The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden)

by Rick Jones

  “I do.”

  “Then if you’re feeling agile, may I suggest that we begin the climb downward.”

  Hillary may have been a man in his sixties, but Savage was quite impressed with his ability to climb. He moved with the grace and quickness as he descended the ladders from one level to the next. When they reached the fourth tier, he assisted Alyssa to solid footing with Savage following.

  The air was thick with choking dust from the constant labor of digging, prompting Hillary to cover his mouth with a handkerchief. As they neared the opening, the Turkish guards offered a tip of their caps and gave them a wide berth.

  The opening revealed black silica walls and floor, naturally polished, that ran into darkness that was complete and absolute about twenty feet in.

  “We ran a laser down this corridor,” Hillary said, his voice muffled. “According to the measurement, the nearest obstruction is two kilometers in. Perhaps a wall?”

  John and Alyssa looked at him incredulously. Two kilometers was more than a mile.

  “Are you serious?” asked Savage.

  Hillary nodded. “Our instruments don’t lie. We took several measurements from several different sources. And the answer was always the same. This tunnel runs long and deep. And it has to run somewhere. Otherwise, why build it?” He pointed to the ancient founts. “Are these similar to the ones you discovered inside the temple?”

  She nodded. They were exactly the same.

  “Then perhaps this arterial leads to another place of worship,” he guessed.

  When she turned to him he cocked his head in the direction of the guards. “We also work under the auspices of the Turkish government,” he told her. “The Culture Minister of Turkey and the League of Excavation Contractors has set their claims in collusion with the institute I work for, which accounts for the circus of tents above us. I’ve already notified them that I’ll need a scientific team, cryptanalysts”—He pointed to John and Alyssa to make his point—“and a team of combat experts, just in case.” He then pointed to the immediate area in front of the hole, indicating the bowl-shaped imprints. “If there’s something inside, then we’ll be aptly prepared, I assure you.”

  “That’s what Obsidian Hall said about his team when we first entered Eden nearly a year ago,” said Savage. “Not a single soldier survived.”

  “The weapons, Mr. Savage, will be more powerful and the soldiers more plentiful. So we’ll be fine,” he told them. “We’ll be just . . . fine.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  It moved through absolute darkness by depending on its ability to sense its surroundings by inborn perception. When the loose skin around its throat expanded into a frill reminiscent of an Elizabethan collar, it would then vibrate its flesh so that it rattled like maracas, the noise then bouncing off its surroundings and returning as echo radar, its brain then processing the data as to what path to take.

  It was approximately sixteen feet in length with a pewter hide that was slowly fading to the color of fish-belly gray, an indication of its failing health. The points and edges of its pliable bones were beginning to show against its skin, the creature having lost about a third of its weight.

  For months it had sustained itself by living off the black cobras that resided within the tunnels. But it was not enough.

  Months ago its environment collapsed as the temple of Eden folded, destroying an ecosystem that had lasted for several millenniums. And its breed had died away, leaving it to be the last of its kind.

  Yet it continued by the essence of self-preservation, the penchant to explore, to hunt, to thrive. But this was a new world that held a far greater threat than itself, something that was more powerful and more destructive—something that was as much of the darkness as it was.

  Hours ago it had sensed a change in its environment, its delicate sensors picking up a sudden shift in temperature, an immediate cooling, which tempted the creature to follow the source until it came to a breach that led to a world beyond the ruins. It was dark, and the breeze was mild as a canopy of pinprick lights sparkled overhead like a cache of diamonds spread over black velvet, the glittering of countless stars.

  But it was not alone either. Something stood along the edge of the crater looking down at it while holding a great light that was harsh and caustic to its eyes, something the creature deemed to be a possible threat, which ultimately drove it back into the tunnel, back into hiding.

  What had always been a constant had now been disrupted, the sudden change of atmosphere, once as stale as a tomb, was now an atmosphere in motion, the sudden shift in circulation drawing interest from a far deadlier source.

  Like something playing the strings of a spider’s web, the cool air acted as a red-flag alert that a threat was looming because the natural order of things had been upset.

  It was then that this army went into motion. The creatures moving as a collective unit, their masses a moving carpet of oily blackness that could eclipse and consume everything in its path within moments.

  The lizard, the last Megalania Prisca, could sense movement on a massive scale. So it flared its collar and pivoted its head slowly, back and forth, like radar, picking up an approaching advancement.

  They were coming closer from every point of the compass, from all sides and angles.

  The Prisca took refuge by slipping through a gap created by the implosion months ago, the only passage large enough for it to escape. Its bones were soft and pliable as clay, the creature engineered to slip through tight openings that might otherwise seem impossible.

  Now they surrounded it and closed in.

  The Prisca cried out, sensing panic. It had three hundred sixty degrees of direction but nowhere to go.

  The mass was like a donut closing into itself, the hole becoming smaller, the edges closing in toward the centerpiece of attraction, the Prisca, now on its hind legs and pawing at the air, sensing no way out, screaming a deep guttural sound.

  The countless ticking of claws against the floor was coming closer, their approach becoming louder, the constant clicking of their mandibles now deafening.

  Then they eclipsed the great lizard, the last of its kind, the shapes rolling over it the same way lava rolls over a landscape, the creatures ripping its hide without remorse or contrition, their mandibles picking the animal clean until nothing was left but bones that were nearly polished.

  When everything that could be consumed was, when every scrap of meat or morsel was no longer left for the taking, the black mass broke apart and expanded outward the same way concentric circles ripple across the surface of a pond.

  The food chain had been altered.

  The last Megalania Prisca was gone.

  And a new leader reigned inside the Halls of Eden.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  About four hours after sunrise, a squadron of helicopters from the east flew in and landed inside the disembarkation zone just outside of tent city.

  Sixty members of the renowned Maroon Berets, a Special Operations force with the Turkish military, exited from six separate helicopters with their duffel bags. Once the area was clear, the choppers lifted and headed west.

  From the opening of their tent, John and Alyssa watched the soldiers as they headed for the Big Top of Hillary’s tent.

  “Maroon Berets,” Savage commented lightly.

  Alyssa sidled up beside him until they were shoulder to shoulder. “Is that a good thing?”

  “They’re Special Operations. I assume that’s what Hillary meant when he said the soldiers would be more plentiful. I guess he wasn’t kidding.” He checked out the assault weapons they carried, MP5K’s, powerful pieces of hardware capable of firing off 900 rounds per minute.

  Savage was duly impressed. Not only had Hillary prepared well, he obviously had the heavy backing of the Turkish government, as well.

  As the elite team banded approximately thirty feet from Hillary’s tent in formation, a single officer, a Mulazim awwal, or First Lieutenant, was greeted by Hillary, who offered h
is hand in salutation.

  After a short exchange they entered the tent, closing the flap behind them.

  The Maroon Berets remained in formation with their hands clasped behind the small of their backs, every member highly disciplined as they stood as still as Grecian statues beneath a white sun that was growing hotter by the moment.

  Savage looked skyward, winked his eyes against the burning glare, then back to the Special Forces team. As much as he wanted to feel a certain comfort knowing that they would be accompanied by such an elite group of warriors, he couldn’t quite get that feel of complete security either. He had been to Eden and knew that it could be a force of its own, one that was indomitable and untamed.

  He swept Alyssa into his embrace, she wrapping her arm around his waist.

  “We’ll be fine,” he told her, and then he leaned over and kissed the crown of her head.

  #

  Abaza Demir sat inside of Hillary’s tent looking at the relic, turning it over in his hands in examination. The Turk was tall, about six-three, with extensive cords of muscle tracing along his forearms, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His face was lean, his complexion dark, and his mustache extended downward and bracketed his mouth.

  “Of course the discovery of this relic belongs to the Turkish government since it was discovered within the sovereign state of Turkey. You do understand that, Professor Hillary?” His English was perfect.

  Hillary nodded, though he looked wounded.

  And Demir read into this. “But the discovery will be yours,” he added. “And Alyssa Moore’s. I understand that you two will be working in collusion?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s here as well?”

  “She is.”

  “Very good.” He traced a fingertip over the engravings. “It is fascinating, isn’t it? To think that this may have come from the cradle of mankind.” He then handed the piece of black silica back to Hillary. “More so, to believe that Eden may actually be a great metropolis buried beneath the desert sands of my country.”

  “Maybe,” Hillary said in emphasis by raising a finger. “However, I would hate to get my hopes up and have them dashed should this prove to be nothing at all.”

  “But your hopes are high, Professor. And so is the world’s. That can’t be helped. But no matter what, it’s still the find of the ages, yes?”

  Hillary gingerly laid the relic down on the desktop. “Your team is assembled.” This was a statement, not a question.

  “Sixty men,” he said. “An elite force. Fifteen will accompany us into the tunnel including myself; the other forty-five will maintain a perimeter around the camp for security measures. Should backup be necessary, there is another team based approximately twenty kilometers west of our position. There will four members from the Turkish Ministry of Culture attached to the unit as well. And though you and Ms. Moore will head up the discovery group, the ministers will be heading up the Antiquities Acquisition Team. Their job will be to catalogue and declare all properties discovered in Eden to be the rightful assets of Turkey and the Turkish Ministry of Culture. Do you understand this, Professor?”

  “Of course. I’ve already signed an agreement to those conditions.”

  “That may be so, but I still have to convey these provisions to you so that there are no misunderstandings as to the agreement you signed. Like anything else, Professor, this is business that’s pure and simple. Please understand this.”

  “I do.”

  “Good.” Demir stood, his body ramrod straight. “When do you plan to move on this?”

  Hillary looked at his watch. “I’d say within two hours . . . Certainly before noon.”

  Demir nodded. “My team will be ready.”

  And then he was gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  There were twenty-two in all. John, Alyssa, Hillary, the four members from the Turkish Ministry of Culture, Demir, and his elite team. There was plenty of protection with lots of firepower as Hillary had stated.

  They stood at the mouth of the opening. The sun was high overhead, but the air was dry and blistering hot.

  The Maroon Berets stood in a perfect phalanx of three men across and five men deep, each man wearing a small backpack filled with field rations and ammo.

  Hillary and Alyssa hunkered close to the opening, a black maw surrounded by a wall of sand and desert rock, with Savage and the members of the Turkish Ministry standing behind them with their hands on their knees trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside.

  “Visibility is about twenty feet,” said Hillary, swinging the point of his flashlight into the hole. He immediately noted that the sandy imprints leading into the corridor were gone. Perhaps swept away by desert breezes, he thought. “Are you ready, Alyssa?”

  She noted that the floor had the polish and sheen of black silica that was perfectly unblemished, the surface as smooth as ice. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She leaned into the hole, her body half way in as she scanned the flashlight from side to side before directing the light up, then down, noting the perfect symmetry of the corridor’s shape. The floor was twice as wide as the ceiling, the walls leaning inward and upward at 45-degree angles to create a perfect trapezoidal shape, the ceiling approximately ten feet high. It reminded her of the hallways inside the temple of Eden.

  When she stepped inside she immediately noted a difference in the atmosphere. The air was cooler. She examined the walls, the floor, and the ancient founts that displayed archaic script along their bases.

  “The founts,” she said to no one in particular, “were meant to light the way, I’m sure.” She flashed her light down the corridor, the beam penetrating approximately 20 feet.

  “It’s a long tunnel,” said Hillary, stepping inside, his light adding to hers. “Laser measurements indicate a distance of two kilometers before there’s an obstruction, hopefully a bend. But we’ve discussed this matter before.”

  She did not respond as the others gathered inside the tunnel. Each Maroon Beret had a state-of-the-art light attached to a shoulder strap, the light emitting a brightness that was three times greater than Alyssa’s flashlight.

  Then Savage, along with the Turkish Ministers, took up beside Alyssa and Hillary, as did Abaza Demir, to create a council.

  “Six of my men will take point, Ms Moore,” Demir said. “Should you, Professor Hillary, or any of the Ministers come across anything of importance, please indicate so.”

  “Then we can start with these.” She pointed to the bases of the founts. The symbols were similar to those she discovered in Eden, yet different, the cursives more delicate. The Ministers recorded every cipher, every cryptogram, taking digital photos to reference with ancient texts already filed at the Ministry.

  Fifteen minutes later they were on the move, the progression slow, that of caution as the point men led with their MP5K’s aimed forward. A Maroon Beret was never complacent.

  Along the way Alyssa noted the lightning-shaped fissures running along the walls and along the base of the floor, giving entrance to places beyond the walls. There was no doubt in her mind that these frailties were caused by the implosion of Eden, the earth suddenly shifting due to the explosive trauma, the walls moving, cracking, with certain sections moving one way while other parts moved in another in serpentine fashion which caused stress fractures. The question was: were the tunnels strong enough to hold tons of earth above their heads?

  The team pressed forward, lights and beams swinging everywhere, the visibility good.

  More than a kilometer down the tunnel, one of the Maroon Berets held up a halting hand.

  Everyone stilled, holding their collective breathes.

  Then the point men moved forward in perfect synchronization with their weapons leveled.

  From Alyssa’s position she could see the conical beams of light in the distance—could see them move about like the flashes from a lighthouse, always in motion. Then one of the point guards returned and spoke Turkish to Demir, who nodded as he clung
to the soldier’s every word.

  Demir looked at Alyssa a moment before turning his eyes to Savage and Hillary, quick glances of acknowledgement really, then returned them back to Alyssa.

  “What?” she asked.

  Demir responded by raising his MP5K. And with fluid motion he racked his weapon. The click of chambering ammo into the weapon echoed off the surrounding walls in haunting cadence.

  “What?” she asked again, this time with more emphasis. “What is it?”

  Demir’s features remained neutral. “It seems, Ms. Moore, that we are not alone.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s exactly as I said,” he told her, pivoting on his feet, his weapon ready. “There’s something in here with us.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The air suddenly felt horribly oppressive, the heat beyond endurance.

  And Alyssa thought that her heart was about to misfire in her chest.

  Hillary, on the other hand, appeared almost enamored with the idea, perhaps romancing the aspect of danger whereas John Savage kept his antennae up, always scoping his surroundings and looking for shadows moving within shadows.

  Slowly, and cautiously, they made their way down the corridor as the conical beams of light held steady before settling on a mass lying on the floor, spotlighting it.

  It was an array of bones with a torpedo-shaped head, a long neck, and a rack of ribs connected to the chain link of its bony tail. The skeleton was polished as if it had been buffed. And the blood, small coagulated pools, had turned to the color of tar.

  “Is this one of those things?” asked Demir. “The things you mentioned in your articles?”

  “It’s a Megalania Prisca,” she said. “It’s a relative of the komodo dragon.” She then got on a bended knee for further examination, cocking her head.

  “Where there’s one,” said Demir, “then there is more. Don’t you agree?”