Darya looked as unconvinced as ever. “Do you get this from the size of the brain? Because this is not always reliable.”
“It’s not just that,” she replied. “I mean, let’s look at the evidence. The creature that attacked us in the tent came in through the door. But Lungkaju closed it after he left.”
Callum shuddered at the memory of turning to see those bottomless eyes staring across at him, appearing to read and reread his thoughts. “It undid the zip.”
“It unfastened the zipper,” Ava repeated. “It could’ve slashed its way in, but it was smart enough to know that it could get the drop on us better if it entered the same way we did.”
“So it is work out how to operate the zip,” Darya said, unimpressed. “But many animal species are problem-solving: primates, chimps, orangutans, gorillas. Also dolphins and the octopus are very intelligent problem-solvers.”
“Am I right thinking that all of those creatures learn by mimicry?”
“This is true,” Darya said. “It is the same for human beings when they do not have direct instruction from another. They copy those around them.”
“I don’t think it was trial and error,” Callum said. “The zip slid open nice and smooth. At first I thought it was Lungkaju.”
“So that leaves mimicry,” Ava said. “Mimesis. The creature must have seen the zip being operated, learnt the process and remembered it.”
“How could this be?” Darya asked. “This is the first time anybody uses their tent on the island.”
Ava’s silence brought a chill to Callum’s chest. “You think it was watching us, don’t you? Studying our behaviour.”
“I think it saw Lungkaju leave, yes. And I think it saw how he operated the zip.”
Darya frowned. “If it saw Lungkaju leave, why did it not attack him? Why would it just let him walk away?”
“Precisely,” she answered. “It discerned. And that’s the one thing above all else that convinces me we’re dealing with a highly intelligent animal here. It didn’t just savage the first one of us that it saw. It watched. It waited. It selected a target. Again, that would require an active, decision-making intelligence. Much like ours.”
“It reacted when you pointed the rifle at it as well,” Callum said. “It knew that the rifle represented danger.”
“Perhaps this is why it is not attack Lungkaju in the first place,” Darya added, “because he carries rifle.”
“And the fact that it saw the rifle as a threat suggests that it must’ve seen one before,” Callum said. “It must already have had a run-in with the soldiers.”
“Or maybe it is watching when the polar bear was killed.”
“Either way, it’s learning,” Ava said.
Darya cast her eyes around the undulating rock that stretched up the valley-side in either direction. “Do you think that they are watching us now?”
Ava: “It’s possible. But by now I think it’s pretty clear that they only attack when our vision’s impaired.”
“You mean when there is mist.”
“Since it’s cleared, we haven’t seen a single one, have we? Again, it’s the most intelligent behaviour. Exploit our species weaknesses, in this case our over-reliance on sight.”
“They attacked me and Darya in broad daylight,” Callum said.
“Yes,” Ava admitted, “but on that occasion, I think it was you who took them by surprise. They weren’t actively hunting you, they were fishing.”
“You think that they were just protecting their young?”
“Makes sense.”
Lungkaju had stopped on a ridge of high ground. As the others arrived at his side, he was busy surveying the route ahead, rifle draped across his forearm, hood fastened tightly around his face. “The compound is only two hours from here.”
Callum was surprised at the familiarity of the way ahead. From the gradient, to the meandering channel gouged into the valley bottom, the landscape triggered something. “Why do I remember this place?”
Lungkaju looked thoughtful, as if trying to remember something very specific. Then he replied triumphantly, “Palaeochannel! Doctor Ross, it is the old riverbed.”
Before Callum could say anything else, Darya asked, “This is the channel that leads to the tunnel? To the ice mummy?”
He nodded.
Ava looked confused. “What in the hell are you all talking about?”
With everything that had happened, she still hadn’t heard the story; the discovery of Ngana’bta; the link they’d made between the mummy and the creatures.
Together, he and Darya filled her in.
“You think this guy was killed by the same creatures?” she said. “What, thousands of years ago?”
“All the pieces seem to fit,” Callum answered. “In the myth, Ngana’bta was sent to hunt Tansu Taibaa, the lizard bird. To anyone without an exhaustive knowledge of extinct palaeofauna, that’s exactly what one of these things would look like. A lizard bird. Then there’s the matter of Ngana’bta’s legs. Both completely removed above the knee before he was able to escape. These things are clearly more than capable of inflicting that kind of trauma.”
Ava seemed to think long and hard before saying, “Can we see it… him? Can we see the mummy?”
Lungkaju frowned. “No, Doctor Lee, we must get to the compound.” His words were metered. His expression spoke volumes. Callum was certain that it was only because the gentle Nganasan was so well-mannered that he hadn’t replied: Are you out of your mind, you crazy bitch? Our lives hang in the balance and you want to go sight-seeing!
“I agree,” Darya said. “It would be stupid not to keep going.”
Callum could feel their gazes urging him to add his voice to theirs. He opened his mouth to do so. It was a foregone conclusion that he would agree with them, after all. Wasn’t it? Indulging Ava’s academic curiosity to keep her moving was one thing. But now was not the time to go straying off course, no matter what…
…but there was another voice inside him. One that he couldn’t quiet. A part of him found it not just hard, but impossible to resist the opportunity to see the ice mummy one more time. Was it because he wanted to relive the discovery? Possibly. Or was it to prove that it wasn’t all just a figment of his exhausted imagination?
He looked to Lungkaju. “How far is the tunnel?”
“Ten minutes, but Doctor Ross—”
“I know. I know,” he said. “But look, we’ve been walking for a long time. I think that we could all use a rest. Mummy or no mummy, that tunnel is somewhere close by and convenient that we can shelter in.”
“My friend, I really do not think that this is sensible,” Lungkaju protested. “Doctor Lebedev?”
There was a long silence before Darya replied, “We are all tired. Let us just go and rest in this tunnel for half an hour. No more. Then we go from there straight to the compound with no more stops.”
Lungkaju nodded, then stalked away in silence along the valley.
As he followed on, Callum felt a hand press into his.
“I think that you owe me, solnishko,” Darya said.
He smiled at her. The last few days had taken its toll on all of them, but though her skin was sallow and her eyes heavy with exhaustion, she was as beautiful as ever.
He squeezed her hand. “More than you know.”
4
“Marchenko. How long till we’re in contact with Nagurskoye?”
“One hour, Starshyna. Two, tops.”
“As soon as you’re up and running, make the call. Don’t fuck around. Don’t mention anything about the dragons.”
“Starshyna?”
“Repeat. Not a word about the creatures. I don’t want them thinking it’s all a hoax. Just tell them the Albanov went down. All survivors stranded on Harmsworth. Request rescue vehicles to this location immediately and tell
them to prepare for casualties.”
“Request contact with the mainland, Starshyna?”
“Negative, Marchenko. Keep it simple. Out.”
* * *
The entrance to the tunnel did bring the excitement of its first discovery rushing back. Only this time the experience was marred by apprehension. Callum had forgotten how cold the interior was, and he shivered as the chilled fingers of air picked their way into his neckline. That same smell of ancient rock seemed to burn inside his nostrils and the emergency glow stick dangling from his neck emitted a brilliant but eerie green light that cast a whirlpool of shadow around the walls.
“It’s a helluva tight squeeze,” Ava said, crawling her way in after him.
“It opens out a little up ahead.”
With Lungkaju determined to keep a vigil at the entrance, the three of them crawled along the passage, the sound of their every movement amplified. Before long Callum could make out the dark outline of Ngana’bta slumped against the right-hand wall.
“It’s just ahead,” he called back. “Are you squeamish?”
“After the last couple of days, it’d take a lot to make any of us squeam,” Ava replied.
Stopping at the head of the mummy, Callum manoeuvred himself around to allow the others to see. Its upturned face was as fascinating and grotesque as he remembered, the vacant glare of the eye cavities both repulsive and mesmerising in the gloom. He watched as the others drew round. “Ladies, meet Ngana’bta.”
Ava gasped and held a hand to her mouth as Callum brought the light of the glow stick down over the mummy’s face. She spoke through her fingers. “The millennia have not been kind.”
“Actually they’ve been incredibly kind,” he said. “Such a superficial level of soft tissue decay after such a long time is remarkable.”
“Of course.” Her gaze passed from the mummy’s face to his torso and down towards his tattered legs. She held her hand out for the glow stick. “May I?”
Callum passed it to her and she began inspecting what remained of the mummy’s legs.
“Were these his things?” Darya asked. She was pointing towards the dead bird and pottery shards that had spilt from the fibre bag.
“They must have been,” Callum said. “The shards are all the same material, probably from the same broken vessel.”
She moved towards the scatter. “And the bird skeleton? Why would he have this?”
“I’ve no idea,” Callum replied. “My guess is it’s something to do with shamanism.”
“Black magic?”
“Not necessarily evil,” he replied. “But something like that.”
Darya inspected the skeleton. After a few moments she said, “It was young. I cannot tell species, though. I do not recognise.”
Ava’s voice rang out suddenly: “Check this out.”
Callum and Darya looked over. She was running her fingers over the mummy’s frozen leg flesh. “This is interesting.”
“You’re telling me,” Callum said. He moved back to her side. “If we weren’t next on the menu, I’m pretty certain he’d be one of the biggest archaeological sensations of our time. In fact—”
“Very interesting indeed,” she repeated, completely ignoring him. “This injury was inflicted by an animal alright.” She looked up slowly, her face half in lime, half in shadow. “Only it wasn’t Troodon.”
Callum stared at her. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Ava replied. “For one thing the tooth marks left in the thigh don’t match.”
He examined the mummy’s legs. She was right. The edges of the flesh were stippled with slit-like gouges. Tooth marks. He wasn’t surprised that they were there, just that he’d missed them when he’d first examined the corpse. “I’ll be damned.”
“You didn’t notice them before?”
He shook his head.
Ava prodded at the frozen flesh, then said, “You got that fossil by any chance?”
Callum unzipped his jacket, reached into his inside pocket and withdrew the small, brown tooth. “I promised Jamie I wouldn’t let it out of my sight.”
Ava took the serrated triangle and held it against one of the marks in the thigh muscle.
The tooth was smaller. It was also clearly a different shape, thinner and more angular. She handed it back. “You’ve heard of the principal of bite radius identification?”
Callum shook his head.
“In cases of animal attack, you can typically work out the size of the animal’s jaw from its bite radius.”
“This is correct,” Darya said. “From the size of the jaw you can then work out the size of the animal itself.”
“Look.” Ava ran her finger across a number of consecutive tooth marks. “You can see an imprint of the arc of the upper jaw here.”
Callum looked to where she was pointing at the left-hand thigh. “But there are only four tooth marks,” he said, “and they hardly seem to arc at all.”
He watched as Ava ran a resolute finger across the marks. But she didn’t stop at the edge of the thigh as he’d expected. Instead she crossed over the gap between the two legs and continued along a further line of tooth marks spanning the right-hand thigh. They matched up, forming a much larger arc.
Callum swallowed hard. “I see.”
“Whatever made this mark had a large mouth,” Ava said, “much bigger than that of Troodon, ergo it was larger.”
“So what could it have been?” Callum asked.
In a moment of rare deference, Ava said nothing. She looked to Darya.
“These are not the tooth marks of polar bear,” Darya said, “and even if he is giant, the bite is still too large and there is no bigger land carnivore known in the Arctic today.” Resignation rang in her voice. “I do not recognise this bite. The only carnivore with bite radius this big would be marine, a large shark. Maybe even orca, killer whale.”
Through pursed lips, Ava said, “But we’re much too far inland.”
“We are now,” Callum said, “but sea levels change. Maybe the level was that much higher at the time.”
“Could be, though surely such a dramatic change in landform would take longer than a few millennia?”
“Typically, yes,” Callum replied. “Still, it’s a possibility. Personally, I wouldn’t rule anything out in this place.”
“No,” Darya said. “This you can rule out. Only the Greenland shark is living this far north. He is large, but he is not man-eater. Neither is orca, and these are not teeth marks of either. Also this bite is too clean.” She examined the bite marks once again, tripping the ends of her fingers across the rank of gouges. “It is mystery.”
There followed a brief silence as Ava’s gaze left the mummy and she swept a hand back through her matted brown hair. Her brow was furrowed, her expression troubled but sharp in the ghoulish light. “With respect, Doctor Lebedev,” she said at last, “we may not be able to name the exact species responsible, but this is no mystery.”
Both Callum and Darya looked to her to continue, but she kept quiet. It was typical academic self-indulgence. She was waiting for an invite.
“So?” Callum prompted.
Ava looked from him to Darya. “Isn’t it obvious? Even Troodon isn’t the apex predator here on Harmsworth.”
“Not the apex predator?” Callum repeated.
“There’s something else here,” she continued. “Something bigger. Something new.”
Callum’s gut clenched. “You mean something old, don’t you?”
Darya’s eyes met with his.
“Whatever it is,” Ava said, “we just haven’t seen it yet.”
5
Ava’s words echoed round the tunnel.
“You know, I’m really starting to hate this place,” Callum said. He was about to speak again when Lungkaju’s voice ricocheted towards
them. “My friends, it has been long enough. We should be moving on now, please.”
“He is right,” Darya said. “This is what we agreed.” She called out to Lungkaju to let him know that they were heading back.
“I guess we should all be thankful of the distraction,” Ava said, setting off after her.
Callum snorted. “Amen to that.”
He took one last look at Ngana’bta. A strange feeling washed over him. For a moment, the question of what had killed the ancient warrior was forgotten. Instead it was the idea that he might never be rediscovered, that this might be the last time anybody looked upon his immaculately preserved features that sent the shiver down Callum’s spine. And he could hardly bear it. Why the hell hadn’t he emailed the photographs he’d taken to the department? If only he’d had a camera now, he could have preserved some kind of record. But he didn’t. If by some miracle he survived all this, there would be nothing to take with him but his memories and his word. “I guess some myths are meant to be just that,” he whispered. Then he turned to follow the fading corona of light down the tunnel.
But perhaps something more could be preserved. Before he could think better of it, he turned back and began carefully peeling the cord bearing the pendant from around the mummy’s neck. He placed it around his own and tucked it into his jacket. The teeth and intermittent silver spacers felt freezing against his chest, and the cord itself felt like a snare of ice. Reaching under the mummy’s parka, he then eased the sheathed flint blade from the belt and slipped it into his pocket.
“Doctor Ross, are you okay?” came Lungkaju’s voice.
With a last glance down at Ngana’bta, Callum turned and set off back along the tunnel.
* * *
Even with the drums removed, the inside of the bunker still stank to hell and back of diesel. The temperature was a degree or two colder than it was outside and the only light came through the narrow, shoulder-height rifle slits on either side.
Koikov walked over to the east-facing slit and peered through. It was meant to be tight, designed to allow for defensive fire should the base ever come under attack. Could the dragons fit through it? He leant forward and pushed his head and one arm between the two tapering concrete lips. Maybe. But it would be a tight squeeze. That was fine. A tight squeeze would give plenty of time for a traditional Department V greeting.
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