Mutation

by Michael McBride

  “You have to help me,” she said.

  “I won’t be able to climb the cable like this,” he said. “You’re going to have to go without me.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  She guided him into the main walkway. The pass-through doors seemed so far away. She glanced back the other way, toward the cul-de-sac where—

  Her breath caught in her chest. The blood rushed in her ears.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  There was blood all over the floor where Roche had hit the creature in the head at such close range that he’d nearly decapitated it, but the body was gone.

  A trail of bare footprints led to one of the few intact display cases. A smear of blood covered the glass, from behind which mummified alien corpses stared down at them. Droplets of blood swelled from the top edge of the case and dripped to the ground.

  “Get out of here,” Roche whispered.

  “Not without you.”

  He removed his arm from her shoulder, cupped the back of her head, and drew her face to within inches of his.

  “I need you to do this for me.”

  “Two of us stand a better chance—”

  “Kelly . . .”

  “Don’t you dare tell me goodbye,” she said.

  “You have to go.”

  “You promised we’d go anywhere in the world I wanted, that we’d start over. Together. You promised me!”

  “We can’t let this thing get out of here. You have to make sure they seal off this building. You’re the only one who can do it.”

  In her mind, she knew he was right, but in her heart . . .

  Kelly kissed him. Leaned her forehead against his. Felt tears flowing down her cheeks. She pushed away before she could change her mind and ran for the elevator.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look back.

  51

  BARNETT

  La Venta

  Barnett scurried through the darkness, parting curtains of roots and spiderwebs, navigating the narrow stone corridor. He was out of time, and he knew it. Regardless of which side won the battle being waged outside, the victor would be hot on his heels, bringing with it either an overwhelming amount of firepower or an insatiable hunger. Either way, it wouldn’t be long before his head start evaporated and confrontation became a foregone conclusion. He needed to make every second count.

  The rattle of gunfire faded behind him as he reached the first fork in the tunnel. One branch led upward, while the other slanted downward into depths from which a bitter cold radiated. He stopped in his tracks when he realized how similar it was to the layout of the pyramid in Antarctica, where, if he continued downward, he would have found the ancient machinery that powered the device that had transformed Dale Rubley into the creature now known as Subject Z. In fact, if he listened closely, he was certain he heard the sound of running water, felt the thrum of the subterranean aquifer flowing beneath his feet. If this structure served the same purpose . . .

  He ducked his head and started up the ascending corridor until he reached an enormous vaulted chamber, inside of which he found himself surrounded by anthropomorphic statues of winged beings with the heads of animals. While those at the bottom of the world had been classical in design, sculpted with the precision of Michelangelo’s David, these were blocky and abstract, reflecting the style of the ancient Maya, despite which he clearly recognized that they depicted the same beings. It was as though the Olmec had followed the same blueprints as the Atlanteans who crafted this pyramid’s Antarctic twin. If he was right, once he passed through the statuary, he would find—

  There. A hole in the far wall. He ran toward it, dove inside, and crawled until he emerged into exactly what he’d expected to find, right down to the spiral pattern set into the floor, winding outward from the lone column in the center. Both were greenish-blue with oxidation, although he had no doubt that the copper filaments would still carry an electrical charge.

  A thumping sound, followed by a rumble that shook the entire structure. He felt more than heard the clanking of the primitive lodestone gears coming to life in the bowels of the pyramid.

  This entire region of Mexico was one giant karst formation, a limestone platform sitting on top of a veritable underground network of rivers and lakes in a continual state of erosion, opening sinkholes the Mayans believed were sacred, cenotes that granted them access to the underworld. It was more than that, though; it was a massive landlocked ocean subject to the same gravitational forces that controlled the rise and fall of the tides, making it especially sensitive to the alignment of the planets, which, under the right conditions, would cause that water table to rise high enough to perform its designated task. In this case, that meant turning a water wheel attached to a series of gears that caused a magnetized stone ring to spin around a metallic post wrapped with copper wiring, creating a changing magnetic field that stimulated an electrical current to flow through the windings and—

  The inset spiral started to glow. Faint, but unmistakable. It wouldn’t be long now before the aquifer flowed fast enough to charge the capacitors in the chamber underneath him, generating enough power to turn on the machine.

  He thought about Subject Z and its desperate flight to reach this site, about UNSUB X, the creature it had brought with it all the way from the South Pole. And suddenly everything made sense. If there was one trait Subject Z had demonstrated above all others, it was an uncanny ability to survive. From the subzero temperatures of the lake trapped beneath the ice cap to the surge of electricity and scalding steam that should have cooked its host body in the process of assimilation to its escape from FOB Atlantis and subsequent northward track across the entire southern hemisphere, everything it had done had been to ensure its survival. It was the human part of its biology that made it susceptible to the virus the Assyrians had released inside the tomb in Mosul, one that had wiped out all of the mutated creatures, and yet left the giant masked man to rot on the plinth. He now understood why Subject Z had risked being recaptured and drowning in the floodwaters to save the mummified remains from the stone sarcophagus, why it had continued heading toward Mexico when it could have vanished into the high Andes or the hundreds of thousands of unexplored acres of the Amazon rainforest.

  This giant being was its means of surviving the release of the virus.

  Its goal had never been to beat them here so that it could destroy the one thing that could kill it; this was about upgrading to a host body that could withstand the coming apocalypse. And if it achieved its goal of subsuming the body of a god, there was nothing in the world that would be able to stop it from supplanting mankind as the dominant form of life on the planet.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  The rising electrical currents caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

  Barnett sprinted across the room to another small opening. Crawled until he reached the dead end. Stood up into the vertical shaft. Climbed the diagonal stone staircase leading upward into the darkness until he reached the opening to the room he knew would be there.

  He entered the transformation chamber, where a silver toroid had been set into the middle of the floor to distribute the current to the green bands of oxidized copper that radiated outward and ascended the walls. When the electrical charge reached the terminal threshold, it would vaporize the water at the bottom of the shaft, filling this room with steam at the same moment it became electrified.

  This was where Subject Z needed to go, and it was running out of time to get here. The sparkle of current passing through the wiring meant that the lunar eclipse was now at hand.

  The grinding of gears grew louder. The vibrations passing through the stone structure intensified. Dust shivered from the ceiling. Mortar crumbled from the walls.

  There was nowhere to hide in here. No place to set an ambush.

  He hurried back down the stairs and out into the room with the spiral floor. Blue bolts of energy spit and
popped from the central column. He felt the heat coursing through the floor. Crawled back into the gallery with its giant statues. Stepped into the shadows between two gods and pressed his back against the wall.

  Barnett heard the clamor of nails striking stone. Distant, but coming in fast.

  He opened his backpack and removed the silver canister. Turned it over in his hands, surprised by how steady they were. There was something liberating about knowing he was about to die.

  Skree!

  Barnett gripped the handle set into the top of the case, pushed down, and then turned. A hiss of air escaped from inside on a breath of mist. The lid popped up ever so slightly. He pulled it open, retracting the attached contents from what appeared to be a cryogenic chamber, from which pure white smoke rose. Six vials were mounted in a ring around a central post, like bullets in a speed loader for a revolver. They were etched with frost, and yet the fluid inside remained in a liquid state. He removed one from its holster, cradled it in his palm, and felt its awesome weight.

  Skree!

  He shoved the vial into his front pocket. It was bitterly cold against his thigh. He unslung his rifle. Leaned around the side of the statue. Aimed into the mouth of the ascending corridor. Blew out his breath to steady his nerves. Tightened his finger on the—

  The feathered serpents appeared from seemingly everywhere at once. Scurrying across the floor. The walls. From the ceiling of the tunnel.

  He fired as fast as he could. Caught a glimpse of a creature streaking toward him along the ground. It opened its jaws, exposing its razor-sharp teeth. The first shot took it straight through the back of its throat. The second punched a hole through its forehead. He was already shooting at one climbing up the face of a statue when the first slid through a mess of blood and came to rest at his feet.

  A crimson starburst decorated the statue and the creature lost its grip. He detected a blur of movement in the flicker of discharge and hit one streaking at him across the vaulted ceiling. Swung his rifle to the right and lit up the belly of the beast lunging at him. Pounded its chest with enough force to reverse its momentum, causing its feathered tail to nearly whip him in the face.

  Another was on top of him before he could aim. He managed to get his elbow under its chin. Thrust the barrel of his rifle into its mouth and blew out the back of its feathered cranium.

  He shrugged it aside, but there were too many.

  Talons sank into his back. Another creature pounced on him from the wall to his right, driving him to the ground onto the one behind him. It scrabbled to free itself from underneath him, snapped at his ear, the stench of its carrion breath all around him.

  He fired blindly at the ground beside his head, the sound simultaneously deafening him and producing a high-pitched whine inside his skull. He felt warmth on his cheek, draining from his ear, but couldn’t tell if it was the creature’s blood or his.

  The feathered serpent on top of him slashed his chest, slicing through cloth and flesh alike. He bellowed in agony, momentarily exposing his throat. Raised his forearm to ward off the attack. Its teeth passed through his flesh and struck the bone, sending pain rocketing straight down into his hand. It crunched down and he heard bone break. Stuffed the rifle between them and kept pulling the trigger until the firing pin clicked on an empty chamber.

  It continued to scratch at his legs, even as its blood flooded onto his abdomen.

  He gingerly flopped it off of him. His broken arm bent in a way it was never meant to bend, forcing him to use his other hand to pry its jaws from the wound.

  Feathers hung in the air all around him. He heard the trickle of blood passing through the gaps between stones in the floor and, beneath it, the sound of footsteps.

  Barnett cradled his useless arm to his chest, struggled to his feet, and stumbled backward, away from the ascending corridor. He shrugged off his backpack, let it fall to the ground, and rummaged around in search of a fresh magazine. Furrowed his brow when he found a rectangular case. He heard Morgan’s voice in his head.

  You never know when they might come in handy.

  He shoved the case down the back of his pants, under his waistband, and continued searching until he found a full magazine. Loaded it one-handed and raised it just in time to witness the silhouette of a being he would have recognized anywhere materialize from the dark tunnel.

  “Cameron Barnett,” Subject Z said in a voice that reverberated throughout the gallery. “How fitting that you should be here to witness the end.”

  Barnett reached into his pocket and shattered the small vial.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in the world.”

  52

  ANYA

  Giza, Egypt

  The blond woman stood in front of Anya, their stares meeting through the mesh of the Celtic cross concealing her bright blue eyes.

  “What about you, little one?” the woman said. “Would you like the honor of giving your life so that your god might live?”

  Anya sensed the men standing behind her, felt them preparing to restrain her. She looked at Jade and Evans. If her death could buy them more time—

  The man wearing the medieval knight mask charged into the room, breathing heavily.

  “Das musst du sehen,” he said and gestured toward the entrance from which he’d appeared. “Eile!”

  A faint tremor passed through the ground, causing sand to cascade from the between the stone blocks overhead.

  “It’s happening,” the woman whispered. “Bring den körper mit.”

  Anya had worked with German archeologists at various digs all around the world. While she was nowhere close to being fluent, in her line of work it wasn’t uncommon for someone to request that the body be brought with them.

  “Do not worry, little one. You will still have your chance.”

  The woman turned and rushed through the doorway. A handful of masked men converged on the sarcophagus. They reached reverently inside, slid their arms beneath the desiccated remains, and loaded them carefully into a silver body bag.

  A shove from behind and Anya stumbled toward a sloped stone passageway leading down into the darkness. She had to duck to keep from hitting her head on the low ceiling, which made it nearly impossible to maintain her balance with her arms restrained behind her back. She slipped several times, but somehow managed to keep from falling.

  The ramp leveled off before opening into a natural formation, only one unlike any she’d ever seen before. The walls were as smooth and polished as glass, almost as if the surrounding sand had been superheated. Stone blocks had been set into the slick earth to provide a means to reach the bottom of the steep formation, where the walls seemed to absorb the light, illuminating the entire cavern with an ethereal glow.

  The vibrations grew stronger as they descended. Anya detected a humming sound coming from somewhere ahead of her. The cavern tapered until they reached a small hole barely two feet wide.

  Knight Mask shined his beam inside for the woman in the golden mask, who crouched at the edge for several seconds before crawling into what appeared to be a man-made structure, and the source of both the sound and the sensation.

  Anya watched several others slither into the darkness before being prodded with the barrel of a rifle. Wriggling through without the use of her hands took some doing, but she accomplished the feat and found herself inside a chamber reminiscent of an industrial boiler room, the slanted floor of which was paneled with metal grates that had broken in places and revealed the thick pipes running underneath them. The walls were rusted, like the interior of a scuttled submarine. A row of cabinets that almost looked like breaker boxes were mounted to the wall beside parallel rows of conduits and metal tubes concealed beneath the accumulation of dust. A long hose dangled from the ceiling, frayed wires protruding from the end. Bands of copper wiring, green with oxidation, traversed every available surface. There were four giant cylindrical units from which pipes thicker than her thighs originated. They went straight down into the gro
und to some unknown depth.

  The blond woman raised the golden mask from her face to better take in everything around her. There were tears on her cheeks. Her resemblance to Maddox was uncanny, with the exception of her nose and brow, which were broad and flat. Her nostrils were teardrop-shaped, like those of a lizard. The deformities were plainly apparent, and undoubtedly the reason she wore the mask. Considering the others had the same eyes, Anya could only assume they shared similar physical abnormalities.

  The men carrying the mummified corpse shoved past Anya. They hadn’t been able to zip the bag closed because of the elaborate, solid gold hawk mask, which concealed the upper half of the being’s face. She caught a glimpse of the lower half, noticed its flattened nose and angled nostrils, its broad, thin-lipped mouth.

  As an evolutionary anthropologist, Anya was accustomed to looking for the origins of the people she met in their facial features, but she’d never expected to find them in a place like this.

  She looked back at the woman, who traced her fingertips almost lovingly over the exposed portion of the corpse’s face. There was no denying the resemblance.

  They followed the macabre pallbearers down the slope and toward a crumpled hole in the wall, where it looked like an explosion had torn through the metal siding, leaving behind a ragged crater lined with sharp protrusions, on the other side of which was a bare stone room that appeared to have been excavated around the more modern structure, and yet had to be as old as the pyramids themselves.

  Anya’s mind reeled as she attempted to make sense of everything. The sand fused to glass. The modern technology. The ancient chamber built upon the ruins of a structure that couldn’t possibly have existed during the same time frame. There was only one explanation for how this anomaly could have gotten here, but she couldn’t rationalize it, let alone speak the words out loud.