Relic

by Douglas Preston

  “Red One, roger that, Dugout.”

  [399] The spotter took over. “Tear out the drywall in the center of the north wall. Behind it you’ll find an eight-inch I-beam to anchor your ropes to.”

  “Will do.”

  “Careful. It’s a sixty-foot drop.”

  The Commander and his team worked swiftly, punching through the drywall, looping two chains around the I-beam, attaching locking carabiners, a block and tackle. A team member hooked a rope ladder to one of the chains and dropped it through the hole.

  The Commander leaned over once again, shining his powerful light down into the gloom of the hall.

  “This is Red One. We’ve got some bodies down here,” he said.

  “Any sign of the creature?” Coffey asked.

  “Negative. Looks like ten, twelve bodies, maybe more. Ladder’s in place now.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  The Commander turned to the medic team. “We’ll signal when ready. Start lowering the collapsible stretchers. We’ll take ‘em out one by one.”

  He grabbed the rope ladder and started down, swinging over the vast empty space. The men followed, one by one. Two fanned out to provide suppressing fire as necessary, while two others set up tripods with clusters of halogen lamps, hooking them to the portable generators being lowered by ropes. Soon the center of the hall was flooded with light.

  “Secure all ingress and egress!” shouted the Commander. “Medic team, descend!”

  “Report!” Coffey cried over the radio.

  “We’ve secured the Hall,” the Commander said. “No sign of any animal. Medic team deploying now.”

  “Good. You’ll need to find the thing, kill it, and locate the Mayor’s party. We believe they went down the stairwell back by the service area.”

  “Roger, Dugout,” said the Commander.

  [400] As the Commander’s radio buzzed into silence, he heard a sudden report, muffled but unmistakable.

  “Red One to Dugout, we just heard a pistol shot. Sounded like it was coming from above.”

  “Dammit, go after it!” cried Coffey. “Take your men and go after it!”

  The Commander turned to his men. “All right. Red Two, Red Three, finish up and secure here. Take the grenade launcher. The rest of you come with me.”

  = 56 =

  The viscous water was now lapping at Smithback’s waist. Just keeping his balance was exhausting. His legs had long since gone numb, and he was shivering.

  “This water is rising awful damn fast.” D’Agosta said.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about that creature anymore,” Smithback said hopefully.

  “Maybe not. You know,” D’Agosta told him slowly, “You were pretty quick back there, jamming the door with the flashlight like that. I guess you saved all our lives.”

  “Thanks,” said Smithback, liking D’Agosta more and more.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” D’Agosta said over the rush of the water.

  “Everyone okay?” D’Agosta turned back to the Mayor.

  The Mayor looked haggard. “It’s touch and go. There are a few who are slipping into shock or exhaustion, [402] maybe both. Which way from here?” His eyes searched them.

  D’Agosta hesitated. “Ah, I really can’t say anything conclusively,” he said at last. “Smithback and I will try the right fork first.”

  The Mayor looked back at the group, then moved closer to D’Agosta. “Look,” he said, in a low, pleading tone. “I know you’re lost. You know you’re lost. But if those people back there learn about it, I don’t think we’d get them to go any farther. It’s very cold standing here, and the water is getting higher. So why don’t we all try it together? It’s our only chance. Even if we wanted to retrace our steps, half these people would never make it against the current.”

  D’Agosta looked at the Mayor for a moment. “All right,” he said at last. Then he turned to the group. “Listen up now,” he shouted. “We’re gonna be taking the right tunnel. Everyone join hands, form a line. Hold on tight. Stay against the wall—the current’s getting too strong in the center. If anyone slips, give a yell, but don’t let go under any circumstances. Everybody got that? Let’s go.”

  The dark shape moved slowly through the broken door, stepping catlike over the splintered wood. Cuthbert felt pins and needles in his legs. He wanted to shoot, but his hands refused to obey.

  “Please go away,” he said, so calmly he surprised himself.

  It stopped suddenly and looked directly at him. Cuthbert could see nothing in the dim light but the huge, powerful silhouette and the small red eyes. They looked, somehow, intelligent.

  “Don’t hurt me,” Cuthbert pleaded.

  The creature remained still.

  “I’ve got a gun,” Cuthbert whispered. He aimed carefully. “I won’t shoot if you go away,” he said quietly.

  It moved slowly sideways, keeping its head turned [403] toward Cuthbert. Then there was a sudden movement and it was gone.

  Cuthbert backed away in a panic, his flashlight skittering wildly across the floor. He spun around frantically. All was silent. The creature’s stench filled the room. Suddenly he found himself stumbling into the Dinosaur Hall, and then he was slamming the door behind him.

  “The key!” he cried. “Lavinia, for God’s sake!”

  He looked wildly around the darkened hall. Before him, a great tyrannosaurus skeleton reared up from the center. In front of it squatted the dark form of a triceratops, its head lowered, the great black horns gleaming in the dull light.

  He heard a sobbing, then he felt a key being pressed into his palm. He swiftly locked the door.

  “Let’s go,” he said, guiding her away from the door, past the clawed foot of the tyrannosaur. They moved deeper into darkness. Suddenly, Cuthbert pulled the Public Relations Director to one side, then guided her into a crouch. He peered into the gloom, senses straining. The Hall of Cretaceous Dinosaurs was deathly silent. Not even the sound of the rain penetrated this dark sanctum. The only light came from rows of high clerestory windows.

  Surrounding them was a herd of small struthiomimus skeletons, arranged in a defensive U-shaped formation before the monstrous skeleton of a carnivorous dryptosaurus, its head down, jaws open, and huge claws extended. Cuthbert had always relished the scale and drama of this room, but now it frightened him. Now he knew what it was like to be hunted.

  Behind them, the entrance to the Hall was blocked by a heavy steel emergency door. “Where’s Winston?” Cuthbert whispered, peering through the bones of the dryptosaur.

  “I don’t know,” Rickman moaned, gripping his arm. “Did you kill it?”

  [404] “I missed,” he whispered. “Please let me go. I need to have a clear shot.”

  Rickman released him, then crawled backward between two of the struthiomimus skeletons, curling herself into a fetal position with a stifled sob.

  “Be silent!” Cuthbert hissed.

  The Hall lapsed again into a profound stillness. He looked around, probing the shadows with his eyes. He hoped Wright had found refuge in one of the many dark corners.

  “Ian?” came a subdued voice. “Lavinia?”

  Cuthbert turned and saw to his horror that Wright was leaning against the tail of a stegosaurus. As he watched, Wright swayed, then recovered.

  “Winston!” Cuthbert hissed. “Get under cover!”

  But Wright began walking unsteadily toward them. “Is that you, Ian?” Wright said, his voice puzzled. He stopped and leaned for a moment against the corner of a display case. “I feel sick,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Suddenly an explosive noise rocketed across the hall, echoing crazily in the enormous space. Another crash followed. Dimly, Cuthbert saw that Wright’s office door was now a jagged hole. A dark form emerged.

  Behind him, Rickman screamed and covered her head.

  Through the skeleton of the dryptosaurus, Cuthbert could see the dark shape moving swiftly across the open floor. Straight for hi
m, he thought—but it suddenly veered toward the shadowy figure of Wright. The two shadows merged.

  Then Cuthbert heard a wet crunching noise, a scream—and silence.

  Cuthbert raised the gun and tried to sight through the ribs of the mounted skeleton.

  The silhouette rose up with something in its mouth, shook its head slightly and made a sucking noise. Cuthbert closed his eyes, squeezing the trigger.

  The Ruger bucked in his hand, and he heard a blast and a loud clattering. Now Cuthbert saw that the [405] dryptosaurus was missing part of a rib. Behind him, Rickman gasped and moaned.

  The dark shape of the creature beyond was gone.

  A few moments went by and Cuthbert felt the hinges of his sanity begin to loosen. Then, in a flicker of lightning through the clerestory, Cuthbert clearly saw the beast moving swiftly along the near wall, coming directly toward him, its red eyes fixed on his face.

  He swung the barrel and began firing wildly, three quick shots, each white flash illuminating rack upon rack of dark skulls, teeth and claws—the real beast suddenly lost in this wilderness of savage extinct creatures—and then the gun was clicking as the hammer fell harmlessly on the expended chambers.

  As if from a half-remembered dream, Cuthbert heard the distant sound of human voices, coming from the direction of Wright’s old lab. And suddenly he was running, heedless of obstacles, through the ruined door, through Wright’s lab, and into the dark corridor beyond. He heard himself screaming, and then a spotlight was shining in his face and somebody grabbed him and pinned him against a wall.

  “Calm down, you’re all right! Look, there’s blood on him!”

  “Get the gun away from him,” someone else said.

  “Is he the one we’re after?”

  “No, they said an animal. But don’t take any chances.”

  “Stop struggling!”

  Another scream rose in Cuthbert’s throat. “It’s back there!” he cried. “It’ll kill you all! It knows, you can see in its eyes that it knows!”

  “Knows what?”

  “Don’t bother talking to him, he’s raving.” Cuthbert suddenly went limp.

  The Commander came forward. “Is there anyone else back there?” he asked, shaking Cuthbert’s shoulder.

  “Yes,” Cuthbert finally said. “Wright. Rickman.”

  [406] The Commander looked up.

  “You mean Winston Wright? The Director of the Museum? You must be Dr. Cuthbert, then. Where is Wright?”

  “It was eating him,” said Cuthbert, “eating the brains. Just eating and eating. It’s in the Dinosaur Hall, through the lab there.”

  “Take him back to the Hall and have the medics evacuate him,” said the Commander to two members of his team. “You three, let’s go. On the double.” He raised his radio. “Red One to Dugout. We’ve located Cuthbert, and we’re sending him out.”

  “They’re in this laboratory, here,” said the spotter, pointing at the blueprints. Now that the penetration was complete and the team was deep inside the Museum, the two had moved inside the mobile command unit, away from the hammering rain.

  “The lab’s clear,” the Commander’s monotone came over the radio. “Proceeding into the Dinosaur Hall. This other door’s been broken down, too.”

  “Go in and take that thing out!” cried Coffey. “But watch out for Dr. Wright. And keep a clear frequency. I want to be in touch at all times!”

  Coffey waited, tensed over the set, hearing the faint hiss and crackle of the static over the open frequency. He heard the clink of a weapon and a few whispers.

  “Smell that?” Coffey leaned closer. They were almost there. He gripped the edge of the table.

  “Yup,” a voice answered.

  There was a rattling.

  “Kill the light and stay in the shadows. Red Seven, cover the left side of that skeleton. Red Three, go right. Red Four, get your back to the wall, cover the far sector.

  There was a long silence. Coffey could hear heavy breathing and faint footfalls.

  [407] He heard a sudden explosive whisper. “Red Four, look, there’s a body here.”

  Coffey felt his stomach tighten.

  “No head,” he heard. “Nice.”

  “Here’s another one,” whispered a voice. “See it? Lying in that group of dinosaurs.”

  More clicking and rattling of weapons, more breathing.

  “Red Seven, cover our path of retreat. There’s no other way out.”

  “It may still be here,” someone whispered.

  “That’s far enough, Red Four.”

  Coffey’s knuckles whitened. Why the fuck didn’t they get it over with? These guys were a bunch of old women.

  More rattling of metal.

  “Something’s moving! Over there!” The voice was so loud Coffey jumped, and then a burst of automatic weapons fire dissolved immediately into static as the frequency overloaded.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Coffey began saying, over and over. Then for an instant he could hear screaming, and then more static; the even cadence of machine-gun fire; then, silence. The tinkling sound of something—what? Shattered dinosaur bones dropping and rolling on the marble floor?

  Coffey felt a flood of relief. Whatever it was, it was dead. Nothing could have survived the shitload of firepower just unloaded. The nightmare was finally over. He eased himself down in a chair.

  “Red Four! Hoskins! Oh shit!” the voice of the Commander screamed over the frequency. The voice was suddenly buried by the staccato of gunfire, then more static. Or was it a scream?

  Coffey surged to his feet and turned to an agent standing behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He read his own terror in the agent’s eyes.

  [408] “Red One!” he yelled into the mike. “Red One! Do you read?”

  All he could hear was static.

  “Talk to me, Commander! Do you read? Anyone!”

  He switched frequencies wildly to the team in the Hall of the Heavens.

  “Sir, we’re removing the last of the bodies now,” came the voice of a medic. “The rear detail of the SWAT team just evacuated Doctor Cuthbert to the roof. We just heard firing from upstairs. Are we going to need more evacuation—?”

  “Get the hell out!” Coffey screamed. “Get your asses out! Get the fuck out and pull up the ladder!”

  “Sir, what about the rest of the SWAT team? We can’t leave those men—”

  “They’re dead! Understand? That’s an order!”

  He dropped the radio and leaned back, gazing vaguely out the window. A morgue truck slowly moved up toward the massive bulk of the Museum.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, Agent Pendergast is requesting to speak with you.”

  Coffey slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t want to talk to that fuck, you got that?”

  “Sir, he—”

  “Don’t mention his name to me again.”

  Another agent opened the rear door and came inside, his suit sodden. “Sir, the dead are coming out now.”

  “Who? Who are you talking about?”

  “The people from the Hall of the Heavens. There were seventeen dead, no survivors.”

  “Cuthbert? The guy you took out of the lab? Is he out?”

  “They’ve just lowered him to the street.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  Coffey stepped outside and ran down past the ambulance circle, his mind numb. How could a SWAT team buy it, just like that?

  [409] Outside, two medics with a stretcher approached. “Are you Cuthbert?” Coffey asked the still form.

  The man looked around with unfocused eyes.

  The doctor pushed past Coffey, sliced open Cuthbert’s shirt, then inspected his face and eyes.

  “There’s blood here,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” said Cuthbert.

  “Respiration thirty, pulse one-twenty,” said a paramedic.

  “You’re okay?” the doctor asked. “Is this your blood?”
/>   “I don’t know.”

  The doctor looked swiftly down Cuthbert’s legs, felt them, felt his groin, examined his neck.

  The doctor turned toward the paramedic. “Take him in for observation.” The medics wheeled the stretcher away.

  “Cuthbert!” said Coffey, jogging beside him. “Did you see it?”

  “See it?” Cuthbert repeated.

  “See the fucking creature!”

  “It knows,” Cuthbert said.

  “Knows what?”

  “It knows what’s going on, it knows exactly what’s happening.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It hates us,” said Cuthbert.

  As the medics threw open the door of an ambulance, Coffey yelled, “What did it look like?”

  “There was sadness in its eyes,” said Cuthbert. “Infinite sadness.”

  “He’s a lunatic,” said Coffey to no one in particular.

  “You won’t kill it,” Cuthbert added, with calm certainty.

  The doors slammed shut.

  “The hell I won’t!” shouted Coffey at the retreating ambulance. “Fuck you, Cuthbert! The hell I won’t!”

  = 57 =

  Pendergast lowered the radio and looked at Margo. “The creature just killed the better part of a SWAT team. Dr. Wright, too, from the sound of it. Coffey withdrew everyone else, and he won’t answer my summons. He seems to think everything is my fault.”

  “He’s got to listen!” roared Frock. “We know what to do now. All they need to do is come in here with klieg lights!”

  “I understand what’s happening,” said Pendergast. “He’s overloaded, looking for scapegoats. We can’t rely on his help.”

  “My God,” Margo said. “Dr. Wright ...” She put a hand to her mouth. “If my plan had worked—if I’d thought everything through—maybe all those people would still be alive.”

  “And perhaps Lieutenant D’Agosta, and the Mayor, and all those others below us, would be dead,” Pendergast said. He looked down the hallway. “I suppose my duty now is to see you two out safely,” he said. [411] “Perhaps we should take the route I suggested to D’Agosta. Assuming those blueprints didn’t lead him astray, of course.”

  Then he glanced at Frock. “No, I don’t suppose that would work.”