by Greig Beck
There was a squelching sound from in the hole, and Harry peered in. Seeing nothing, he placed the rubber cap of the plunger over the drain. “It’s go time.” He pumped it up and down several times, his face going red and his grin widening as a thick mucousy sound started to rise and fall in time with his jerking ministrations.
Using his bodyweight, he leaned down hard for one last plunge, and then ripped it away. To his shock, a gush of glistening blackness rose in a column, splattering his shirt, face and one of his arms. He dropped the plunger and grabbed for a rag to rub at his eyes.
He barely heard the liquid sound in the room, or if he did, he wouldn’t have cared. The burning gunk stung his skin and one of his eyes – mercifully it hadn’t got in both, but still the shock and pain were unbearable.
Harry went to get to his feet but couldn’t. He realized that something had him by the arm, and he took his hands away from his red raw face and opened his one good eye. He recoiled in horror – the silver drain cap had popped free and a thick black pipe of goo extended from it and was wrapped around his forearm.
Gaa! He yanked, but it stretched. He tried to throw himself backward, but the thing was incredibly strong. Harry whimpered. The slimy touch on his arm started to burn even more ferociously than the fluid on his face. And this had the added horror of being something that seemed alive, and was now tugging at him.
The ground vibrated again under his feet, and he became aware of Summer’s yelling voice once again.
“You better have that cleared soon, Harry, or there’s gonna be tro-ooub-bbble.”
“Summ–” was all he could yell, before something slimy that tasted like shit, oil and Drain-Away jammed itself in past his lips and worked its way down his throat.
*
Summer sat on the couch frowning at the television. Everything the young English chef baked or cooked slid easily from pans, golden and perfectly made. He turned to the screen and gave her the benefit of his usual open-mouthed grin. His tongue looked slightly too big for his mouth.
“Lovely jubbly,” he yelled as he held up the plate.
“Yeah, well, you try doin that with my old pans.” She wrinkled her nose; the clothes basket was full to overflowing with dirty nappies. Either they went in the washer or in the tub outside, and as she had just gotten the little ones off to sleep, and was on her downtime break, she knew who would be scrubbing shit, and real soon.
“Ha-aarry, are you…?”
The basement door burst open, and Harry lurched out. She sat forward – his face was beet-red, and one of his eyes looked funny – all milky-white sort of. “Harry?”
Harry opened his mouth but nothing came out. Instead he worked his jaws as if he were either trying to say something or pry loose a bone he had managed to lodge in his gums.
Her brows came together. “Are you stoned? Is that what you been doin down there?”
He lurched closer and now Summer could see that around his mouth it glistened blackly like he had been drinking engine oil. She tried to think what was stored down there that he could have been getting into.
He hadn’t said a word, or even looked at her. She started to feel the hair on her head and neck rise.
“Is it…fixed?” She got to her feet and stepped up on the couch.
Harry remained standing in the center of the room, arms slightly out from his sides, and turning slowly as if trying to find something.
“Harry, you’re scaring me. Stop it!” She put a foot up on the back of the couch.
He slowly turned toward her, and the good eye in his head suddenly went full black, as if the pupil had totally grown over all the white. He opened his mouth wide, then wider. She heard his jaws cracking. Summer was expecting the man to scream, but instead, several feet of black ribbons extended from his mouth.
Summer’s throat hurt, and she realized she was screaming, and couldn’t stop. She grabbed up a pillow and held it in front of herself, getting ready to vault over the back of the couch and sprint to the door.
Suddenly Harry just…exploded. The black ribbons came from every part of his body, growing hugely to become tendrils, pipes, and trunks of black flesh that all ended in thrashing tentacles. His eyes doubled, tripled and kept on multiplying, and then slid all over his grotesquely inflating body.
Harry, the man, her husband, just broke apart as if he were a shell casing being shed by the disgusting giant creature that now stood before her, filling the room with its bulk and its stink.
Summer’s nerve broke. She forgot about her kids. She forgot everything. She glanced over her shoulder to the door, and then leaped. She had been a sprinter at high school and used to be as fast as the wind.
The thing that used to be Harry was even faster – she never made it.
Chapter 13
Cyprus, south of Larnaca
A light blinked twice on the hill.
It was still before dawn when they were dropped off on an empty stretch of coast on the southeastern side of the Cypriot island. The chopper immediately sped out over the dark water and was gone before they had left the sand.
Matt sniffed the warm air – salt, dry grass, and the beach shack smells of seaweed and old driftwood.
A tall figure appeared. “Bluestar.”
“Lonewolf,” was Adira’s quiet reply. Confirmation received, the man turned and led them to a dark SUV waiting just back from the coastal dunes.
Their driver was introduced as Baruk. Matt noticed he spoke to Adira deferentially, and seemed a little in awe of her.
Beside the driver, Adira shared the front seat with Abrams, which meant he, the enormous Hartogg, Andy and Tania were crowded into the rear. Matt could barely breathe. Thankfully, they arrived at their destination within thirty minutes – a bungalow on the outskirts of the small town. The house looked like any normal bungalow, and surprised Matt with its Spartan look and low external security…until he realized that was probably exactly the image Mossad or whoever wanted projected.
They were met on the porch by a young woman, who held the door open as they entered. She ushered them through to a side room, where the carpet was rolled back to reveal an open trapdoor and dark stairs leading down.
Adira went in first, followed by Abrams and then the rest. The young woman, Marta, remained up top, shutting the trapdoor as Hartogg came in last.
Once inside, Matt saw that it was more than a basement – there was effectively another house underneath the one above. In one large room, several cots were readied for them, with clothing laid out on each. As they moved along a hallway, Matt saw a computer room with photographic equipment, an armory and even washing and cooking facilities.
Baruk conferred quietly with Adira, who nodded and then motioned to the shower room. “Fast showers for all. Once done, we can take photographs, and prepare the travel documentation.”
Hartogg started to strip off, and Andy wasn’t far behind him.
“A shower sounds perfect right about now.” The young geologist shucked off clothes that billowed yellow dust as it hit the ground at his feet. It was only then that Matt realized how decrepit they must all look…not to mention a few of them still had crusts of blood on their heads and faces from the explosion.
In half an hour they sat around eating tomato omelets Marta had made, and sipping coffee. Matt still felt tired, but human again. Like a production line, Marta and Baruk had taken their photos, cropped them and expertly inserted them into well-traveled American passports. They decided to stick with US identities, as Adira knew that, other than maybe Matt, none of them would be able to pull off any other nationality, and they hadn’t had time to absorb an entire foreign back-story should they be interrogated.
Adira and the two agents sat at a computer screen, building up their travel history. Adira came back and joined them, and handed each a packet of documentation containing plane tickets, dive passes, and printouts of entry tokens for windsurfing, diving, water skiing, and other holiday enjoyments.
“Congratulat
ions, you all just spent time at the Pervolia Club Resort, one of the nicest on Cyprus.”
Matt checked his watch – it was still only ten in the morning, and already he was exhausted. He looked at the information and shook his head in admiration. It was perfect, and he had no doubt that many of the intelligence agencies in the world did the same thing. It made him wonder just who anyone really was any more – that man on a bus, the woman in a restaurant – a real person, or some sleeper agent gathering information or on a secret mission? Welcome to the world of espionage, he thought.
Adira sat down at the table and spread out some airline tickets.
“Twenty hundred hours tonight – ten pm – we fly out late in two groups on ALY airlines. It’s a short flight of only two hundred and ninety miles, and we will be there in forty-five minutes.” She pointed to the information packs. “We will need to clear customs and immigration, which should be our only real challenge. Read the information prepared for you, study it and remember it.”
“Who goes with who?” Abrams asked, sorting through his data.
“Team one will be myself, you, Major, Professor Kearns and Captain Kovitz – we are two couples on holiday. Team two will be Hartogg, Andy and Baruk – you are all salespeople who have won a dive holiday, congratulations.”
“Sweet.” Andy turned to grin, but Hartogg ignored him, and Baruk kept his eyes on Adira.
Abrams looked at the Israeli agent opposite him. “So we’ve picked up another Mossad body?”
Adira nodded. “Baruk is one of our local operatives, and he knows the region extremely well. Once we are in Egypt, we will make contract with one of our local cells to obtain any equipment we need.” She looked into Abrams’s eyes. “Unless you believe you can secure the necessary equipment and logistics yourselves.” She raised an eyebrow.
Tania Kovitz scoffed. “We can organize resources if we need to. In fact –”
“Ha.” Adira waved her off. “In fact, your intelligence capacity in the Middle East is near non-existent. We know most of your offices in the region were exposed by the traitor who worked in the NSA, and are now all identified on the internet.” She shrugged, and then stared hard at the American captain. “Let’s not kid each other here, Captain Kovitz – there is no time, I have neither patience nor any interest in playing games. We’re here to offer help – but only once.”
Tania gritted her teeth, her face growing dark. Matt could tell she was going to explode, but thankfully Abrams intervened.
“We’re all on the same side, and we have the same goal here. Of course your assistance is welcome.” He got up from the table, still holding his coffee mug. “Now if no one else has anything else to add, or objections, I suggest we get some sack time before the flight.”
“Works for me.” Matt said, leaning back. His weariness dragged at his bones, and started to blur his vision. Everyone around the table looked the same.
Abrams motioned to Adira. “One more thing; I need to check in – now.” His expression told her there would no argument.
*
“Sir,” Abrams said, looking over his shoulder. He was in a closed room, but would bet every word he said was being listened to.
“About time, Major.” General Decker’s voice sounded relieved. “Thought we’d lost you. What happened?”
Abrams smiled, imagining the tough stocky general in his office. He bet he’d already had another team ready to go.
“We met with Dr Albadi in Syria, and got a good lead on a source of information that might be the key to the earth-drops and disappearances.” It was easy to keep his briefing short seeing as he didn’t want to divulge too much. “But our ride home took a hit from an IED. Had to hike it across the desert. Luckily we found a friendly…of sorts. Captain Adira Senesh, Israeli army – pretty sure she’s Mossad.”
Abrams heard keys being struck as the general typed the name into the database.
“Jesus Christ, Joshua. This woman is on the extremely dangerous list. She not just Mossad, she’s Metsada. She even had a head-on with some HAWCs last year. If she’s tough enough to mess with those guys, you better watch yourself.”
Abrams exhaled. “Well, we need to get to Egypt, and she can get us there. As for trusting her, not a chance.” He smiled, knowing he wasn’t giving up anything the Metsada agent probably didn’t already know.
There was silence, and he knew Decker was probably looking over her file. He whistled softly, but before he could add anything Abrams cut him off.
“Sir, this line is not secure.” He changed the subject. “Have there been any new developments I need to be aware of?”
There was silence for a few second. “More earth-drops, more people disappearing, on larger and larger scales. We’re getting information breakouts now. Had to happen. But we have a new threat. There are…things, creatures of sorts, coming up from out of the holes, and even out of the freaking drains. Monstrous things we believe are directly responsible for the earlier animal abductions and the more recent disappearances.”
“Yes, happening here too.” Abrams remembered the bodies that vanished in the desert.
“God,” Decker said. “But we also think we now know what’s happening to some of them – the people. Some of them are being…absorbed, for want of a better term…instead of just eaten.”
Abrams grimaced. He didn’t like hearing the tension in the older warrior’s voice.
It sounded like Decker got to his feet. “In fact, I’ve got an appointment in about an hour where we expect to determine how we can deal with these things.”
“How are you able to do that?” Abrams asked.
Decker grunted. “Because we captured one.”
*
Adira talked quietly upstairs with Baruk and Marta until her comms device pinged. She recognized the call signature and walked quickly to a front room, looking out over a small garden. She answered it.
“Boker tov, Captain.” The deep wheezing voice was both formidable and familiar.
“Shalom, General. We were right, they are here looking for the Al Azif, and now they are taking me right to it.”
“Good, good work, Addy. I knew it was right to send you. Do they have a firm lead?” he asked.
“Yes, Uncle,” she said, confidently.
He laughed, sounding more like air brakes than anything human – he was wheezing more than usual. She could imagine the small, grizzle-haired man almost lost in his favorite red leather chair. But appearances would be deceptive – there was no frailty or weakness in the old warrior. General Meir Shavit was the head of Metsada, the Special Operations Division of the Mossad, and had served his country for over fifty years in both military theatres and dedicated intelligence services.
From his headquarters in Tel Aviv, he oversaw a staff of around two thousand. Though the Mossad was classed a civilian bureaucratic security operation, it was one of the most structured and professional intelligence services in the world; and also one of the deadliest. General Shavit’s Metsada was Israel’s well of poison, and Adira the sharpest dagger he dipped in it.
She smiled; glad now that their relationship was as strong as ever. “We will be in Alexandria tonight. They believe the Book is secreted somewhere on or around the island of Pharos.”
“Pharos? Hmm, interesting. I will have a two-man team waiting for you. But be warned, Addy, you are not the only ones seeking the Book. The man the Americans met, this Dr Hussein ben Albadi, has been killed, along with all of his staff. The remains displayed signs of extreme surgical torture. Addy, they have someone on their trail, someone ruthless.”
Adira ground her teeth. “If they step in front of me, they will fall.” Her face was grim as she spoke.
“I know, my dear. Show them no quarter.” He wheezed for a moment and Adira waited, her concentration intense. “Addy, we must have the Al Azif. We must know what it contains. If there is a solution or cure for the falling earth, then Israel must be cured first. Strength, honor, and good luck, Captain Senesh.”
She straightened. “I will not fail you, Uncle.”
“I know you won’t.”
The line disconnected and Adira sat down, her tired eyes on the garden, but her mind spinning with plans. Her eyes gradually closed, and soon the plans continued in her dreams.
Chapter 14
Centre for Advanced Military Science – Deep Research facilities
General Decker stood with hands clasped behind his back and stared through the two-inch-thick military grade Perspex into the twenty-by-twenty foot reinforced cubicle. His hands were damp, and he wished some of that moisture were in his mouth.
Looking at the thing inside made him feel physically ill. He saw what it looked like now, but he had seen the footage of what it had looked like when it was captured – it made him want to vomit.
“And that…that, thing, is Harry Wilcox?” He couldn’t help his mouth turning down in disgust. The man in the room looked wet, but stickily wet, as if he had been rolling in engine lubricant. He stood staring straight ahead. Decker knew that it was looking at them.
Eric Ford, lead scientist in their bio-weapons division narrowed his eyes. “Yes and no. Well, no, not any more.” He turned to Decker and shrugged. “I mean, sure it looks like him, but now, who knows what it is? The fact is, the life form can imitate anything it comes into contact with.”
Decker swung toward Ford – the man’s face was grim, and contained none of the usual spark he would normally have exhibited for a discovery such as this. Ford saw it like Decker did – not a source of wonder, but a threat to life…all life.
He scratched his chin. “And the other family members? My files said there was a wife, Summer…and they had three children.”
Ford shrugged. “All dead – consumed, we think, by good ole Harry in there.”
“Consumed? He ate them? All of them?” Decker grunted, remembering the footage of the capture – at first the thing had been much bigger than it was now. “So, it’s shape shifted, re-morphed back into some sort of hiding camouflage?”