by Greig Beck
Adira went through, and she dragged Abrams with her, keeping him close – Of course, thought Matt, he now has the prize. Matt shoved Tania forward, and she swum torpedo-like through the rapidly narrowing gap. Hartogg reached in and held the crowbar between the wall and door, waiting for it to impact with the inch-thick hardened steel. Matt kicked furiously, and, as he swam through the gap, the slab reached the crowbar and crumpled it as though it were a soda can.
Matt breathed hard, feeling dizzy from the exertion. Andy swam over and grabbed his arm, his eyes troubled behind his mask. Matt nodded in return, but the geologist pointed up, and he realized the concern wasn’t for him.
The moon was still a distorted glow high above the crevice, though it had passed its peak, and the first thing Matt noticed was all the sea life had disappeared – then he found out why. Overhead, a huge shape glided past. Then another.
Hartogg grabbed Adira, and used his hands and eyes to try and convey the trouble. She simply nodded, and from her calf drew a long diver’s blade. She held the knife up to them, pointing at each. Together the divers drew forth their knives, and followed Adira as she swam up and out from the island shelter.
At the very edge of their rocky fortress, she stopped and turned, holding up three fingers – she counted down, three, two, one, and then brought her fist down. She spun and started to propel herself fast toward the position of Mahmood’s boat.
Matt felt his stomach flip inside – though the moon still gave them a faint twilight, the ocean at night meant that the depths of their vision ended in shadows that moved behind curtains of darkness.
Each of them swam like seals as they rocketed out of the fissure in the sunken island, along the bottom, and headed for the safety of their boat. They moved fast, huge diving fins paddling strongly, but where they were like seals, the things coming out of the darkness were living torpedoes.
Matt was thankful for the glow of the moon, as he could at least see the sharks’ circling, some small and under six feet, moving erratically and agitated, working themselves into the mindless mass that would become a feeding frenzy. But further out, at the very extent of his vision, he could make out larger shapes, huge, as thick around as a draft horse, and longer than their boat – the ocean’s apex predators, the great white.
A shark peeled off and lunged in toward them, seeming to pick out Abrams as its target. Hartogg slashed at it, his blade pummeling the tough hide, but not opening or even denting its rough skin. It turned away, but another immediately took its place.
Again and again, they came at Abrams, and Matt knew why – it was the Book. These primordial creatures, 450 million years in the making, were either seeking to attack the Book itself, or were perhaps trying to defend it from the mammalian apes that sought to steal it.
There came a thud, a grunt and an explosion of bubbles. Matt saw Andy tumbling in the water as a seven-foot bull shark flicked away.
Adira was first to the anchor rope, and looked up. The ascent was where they would be most vulnerable: especially in the moment they would need to look away and lift themselves from the water. The image of kicking, dangling legs among all the man-eaters made Matt feel sick from fear.
Adira pointed up, and then held up five fingers. She swam away a dozen feet, and then used her knife to open a slit in one of her palms. Black blood immediately clouded the water around her.
Matt knew what she was doing – drawing the beasts to her. With blood in the water they could expect the furious eating machines to be driven into a frenzy of attack.
Adira turned and furiously pointed to the surface. Abrams pulled on Tania’s arm, and the two of them started guiding the groggy Andy up the anchor rope to Mahmood’s boat. Hartogg ignored Adira, and swam towards her.
The Mossad agent looked to Matt as she hovered in the water. She seemed to offer him a slight bow. Hartogg saluted, and Matt bet that behind his breathing equipment the big man was grinning. These people have no fear in them, he thought. He began his own swim upward, but couldn’t leave the soldiers to their fates. He paused, hanging by the rope, looking down.
As he watched, a monstrous shape loomed out of the darkness, the silver moon just lighting its grey-blue upper hide and the deathly white underneath. Its muscular barrel shape was easily twenty feet long. Matt marveled at the way the great white could sail through the water with only the smallest of flicks of its huge tail. Its mouth hung open, a dark pitiless cave made more horrifying by the row after row of finger-length teeth. Triangle daggers, designed for ripping, shredding and sawing through meat and bone.
It circled once more, and Hartogg and Adira got back-to-back. A small knot of human flesh with just two blades, silver teeth, for defense. The shark turned and came at them, accelerating with a single flick of its six-foot scythe-like tail.
Hartogg slowly lifted his arms out and leaned toward the huge creature. The diving knife seemed a futile weapon against the approaching monster.
Matt felt a tingle run up his spine as animal-fear made every inch of his body seem like it had electricity running through it. He could feel his heart beating in his throat, and he wondered whether Hartogg felt the same, or if instead, there was nothing but ice in his veins as he faced the giant man-eater.
The massive creature barreled in, and at just at a few feet from them, turned a degree and rolled, to look at the pair with one black, soulless eye. Hartogg struck out with his knife, using all his great strength to bury the blade into the hide.
The shark veered away, wrenching the SEAL’s arm, and pulling the knife from his hand. There was no blood from the great beast, and Matt knew that even though the tough hide was breached, the skin and muscles on its back were inches-thick leathery armor.
Hartogg hung there, fists balled, but now without a weapon.
The shark turned, and both the Special Forces agents swiveled in the water, Adira nudging the SEAL around behind her – it was her turn.
Adira never twitched, but simply floated, arms extended, silver blade clamped in one hand. The other sharks stayed back, seeming to give this ruler of the deep its killing space. Hartogg, Adira and the giant shark were in the center of a twirling tornado of grey hide, black soulless eyes and serrated teeth.
The team had ascended to the boat, and Matt could hear above him the sound of bodies, tanks and belts being pulled over the gunwale, as he hung mid-water to watch. He wanted to do something, anything, to help. He knew there was nothing he could offer, but was condemned to at least watch the pair’s stupidity or bravery. Whichever it was, they knew they had done their job – distracted the sharks to give the team time to escape.
The great white flicked its tail once more, turning and accelerating. It came at her like a miniature submarine, and when it was within a dozen feet, she pushed away from Hartogg and pulled herself into a ball. The giant mouth opened, easily wide enough to consume her entire frame, but suddenly, she unfurled and pivoted, and then one hand shot out, and caught the top of the snout, and she pushed down so it changed course and started to pass her. Her other arm flashed around and the thin blade dug into its softer belly; she held onto the knife handle with both hands, as the forward momentum of the beast allowed the eight inches of toughened steel to traverse the belly, unzipping the softer part of its hide, and spilling guts and blood into the water.
Adira and Hartogg immediately burst into action and frantically made for the surface, as the huge injured beast turned again. But her attack had worked, the blood and trailing organs were enough to attract all its primitive cousins – they shot towards the hemorrhaging beast, and a true frenzy began.
Matt had started for the boat as soon as Adira’s knife made contact with the shark’s belly, and, when he had just one hand on the rope net ladder over the side, he flung himself up and onto the gunwale, surprising himself at just how fast one could move when they needed to. Fear gives wings, he remembered.
Abrams grabbed him and pulled him onto the deck as if he were a stranded dolphin. He lay there mome
ntarily, stunned and gasping, and feeling his fatigued muscles still buzzing with adrenaline. Hartogg came next, but immediately turned and reached back to grab at Adira and lift her over the side. She went down on her knees, breathing hard.
She pulled off her goggles. “I lost my knife.” She grinned up at the SEAL.
Hartogg threw his head back and roared his laughter. He looked down at her, still out of breath himself. “I’d kiss you, but you might do the same to me as you did to that shark.”
Matt reached out to her. “We’ll buy you a new one.” He squeezed her arm. “Thank you.”
She nodded, and he sat up beside her. “Hey, I thought you said they wouldn’t bother us.”
Her grin widened. “And they didn’t really, did they?” She looked at Andy, whose arm bled, and she shrugged. “A scratch.”
She turned to the captain. “Mahmood.” She pointed a thumb to the shore. The old man saluted, and flicked his cigarette into the water.
Hartogg helped Adira to her feet. “Not bad at all, Captain Senesh.”
Adira nodded. “It’s what we do, right? You can repay the favor by pulling in the anchor. I think it’s time to go home.”
“I heard that,” the big man said, turning to the thick rope.
Abrams came towards her smiling and holding the still-wrapped book. Adia snatched it from him and unwrapped it, momentarily examing the cover. She snorted and then handed it to Matt. “It better be worth it.”
*
Drummond and Kroen sat in the Mossad agent’s car and watched as the boat powered back to shore. Kroen held a pair of powerful field glasses to his eyes. “They have it.”
“Good.” Drummond unfolded his arms to look at his watch. “Make preparations to leave; I want to be home by tomorrow…with the Book.” He refolded his arms, smiling dreamily and almost hugging himself. “The Father will be so pleased.”
*
Adira squinted, frowning as they approached the shore. She turned to Baruk and nodded toward the distant shape of the faded Mercedes as it pulled away from the sidewalk, and then disappeared around a corner.
“They’re back?” He said to her in Hebrew, keeping his eyes on the disappearing taillights.
“Very unlikely.” Her eyes narrowed. “We need to be most on guard.”
“Always,” the big man responded.
“What was it?” Matt asked in Hebrew, joining her.
Adira pulled in a cheek in annoyance. “Remind me not to bring any more language specialists on my missions. Probably nothing; just looked a little like our missing agents’ car.”
“Your face tells me you didn’t think it was nothing,” Matt said.
She smiled sadly. “In my business you learn quickly to discount coincidences.”
“Great,” Matt said in English, and then sighed. “We should leave immediately.”
“Yes. But our problem is, we cannot afford to break cover and put ourselves at risk of being exposed to the Egyptian authorities. They only need to slow us down, and they’ve won.” She turned to look him in the eyes. “We stick to the plan. I suggest you start work on understanding that book immediately – every second may count.” She leaned in close to him. “You must keep me involved…this is vitally important to me.”
Matt stared back for a few seconds, wondering if the woman was under any sort of pressure – Probably, he thought. She had risked a lot for them, no, everything for them. “Don’t worry: I promise to share the results with you.”
She nodded. “It needs to be guarded. For now, where the Book goes, Baruk goes.” Her implacable eyes moved from Matt to her compatriot. They gave no hint of compromise.
Matt shrugged. “Sure, sure, no problem.”
The boat scrunched up onto the sand and Adira stepped over the side, holding her swim fins. She checked her watch.
“It’s two am.” She paused. “The first flight to the United States is not until the afternoon. We must all stay safe until then.” She turned and headed for the car.
Baruk leaped over the side, landing softly. He held the boat steady as the others came over the side, and then he smiled at Matt. “Just pretend I’m not here.” He followed them to the car.
*
Matt sat at the desk in his room, bent over the ancient book. The copy that Albadi had shown him was impressive, but contained only a fraction of the words and verse that the original did. He had no doubt that the hide covering the book was human, as there were open pores, hair follicles, and what looked like a mole still evident on its surface. It didn’t bother him, as he knew that it was not unusual for ancient tomes to be bound in human skin –anthropodermic bibliopegy dated way back to ancient snake-worshipping Scythians.
Inside the Book, the work was a mix of Syriac, Arabic, Greek, and a mélange of other ancient languages. But there was also another, the one that Dr Albadi had referred to as the Celestial Speech – it was supposed to be the language of the angels, or gods – Enochian. But in the Book, Abdul Alhazred called it the tongue of the underworld.
“Nice,” Matt had said softly to himself, causing Baruk to momentarily look up from a magazine he was reading.
Matt dived back into the pages of weird script – whorls, strokes and curved lettering so elegant and beautiful it ranked with that of the finest Japanese calligraphers. It resisted all his efforts to be understood.
He knew its secrets were there, but just at the edge of his consciousness, dropping hints but then dancing away, like a shadow glimpsed from the corner of the eye, gone when you turned to look. It was unlike any language ever constructed by a human hand or mind. Of that he was sure. For some reason, Matt had the impression it was strings of blasphemic spells, and incantations, secrets whispered by some race or species that might have touched humankind long before. But it remained impenetrable to him.
In the end, maddeningly, Matt had to skip over the strange passages, and instead work at translating the chapters that had been omitted from Albadi’s copy of the Al Azif. Even then the ancient prose was revealed to him as impressions, and it spoke to him, directly into his mind, and more. When he closed his eyes to rest them from the rush of fantastic information, he saw everything, every page, every word, he had read. It was if the thing were imprinting itself on his mind, once his eyes had captured their images.
Several times it became too much, and he had to rub his eyes hard in a vain attempt to banish images that tore at his sanity. Periodically he felt light-headed, as if he were on a rollercoaster rising and falling, and becoming dizzy from vertigo. Baruk had come over once and laid a hand on his shoulder, checking on him. He had brought water, and Matt had thanked him, having sometimes forgotten he was even there. Though the rooms were small, the proximity of his personal bodyguard hadn’t bothered him at all. Baruk, true to his word, had remained silent, and near invisible. But then, Matt thought, the passages had been absorbing; unless he was grasped he would have missed a fire alarm.
The hours sped by as he sat hunched over. His back and neck screamed but he was transfixed. He had never seen anything like this material before, and the current events of the earth-drops, disappearances, and monstrous emergences had made the fantastic things described all the more horrifying.
Matt learned of the things that came before – the Elder beings, the Great Old Ones, a race of creatures or entities that once ruled the Earth and who now slumbered deep below the crust of the planet, or deep in the dark, fathomless seas. There were Xastur, Azathoth, Ghatanothoa, Shub-Niggurath, Yog-Sothoth, Nyarlathotep, and the vilest of all, the great Cthulhu, hidden behind colossal red gates of a lost city.
He read how they were worshiped by humans and non-humans alike, mentioning the crawlers in the filth and the great eaters of flesh, which Matt took to mean the roaches and sharks. He then read of the Shoggoths, the hapless monstrosities that were like the fleas on the hide of the Great Old One: they were its servants, its workers and slaves. And finally, he learned more of the giant form of Cthulhu itself, the slumberer beneath them al
l – beneath us all.
Alhazred had tried to describe the being, calling it some sort of immense, near immortal thing that was like an octopus, a dragon, and a deformed parody of the human form. There was a pulpy, tentacled head whose face was a mass of feelers atop a grotesque, scaly body. In other passages, he talked of a giant many-limbed worm of vast intelligence, not dead, not alive, but aware of us tiny things on the planet’s surface. It waited, to wake, every few millennia, testing and checking to see if the bounty of Earth had replenished enough for it to pour forth from the pit like some sort of rupturing infection and consume us all.
How could it hide, or remain undetected? Matt wondered. Perhaps it was too deep for us to see with our primitive instruments, or so large, we thought it nothing but some sort of massive underground ocean.
A touch on his shoulder.
“Jesus.” Matt jumped.
Baruk smiled. “Sorry, Professor. But it’s time to get ready.”
Matt smiled weakly at the Israeli. “I was lost – a million miles underground. Alhazred has been there; he described it in a poem.” He slumped for a moment, before looking up again, feeling slightly befuddled. His eyes wouldn’t refocus on the man, as if they longed to be back on the page. “What did you say?”
Baruk handed him another glass of water. “I said, we need to get ready. Final briefing before we depart.” He snorted softly. “You haven’t moved for hours.”
“Hours?” Matt checked his watch, a little alarmed at the time. He nodded. “I’m nearly done.” He turned back to the last few pages. It was there, and it wasn’t. The information sat in his mind unprocessed. The languages, the warnings, and the poems – all would have meanings that needed to be dissected and analyzed.
“I need more time. There’s some I still can’t understand.” He read on, hurrying now, searching for, and then finding, what he was looking for – where the Great Old One would come next, and how.