ve had to compromise on some pretty core issues since working for Mohn. This isn’t an area I’m willing to budge in. Like I said, I like you, Bridget. I hope we don’t end up on opposite sides of this. That could be messy.”

  69

  First Wave

  The ancient wooden chair creaked alarmingly as Trevor lowered himself into it. He banged a knee tucking it under the narrow desk, stifling a curse at the sudden pain. Calling the ‘office’ a closet would have been generous back in the states. Harry Potter had more room under the stairs at the Dursleys’.

  The center of the desk bowed under one of the massive CRT monitors that had been phased out nearly a decade ago. Stacks of unpaid bills flanked it, and a huge black tower competed for space with his legs under the desk. Trevor stabbed the power button on the bulky machine, the noisy fan firing up like a jet engine as the thing whirred to life.

  “You are a dangerous man, Trevor,” a voice purred from behind in heavily accented English. The floor creaked, and a soft hand rested on Trevor’s shoulder. “Liz used to tell me stories about you.”

  Conflicting emotions bounced about in his head like marbles in a blender. On the one hand, he was preoccupied with the end of the world. He needed to know if the sunspot had burst yet. The CME’s first wave could already have happened, and if that was the case, they had no more than two days before the second knocked out most of the world’s power.

  On the other, it had been a very long time since Trevor had enjoyed the touch of a woman, particularly one as gorgeous as Cyntia. He knew almost nothing about her, though she seemed to know a great deal about him. The Windows ‘98 logo appeared on the computer screen as the system booted, and he took the opportunity to face Cyntia.

  “Dangerous to a six pack of Guinness and an unlucky trout, maybe,” he said, giving her a wry smile. He wasn’t very adept at flirting.

  Cyntia was gorgeous, in the same way a tiger could be called gorgeous. Short, voluptuous, blond, and dark skinned. Yet, like a tiger’s, her beauty was somehow calculated, lulling a man into a stupor just before she struck. She gave a throaty laugh as if he’d just said the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

  “There are pictures of you with guns on Facebook. Pictures of you hunting large beasts. Even if that were not so, I saw you on that Tarmac. I would not have wanted to fight you,” she purred, resting on the arm of the chair. He was all too conscious of her leg pressing against his arm. “Were there more room, I’d sit on your lap, and you could scratch behind my ears.”

  A very awkward situation began to arise. Trevor glanced down at his crotch and then past Cyntia to the living room, where Blair and Adolpho were chatting. He looked up at Cyntia with his best grin. “If there was enough room, maybe I’d let you.”

  The desktop finally appeared, giving Trevor an easy escape from the fire filling his cheeks. He scanned the sea of scattered icons, horrified by the mess. Eventually he found the little blue E. Not his favorite browser, but it would work. He opened it, waiting far too long for it to load. When it did, he browsed to Gmail and opened his account.

  “You’re very tense,” Cyntia murmured, hands kneading his shoulders. It was heaven. “What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing, I hope,” he muttered back.

&nbs
p; The browser was agonizingly slow, but eventually his email occupied the screen. He scrolled through advertisements and a few joke emails, praying he wouldn’t see anything from David. Oh shit. About midway down the page was an email with the subject First Wave. His heart sank. It was from yesterday morning.

  “You just tensed even more. Whatever it is cannot be so bad,” Cyntia murmured. She was really good, but even her magic hands were not going to take his mind off this.

  Trevor clicked the email, holding his breath as the screen loaded. It was brief and to the point. First wave detected. Based on initial readings, this is the largest CME in recorded history. Have warned Washington, but gotten no response. Second wave within 48 hours.

  “Cyntia, we need to get everyone together. We’re in deep shit,” Trevor said, turning to face her. She seemed to pick up on his anxiety, rising from the arm of the chair.

  “I’ll tell Adolpho and Elmira you wish their attention,” she said, squeezing past him and back into the living room. He was fairly certain the squeezing had nothing to do with the cramped quarters, but far be it from him to complain.

  He trailed after her, into a room cracked and faded from too many years of use. There were a few white spots where pictures had probably lived, but the place was bare now. He didn’t want to know the circumstances that had led to the werewolves taking this apartment. He seriously doubted they were the original owners.

  Adolpho and Blair were involved in a rapid exchange of Spanish that flew completely over Trevor’s head. Blair sat on a ripped recliner, while Adolpho occupied the edge of the couch closest to it. Trevor settled onto the far side of the couch, its cushions long since compressed into flat squares about two shades less comfortable than concrete.

  Cyntia disappeared into the bedroom, appearing a moment later with Liz and Elmira in tow. Trevor followed Liz’s gaze, which landed on Blair as she entered the room. She gave a slight smile, and he knew her well enough to know why. She liked the guy. The idea of them together made him happy. They were both good people, and he had the feeling Blair would treat her right. He didn’t think either would admit it, but there was definitely a spark there. Sooner or later they’d slow down long enough to act on it.

  “Cyntia says you have urgent news,” Elmira growled as she stalked to a brown recliner. She sat delicately, a queen granting audience to her court.

  In contrast, Liz plopped down on the couch next to Trevor, elbowing him in the gut. “Has it happened?”

  “We’ll get there. Blair, maybe you should start by explaining why we’re in Peru. Otherwise what I’m about to share won’t make a whole lot of sense,” Trevor offered, turning to the anthropologist. Blair gave a short nod and licked his lips before speaking.

  “I was the first person to be turned to a werewolf,” he began, gaze roaming about those assembled. “It happened in an ancient pyramid that we just recently discovered. This pyramid was left behind by a culture we don’t even have myths about. They predicted a coming apocalypse, something that would wipe out mankind. They created us to serve as champions, to hold back an ancient enemy, and to save those we can.

  The room was silent, all eyes on Blair. Trevor gauged their reactions carefully. There was no disbelief, only curiosity. Cyntia didn’t even have that. She crossed the room silently, settling on the arm of the couch next to him. She rested a hand possessively on his shoulder. He wasn’t really sure how to react, so he didn’t.

  “The person who prepared all this is called the Mother. As far as we know, she’s the first werewolf, the literal mother for our entire species,” Blair explained.

  “Is? Not was?” Elmira interrupted, hands gripping the arms of her chair as she leaned forward. Her eyes glittered with an intensity Trevor expected from CEOs or judges.

  “Yes, is. She’s still in the pyramid, in some sort of stasis chamber that’s kept her alive for many thousands of years. Possibly tens of thousands. That’s why we came,” Blair explained, his hand finding Liz’s. That drew a smile from Trevor. “We’re going to wake her before this apocalypse arrives. She might be the only hope of mankind’s survival.”

  “This ancient enemy,” Elmira said, eyes narrowing. “What are they, and why have they not revealed themselves?” That she seemed to accept the Mother’s stasis surprised Trevor, though in light of them all becoming werewolves, perhaps that was to be expected.

  “The dead will walk. They’ll attack every last living thing, killing us all if they aren’t stopped,” Blair said, eyes daring anyone to laugh.

  “Zombies?” Adolpho said with a snort.

  “We’d have said the same thing about werewolves not so long ago,” Cyntia retorted, hand tightening on Trevor’s shoulder. “The world is not the same. If we exist, why not zombies?”

  “The question still remains,” Elmira broke in. “Why has this ancient enemy not appeared?”

  “That’s where it gets even stranger,” Liz interjected, releasing Blair’s hand as she spoke. “The zombies are created from a virus, a virus all of us know. HIV. Apparently it’s lain dormant for thousands of years but has become active again over the last few generations. Soon a solar event will occur that will activate this virus. When it does, every last person with HIV will die. Their corpses will rise as zombies, tearing apart cities across the globe.”

  The room was silent save for the ticking of the wall clock. Elmira merely stared at Liz, expression unreadable.

  “This is all very difficult to accept, even with everything that has happened,” Adolpho said, completing the first sentence in English that they’d heard from him. He seemed skeptical but also wary of offending them.

  “Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds,” Trevor broke in. He was uniquely suited to understand their reaction, having come late to the whole ‘the world is going to end’ party. “It sounds like the plot of some low-budget movie, right? But it’s true. That’s why I called everyone together. The solar event Liz mentioned has begun. It’s called a coronal mass ejection, and it’s going to wipe out power to most of the planet when it hits. I received word that the first wave occurred yesterday, around 11 a.m. Pacific standard time. That’s the weaker wave, the baby one before the real threat arrives. We have somewhere between twenty-four and forty-eight hours before the end of the world as we know it. Maybe less.”

  “Let us assume you are correct,” Elmira said, eyes distrustful. She brushed a lock of midnight hair from her face. “What is it you wish of us? What can we do to stop this terrible calamity?’

  “You can help us wake the Mother,” Liz said. She made it sound so simple.

  “If this ancient enemy has yet to appear, why do you need our help?” Elmira asked, gaze weighing Liz. “Why not simply wake her yourself? You’ve demonstrated incredible strength and fantastic powers. Far more than any of us.”

  “There’s a catch,” Liz said with a heavy sigh. Trevor noticed her grip tighten on Blair’s hand. Did she even realize she was doing that? Her tone was resolved. “The pyramid is held by a private army. They have state-of-the-art military hardware, no shortage of soldiers, and a strong desire to keep us from waking the Mother.”

  “We’ll almost certainly take casualties getting in,” Trevor announced. It was only fair that they knew what they were getting involved in.

  “And this Mother will help us fight this ancient enemy?” Elmira asked, looking pointedly first at Liz and Blair. She paid almost no attention to Trevor. Werewolf racism? He suppressed a smile.

  “She has all the answers. She created us and knows all about this ancient enemy,” Blair explained. He seemed more confident than when they’d met, though it had only been a few days. “You’ve seen that some werewolves are stronger than others. I believe that’s based on the strength of your virus, which is in turn related to how far from the source you are. If I’m right about that, the Mother will be much, much stronger than we can begin to imagine. She can teach us abilities we can’t possibly predict. We need her.”

  “If this Mother is our creat
or, then I would see her free,” Cyntia said, her leg pressed against his arm on the edge of the couch. Her sudden interest was more than a little odd, but it was difficult to question the attentions of a gorgeous woman.

  “It sounds like we have little choice. If we do not help, we’re defenseless when these zombies arrive,” Adolpho said, also directing his argument at Elmira.

  “Then it is settled,” Elmira said, rising gracefully from her recliner. “We will help you rescue this Mother, though our own lives may be forfeit. We will need to obtain vehicles and sufficient weaponry. How soon do you wish to leave?”

  “How far is it to the pyramid?” Trevor asked.

  “About four hours,” Liz said.

  “We leave now, then. Let us hope we are not too late,” Elmira said.

  70

  It’s Time

  Blair crept up the last few feet of the ridge, dropping prone and pulling himself through the dirt until he was next to Trevor. The Barrett sniper rifle had been set up on a bipod, thick scope angled at the camp that now sprawled around the pyramid. How had they built it so quickly?

  Blair willed a bit of energy to enhance his vision. The camp leapt into sharp focus, the gibbous moon illuminating the valley as brightly as the sun could. The soldiers had created semi-permanent structures, and at least several dozen troops moved between them. More probably slept inside. There were eight jeeps parked near the center of camp, guarded by a pair of soldiers wearing the power armor the soldiers in San Diego had worn. More would probably appear like wasps from a kicked nest if they were discovered.