Book of the Dead

by Greig Beck

  A jagged pain ripped through his skull, and Matt sat back pressing his temples. The pain passed, but there was a residue of screams and howls in his head that was like a tornado loosed from hell. There were voices, not just human, but of things that existed so long ago they were now little more than bones pinned together in museums. They were all trapped, in both the pages of the Book, and within the monstrous consumer of all things, Cthulhu.

  And with its image, came its plans. “There’s a poem here.” Matt now knew where. “The Gated Deep; his gate…” Matt pointed to the page. “It’s why the original caves were useless to us. It moves – his portal of return will be where the convergence is closest to the Earth, right now.” Matt turned to Baruk. “What part of the earth will be facing the celestial convergence when it is at its absolute peak?” He closed his eyes. “Because that is where Cthulhu will rise again.”

  *

  Adira gathered everyone for a final briefing in Abrams’s room. In a small kitchen off to the side, an electric stovetop glowed red underneath a coffee pot – the major was probably running on little more than adrenaline and caffeine by now.

  Matt accepted a cup and spent ten minutes telling the group what he had found, but finally stopped, and held the Book open at a block of magnificent script. He tapped the page. “Here…Alhazred called it ‘The Path to the Gated Deep’. It’s a poem of sorts.” He looked down at the text and licked dry lips. He cleared his throat and read.

  “They slumber, a race far older than man’s first word,

  In a city more ancient than Lemuria’s first brick.

  The sleepers in the dirt, the burrowers below us all.”

  Matt felt the increasingly familiar pain behind his eyes. He ignored it, and continued reading.

  “We who climb down into the depths find not just caverns of wet and slime,

  But carved faces beautiful in their hideousness, carrying not one visage of mortal man.”

  Matt swallowed, feeling a ball of nausea roll in his gut. He blinked away tears and continued.

  “Pathways spiral ever downwards to hopelessness and eternal blackness.

  There, find mighty columns, towering edifices, and streets too wide for a sapiens’s feet.

  A primal city long past anything the tiny human mind could comprehend.”

  He groaned and screwed his eyes shut, and then placed a thumb and finger into them rubbing hard. “Headache.”

  Tania grabbed his arm. “Go slowly; you’re doing great.”

  Matt shook his head and blinked rapidly. “It’s strange; feels like a bad vodka hangover.” He winced again and continued.

  “Gates of red granite so huge they could hold back an army. Now swung wide.

  Past them the Old Ones eternally slumber – dreaming, and still reaching out to us.

  And the Earth shall fall before they rise.”

  “So, this thing has a base.” Adira’s voice had a satisfied edge.

  “A city…underground?” Abrams pulled at his chin.

  “As I said before, it could be just allegorical. I’m not sure I really undestand it. It could mean something else entirely,” Matt added still feeling lightheaded.

  “I think you’ve read enough now.” Tania said, squeezing his arm.

  “For today.” He agreed; the descriptive passages of the Book threw back monstrous images and a sense of hopelessness, not to mention the physical pain, which still lingered.

  Tania surprised him by not pushing him on the strange language. He guessed her concern for him overrode her archeological background and her desire to understand more of the historical oddities of the Al Azif. Matt stumbled, and briefly held on to a chair back. Tania grabbed at him. “You’re freezing…and pale as a sheet.”

  Matt nodded. “Just a little dizzy.” He leaned forward. “The celestial convergence of our solar system – how can we find out what part of the Earth will be closest at its absolute peak?”

  Tania went back to her small computer tablet and typed furiously for a few seconds. She snorted softly and sat back. “Back home…it’s back home.” She looked up. “Sort of. It’ll be over the USA – Kentucky, to be exact.”

  Andy nodded and sat forward. “That’s interesting, and maybe only a coincidence, but you know what else is in Kentucky? Mammoth Cave – the largest cave system in the world. It’s about four hundred miles of caves, caverns, and slide holes – some of it still unexplored.”

  “How deep?” Abrams asked.

  “Deep, but not too deep,” Andy said. “From what I remember, its deepest point is about four hundred feet.” He clicked his fingers. “But there’s a pretty good-sized sinkhole in it…” He looked up, brows raised. “The sinkhole itself has been dated to about thirteen hundred years ago.”

  “Look’s like it’s about to drop again. We need to be there, with the entire army if that’s what it takes.” Abrams got to his feet. “Are we done here?”

  “No.” Adira, who had been leaning back against the wall, watching everyone, strode to the center of the room. She stood before Matt. “How did Abdul Alhazred put this thing back to sleep?”

  Matt shook his head wearily. “I don’t know.”

  “Think!” Adira’s voice was like a slap.

  “Lighten up.” Tania got to her feet, and the look that passed between the two women bordered on the volcanic.

  Matt held up his hand, waving them down. “It’s just that there are some language elements that defy description. I think some of it is Enochian, but it’s not based on any linguistic construct I, or anyone, has ever known. They’re symbols, but I know they have meaning.” He shrugged. “I mean I might know, and just not realize it. Or maybe I just need to look at it from a different perspective…one I don’t fully understand yet.” He had the Al Azif on his lap, his hand on its soft surface. “I need more time.”

  Abrams stared for a few seconds, his jaws working. “We have the flight home – fourteen hours, and then, ‘different perspective’ or not, the celestial convergence will be at its peak, and over the USA. Whatever is going to happen will begin there. We will have something we can use to stop this thing rising, or…” he shook his head, face grim “…or we prepare for war.”

  Adira paced for a moment, and then turned. “We meet downstairs in twenty minutes.”

  “One more thing.” Abrams nodded to Hartogg and stood straighter. “Captain Senesh, we want to thank you personally, and on behalf of the United States, for all your assistance. But if you can get us safely to the airport, then your job is well and truly done.”

  Tania smiled, and folded her arms. Hartogg looked pained, clearly bothered with the new orders.

  Adira’s face was untroubled, and she just tilted her head. Matt didn’t think for a moment, that Adira thought her job was “done’.

  *

  Matt felt sickly and weak, the effects of the Book still pulling at him. Baruk was hurriedly packing for him, or rather tossing his stuff into a bag, and pushing it down hard. It didn’t matter, he didn’t have much: most had been lost when the SUV was blown up in the Syrian desert, and what remained was part of his cover story.

  Matt sat forward. “What now for you?”

  Baruk turned, and looked as if he was going to ignore the question for a moment, but then stopped what he was doing. “All agents are being recalled for defense of the State.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows. “What, the earth-drops?”

  Baruk shook his head. “No; what is coming out of them.” He smiled sadly. “It seems we are also at war, Professor Kearns.”

  “I’m sorry,” Matt said.

  Baruk shrugged. “Home defense; we are used to it.”

  Matt sighed and sat back. “Home defense…against the end of the world.”

  Baruk zipped up his bag. “Done.” He grinned, and held out his hand. “Where’s my tip?”

  The Mossad agent’s smile froze on his face and he stood extremely still, as if listening.

  The door burst open.

  *


  Adira spoke softly and urgently to her uncle, General Meir Shavit. As always she imagined the old man in his favorite chair, chain-smoking his cigarettes, one eye half closed from the curling smoke.

  “I cannot just take it from them,” she said, beginning to pace.

  The old soldier’s wheezing formed into his usual slow words. “You could, Addy, if you wanted to. But I agree this might become messy, that is, if the soldiers foolishly decide to put up a fight.” A cough, and what sounded like a long pull on a cigarette.

  Adira stopped at the window, and opened the curtains a crack. “I believe Professor Kearns is the only one who can decipher it. Even if I secure it, it might end up being useless to us…and then too late for anyone else.”

  There was a low chuckle. “You give the Americans too much credit, and us too little.” There was more wheezing. “So then, Addy, I think if this Al Azif book won’t come with you, then you must go with the Book, hmm? I already have a seat for you on their flight.” He laughed slushily, and then coughed. “Just tell them you are there for their own protection, as we have heard there will be an attempt on the Book…and their lives.” He shifted in his seat. “After all, we don’t yet know who tortured Dr Albadi, or removed our agents. So this is probably true.”

  “I agree, Uncle.” She shivered slightly at the thought of being allowed by the Agency back into America.

  “Addy, the new agents I have sent will conduct an investigation into the disappearances, but by now, it is likely to be more a body recovery than a rescue.” She listened as the general breathed laboriously in and out for a second or two. “This is the business we are in.” He sighed and his voice grew distant. “Contact me when you know more. Good luck, Addy.”

  The line went dead.

  Adira held the phone for a second or two in her hand, her mind working. From down the hall there came a crash of splintering wood.

  *

  Matt felt his breath catch in his throat as the largest man he had ever seen came through the door. For such a physical giant, he moved quickly, his dark eyes missing nothing as he took in Matt, the Book, and then, Baruk.

  The Israeli agent also moved fast – the Glock pistol was in his hand in a second and two shots were discharged. The giant ducked the first, but took the next in the chest – it didn’t stop him; in fact, he didn’t seem to feel it, even though there was a smoking hole in his shirt.

  He crossed to Baruk in two steps, chopped at the gun hand and struck him under the chin with such force that the agent flew backwards into the wall. Baruk was highly trained and sprang back, shrugging off the hammer-like blow and diving for the big man’s midsection.

  The giant clasped his hands together and brought them down like a pile driver between the Israeli agent’s shoulderblades. Matt could feel the impact of the blow right through the soles of his feet and it jolted him into action. He leaped up, dragged his chair with him and broke it over Baruk’s opponent’s head and shoulders. That was his plan, at any rate: it didn’t break like in the movies, it just bounced off as if he’d simply struck the wall.

  The giant ignored Matt, reached down to Baruk still hanging on at his waist, and grabbed his head. In one swift movement, he span the skull so quickly and violently that the Mossad agent’s head was now facing the roof.

  Matt nearly gagged: Baruk had a startled look on his face as if he suddenly realized he was dead.

  The giant held onto the body and turned to the door. “Sir.”

  Another man stepped in, flanked by two brutal-looking Egyptians carrying long blades. This one was wearing a tailored suit, his silver hair brushed back in an expensive haircut, and movie-star teeth on display in a wide, satisfied smile.

  “You must be Professor Matthew Kearns. It’s truly a pleasure. And I am Charles Sheldon Drummond, a fan of sorts.” He gave Matt a small bow, and then turned to look up at the giant next to him. “Kroen, let’s get ready to receive our visitors.”

  Drummond turned back to Matt. “Oh, Professor, did you hear what happened to poor Dr Albadi?”

  Matt nodded, wondering what the man was playing at.

  “Yes, your Syrian informant wasn’t as cooperative with me, and needed to be punished – in fact, punished to pieces. So, you sit quietly over there and don’t make a sound.” Drummond’s face hardened, and Matt saw something behind the eyes that told him that this suave little man would like nothing more than the chance to punish him.

  Matt sat still. I can wait, he thought. Opportunities always present themselves.

  Kroen picked up Baruk’s gun and then came and stood in front of Drummond, his huge body effectively shielding the doorway. He pointed to the two Egyptians and ordered them on either side of the door. Their trap was set.

  Drummond then looked out at Matt and smiled broadly. “Professor, move to the other side of the room, and don’t say a word. Remember, I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t make me.”

  Kroen then took the limp body of Baruk and twisted the head so it was back in the right position. The sickening crunch and crackle of vertebrae made Matt wince. When the huge man had finished, he held the Israeli’s body up in front of himself, one hand on the collar and the other holding the head straight.

  Matt went and stood against the wall. Hartogg came through first, and looked briefly at Baruk, and then at Matt. He sensed the danger a second too late, and before he could spin, Kroen had hammered the side of his head with the gun butt. The SEAL dropped to the ground. Abrams came next, followed by Andy and Tania together. Kroen and the Egyptians grabbed one each and flung them to the center of the room.

  Kroen threw Baruk’s body aside like a sack of rubbish, and rolled his shoulders. Slabs of muscle, on top of a deep chest and huge arms ending in sledge hammer fists. The man was a born killer of men.

  Drummond stepped out slightly, a small pistol now in his hand. “Weapons on the floor, and up against the wall.” He leaned forward, looking out into the hallway. “Oh please, come in, Captain Senesh, no need to be bashful.” He waited two seconds. “I’ll shoot one of them.” He smiled his megawatt smile and pointed his gun at Andy’s face.

  Adira came in, arms straight down and slightly out at her sides. Her eyes flicked to Baruk’s body. Matt had never seen a look of such pure hatred on her face before; this had just gotten personal.

  She stood in the doorway, her eyes flicking from Matt and the team, to Kroen, sizing him up, and then to Drummond before looking down again at her fallen comrade. She looked back to Drummond, her face impassive, but her eyes burning with a molten fury.

  “Now, now.” He grinned at her. “I know what you’re thinking – can you take out Kroen, and my two men, and then get to me before I can fire?” He shook his head. “The answer is no. I’m a crack shot, and I will hit you at this range. Kroen will also snap the American woman’s neck as punishment. All your exertions will achieve is two more bodies, one of them being your own.”

  Drummond turned to Matt. “Time to finish up. Professor, the Necronomicon if you please.”

  “Don’t give it to him,” Adira said.

  Matt froze.

  Drummond turned and fired at Adira. The bullet whizzed past her face, grazing her cheek, and leaving a line of red. She didn’t flinch.

  “That will be all, Captain. Or the next will be between your very angry eyes.” He turned back to Matt. “The Book, now.”

  Matt looked to Adira, and then to Abrams, trying to elicit some sort of word, plan or even the indication of a plan – there was nothing from them. He felt helpless. Hartogg was still unconscious, and Abrams, Tania and Andy were bailed up against the wall, with Adira just inside, but up on her toes, her arms still straight down at her sides, fingers beginning to flex.

  Drummond’s lips compressed in annoyance, and the muzzle of his gun started to travel toward Matt’s thigh. “Now.”

  Matt held it tight in both hands. “You won’t be able to understand it. It will be useless to you,” he said quickly.

  “Reall
y? Then you won’t mind giving it up.” He pointed the gun muzzle at Matt’s groin. “This is going to hurt me a lot more than you.” He flashed his smile. “I’m kidding of course, this is only going to hurt you.” He leveled the gun.

  The throwing blade entered the back of Drummond’s hand, but didn’t pass right through the meat as it hit the metal of the gun. He howled in shock and dropped the weapon. Kroen spun, but before he could fire, Adira’s leg lashed out, kicking the gun up to discharge harmlessly into the roof.

  She dived for the Book, her hand flashing out to it, and her palm slapping down on its cover, just as Kroen brought one of his pile-driver hands down on her back between her shoulder blades.

  The two Egyptians went to launch themselves at Adira, but were immediately set upon by Abrams and Andy. Matt joined in, leaping onto the back of one man and pummeling his head. Tania pressed herself against the wall, apparently unsure which of their attackers to target.

  The major quickly knocked his opponent down, and then kicked him unconscious. He turned to help Matt and Andy, who struggled. Andy took a kick to the chest and flew back to hit the wall hard and sit slumped and unmoving. Matt then took a backhanded blow to the chin and was knocked against the table, where he sat dazed for a moment. Abrams then traded blows with the last Egyptian, standing toe to toe.

  Drummond grimaced, and wrapped a rapidly reddening handkerchief around his palm. He spat his words. “Quickly Kroen, kill her.”

  As if it were a dream, Matt watched the mad dance that Adira and Kroen performed in the light of the doorway. The big man outweighed the Metsada agent by one-fifty pounds at least, and in his hands he had produced two ancient-looking curved blades, that looked like a combination of Macedonian Kopis blade and boning knife.

  Matt was once again amazed at how the big man moved – fast, fluid, and professionally, the knives apparently part of his body. He knew his art.