Quest for the Ark

by Taggart Rehnn

  “That sounds mildly blasphemous,” protested Geoffroy.

  “You don’t say!” joked David.

  Severian smiled and continued: “Good thing I paid attention to Conrad’s explanations: To get there requires getting to the side of this tunnel—which is what Conrad said he recalled those who buried it saying they’d do. He also mentioned that, at the time he was very new to the blood, many religious symbols were painful to him, so he could not approach the Ark too much. Now, Geoffroy and I can get really close to it—but we can’t touch it. That will be your job, David. Should we instruct the undies to clear a path to the Ark then?”

  “Please do!” David replied, “I’m literally aching to get out of here.”

  The three were still laughing when Severian, after some slight hesitation, input the Ark’s best coordinate estimates, directed the ‘undies’ to zero in on them and turned them on. Assuming it had been encased into some very small room, walled to keep it in darkness, away from prying eyes, the rotating blades and laser cutting devices would now drill through the different layers far more slowly than usual and maintaining an extra-wide safety margin, as guided by the ground-penetrating radar, followed as close as possible by Geoffrey, David and Severian.

  After an hour and a half or so of drilling, both ‘undies’ automatically stopped.

  The artificial intelligence computers of one had found what had to be the Ark. The other had stopped working going through a nearby room. Something extremely hard had, either slipped between its gears, or locked the rotating blades themselves, and stalled it. To prevent overheating or irreparable damage, the robot had auto-powered off.

  Following hot on their homing signals, the three explorers brought the ‘giant transparent suppository’ as close as they could to the machine that had powered down automatically to prevent overheating. Looking closely, they realized it had attacked head-on a massive amphora, filled to the brim with precious stones.

  “King Philippe II sure would have killed to get this,” ironized David.

  Stone-faced, Geoffroy was curt: “He did.”

  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” admitted David. Geoffroy shrugged.

  Moments later, having followed the other homing signal to the second machine, from a nearby place, Severian gestured for David and Geoffroy to approach. A few meters ahead and to the right, closer to the other ‘undie’, a very peculiar object, nothing like the Ark, awaited them: apparently, the Ark, had been encased in what looked like a solid lead coffin, and the coffin, finally, welded shut. Based on the Biblical measures of the Ark, the distance between the lead coffin and the Ark had to be less than a thumb’s length, in every direction.

  “That,” said Geoffroy, cupping his chin pensively, “is a problem. I could claw the lead and rip it open. That is easy. But if I touch the Ark, I shall die. The same goes for Severian. Also, since we died as humans and were turned into undead, our touch would desecrate the Ark.” He sighed, while shaking his head in disbelief. “This might, in the end, be a minor disaster.”

  “We could try having one of the ‘undies’ pierce the lead, but we have no notion of the lead’s thickness, and even whether it is uniformly thick,” suggested Severian. “But if the laser cutter or the drilling blades go overboard, again, they could touch and desecrate the Ark—or, even worse, make a hole on it. These ‘undies’ can stop fast—but perhaps, not fast enough. And, if we try to saw it, we would face the same problem.”

  Listening to the fresh air from above wailing its invigorating song, David kept scratching his head and making wonky faces. Suddenly, his face lit up, he snapped his fingers and, pointing to the strange lead coffin, exclaimed: “I have an idea to cut the lead box, without touching it.”

  “How? A hand-held laser? It could go past the lead sheathing. The overheating metal might ignite the wood. I don’t know if the laser we have here, which is mostly for signals…Ah, no…I see now, in your mind…” started Severian.

  “Yes!” clapped Geoffroy.

  “If we can get enough potassium nitrate, and we turn it into dilute nitric acid…” said David. “I’m glad I brought my tiny portable computer to check reaction conditions, proportions and such. I don’t trust my phone batteries so much after all this time…”

  “Batteries, you said?” asked Severian. “What time is it?”

  “Two fifty in the morning,” replied David, checking his wristwatch. “Why?”

  “We are rather close to the surface. In one of these streets there have to be cars parked. Older cars have sulfuric acid batteries. There was some water in one of the rooms. We can make dilute nitric acid, see how long it takes. If that fails, we can help it with the laser. If even that fails, then we could still try cutting through the lead using cruder methods, like the double-serrated steel combat dagger Tony gave David as insurance, in case the Wotanists had arrived here first,” suggested Severian.

  “Fine,” agreed Geoffroy. “You two go gather the saltpeter and the water, and try to remove the stone stuck in the ‘undie’s cogs. Since the archaeological modules in the ‘suppository’ are almost full by now, the contents of the amphora can be loaded in a tarp.

  I will go to the surface and get a car battery or two, and will be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, maybe you could also try to contact the others. We’re closer to the surface now. Those ventilation tubes might not be ideal, but the signal might still reach them. If this works, we will be emerging at the garden behind Sa Grâce’s hotel soon enough. The Countess was a genius, renting all the suites for the week.”

  “So, now that Conrad is gone we have to take your word that you are on our team?” asked David, hesitantly.

  “If the Mother had any doubts about his innocence, Geoffroy would have followed Conrad to the Abode of Evil,” said Severian. “Your other option is: I go hunt for the car battery and leave you here with Geoffroy. Would you rather do that?” he finished, looking David intently in the eyes.

  “You can read my mind,” began David, almost apologetically. “Excuse my lack of trust but until a couple of hours ago, Geoffroy was our worst enemy—and he almost broke my neck and back. In any case, that wasn’t he. It was Conrad. On the subject, what would happen if anyone who awaits Geoffroy’s instructions—say among the Nazis—or simply expects to see him or Conrad, sees Severian instead?” he asked.

  “Good point,” admitted Geoffroy. “I could deal with the Wotanists simply by deceiving or killing. What I told whom or whom I knew, I have not forgotten—I simply did it under ‘superior orders’. Moreover, I can make friendly faces think I am Conrad and read from their minds what they expect me to say. Now that he is gone, the blockages in all minds he had distorted in whichever way are gone. When time comes to leave Chartres, I presume it would be simpler to make anyone who expects Conrad emerging with you and Severian from the underground to see him, instead of me, until we can explain what happened.

  For the operation to be completed smoothly, the trucks have to be ready at the parking lot, behind the Countess’ hotel, at the right time. Since I have shared some thoughts with Severian and read most of your mind, I should be able to update the people at the hotel if I get in contact with them. Would that suffice to assuage your misgivings, David?”

  David assented. Geoffroy nodded. “On the same subject,” he added as he started walking away, “I’d suggest you two try to remove the stones blocking the gears in the stalled ‘undie’. We will need them both functional to emerge in the back garden quickly and to close the tunnel as soon as we get all this equipment, the tarp with jewels and the ‘suppository’ out. That way, when they’re done, we can load them on the trucks as well and leave immediately. Agreed?” David had just begun giving him a thumbs-up when Geoffroy was gone. Immediately after Severian and David started working as agreed.

  They did this for almost an hour. At about that time, David noticed Severian had drastically slowed down from his usual feverish pitch and started looking at him strangely.

  “What’s
up, Severian?” David asked him, rather innocently.

  “It should have been me who went to get those batteries…” Severian replied, looking down, burying his face in the shadows on a dark corner.

  “Why so? Are you jealous? Tired of my company?” chuckled David.

  “No,” replied Severian, slowly lifting his head so the flashlight could illuminate his mouth. “I have consumed all my blood rations. No matter how deep one might be, the stress of being entombed and moving while the sun is out, to us, undead, is very draining. Since he’s older than me, Geoffroy can better cope with the thirst. Also, this late at night, he will likely find some criminals to feed on in some dark road, while he gets those car batteries. So when he’s back, he will be perfectly able to control his instincts and even to kill me and save you, if he arrives in time. I, instead, younger, hungrier, am now here, trapped with a very muscular specimen of our primary prey, forced to fight the thirst with all my willpower, within jumping distance of five and half liters of A+ blood, entombed right beside me.

  Sadly, I cannot leave you alone and go find someone to feed upon now either—because I am sensing two ‘drifters’ approaching. Try to contact Geoffroy. He has now Conrad’s phone…” Severian said.

  “How come?” asked David.

  “He dropped it, I found it, and decided it might come in handy when the Mother took care of him…” replied David.

  “Useless without biometrics or password…” protested David.

  “Conrad was kind enough to tell me his was ‘Dracula’—he got points for originality. Now, stay away from me. I will try to reach for the Mother. If, either I try to attack you, or the drifters kill me before Geoffroy is back, remember you have the dagger. Use it!”

  “So, where are those ‘drifters’ coming from?” David whispered, now pale as bleached paper.

  “If there is one piece of good news, they followed the route taken by Geoffroy, only backwards, it might seem. Hopefully, he might have sensed them and will come back soon. But, for now, have the dagger handy—and try to avoid cutting your skin. At this stage of the thirst, I can see all the veins under your skin pulsating as if you were made of glass. That alone, is driving me insane. I can hear the beat of your heart like a drum, calling me, telling me to feed. So I’m preparing to defend you, as I’m fighting the urge.

  But if I smell your blood outside the body, I won’t be able to control my instincts, my vampire thirst. The beast in me will be unleashed. Be careful how you wield the dagger. Be mindful of broken shards, and also of sharp edges left by the ‘undies’ drilling. Remember! Now, get ready: the ‘drifters’ are getting really close,” Severian said, slightly slurring his words. “Fortunately, they are younger than me, probably two centuries old or so. I can sense them, but they can’t sense me—but they are two, and I am starved and badly stressed out.”

  When the first ‘drifter’ appeared and was about to attack David, Severian emerged from the shadows, clawed him in the back, ripping through his backbone and removing his heart through the gaping hole left in his back by his blow, alongside pieces of his backbone, making a sound not so unlike the stuffing of a colossal turkey, only made squishier by the large effusion of blood. All the same, when the newcomer managed to savage Severian’s right thigh with his claws, the wound he left wouldn’t close as fast as it should, leaving him with a limp and losing some blood as well.

  Seconds after that, the second ‘drifter’ arrived and started attacking Severian furiously from behind. Now Severian seemed unable to deal with the pain, the slow healing, the blood loss, the thirst and the savage attack all at once. Fortunately, David found his courage and stabbed the second ‘drifter’ in the back. When he turned around, in abject agony, to try to attack David, he stabbed him again, this time in the heart—happening so fast that the two ‘drifters’ ignited almost simultaneously.

  In the struggle, however, David got a cut in his left forearm. Badly wounded and starved, Severian had become a beast of instinct. Making a supreme effort he growled: “Run, or stab me in the heart! Quickly!”

  Unsure of what to do, David remained immobile for a moment. He was about to start running when Geoffroy emerged with the batteries in one hand and holding a corpulent drug dealer, barely alive, by the collar of his leather jacket. “I thought you might need a snack, after all this daytime exercise,” Geoffroy said, dropping the pimp right in front of Severian. In less than a second, Severian bent over him. Moments later, the snack was convulsing, wriggling, and moaning, and fast getting drained of blood and life.

  While Severian completed his feeding, Geoffroy told David to go wash up, apply the rapid clotting cream in the ‘suppository’s emergency kit, and cover the wound fast. “I might be very old, and also have recently fed; but you know what I am—so, go, now! Stop dangling that filet mignon in front of the tiger’s cage,” he finished, chuckling.

  Needless to say, David obliged, at once.

  Hardly twenty minutes later, things had calmed down and David’s contraption to open the lead sarcophagus had been assembled. The sarcophagus had been cleaned off centuries of dust, crusted mud and grime.

  Using some of the archaeological tools Sól had included—alongside a wish list she and Siegfried had drawn up of ‘possible findings worth retrieving’, time and opportunity permitting—they prepared a dilute solution of nitric acid, applied it carefully, forming a line to split the lead container in half lengthwise, and then expedited the process by slightly heating the metal surface using the laser guidance system. To this, the pulsing laser blasts had to be kept brief. All moveable parts in the ‘undies’ had to remain off as well, and other possible sources of sparks watched—given that the hydrogen generated by this chemical reaction would take time to dissipate in this far more poorly ventilated room.

  David, who now felt he could dispense with the dagger was going to sheath it then, when Geoffroy got inside his mind: “That might create sparks too. Let the hydrogen dissipate a bit more. Although odorless for humans, for us, undead, hydrogen has an odd smell, a bit like baobab flowers for the living.” The he turned around and check on Severian. “How are you faring, Monsieur?”

  “Much better, thank you,” Severian replied, nodding. “While you wait for the process to be complete, I will go feed properly and try to contact the others, and make sure the trucks are ready to be loaded and any contingency measures activated.” Geoffroy now gave him a thumbs-up, Severian chuckled, and, in a heartbeat, vanished following more or less the same route Geoffroy had taken before him.

  Minutes after he was gone, while David and Geoffroy were still waiting for the acid to complete its job, a sizeable cave-in rattled the entire place: probably weakened by the ‘undies’, a lateral wall from an entire section in the tunnel, longer than ten meters, had suddenly collapsed. Paradoxically, after dust and debris cleared out, David and Conrad could breathe a little easier, both literally and figuratively: the side that had collapsed had the ‘pile’—a compacted sloping mass of soil ‘undies’ build as they move along the tunnel—resting against it; so now the whole thing became a sort of talud-tablero supporting structure, hopefully with minimal distortion observable at street level. Judging from air currents and absence of other fluid discharges in that section, very few pipes—if any—had broken as a result of the cave-in.

  Since Geoffroy by then didn’t smell any more hydrogen, they could now activate the reticulate particle removal filters, a luxury only now—being so close to the surface—could they finally afford without unacceptably high risk of clogging them—and a most welcome luxury after the cave in. It was also now time David put on his gloves, took a clean paper sponge, and wipe the area where the corrosive acid should have cut the lead box clean and inspect the groove to make sure it had actually sliced the entire lead capsule.

  Once done cleaning, he slowly removed the gloves, and, hands trembling, directed the beam of his flashlight into the groove. Seeing the light’s reflection from within, he winced; this wasn’t any reflection, but
, clearly, that caused by a golden object.

  David started to cry, uncontrollably, then fell to his knees and, still crying, mumbled, several times: “Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh! Arōn Ha'brēt!” until his voice failed him, being now left with only a river of joyful tears—tears that tasted of trepidation; but, also, of glory, and of duty, and of hope.

  31—One Last Push

  David’s next task wasn’t going to be easy. The way it would have to be accomplished made it even harder. In fact, resenting the close contact it would require, he initially had an almost visceral reaction to the idea and demanded it be done some other way.

  Were it not for the pain the Ark’s proximity would cause—far easier to endure for an older vampire—Geoffroy could, and would have, delegated it to Severian. Heated arguments ensued: a raucous, vividly gesticulated one, between the vampires and the human; and a perfectly silent and still one, between the two vampires. Geoffroy probably grasped the urgency to complete this mission better than anyone: tethered to his maker’s mind, bound like a chained slave or a dog on a leash, he had never shared Conrad’s machinations—but he had felt Conrad’s every jolt and relaxation along the road to that night; and now knew exactly what had made his maker tense. However, he also understood David’s justified mistrust, his dread, his animal reflex of avoidance, not so unlike that of an abused animal watching the abuser coming back from rehab. Severian did as well. Only, to him, the time for psychoanalysis would have to wait until the mission could be completed. “Listen, David,” he blurted out, angrily, right before leaving to go feed some more, “precision work under excruciating pain would be a guaranteed clusterfuck. Geoffroy is not Conrad. Deal with it!” and, vanishing across the wall, he was gone. With David’s mind in turmoil, Geoffroy started pondering: should he glamorize the human, to have him ‘operate on the Ark’? Sure this would make David’s behavior more predictable; but it would also substantially increase the pain Geoffroy have to endure—already dreadful, so close to the Ark. What if, then, his own pain became too much to bear, and so lead to disaster?