by David Meyer
He grabbed one of three paper cups from the ground. Lifting it to his lips, he swallowed a bit of water. It burned as it slid down his parched throat.
“You know, this place almost makes me miss that cabin of yours.” Toland took a bite of bread. “Almost.”
Caplan crumpled up his paper cup and tossed it to the floor. As he walked to another wall, a soft howl drifted up from underneath the concrete floor. It made him think of his theory about Corbotch building an army of genetically-engineered warriors. Was he right about that?
And if so, how long before Morgan joined their ranks?
Chapter 32
Date: November 30, 2017, 7:32 p.m.; Location: Savage Station, Vallerio Forest, NH
“I was right the first time.” Toland scowled at one of the walls. “This is hopeless.”
This time, Mills said nothing. Caplan remained quiet as well. The cold, hard truth was beginning to settle into his brain. There was no escape. Not for his friends, not for him.
The lock clicked. Metal scraped against concrete.
Twisting to the door, Caplan saw Roberts with her usual assortment of cronies. “Back so soon?”
“It’s almost time to go,” she replied.
“Good.” Mills flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I was getting tired of this place.”
“I said almost time. There are still two last things to do.” She glanced at Caplan. “And they involve you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“We’re going to pay someone a visit. Then Mr. Corbotch wants a word with you. Think of it as an exit interview.”
Two soldiers entered the room. While they applied restraints to Caplan’s wrists and ankles, he glanced at Mills. He saw the anger, the determination in her eyes. But he also saw the question marks, the uncertainty. If he gave her the go-ahead, he knew she’d launch an attack at that very second. An attack that would, in all likelihood, get them killed. I’ll be fine, he mouthed.
Her lips moved. Good luck.
He felt a soft nudge. Shuffling his feet, he moved to the door. He reached the hallway and two soldiers took the lead. Roberts and a third soldier sandwiched him on either side. Two more soldiers took up the rear.
They walked out into a large circular space. It was furnished like a fancy waiting room. Leather sofas and chairs, barely dented, provided plenty of seating. Small tables held paperback books and dog-eared magazines. Men and women, all dressed in long pants and lab coats, crisscrossed the floor, heading up and down connecting hallways.
Their small group entered a stairwell and climbed two flights. Then they walked out into another waiting room. From there, a short walk led them to the clinic.
The soldiers donned headlamps, their beams dancing across the enormous, dimly-lit space. They led Caplan to the side wall and across the room. Looking around, he saw tables and chairs and the wall-based corkboards. And he saw the oddball posters, still hailing the apocalypse.
They passed through double doors and entered a hallway. Then they slid through another pair of double doors.
Caplan’s skin scrawled as he entered a brightly-lit room. It was the same room where he’d met Dr. Barden. Turning his head, he laid eyes on the wheels. What had Toland called them again? Oh, yes … genome transplantation modules.
Roberts cleared her throat. “Hello, Dr. Barden.”
The doctor swiveled around in his chair. “Hi, Chenoa. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”
“Mr. Corbotch made a few changes to our timetable.” She glanced around at the modules. “Where’s the subject?”
“Over there.”
Standing up, the doctor led them to one of the modules. It hummed softly and Caplan could feel electricity all around it. He took a glance at the attached placard.
It read, Amanda Morgan.
“Open it,” Roberts said.
“She hasn’t finished this session yet,” the doctor replied. “If we end it now, we’ll have to start all over.”
She glared at him.
“Which is just fine,” he said hurriedly. “Hang on.”
He hiked to the central computer bank. Sitting down, he began to peck away at a keyboard. The humming ceased and the electricity died down.
One side of the module popped open and lifted toward the ceiling. The interior was hollowed out, forming something similar to a cushioned dentist’s chair. Morgan sat on top of the chair, looking like she was ready to have her teeth checked.
Caplan stared at her. A gray surgical gown rested gently upon her body. Wires and thin tubes connected her to the module’s back wall. She looked the same and yet, there was something different about her.
“Amanda?” Roberts shook Morgan’s shoulder. “I brought someone to see you.”
Her head rolled toward the opening. Her eyes opened just a smidgeon. “Zach?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled. “Are you okay?”
“It hurts.” A look of pure agony crossed her visage. “Oh, my God, it hurts so …” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell still.
“Amanda?” He tried to step forward, but the soldiers held him back.
Dr. Barden hit more keys on the keyboard. The module closed over again.
“Do you know why I brought you here?” Roberts asked.
Caplan could barely breathe. “Why?”
“I wanted you to feel what I felt when I first laid eyes upon Kevin. We’re killing her, Zach, one piece at a time.” Sadistic venom filled her voice. “And when we’re done, there’ll be nothing left.”
Chapter 33
Date: November 30, 2017, 8:16 p.m.; Location: Savage Station, Vallerio Forest, NH
“Hello, Zach.” Corbotch’s voice boomed through the cavernous room. “Tell me, how has Ms. Roberts been treating you?”
“Terrible. But in her defense, she’s deranged.”
A fist, encased in brass knuckles, slammed into Caplan’s unprotected side. It left him gasping and wheezing for air.
“Sit him over there,” Corbotch said.
Soldiers directed Caplan through a pair of gigantic elephant doors and into an enormous wood-paneled room. Animal heads, some with horns and antlers, were mounted on the walls. Glass cabinets displayed a fine collection of antique pistols, muskets, and rifles. Old-fashioned chairs and couches, covered in red fabric, offered ample seating. Statues and figurines decorated nearby dark wood tables. The place looked like a hunting lodge, all the way down to the elaborate carpet covering the floor.
Overhead chandeliers, aided by lamps, cast soft light over part of the room. The other part was shrouded in darkness. Caplan squinted, but couldn’t see through it. It was so dark he felt like he was staring into a black hole, one that would soon consume them all.
Two chairs, separated by a table, faced the darkness. The soldiers thrust him into one of the chairs. Then they applied a second set of restraints, binding him to the seat.
“That’s fine,” Corbotch said. “You can go now.”
The soldiers exited the room. Meanwhile, howls and screams poured in through the open doors. They seemed to come from somewhere down the adjoining hallway.
Roberts cleared her throat. “Will you be coming along for the drop-off, Mr. Corbotch?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He checked his wristwatch. “Come back around nine o’clock. We should be finished by then.”
“Yes, sir.” Twisting around, she left the room, closing the door after her. The howls and screams vanished. Silence came over the lodge.
Caplan looked at Corbotch. The man wore a tailored white shirt, topped off by a gray sport coat. He faced a large wall-mounted monitor bank. The monitors showed images of behemoths backed by cities, forests, suburbs, and more.
He turned his attention to the animal heads. They were similar to animals from the modern era. Similar, yet different. A wolf’s head was larger and more swollen than that of any species he’d ever encountered. A bear’
s head, mounted above a faux fireplace, featured giant teeth and … were those horns?
Corbotch left the monitor bank. He walked behind a long bar and picked up a bottle of Hamron’s Horror. Producing a tumbler, he filled it with ice cubes. Then he tipped the bottle, pouring a healthy portion of copper-colored scotch into the glass.
He took a long draught from the tumbler. Then he followed Caplan’s gaze to the animal heads. “Quite a collection, wouldn’t you say?”
“They look old.”
“They are old. Tell me, what do you know about the Dasnoe Expedition?”
Some kids obsessed over baseball statistics, others over celebrity gossip. But in his youth, Caplan had always gravitated toward monsters, myths, and legends. He’d spent many summer afternoons at Danter Library, poring over two shelves of books devoted to the Yeti, Atlantis, and the Lost Dutchman Mine. That was where he’d first read about the Vallerio Forest. Where he’d first learned of its many mysteries and strange horrors.
What would’ve happened if he’d never found those books? Would he have still applied for that job at the Vallerio’s Hatcher Station? Would he have ever met Morgan or Mills? Would he have survived this long?
“It took place in 1904,” he replied. “It was the last of three known expeditions to the Vallerio.”
“Do you know how it ended?”
“In tragedy. A pack of wolves ambushed it, killing six people.”
“I’m impressed.” Glass in hand, he walked around the bar. “As you know, my family has owned the Vallerio for many years. One of my relatives, a man named Miles Spencer Corbotch, constructed at least two secret facilities within its boundaries during the late 1800s. The first, which he called the Cavern, is how I escaped death a year and a half ago. The second was code-named Savage City.”
Caplan’s brow furrowed. He worried about Morgan. He worried about Mills, Toland, and himself, too. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel fascinated by the conversation. A secret city? Hidden in the already-mysterious Vallerio? How was that even possible? “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Neither had I until I stumbled upon it in Miles’ old papers. City is a bit of misnomer, by the way. It’s more of a small town. This facility lies on the edge of Savage City, hence why we call it Savage Station. It was originally designed as some kind of research facility. We believe the town was built to give its technicians, scientists, and other employees a sense of normalcy.” He cast a wistful eye around the room. “This place was a giant mess when I found it. Shattered equipment, strange skeletons, and trashed furniture littered the upper floors. The lower floors, including this one, were inaccessible. It took two months to stabilize everything and rebuild the staircases.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It was. But it was worth the effort. I found this room looking almost exactly like you see it today. The animal heads, the carpet, the statues … they were all here.” Corbotch took a sip of his drink. “And that brings me back to the Dasnoe Expedition. As you said, the media reported it came to a premature end because of a wolf attack. But Joseph Dasnoe went to his grave—an early one, I might add—claiming the creatures weren’t wolves. What if the animals he saw that day were, in fact, the ones before you now?”
It was certainly a plausible theory. Scanning the heads, Caplan found himself wondering about the strange beasts. “How’d they get like that?”
“Most evidence points to a strange breeding program. But we can’t be certain. There’s no mention of these creatures anywhere in Miles’ correspondence or notes.” He shrugged. “But one thing is certain. When I walked into this room all those years ago, it changed my life. At the time, I was studying the potential of rewilding this forest via proxy animals. Elephants for mammoths, for instance. But when I saw these heads, I realized I might be able to create my own animals. This room, in many ways, was the birthplace of the Apex Predator project.”
“Insanity breeds insanity, I guess.”
Corbotch chuckled. “If you think that’s insane, you’re going to love this.” He produced a small radio from his pocket and pressed a button. “We’re ready for Lucy.”
“Yes, sir,” a voice crackled in response.
Corbotch walked to the wall and lifted a dimmer switch. A separate chandelier came to life. The room’s darkness melted away, revealing a large cage. It was built into the far wall. A steel door provided access to whatever lay beyond the wall.
Silently, the door slid open, revealing a dark void. “That door connects the cage with another one directly behind the wall,” Corbotch explained as he took the other seat.
A man, tall but stooped, stumbled out of the void. He reached the bars and wrapped his gnarled fingers around them. “Please,” he said in a strangled voice. “Don’t do this.”
Corbotch took another sip of his drink.
A low howl rang out. The man’s face fell. Spinning around, he faced the void.
The room was cool, but sweat dripped down Caplan’s forehead anyway.
It happened so fast he almost missed it. A woman—presumably Lucy—raced out of the void. She slammed into the man, knocking him back against the thick bars. He collapsed in a heap and Lucy climbed on top of him. Lifting both fists, she pounded on the man’s chest. He tried to push her off, but she was far too powerful.
Her blows intensified and he grew weak. Then her hands curled into claws. Viciously, she raked his face. Blood, first in trickles and then in gushes, splattered against the bars, the wall, and the carpet.
Horrible moans filled the lodge. Caplan tried to speak, but words escaped him. Meanwhile, Corbotch casually sipped his drink.
The man made one last attempt to fight back. But Lucy easily overwhelmed him and he fell still. She raked his bloodied skin for a little longer. Then she dipped toward his face. Slurping noises rang out.
Bile filled Caplan’s throat. He’d seen reborn megafauna kill and feast on humans. He’d seen behemoths squash people underfoot. And yet, this was worse. Much worse.
Lucy lifted her head and stared directly at Caplan. Her lips curled back, revealing a set of blood-soaked teeth.
He stiffened up as he caught his first good look at her. He saw her relatively short limbs and her barrel-shaped chest. He saw her weak chin and her oversized nose. “What … what is she?”
“Her genes match those of a more primitive human species. Homo neanderthalensis, to be specific.” Corbotch took another sip. “Or, if you prefer, Neanderthal.”
Chapter 34
Date: November 30, 2017, 8:33 p.m.; Location: Savage Station, Vallerio Forest, NH
Neanderthal. The word zigzagged like lightning through Caplan’s skull. It was impossible. And yet, he knew it was true. He could hear it in Corbotch’s voice. And he could see it in Lucy’s powerful hands and sloping forehead. “You created Neanderthals?”
“Yes. And not just them. Homo erectus. Homo rhodesiensis. Homo heidelbergensis. Plus, other archaic human species, too.”
Corbotch had used a specific process to recreate the reborn megafauna. To bring back the woolly mammoth, for example, he’d used ancient soft tissue samples to fully sequence its DNA. Then he’d extracted the cell egg from a female Asian elephant and replaced its nucleus with that of a woolly mammoth. He’d induced the cell into dividing and then inserted it into an artificial womb, known as an ectogenetic incubator. The incubator, in turn, carried the cell to term.
Corbotch must’ve used a similar process to create Lucy. Similar, yet different. Caplan thought hard, trying to figure out how the wheels, or genome transplantation modules, fit into the process. First, Corbotch must’ve fully sequenced Neanderthal DNA. Then he must’ve forced two prisoners—a male and a female—into the modules. He’d overwritten their genes in some fashion, which effectively replaced their eggs and sperm with those of ancient Neanderthals. Then he’d extracted these things from their bodies and used an ectogenetic incubator to do the rest.
But try as he might, Caplan couldn’t quite fit the puzzle
pieces together. Lucy looked to be about thirty years old. How had the creature aged so quickly?
Corbotch picked up his radio again. “Initiate clean-up.”
The radio buzzed. “Yes, sir.”
An animal control pole reached out of the dark doorway. It lassoed Lucy’s neck and cinched tight. Howling, the archaic yanked and tore at the pole. When that failed, it tried to rush the pole’s handler. But by that time, other poles had joined the first one. They swiftly lassoed the creature’s neck and dragged it into the void.
Four workers entered the cage and divided into teams of two. One team gathered up the corpse and took it away. The other gave the cage a quick scrubbing.
Afterward, the second team filed through the open doorway. The door slid shut. For a long moment, Caplan stared at the now-empty cage. It was difficult to fathom what he’d just seen. And yet, he knew he’d never forget it.
“Why?” he asked.
“I felt a demonstration was in order before I sent you back into the outside world,” Corbotch replied. “You had an inside track when I launched Apex Predator. Now, you have an inside track on its culmination as well.”
“Culmination?”
“Just seven archaics—including Lucy—currently exist. At midnight on December Third, two hundred and fifty-six others will join their ranks. This will comprise the first archaic wave and it will be released into selected ecosystems, both here and abroad. Other waves, which currently comprise some three-thousand additional archaics, will follow.”
Caplan shook his head. “So, how does this work anyway? Do you use the modules to edit sperm and eggs?”
“No. We don’t give birth to archaic humans here.”
Caplan arched an eyebrow.
“Most mammals, as you well know, go through an extremely short period of adolescence. They’re ready to hunt and do other things at a very young age. But archaics—like Homo Sapiens—require a much longer childhood.”