by David Meyer
Caplan knew how she felt. He’d killed animals in the past, always for food or to protect himself. But that didn’t make it any easier. Every time he took a life, he felt a little piece of himself disappear with it.
But come to think of it, that wasn’t entirely true. He had no problem swatting flies or squashing spiders. If he was completely honest with himself, he cared mostly about mammals and maybe birds. Fishes, reptiles, and amphibians were still important, but less so. Invertebrates were at the bottom of his list. Where did the dire wolf, this violent creation of modern science, fit into things? He wasn’t sure.
He reached for Morgan. She hesitated for a moment before accepting his embrace. They hugged fiercely, allowing months of frustration, guilt, and anger to melt away. And when they finally parted, Caplan felt renewed, reenergized. As if he could take on the entire Pleistocene epoch by himself.
Morgan approached the carcass with some trepidation. Gently, she kicked its legs with the toe of her shoe, drawing it out to its full length. “Are you sure its larger?” she asked.
Caplan nodded.
“I believe you, but I don’t see how it’s possible. We programmed all incubators to grow animals to their full sizes. And based on the video feeds, the sabers and mammoths haven’t grown a bit since expulsion. Unless …” She blinked. Her eyes widened as if she were awaking from a deep sleep.
“What?” Caplan asked.
“My colleagues and I developed the science for de-extinction, but we didn’t physically control it. For security purposes, the Lab’s guard contingent managed all systems, including the ones dealing with expulsion.”
“So?”
“So, I always thought it was more of a formality than anything else. But I suppose it’s possible they used their position to conduct secret experiments with the incubators. They could’ve administered hormone injections, maybe even altered genes.”
“And you let them get away with that?”
“I didn’t let them get away with anything,” she retorted. “I’m just saying it could’ve happened. And come to think of it, it could’ve happened to the sabers and woolly mammoths, too. The guards inserted various microchips into their bodies. It’s possible those chips could be used to stimulate hormones or do any number of things via radio waves.”
“So, injections or microchips could explain the growth. Maybe the crazy violence, too.” Caplan exhaled. “Theoretically speaking, how large could 1- and 2-Gens grow?”
“Mammals evolved to enormous sizes in order to fill the ecological niche left by dinosaurs. In order words, they didn’t stop growing because they reached some kind of biomechanical restraint. They only stopped because of a warming climate and the amount of food available to them. With 1- and 2-Gens, those things might not be a factor, at least not at first.” She took a deep breath. “In other words, the sky’s the limit.”
Chapter 52
Date: Unknown; Location: Unknown
The crackling sound, louder than a siren, reverberated through the forest, ping-ponging from tree to tree. Mills winced, but didn’t look backward. Instead, she stared straight ahead and kept up a steady pace, wincing every time her bare feet touched the pine needles.
Toland halted. Whirling around, he cast a keen eye on the forest. “It’s getting bigger,” he said.
Elliott stopped next to him. Her face was tomato-red. Dark bags hung from her eyes. Balancing her hands on her knees, she gulped at the oxygen. “We need to … keep going.”
“A lot bigger.” Toland said, ignoring her. “This X-thing better be underground.”
Bailey Mills, still clutching the strange logbook, dragged herself to the others. Her feet stung so bad it brought tears to her eyes. Her heart pounded away inside her chest, like a hammer on a stubborn nail.
She clutched her waist with both hands, barely keeping stitches at bay. Then she turned around.
She could see nearby objects like rocks and dirt and moss. A little farther back, she saw rows of evergreen trees along with fallen needles and pine cones. Beyond that, the forest was ripe with flames. Seeing the fire—that distant instrument of destruction—set her nerves to the breaking point.
It wasn’t the size of the fire, which was difficult to tell at this distance. It was the fact that it appeared alive. The flames vibrated and pulsed with intense fury. As if an ancient dragon existed within them, propelling them onward with nothing but sheer will.
Elliott was the last to turn around. Her mouth drooped as she stared at the fire. “Ohmigod.”
Toland grunted and twisted away from the fire. Mills chased after him, cutting through pines and spruces, and keeping an eye on the distant flames. Her feet still stung and a splitting headache made it hard for her to think. But her discomfort couldn’t compare to the pit of terror embedded deep in her stomach.
Knowledge was a powerful thing. And the possibility that they were in the Vallerio—her Vallerio—had wiped some of her fear away. Unanswered questions still abounded, of course. Questions about the saber and woolly mammoths. Questions about why the animals were so violent and why the saber seemed so intent on killing them. But at least she felt like she was starting to get a handle on the situation.
But the wildfire, well, it was a game changer. And as she hurried onward, tripping over roots and rocks, the pit in her stomach blossomed in particularly nasty fashion, sending shoots of fear through her veins.
The soft snapping and cracking of wet wood crested through the forest. The noises caught hold of Mills’ sanity, nearly ripping it right out of her body. Then a new sound punctuated the night air. It sounded like … yes … it was metal clinking against metal in ferocious fashion. Mills’ gaze shot leftward and she noticed faint glimmers of light. “Wait,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “I see something.”
Toland maintained his pace, but cast a withering look over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said. “We saw it too.”
“Not the fire, you idiot.” She stopped, pointed to her left. “Over there.”
Applying the brakes, he slid to a stop. His neck swiveled to the side. His eyelids cinched into squint position. Then he started toward the glimmers. With a pained groan, Elliott stumbled after him.
Taking her own route, Mills hiked toward the glimmers at a fast clip. Soon, she caught glimpses of a small clearing, surrounded by tall evergreen trees. A large object rested in the middle of it. It looked silky-smooth from a distance and black as night.
Mills slowed her pace a bit, slipping from tree to tree. At the edge of the clearing, she knelt behind some bushes, making herself as small as possible.
The object was a small corporate helicopter, probably a four-seater with all the right luxuries. It reminded her a little of the one her ex-boyfriend owned. She’d flown in it a few times, usually for quick getaways to the Hamptons.
The tiniest smile curled upon her lips. She barely remembered her ex at this point. But riding in his chopper? Ahhh … that had been divine. Seats as cushy as teddy bears. Succulent dishes prepared in advance by a world-class chef. Windows, clean and free of streaks, offering a portal to the world beyond. And of course, the bottles of expensive liquor. Oh, that liquor … so delish! She could almost taste it on her tongue.
A snarl, vicious yet soft, screeched into her ears, putting an end to her memories. Alarm bells rang in her head.
The saber!
She tried to place the sound, but the forest threw off her senses. She couldn’t tell if it was this way or that, distant or close. The confusion infuriated her and she felt her sanity slip a little closer to a precarious edge.
Footsteps padded over plants and squishy fruit. Heart racing, Mills spun toward the noise. Then she relaxed. It was just Toland and Elliott, slipping out from behind a tree and hurrying to the bushes.
Toland crouched next to her and breathed softly through his mouth. His breath smelled of rotten teeth and garlic and it took all of Mills’ self-control to face him. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
Mills n
odded, too terrified to speak.
Moments later, Elliott crawled up on Mills’ other side. Wild-eyed and caked with mud and leaves, she looked almost feral. “It’s close,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
“The only way you’ll feel that saber is if it bites you on the ass,” Toland said. “Face it, you’re not exactly Atalanta.”
Elliott gave him a puzzled look.
“Oh, you’ve never read Greek mythology. How shocking.” Toland rolled his eyes and glanced at the chopper. “Expensive bird.”
“You’ve got rich friends, right?” Elliott looked at Mills with pleading eyes. “Maybe it’s one of them.”
If only, Mills thought. But she was pretty sure she’d been MIA just a day or two. Most likely, people hadn’t even noticed her disappearance. But even if they had, she doubted any of her friends, even her besties, would go to much trouble to find her. Sure, they’d make the talk show rounds and have their assistants post moving messages on social media. But that would be the extent of it. She knew that because, quite frankly, she would’ve done the same thing if the roles had been reversed.
Wow, she thought. Just … wow.
“Well?” Toland whispered. “Do you recognize it?”
She shook her head.
The clink-clank of metal brushing up against metal rang out. Mills focused her attention on the waist-deep grass surrounding the helicopter.
The grass shifted a bit and some blades vanished. A head, topped with curly hair, appeared in the clearing. Then it ducked out of view.
Mills shot another glance at the wildfire. It was still distant, but getting closer. She could see red flames. A few orange ones, too. They shot forward and sideways, gradually spreading themselves through the evergreen trees. Thick gray smoke, swirling and churning, curled up behind them and drifted into the sky.
She turned back to the chopper. She was nearly certain they were in the Vallerio. If so, the helicopter most likely belonged to James Corbotch. In fact, it had probably been used to bring her and the others to the forest in the first place.
Fast as fire, she shot through the bushes and entered the field. Her bare feet stung like crazy as she stepped on sharp rocks, lumpy fruit, and God knows what else. But she didn’t stop.
The curly-haired head appeared for a second time. Slowly, it lifted out of the grass like a space rocket, bringing the upper body of a man with it.
Mills ran up to the man. She stared straight into his eyes for a moment, seeing vague signs of recognition. “Where is he?” she said. “Where’s James?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” The man glanced over both shoulders. “It’s not safe.”
“Safe? You want to talk about safe?” Mills was tempted to bash him over the head with the logbook. “Two people died right in front of me, killed by an animal that shouldn’t even exist. That same animal chased my friends and me all over this nightmare of a forest. And it’s still after us. We’re hungry, thirsty, exhausted, and pissed-off. And oh yeah, there’s a forest fire heading this way.”
“Easy, lady.” The man’s voice wavered with fear and regret. His gaze, tight and focused, swept the clearing. “You need to listen to me—”
“Where is he?” Mills shouted, not caring who heard her. “Where’s James?”
“Right here.”
Fury engulfed Mills as she twisted toward the voice. She saw an old man, decked out in a gray sport coat and tailored white shirt. He looked cool and collected, the exact opposite of how she felt at that moment.
“It’s good to see you again, Bailey.” James Corbotch smiled. “Welcome to the Vallerio.”
Chapter 53
Date: Unknown; Location: Vallerio Forest, NH
Mills’ brain worked in overdrive, reminding her of all she and the others had endured. She wanted to scream at Corbotch, to make threats she’d never be able to carry out. But try as she might, just one word managed to squeak past her grimy lips. “Why?”
Corbotch cast his gaze upon Mills before shifting it to the approaching Toland and Elliott. “Because you were threats.”
“To what?” Toland sneered. “Your precious ego?”
If Corbotch was angry, he didn’t show it. “To my work. To Apex Predator.”
Elliott gasped. Mills clutched the logbook a little closer to her side. She suddenly recalled where she’d heard the term Apex Predator before. Elliott had mentioned it back in the cave, calling it some kind of weird project taking place in the Vallerio.
The chopper door slid open and Mills saw the interior for the first time. It was jam packed with people, at least a dozen of them. They were all different. Men and women. Old and young. Tall and short. Different shades of skin color. It was truly a diverse group. But their attire, well, that was something else entirely.
The men wore silk suits, all of which were soiled, and expensive shoes. The women, who were mostly barefoot, wore formal cocktail dresses. The dresses were soaked through with mud and ripped in all sorts of places.
A stern woman with uncanny bird-like features climbed out of the helicopter. She cast a single glance at the growing wildfire. Then she limped quickly toward Corbotch, wincing with each step. “We need to go, James,” she said, with nary a glimpse at Mills or the others. “Now.”
Corbotch twisted his neck toward the curly-haired man. “Derek?”
“I need five minutes, sir,” Derek replied.
“Make it two.”
Why are you standing around like an idiot? Mills thought. This is your chance. Attack!
“Don’t even think about it,” a man said.
Mills whirled around and fixed her gaze upon a veritable giant of a man. He stood several inches above six feet and sported the impressive physique of a bodybuilder. As if that weren’t intimidating enough, he also carried a gigantic pistol.
“Ms. Mills, I’d like you to meet Julius Pearson,” Corbotch said. “My right-hand man.”
Pearson didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move an inch. He just stood like one of the Vallerio’s indomitable trees, aiming his gun directly at Mills’ chest.
Mills turned back to Corbotch, just in time to see the bird-like woman clamber back into the cabin. The woman struggled to find space in the crowded, standing-room only area before finally reclosing the door.
“Looks like a tight squeeze,” Toland remarked. “I don’t suppose you’ve got room for one more.”
One more? Mills thought. What an asshole!
Corbotch arched an eyebrow. “Ahh, Brian Toland.”
Toland puffed out his chest in pride. “So, you’ve heard of me.”
“Not you. Your research. My people tell me you’ve written a lengthy tome about my family.”
Toland’s chest sagged a bit before puffing out again. “What of it?”
“In the process, you dredged up some long-forgotten stories. Stories like the Dasnoe expedition, for instance. Stories that might draw renewed attention to the Vallerio.” Corbotch twisted toward Elliott. “And you’re Tricia Elliott, the president of Scrutiny. I take it Randi is no longer with us?”
Elliott’s eyes were dull, nearly vacant.
“The two of you spent the last few months building a lawsuit against the Vallerio Foundation,” Corbotch said. “You demanded access to all sorts of records. Records that could shed light on Apex Predator.”
Elliott didn’t respond. Instead, she just stood there, silent and unmoving.
Corbotch twisted back to Mills. “Travis?” he asked simply.
Mills’ fingers curled into fists.
Corbotch read her body language. “Travis was writing an exposé on the Vallerio Foundation. Specifically, about the impressive scientific minds we’ve managed to gather under one roof. His work would’ve thrust us into the spotlight. Experts might’ve even figured out what we were doing here.”
Mills glared at him.
“As for you, Ms. Mills, you wished to take what was rightfully mine.” Corbotch shrugged. “Alexander loved this land. He would’ve never
sold an inch of it, especially to a mere logger like Daniel Mills. Even so, your documents posed significant risk to me. What if the courts decided to honor your claim? What if they took the Vallerio from me? I couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not when I’m so close.”
Mills wanted to scream, but managed to keep her tone in a tight range. “So close to what?”
“Salvation.”
A roar reverberated through the clearing. The Vallerio’s density, along with the crackling flames, made it impossible to tell how far it had traveled. But the sound had force behind it. Force which staggered Mills to her core.
“That’s the saber,” Elliott whispered.
Corbotch gave her a sad smile and began to back toward the helicopter. “That, my dear, is my cue to exit. I wish you all the best. I—” Corbotch paused. His eyes flicked to Mills. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” she asked.
He pointed at the logbook. “That.”
“Oh, this old thing?” Mills’ brain raced as she tried to figure a way out of the predicament. Her odds, she knew, were long. Corbotch had numbers and firepower. Her little group had torn-up feet, cuts and scrapes, and exhaustion in droves. But she couldn’t give up. If she wasn’t on that helicopter when it took off, she was as good as dead. “Just something I found in an old building.”
“What building? Did it look like a barn?” His eyes widened in realization. “That has to be it. The fire’s coming from that way.”
Mills merely smiled.
Corbotch’s coolness melted away. His facial features began to twitch. “What happened?”
“Hmm.” Mills rubbed her chin as if in deep thought. “You know, I don’t remember.”
Corbotch relaxed. His coolness came roaring back at full force. “Give me the book.”
The barn-like building and all its mysteries came flooding back to Mills. She wondered about the machines and the workers. She wondered about the strange wheels and the dead body. But most of all, she wondered why Corbotch cared about some old logbook.
“What’s it worth to you?” she asked.