by Lynn Sholes
The video jiggled as Stefen continued to tape while walking to the building.
Moon watched the three students stare at a lone concrete wall. It was hard to judge from the image, but the wall appeared to be about two hundred feet long and thirty feet high. The rest of the building was nothing more than heaps of rubble with chunks of concrete and iron rods occasionally poking through the underbrush. Openings in the wall that had once been windows were now only gaping wounds.
Moon's parents had worked there for many years during the Japanese occupation. In the video, the ultra-secret lab of the Japanese Army's Unit 731
was now nothing but rubble and weeds. Her father had no idea what he had left behind—something so innocent at the time—but that had all changed now. Her discovery was more than serendipity. It was as if it were meant to be there, just waiting for her.
Her eyes focused on the video. It showed two tall cylindrical stacks, reaching a good ten feet higher than the rest of the structure, rising behind the wall, standing like sentries over the ruins.
"Incinerators of some kind, maybe?" Lesley motioned toward the stacks.
"And look at that." She pointed at a faint image painted above an entrance doorway—a weather-worn red circle with sixteen rays on a nearly vanished white field.
"Hinomaru," Gina said. "The Japanese war flag. Maybe this was a World War II military facility."
"Let's see what else we can find." Lesley led the way around to the other side of the wall. The rubble and tangle of brush and vines made it difficult to walk.
Gina said, "My guess is there was an explosion or the place was bombed. Either way, it was a long time ago."
"And something more recent," Lesley said. "Maybe an earthquake? Some of the damage appears recent."
"Wait!" Stefen pointed as he aimed the camera at a piece of rusted machinery.
Lesley froze and glanced down. Sticking out of the ground was a protruding metal spike. "Damn, I didn't even see it." She blew out her breath.
"Thanks. That would have been nasty."
"Hey, take a look." Stefen handed the camera to Gina. With a grunt, he bent and pulled back a piece of rusted sheet metal the size of a car hood.
The video showed a narrow set of concrete steps leading into the ground.
"This is wild," Stefen said. "Who wants to go first?"
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He took the camera back and focused on Gina as she declined and sat on a nearby chunk of wall. "Jesus, Stefen, do you have to tape every little thing?
You're obsessive about that damn video camera."
He laughed, but kept the camera pointed at Gina. "Coming?"
"You guys have at it," Gina said. "Think I'm catching the flu." She rubbed her arms as if chilled, then shivered.
"Too much cheap wine last night," Stefen said.
"Get the freakin' camera off me, would you! Christ, you're a pain in the ass," Gina said.
"Testy today, aren't we?" Stefen panned toward Lesley.
"We'll just take a quick look," Lesley said to Gina. "Be right back."
Stefen dug into his backpack and pulled out his flashlight. Lesley located hers. With Stefen in the lead, still videotaping everything, they started down the steps.
At the bottom was a tunnel littered with debris, but passable. Lesley shined her light into the darkness. Ten paces ahead was a much larger tunnel running perpendicular to the smaller one.
With great care, they maneuvered over pieces of fallen lumber and chunks of concrete until they stood in the wider passage. It was smooth-surfaced and large enough to drive a car through. Pitch-blackness lay ahead. They shined their beams in both directions before Stefen motioned to the right.
"Let's see where this leads."
"You first," Lesley said.
The tunnel cut into the volcanic rock for about fifty feet before widening into a large room housing what appeared to be two power generators.
"They remind me of locomotive engines," Lesley said as they moved past the hulks of rusted metal.
Moon pressed the fast-forward button again, speeding through the parts where Lesley and Stefen found a chamber with bunk beds, all in various states of collapse and dry rot. They backtracked and followed another tunnel, passing toilets and a kitchen and then into a storage room. That's when Moon returned the video to normal play.
This was the part she cherished.
Stefen flashed his light on the back wall of the storage room. "Check it out."
The video revealed a sizeable hole in the wall—chunks of concrete crumbled on the floor below it.
Stefen approached the hole and examined its rough edges. "Looks like it collapsed recently, probably from the earthquake." He aimed his beam into the hole and the space beyond. "What do you make of that?"
Lesley came closer. "A store room? Or maybe a safe room in case of attack?"
What the video showed was a concrete-walled room about the size of a modest walk-in closet. In the center was a wooden pallet. Neatly stacked on top
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were cylinders that looked to be about three inches in diameter and ten inches long. Lesley counted. "Twenty-five."
Squeezing through the opening, Stefen stood beside the pallet. He lifted one of the cylinders. "Not metal. Feels more like ceramic." Replacing it, he shined his light around the small room. At the corner of the pallet, a single canister had dropped off and rolled over against the wall. "Oh shit, that one sprang a leak." He aimed the light at the floor illuminating a dark smudged stain beside the canister. "No telling what that crap was. Want to take one back? We might get a pretty penny for war memorabilia."
"Forget it. Could be toxic." The alarm on Lesley's watch beeped. "We need to report back to the ship." She silenced the alarm and maneuvered through the hole in the wall. "Remember the captain said to use the walkie-talkie to radio in every hour in case they get the equipment repaired."
"He's worse than a mother hen." Stefen said.
Lesley pulled the small, handheld radio from her backpack and pressed the transmit button. "Hello,Pitcairn?"
Static.
"It's never going to work down here," she said. "We need to get above ground."
"Go ahead. I've gotta take a piss. I'll catch up."
As Lesley walked away, Stefen pointed the camera at himself. "Never pass up an opportunity, Stealthy Stefen says. This shit will be on eBay as soon as I can get back online." The camera bobbled as Stefen lowered it to the ground. Moon saw him pick up a canister and stuff it into his backpack. He lifted the camera again. Focusing it on his face, he raised and lowered his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. "No one the wiser."
With the camera still recording, Stefen maneuvered through the passageways until he caught up to Lesley.
As they passed the rusty hulks of the power generators, Lesley said, "I see the sunlight coming from the entrance." A moment later, they were up the steps and into the brightness of the clear-sky day.
Stefen aimed the camera at Gina, who sat propped against the wall, her eyes closed. "Sleeping on the job," he said.
Moon leaned in closer to the television, not wanting to miss anything.
Gina picked her head up.
"Hey, are you all right?" Stefen asked.
"You don't look so good, girl," Lesley said.
"Definitely need to pay a visit to sickbay," Gina said. "Probably just picked up a bug or something."
Stefen said, "Couple of shots of Jose Cuervo should kill it."
"Maybe not," Lesley said. She scored her bottom lip and looked at Gina.
"What?" Gina said. Obviously noting her friend's stare and responding to it, she touched her cheek, then felt across her jaw line. She took her hand away and looked at her fingertips.
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Stefen peered closer before recoiling. "Holy crap, Gina, there's blood coming out your ear."
Moon paused the image, savoring what the monster virus could do—and so quickly. The three botanists had first set foot on the island only a few days before this vi
deo was made. And already, one of them showed symptoms. She smiled as images of hundreds of thousands would soon show those same first signs of the deadly Black Needles. The girl from the ship was already dying. Soon the others would follow.
Moon stood and went to the videocassette player. She extracted the tape and loaded the second.
It started abruptly with Stefen in his cabin, obviously drunk. He had propped the camera on a nearby shelf and talked to it as if it were a person in the room. "So here is my treasure find for the day." His speech was slurred from too much beer. "A fucking jug of Jap juice. Who knows what was in it, or what it still has in it. Only The Shadow knows for sure. Maybe it is a midget alien, or maybe, yeah, maybe, a secret love potion that turns women into horny, sexcraved whores with no inhibitions and thousands of fantasies." Stefen started dancing with the canister as he sangI Could Have Danced All Night. His image moved in and out of view—the auto focus trying to keep up with him as he swayed around the room. Finally he stumbled backward and flopped onto his bunk. As he did he lost his grip on the canister and it flipped from his hands hitting the metal railing of the bed. Stefen laughed at his drunken clumsiness.
"Fucking A," he said. "The bitch just knocked me on my ass." He bent forward, trying to keep his body somewhat steady, but still swaying. He glared down.
"Son-of-a-bitch. Look at that. The goddamn thing cracked. Who'd of thunk it?"
Moon watched as Stefen grappled his way off the bunk and retrieved the canister from the floor.
"Probably ain't worth a shit, now," he said, back-pedaling to his bunk. Stefen fell onto his bunk, the canister beside him. "Asshole," he said to himself.
"Damn it, Stefen, you could screw up a wet dream." His eyes closed.
Moon froze the image. "Thank you, Stefen," she whispered.
MONSTER
Victor let out a rant of profanity as the spotlight lingered on the rowboat. Cotten tried to slump down, but there was no room to hide. They were completely exposed. Within seconds, she heard the low thumping of a large, powerful engine. A quick burst of an air horn cut through the night and rolled across the river like a charging herd as it echoed off both shores.
"Shit!" Victor said. He leaned forward. "Row faster, you bastards!"
Krystof and Alexei responded by doubling their efforts. Cotten heard their
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grunts as they pulled the oars through the water.
"Son-of-bitch," Ivanov said from the bow. "Bastard is going to run us over!"
"What is it?" Cotten asked Victor.
"River barge."
Cotten focused in the darkness and suddenly saw the monster bearing down on them. At least sixty feet wide, the barge plowed through the water, pushing white churning foam ahead of the flat bow. Its cargo, probably coal, was piled high in peaked mounds.
Then she saw the lights of the tug behind the barge. Millions of tons were about to roll over their tiny rowboat and crush it with no more effort than if it were a fallen tree branch.
"Oh, my God," Cotten said, covering her mouth with her palm. "Don't they see us? I mean, they'll stop won't they?"
"Would take miles to stop barge," Victor said. He turned back to Alexei and Krystof. "Put backs into it, you fucking pussies."
The thumping of the tug's diesel engine was drowned out by a hissing sound. Cotten saw it was the wave of frothing water being pushed ahead of the barge's bow as it curled over and broke onto the surface of the river. The hulk filled her vision, blocking out all else. The hiss turned into a roar.
The monster was upon them.
With one tremendous effort, Krystof and Alexei pulled on the oars, sending the rowboat past the front corner of the barge's bow. The steel vertical surface of the monster nearly scraped the side of their boat—so close, Cotten thought she could reach out and touch it.
She felt the boat rise up and lean to her right as it rode over the crest of the bow's wake. Just as she was about to be thrown over the side into the water, the rowboat slipped down the back of the wave and was shoved forward. While the two men continued to pull on the oars, taking the small boat away from the barge, Cotten looked to see the giant black mass pass by, followed by the thumping and grinding of the tug's engine. She spotted the pilot standing in the wheelhouse sweeping the river up ahead with his spotlight.
"Hang on," Ivanov shouted.
A second later, the tug's wake hit the rowboat, raising it up and over the crest. Cotten grabbed the wooden bench, this time almost certain that she would be thrown into the cold, black water. But as quickly as the wave came, it passed beneath them, and the small vessel settled back onto the river.
Krystof and Alexei were panting like long-distance runners while Victor continued his endless cursing. Colonel Ivanov stood in the bow surveying the river in all directions.
"Are you fucking blind?" Victor whispered in Ivanov's direction. "How could you miss something big as god-damn tugboat?"
"Shut mouth," Krystof said, still panting heavily. "Idiot drive tub boat as bad as you drive Russian destroyer."
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"Air horn probably woke up everyone for miles," Alexei said.
Ivanov huffed. "Ship horn is common all times of day and night. No big deal."
"I say, get hell out of this place," Krystof said. Pulling on the oars, the two men returned to rowing.
Cotten watched the red and green lights of the tug grow small and finally disappear around a bend in the river. Soon, the water flattened, erasing all traces of the monster's passing.
BACK DOOR
"We are about five miles from castle," Ivanov said as he secured the bowline of the rowboat to a tree.
"That's not so bad," Cotten said. "I jog five miles through Central Park on the weekends."
"This will be the worst five miles of your life," Victor said with a chuckle. He and Alexei pulled the net over the boat.
Cotten noticed in the beam of one of their flashlights that it wasn't fishnet at all, but military camouflage netting.
"Why will it be the worst?" she asked.
Krystof raised his arm like a Nazi salute. "All uphill."
"Alexei will lose twenty kilos by end of climb," Ivanov said, patting his overweight friend's belly.
"Who wants to be skinny prick like you?" Alexei slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder. Carrying his supply bag in his left hand, he said, "Let's go before I sit on your tiny head."
As they formed a line with Ivanov in the lead, Cotten realized that despite the rough language and harsh outer skins, these old men seemed to have a tight friendship and respect for each other. She wondered what it had been like when they were in their prime and possessed the undisputed power of the Soviet KGB. And she hoped they still had enough left in them to accomplish this mission. Every moment that passed could be John's last.
Climbing a steep embankment, the five followed a hunting trail through thick forest for a few hundred yards before it turned away from the river. Immediately, the grade increased and their pace slowed. It was obvious to Cotten that the men had made this trip before—at least Ivanov had. Even in the dim light of the overcast sky, they moved forward with confidence.
As light snow fell, the rocky path led constantly upward. In the darkness, Cotten tried to be extra careful. Her footing in the oversized boots was anything but sure. A number of times, Victor grabbed her arm as he climbed behind her to keep Cotten from losing balance and falling.
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After a half hour, they paused to rest. Cotten looked at her watch—just past nine.
"How do you know this path so well?" she asked the colonel.
"Old route," Ivanov said, sitting on a rock next to her.
"But if it's old and you know about it, won't the men holding the hostages know of it, too?"
"Maybe," he said. "But they are not expecting four old KGB to come in through back door. They are in for big surprise." He turned to face her. "They are already dead, just don't know it."
His words sent a chill through her.
These men looked weathered and had that mellow appearance that comes with old age. And yet, their profession had been all about brutality and death.
She wondered how many had fallen at their hands, and she was thankful not to be on the receiving end of theirtalents.
With a grunt, Victor stood and pointed to Alexei. "Come on lazy bastard. We go rescue lady's friends. Get off fat ass."
The trail wound through thick woods and rocky terrain. They moved up switchbacks, climbing ever higher into the mountains. Soon, the trees thinned, giving way to rocky crevices and sheer drop-offs. In the dark, with only small flashlights to find their way, the trail was treacherous and slippery. At another short resting point she glanced at her watch: 10:44 pm.