Eliott shook his head to come back to his senses. He managed to stammer, “What should I do now, Isha?”
In response, the old Native American’s face suddenly lit up until it disappeared from Eliott’s dream in a final flash. Only space remained, black and cold, strewn with a host of tiny stars. The wind continued to blow gently through the trees.
The warmth in Eliott’s body faded, and the vision of his child vanished. What should he do now? The problem remained the same. He was locked in this cell with no way out. But as soon as he had this thought, he began to observe his right hand, mechanically, without knowing why. He saw black particles quivering at his fingertips. Soon, this little swirling cloud had swallowed his whole hand and then his forearm up to his shoulder. In a few seconds, the twirling cloud of fumaroles enveloped him, and he felt himself suddenly disintegrating. But his mind remained intact. He then moved over to the cell door, and in less than a second, he passed through it as if it didn’t exist. He flew along a damp corridor and rushed into a tiny crack in the tunnel rock. As he was crossing through the strata of the mineral subsoil, he noticed his jailers opening his cell and shouting that he had escaped. He continued his rise to the surface. His body was light, and so was his heart. A strange joy, unlikely in such a dark place, stayed with him.
He was free.
44
December 14: Nepal
A storm had raged over the Pacific. After fourteen hours of a turbulent flight in a Black Hawk helicopter, the team of eight resistance fighters finally saw the Himalayan foothills looming in the red glow of the sunset. Through the cockpit windshield, the Rajpur base appeared, perfectly camouflaged in the high-altitude jungle.
They would launch the attack on the Siberian crypt at night, within the next twenty-four hours. There was just enough time for the team to have a briefing and reach the site. They were preparing explosive charges; they could only fit mercury detonators at the last minute.
The entire Dawn leadership had met to welcome the eight fighters. The Black Hawk landed. Lauren and her son, their faces hidden under ski masks, climbed down first, followed by Coyote and the rest of the team. They ran under the helicopter’s whirring blades to the base’s barracks.
A Vietnam War-era radio transceiver was crackling in the main room. Plans and maps lay spread out on a large table. Crates were full of heavy weapons: Russian assault rifles and rocket launchers. The four main leaders of the Dawn came to meet the eight resistance fighters.
Lam Anh Thu’ spoke up. She was a slight, thirty-something woman, a real tigress with black hair and eyes who had proven her worth during multiple operations against the Chinese militia armies.
“Welcome, heroes!”
Her smile, which revealed a few gold teeth, conveyed an intense, heartfelt joy. She had a strong Cambodian accent.
José Almeida had a thick beard and small, bearlike eyes. He was a sturdy Portuguese man in his fifties at least, but still a formidable fighter. He came over and slapped them all on the shoulder.
Karl Engelberg, a tall, stolid German in his forties, was a former secret service veteran. Benoit Trajean was a fiftyish French mercenary, rather small in stature, with a bald head and gray eyes. They greeted the team together with, “Welcome, comrades!”
Everyone gathered around the plans for the attack on the crypt.
“We don’t have much time,” said Engelberg. “If you don’t mind, we’ll move directly to the mission briefing.”
Nobody objected.
The German leaned over the maps in front of him. “The Black Hawk will drop you here,” he pointed a finger at the map, “thirty miles to the north. Snowmobiles will be waiting for you there for a forty-kilometer trip straight to the crypt. Then you’ll switch to skis for a quiet arrival in the area. The terrain is hilly but open, with very little cover.”
The German paused to peer at the faces of the eight resistance fighters. Some of them seemed stressed. They were under maximum pressure.
He emphasized one thing: “Stealth will be the watchword for this infiltration. Maintain absolute silence as you approach the area—especially since we don’t know exactly what means they have to detect an intrusion. Air intakes on the surface ventilate the inside of the structure, but they’re inaccessible because they’re too narrow. You’ll go in through the main entrance as planned. The whole structure is circular, a huge labyrinth of megaliths with a diameter nearly two kilometers. Do you have all the detailed area maps on you?”
They all gave him a thumbs-up.
“Do the soldiers have dogs on their patrols?” asked a young resistance fighter.
“There are dogs, but they’re tied up. The guards don’t bother with them.”
The leader pointed out the spots where the dogs were.
“Speaking of dogs, we’re lucky that wolves are hanging around nearby. That means the dogs bark a lot. So the guards don’t pay attention to them anymore. Any questions about the approach phase?”
Everything seemed clear to the team.
“Next, the diversion,” Engelberg continued. “Three of you will split off and place incendiary charges in the guards’ quarters five kilometers southeast of the crypt. We’re assuming they’ll leave their posts to put out the fire. Immediately, the second group of five will help open the crypt.”
“How many guards in total?” asked Ernesto Ruis, a resistance fighter of Peruvian origin.
“We counted about twenty of them on the site.”
Engelberg pointed out their various positions on the map.
“We have another advantage, and it’s a big one: they’re not expecting an attack. The isolated position of this crypt and the secrecy of its existence make them think they’re safe.”
Matthew timidly raised his hand to speak. “How much time will I have to complete the opening ritual?”
“You’ll have ten minutes, no more. Have you memorized and studied the procedure well?”
“Yes,” he replied in his guttural voice, “I think ten minutes will be enough for me. That’s how long it takes for the particles to become active.”
“Perfect, Matthew.” Engelberg paused for a moment. Nobody had any questions, so he continued.
“Then you’ll have twenty minutes to get inside, place the charges, and leave the area. You all received details individually. You have parameters for the jump, anchoring cables for the ascent, and of course the layout of the tunnels for distributing the charges at the bottom of the crypt.”
Everyone nodded.
“After returning from the diversion, the first group will wait for the infiltration group to come up and out of the crypt. Naturally, if enemy soldiers return before the escape, the first group will open fire and cover the infiltration group’s exit. I remind you that your only objective is to detonate the charges to destroy those bastards.”
Engelberg continued more seriously, “Whatever happens during the exit, the charges must detonate. Is that clear?”
One resistance fighter raised his hand.
“What if the infiltration group, or one of us, is unable to get out before the explosion?”
Lam Anh Thu’ glared at him. “Humanity’s survival depends on this mission!” she barked at him. “That means if you don’t get out of there, that’s too bad! The others will blow everything up, is that clear?”
The young man swallowed. “It’s clear,” he stammered.
She continued to glare at him for several seconds. Benoit Trajean raised his hands to calm things down.
“We’ve spent more than two years planning this operation. If you follow the plan to the letter, everything will go as expected.”
Engelberg wrapped things up. “All right,” he checked his watch “you have just enough time to get your equipment. Takeoff is in twenty minutes.”
*
The Black Hawk rose above the Rajpur base. The dim lights of the buildings dissolved behind the vegetation that rustled in the night under the helicopter’s blades. The aircraft turned around and fle
w north. The night was clear, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. The weather conditions along the way would be favorable as far as Siberia.
Mentally, Matthew went through all the steps in the opening ritual. He was holding the original copy of the book written in the source language. According to Ravenwood’s explanation, the clouds of black particles would emanate from the ground to enter the Sentinel. At that point, the verses in the book would recite themselves, and the Sentinel would enter a trance. Then it had to feed on human blood and spill some on the black stone. Only then would the doors open.
Lauren was sitting across from him, watching him. He was trying to stay focused.
“Something wrong, Matthew?” she asked him affectionately.
He lifted his head from the book and plunged his dark eyes into hers. “I can’t stop thinking about Dad.”
She smiled at him, leaned forward, and stroked his cheek.
“It’s been inside me since the other night. And it’s never left me,” he added, looking upset.
“What’s inside you, pumpkin?”
He tried to find the right words. “It feels like a connection has linked him and me. Sometimes I hear him breathing inside me. Or else I’m the one inside him.”
Lauren seemed to visualize what he had just told her. “It’s time you learned some things about your father, Matthew. Before he became what he became, your father already had gifts he didn’t know about. He received them from his father, who belonged to a Native American tribe, the Tolowas.”
Matthew listened, his dark eyes wide open.
“And when you were born, a shaman, a Native American wise man, welcomed you into this world with the blessing of the spirits. You received this gift, Matthew. You’re also an Iyayenagi.”
“An Iyayenagi?”
“He is a man in the world of men but can also go into the world of the spirits.”
“But I don’t understand. How do I use this gift?”
“Isha, the shaman, just told me to tell you this when you felt that connection with your father. But that’s all I know. He also said you had to discover these powers for yourself; no one else could teach you how to use them.”
The child-creature remained still for a moment, deep in thought. “Maybe this gift made the connection. But I also feel like there’s something else—a force that interacts with my black particles. I have to understand, before we get to our mission site.”
He plunged back into to his study of the book the paleographer had translated.
Lauren watched her son for a long time as he read and reflected with flawless dedication. She turned her mind to Eliott. Where could he be? If Matthew had felt his presence, it meant he was alive. She closed her eyes and talked to him with her mind. “Eliott, wherever you are, we’ll find you. My love, if you could see your son, you’d be so proud of him. He’s as strong and brave as you are. He’s so much like you . . .”
When she opened her eyes again, tears flew off her face and away through the helicopter’s half-open door. Cold wind was rushing into the cabin. Like Matthew, the others were focusing on the mission’s instructions. She pulled herself together and got to work.
45
Central Siberia
The two Adept soldiers entered the darkness of the room where three Elders sat. One of them addressed the soldiers.
“You must have some idea why you’re here, don’t you?”
The voice that surged from the depths sliced through the silence. Its tone was scornful.
“We didn’t see anything,” babbled one of the two men.
“It’s like it evaporated,” added the other.
The Hominum primus stretched its long neck to examine them more closely. “Would you mind explaining to me how a prisoner can evaporate?”
The two guards trembled from head to toe.
Confronted with an icy, oppressive silence, one of the two hurried to speak. “That’s all we could figure out. When we made our rounds, the prisoner was there in his cell. Five minutes later, he was gone.”
“And we checked; the door hadn’t been opened in any way,” said the other guard.
Another Elder spoke. “And the prisoner’s cell has no other openings; is that correct?”
“No openings except the door,” confirmed a guard.
The creature tilted its long, pointed head toward its two counterparts. They seemed to be consulting for a moment directly through their minds. Then one of them turned to the guards.
“You may return to your posts. Make sure you remain vigilant.”
The two men rushed toward the exit. The Elders waited until they had left the room to speak aloud.
“Are you able to see the Sentinel anywhere, Aram?” one of them asked one another.
The latter closed its shining black eyes to locate the Sentinel with its mental powers. After a few seconds, it responded, “I do not see it anywhere.” Aram paused. “It can only mean one thing: it has turned into a cloud.”
“Impossible!” the first Elder exclaimed.
“Then what do you suggest, Kaar?”
The Elder hesitated to answer but then spoke with some doubt. “These two guards . . . I think we should question them further; that is what I suggest. They must know more than they are saying. The Sentinel could not have returned to its cloud state!”
The one that had remained silent until then spoke. “The cloud state precedes the Sentinel state. Upon that lineage’s creation, there were many clouds on the Earth’s surface. Their mission was to select an organic carrier, precisely so that the first Sentinel, half human, half like us, could take shape.”
“What are you getting at, Vaka?” grumbled Kaar.
“Logically, the only way for the Sentinel to return to the cloud state would be for the particles to have a choice of organic carrier.”
Aram pursued Vaka’s reasoning. “This means that elsewhere on Earth, particles have found another carrier, and another Sentinel is forming in a human body.”
“It is the only possibility,” Vaka agreed.
“No more rash assumptions!” Kaar thundered. “The extractors are functioning and have proven to be very reliable. We must open the crypt as soon as possible. We have already wasted enough time! We have only two options: generating another cloud that will enable the opening or finding the fugitive cloud.”
“Finding the cloud seems unlikely to me,” said Vaka. “We must not forget that it is partly composed of the consciousness of this human being who has given us so much trouble.”
“Eliott Cooper,” Kaar grumbled viciously.
“He must be far away by now,” Aram supposed.
Kaar’s grimacing face seemed to light up suddenly. “Search for this second Sentinel, since it is in bodily form.”
“That will take a long time. But we will find it, sooner or later,” Vaka said. “What do you think, Aram?”
The Elder was deep in thought. “We will order the laboratory to generate another cloud, but this will also take time.”
It continued to ponder. Something else visibly preoccupied it. “We also need to secure the crypt—immediately. We should double the guard and send four of our own. I have a bad feeling.”
“What kind of feeling, Aram?” Vaka asked.
“I do not know. We must foresee all possibilities with this Sentinel at large.”
*
Eliott felt as free as the air, as bright as a ray of light. The light had filled his heart since he’d felt that presence within him. His son.
He wondered how it was possible, how he could go through matter in the form of a vaporous cloud. He quickly learned to control the cloud’s movements. He felt the cold differently, with less intensity. He lurked in a high corner in one of the many basements of the extraction camp.
His thoughts, his emotions; everything was entangled. Lauren. She had named their child Matthew, like her father, whom she had barely known. What should he do now? Where should he start? He tried to concentrate so he could gather his particl
es and regain his bodily shape. It was in vain. Panic flooded him. What if I never manage to put myself back together? His monster body was still better than this amorphous cloud without substance. He had to think through as calmly as possible what to do next. The most important thing was that he was free. And he planned to stay that way.
46
North of the Central Siberian Plateau: December 15, 11:20 p.m.
The helicopter landed in the lower part of a frozen valley, on what was supposed to be a lake. The eight resistance fighters grabbed their weapons. Some equipped themselves with rocket launchers they slung over their shoulders. Snowflakes filled the blustery wind that lashed their faces. They set off at a brisk pace to the point on their map where the snowmobiles were waiting. After sitting under white tarps for several days, the vehicles barely started. The storm didn’t seem to be getting worse, but it also wasn’t subsiding. In these glacial desert regions, so-called storms were part of everyday life. The terrain varied little: it crossed vast plains rarely punctuated by hills. They reached the planned location without encountering any obstacles. From here on out, they would have to continue on their own.
“Is everyone doing okay?” Coyote asked, shouting to make himself audible over the storm. He studied them one by one.
They all answered by raising their thumbs. They removed the skis from the snowmobiles and put them on.
“Okay, let’s go,” Coyote ordered. “We’ll go single file.”
They set off behind him over the white blanket that disappeared in the whirling snow. Six miles: that was how far they had to go to reach the crypt. Before arriving in the area, one group of three resistance fighters would split off to start a fire in the guards’ quarters.
The Essence of Darkness Page 34