Book of the Dead

by Greig Beck

  But now? Albadi, still crouching, turned and threw up onto the ground. After a moment, he wiped his mouth with a sleeve and got to his feet, pushing quickly back through the crowd. The more distance he put between himself and the pit, the better he felt. It was strange: he didn’t see the crater as a geological oddity, but instead some evidence of infection, a canker on the face of the Earth from which an evil and pustulant scourge would soon burst forth.

  The Book said this would happen. He needed to be home. The Book also said there was worse to come.

  Chapter 5

  United States Army Forces Command, Fort Bragg, North Carolina

  General Henry Decker looked at the image on the wall screen, hands on his hips. Beside him, Major Joshua Abrams walked forward, holding up an arm and sweeping it across the picture.

  “Two thousand feet wide, give or take. And goes straight down about a thousand. No survivors.” He turned to Decker. “This is in Syria. It’s bone dry, and only suffers sinkholes rarely in its lowland marsh areas.” He shook his head. “No reason for it, sir.”

  “Just like in Iowa, and in Kansas, Montana, Utah, and…” Decker’s forehead creased. “Just how many other places now?”

  “Five hundred confirmed significant sites…just in the USA. Over four thousand worldwide, and they’re getting bigger and deeper, as we can see from this monster.”

  “Jesus Christ, this is not normal,” Decker said.

  “Far from it, sir. Right across the States we suffer from sinkholes, but the things that make this series of events very abnormal are the size and depths, and the absence of ground water. In fact most of these are opening up in geologically very old and dry areas.”

  Decker frowned. “Theories?”

  Abrams shook his head. “Plenty, but none that make sense.” He brought up another image, this one of the Iowa hole, and also a shot of Andy Bennet. “This guy, a geologist, was first into the Iowa hole. He took several samples from the base. Seems to know what he’s doing. Results are yet to be confirmed, but the material recovered at the bottom of the pit was biological…primordial biological.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Primordial as in some ancient animal? This isn’t getting any clearer, Josh.” Decker’s jaws worked.

  Abrams exhaled and shrugged. “Yes and no. More like basic tissue matter, with a simple cell structure – protoplasmic almost.”

  Abrams picked up a small remote and changed the screen image again. Next was a report, heavily redacted. “There’s more. Mr Bennet also wrote a report that is now in our hands.” The next image cleared away the blackout stripes over the words. “In it, he says the earth walls at the bottom of the sinkhole were spongy, but not as in damp. More like the soil was resolidifying, as though it had been made soft, not by water, but by some other means, and it was that which caused the house to drop.”

  “I’m not liking the sound of this.” Decker stared evenly at the image. “We’re testing vibration weapons that can soften entire surface structures. Maybe someone else is trying out something similar on us.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Abrams turned the page. “And this is where it gets weird. Bennet also recovered something from down in the pit – from within the wall actually – this sleeve.” He shrugged. “Unremarkable by itself, but it was in the wall, looked dragged in, as Bennet put it. We sequestered the sample and had our own labs analyze it – weird on top of weird. We did a DNA test with some epithelials on the material against one of Bill Anderson’s surviving relatives – we got an immediate hit and confirmed the shirt definitely belonged to our missing man.”

  Abrams sat on the table’s edge, pulling at his lip for a moment. “We found something else on that sleeve, some fluid: not blood as Mr Bennet first wrote in his report, but something else – once again biological.”

  Abrams reached over to enlarge the image of the ragged end of the sleeve. He sat staring for a few seconds.

  The general leaned forward. “Well, go on.”

  “Saliva…or something like saliva.” Abrams said slowly.

  “Something like saliva, huh?” Decker groaned. “Major, can you please get to it? Was it saliva or not, and what the hell dribbled it onto the arm of our missing Mr Anderson – did they have a dog?”

  “No.” Abrams exhaled, knowing his superior officer was already getting fed up with the unexplained phenomena – so was he, for that matter. “Okay, let me lay out what we got back from the labs – the substance is like saliva in that contains sodium, potassium, calcium, magnesium chloride, bicarbonate, phosphate, and trace amounts of iodine, plus a truckload of amino acid chains all in a solution of mucopolysaccharides and glyco-pseudo proteins – mucus – exactly as in saliva.”

  Decker folded his arms, his face hardening. Abrams continued, picking up the pace. “But the lab boys are stumped as the proteins don’t make sense. They’re biological, but biological straight out of a nightmare – could be mammal, could be reptile, could even be jellyfish with all the mismatch of DNA strands they’ve identified so far…And some don’t match anything in the global genetic libraries.”

  “So we have no idea what left these weird traces behind?” Decker asked.

  “Maybe we do. VELA picked up movement in a few of its last scans.” Abrams changed the image on the screen again. The new picture showed the massive Syrian sinkhole viewed from about ten thousand feet. He clicked through the images as the satellite drilled down further, and further, until the screen darkened as the VELA magnification dived into the heart of the pit.

  “It’s what made us have another look.”

  “Survivors?” Decker eyebrows were raised.

  “That’s what we thought until we got the IT guys to clean up the images.” Abrams moved through a number of pictures, and the grainy darkness became sharper, more focused.

  “Holy shit, what is that? A deformed bear?” Decker craned forward.

  There were now three images, side by side, taken over a few seconds. In the first, something large and dark moved towards a human body. In the next, the thing was seen to be dragging the corpse by one leg toward the pit wall. In the final frame, it had vanished – seemingly into the dirt.

  Abrams shook his head, eyes fixed on the screen. “We have no idea what that was. But according to the Syrians, who have now ventured into the sinkhole, there were no survivors. However, we have heard via informal channels that this isn’t the entire story: they assumed there were no survivors, because they didn’t find anyone down there – living or dead.”

  “Jesus.” Decker exhaled. “So whatever that was, it wasn’t the only one.”

  “No, we don’t think so,” Abrams said. “Not if we estimate how quickly the hundreds of bodies were removed.”

  “Removed? To where?”

  Abrams shrugged.

  Decker turned back to the screen. “Well, whatever it was, it was below ground – thank god for that. We can at least contain it.”

  Abrams shook his head. “Maybe, maybe not. We are starting to find traces of this substance above ground – in Arizona, Utah, Iowa, Idaho, Texas: the list goes on.” He looked up. “Something else…”

  “Jesus Christ, there’s something else?”

  “Pets, dogs, cats, local wildlife – they started to go missing just after these phenomena started. We thought that the animals, being sensitive, might have just hightailed it.” He exhaled. “But now people are also vanishing.” He called up more images. “And there are these…clues, hopefully.”

  Decker leaned in to examine the images on the screen. “Is that…a language? Have we translated it?”

  “We don’t know what it is. Our own experts say it could be a language, but none they know of – or at least none they know of existing today, or even in the recent past. But we haven’t yet consulted a few of the experts on ancient languages and symbolism.”

  “Then do it. Someone is trying to tell us something – we need to know what it is.” Decker rubbed two gnarled hands through his hair. “
Jesus Christ, Josh, I feel I know less now than when you started talking. We need to be on the front foot here – skip to what we’re doing about it.”

  Abrams nodded. “The events, so far, seem random, unpredictable; so for the time, we should stick with what clues we have, and pursue them. The geologist, Bennet, reported the sleeve was in the wall, and that the walls were solidifying, like they had been soft. Maybe that’s how this thing occurred. The major activity is below ground; Bennet wanted to excavate.” He shrugged. “Maybe we should let him.”

  “Yes.” Decker stared for a moment. “I need answers, and so far I feel we’re in the eye of a shit storm without an umbrella.” He half turned. “Have you got the media nailed down? Don’t need Joe Public banging on our door until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  “We’ve got a lid on it for now, sir.” Abrams from his notes. “The majors from the television networks, radio and newspapers are all onboard. Also, the internet carriers – we needed to wave the National Security Act at them, but they’ll play ball. A few local news jockeys may try and run a story, but we’ve got counter-information ready to go.” Abrams half smiled. “For now, we own the data flow.”

  Decker grunted. “Good man. Make it happen, Joshua.”

  Abrams gathered his folders. “Already in motion, sir. I’ve dispatched one of my best people with a team of engineers down to Iowa. They’re going to pick up a languages expert on the way, rendezvous with Bennet and commence a subsurface excavation.” He turned to the screen, and the shredded blue-checked sleeve. “If there’s anything down there, we’ll find it.”

  *

  “Holy shit.” Matt eased the rental to the curb.

  He pulled the scrap of paper from the dash and read the address again – this was it all right, but where he was expecting to see the hole in the ground where Bill and Margie Anderson’s house used to be, there was a huge inflated dome covering the entire site. Barriers were set up and two military men stood casually at the entrance.

  He was due to meet up with some army guy, but had decided to swing by to look at the site first. He pushed open his door and stepped out. Down the road an SUV pulled in, and behind the wheel a big, older guy in a cap glared at him.

  Matt nodded – the guy just kept glaring.

  “Sheesh, welcome to Pleasantville.” Matt smiled and walked toward the barriers. He noticed the front flap of the dome billowing slightly and knew that meant negative air – a decontamination entrance. This was a big deal; something must have turned up in the sinkhole. He felt a prickle of apprehension on his neck.

  Matt pushed aside one of the wooden barriers and flashed his friendliest smile at the closest guard. “Hi there.”

  The man did little more than square his stance, but remained at ease. “Good morning, sir.”

  Matt nodded. “I’m Matt Kearns, Professor Matt Kearns. I’m expected, well, not really, but I was sort of invited…”

  “Sir, do you have an appointment?” The guy looked bored, but his eyes were stone chips in a granite-hard face.

  “Yes and no; sort of. I was invited down, but not yet. Do you think I can speak to…?”

  Suddenly, the entrance flap was thrown back and another soldier appeared – a woman. She looked briefly down at a clipboard, smiled and then stuck out a hand. “Professor Matthew Kearns; I’m glad you could make it.”

  The two huge guards stepped aside like double doors being thrown open. Matt’s hand automatically came up to meet hers. “No problem. But I didn’t know I needed an appointment or that you were even here. What’s going on, and why are you guys, I mean the military, involved?”

  “I’m so sorry, we’ve been trying to get hold of you, through your office, your home, text messages.” She shrugged.

  Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone – three new messages waiting for him. He read quickly, and then sighed. “Captain Kovitz? You’re the military guy?”

  She nodded. “That’s me. But you can call me Tania. We’ve kinda been waiting for you. I work for the military’s Federal Archeology Division.”

  Matt had never heard of a Federal Archeology Division, but he had always wondered how it was the army managed to turn up so quickly to Civil War sites to begin excavation. These guys obviously worked fast.

  She smiled as he looked at her properly. The more he stared the more he liked what he saw – clear blue eyes and blond hair pulled back tight, with a spray of freckles across her nose. Even though she only seemed to be in her early thirties, about his age, she had lines around her mouth and eyes, signifying years of outdoor work.

  “So, is there something of archeological value here?” He pointed to the dome. “And that looks like a contamination shroud.”

  She continued smiling, not bothering to look over her shoulder. “It’s just to give us some space and privacy as we work. Remember, we haven’t yet found Mr and Mrs Anderson. If we do discover them, best not to have a news chopper broadcast it before we’ve had a chance to inform relatives.”

  Sounds reasonable, he thought. “Or worry the neighbors, I guess. Makes sense.”

  “Come on in.” She turned and nodded briefly to the two guards who came to attention as she passed.

  She pushed the flap aside and held it open for him. Matt felt the rush of warm air bathe his face. There was the smell of something unfamiliar that nevertheless picked at his memory.

  Inside, the plastic dome cast a white glow over everything. Matt saw that the sides of the enormous hole had been reinforced with ribs of some type of synthetic material, and a cage elevator stood open and waiting at its edge. On the far side, a small crane was anchored to the ground, and it was silently lowering more equipment to the sinkhole’s floor.

  A young man, also roughly about his own age, leaned against a railing with arms folded. His eyes flicked to Matt, but then went directly to Tania. The guy didn’t look military.

  “Matt, I’d like you to meet – ”

  “Howdy.” He came forward and stuck out his hand. “Andy Bennet, geology, nice to meet you. You’re another archeologist, huh?”

  Matt shook the hand. It was rough and callused, and he was sure his felt the exact opposite. “Nice to meet you too, Andy. I’m Matt Kearns, and I just work with old languages. Nothing as glamorous as archeology, I’m afraid.” Matt went to lean out over the railing, and saw that floodlights illuminated the depths. Several people wandered about around the sunken house in bulky suits.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Professor. You’re probably the best in your field – both of you are. It’s why you’re here,” Tania said joining him at the railing.

  Matt whistled softly. “Wow, how long have all you guys been here?”

  “About twelve hours; we got here last night.” She looked out over the space, pride on her features.

  “And you archeologists always wear HAZMATs?” He turned and raised an eyebrow.

  Tania shrugged. “Sure, if some brilliant young geologist by the name of Andrew Bennet has said there was a strange substance in the hole that might turn out to be toxic.” She briefly nodded to Andy, and then tilted her head. “I’ve already been down there, and look…” she patted her chest “…still hale and hearty. But military rule number one: better to be safe than sorry, right?”

  There was a commotion behind them, and Tania turned momentarily to see one of the guards stick his head past the front flap. “Captain, his partner?”

  “It’s okay, lieutenant, let him pass.” She turned to Andy. “Oops.”

  Frank bustled in, looking red-faced and pissed off. “Goddamn army assho–” He saw Tania and his lips clamped shut. He smiled and half bowed. “Ma’am.” He turned to glare at Andy, then Matt, and then looked out over the work going on. “Holy shit…sorry.”

  Tania introduced herself, but Frank couldn’t take his eyes off the work in the sinkhole. He took off his cap and wiped his brow. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

  “Federal Archeology Division,” Andy said, and jerked a
thumb at Matt. “And a languages guy.”

  Matt went to stick his hand out.

  “Bullshit.” Frank waved the hand away. “Pardon my French, Captain. But I’ve been on sites where you guys have turned up, and at most you get some pencil-neck with a mobile ground-penetrating radar and a clipboard, and that’s about it.”

  Tania held up her board and shrugged. “That makes me the pencil-neck, I guess.” She motioned to the work going on. “Gentlemen, we can cross a river, a deep gorge or burrow through a mountain if circumstances demand it…and we think they demand it here.” She turned back to Andy. “Mr Bennet, your report brought us here, that, and the hundreds of these holes opening up right across the country.” She stared down into the pit. “We’re looking for answers, and I think you are too. You said in your report you wanted to excavate.” She pointed to a rack of suits. “Put those on, gentlemen, and then let’s go excavate.”

  *

  Matt leant against the cage wall in the elevator and let his eyes wander over to the other occupants, which wasn’t easy to do with the HAZMAT suit’s hood over his head. Andy Bennet was pretty intense, but seemed professional. He noticed that the geologist rarely took his eyes from Tania, and guessed he was smitten.

  He admired the guy’s fortitude. Matt had a problem with caves, though perhaps once, a long time ago, he could have descended by himself. But not any more. Andy’s partner, Frank, looked ready to explode, and that wasn’t just the from the ill-fitting suit. Matt grinned, and looked across to see Tania, ice cool and smiling back at him. He nodded in return.