by Luke Romyn
The chopper’s engines powered up, the main and tail rotors whining as they picked up speed, lifting the massive vehicle ponderously up. Suddenly, seeming to tear free of gravity, they were shooting through the sky. Gunners assumed positions on either side of the Super Stallion, a third positioning himself at the rear. Occasionally the headphones would blurt some incomprehensible babble in Talbot’s ears.
Alone in his thoughts, his mind returned to his brother. Thomas had always been introverted. They’d been close as boys – twins, especially identical ones, are always close – but, following the death of their mother, a fissure had formed between them. Cancer was a horrible thing to witness, and the withered, living-corpse their mother had become would always haunt Talbot’s memories. Nothing could dull the pain of her passing.
Throughout their schooling, the boys’ interests had funneled into similar channels. Both enjoyed the challenge of athletics, though neither excelled. They eventually chose more scholarly pursuits, Thomas majoring in Greek history, while Talbot had pursued his fascination with archaeology, his final grades coming in the top five percent of the state.
And now Thomas was dead.
His statement to General Sharpe hadn’t been an exaggeration; Talbot couldn’t remember the last time he and Thomas had really communicated. When they spoke, their conversations were always stilted, nothing personal. The gap between them had stretched into a chasm. Too much lay between the two who had once been so close –
Suddenly, a high-pitched screech pierced the cabin with such intensity that Talbot’s eyes watered. The chopper exploded into activity, marines all around him swiftly moving into defensive positions and preparing for attack.
But what could be attacking them? Who were they at war with?
“Port side! Port side! Incoming!” one of the marines hollered through his headphones.
A torrent of flame poured over the entire left side of the Super Stallion, licking and probing, flinging the huge helicopter to the right like a child’s toy. The port-side gunner’s window offered no protection and he was engulfed in a green liquid which rapidly burst into flames – the blaze burning a sickly blue-green. His howls filled the cabin, and Talbot recoiled from the thick stench of burning flesh. A fellow marine crashed the gunner to the floor and tried to smother the conflagration, but only succeeded in transferring the inferno to himself. A small extinguisher was hurled forward, another marine catching it and hastily dousing the flames on both men, but Talbot could see the body of the gunner, and it was crispy. The second man’s screams echoed through the enclosed chopper.
“It’s redirecting starboard!” the internal radio blared. The right-side gunner’s XM218 machine gun erupted, discharging thousands of rounds at an incredible rate.
Talbot snapped his gaze around fearfully and saw something... something incredible!
It soared gracefully, gliding through the air against any reason or logic which might dictate against a creature of such size being so incredibly maneuverable or swift. The head and wings of an eagle crowned the body of a lion and the tail of a snake. The creature calmly weaved between the tracer rounds, something of myth – Greek mythology to be exact, Thomas’s expertise.
A gryphon.
It seemed impossible. There was no way the thing Talbot was seeing could be real, but there it soared before him, majestic wings spanning over half the length of the Super Stallion. The beast’s body was enormous too, dwarfing that of an African bull elephant. There was no way it could possibly exist. No way.
But the thing which couldn’t possibly exist hit them with another eruption of green liquid, immediately igniting into blue-green flame. Nobody made the same mistake as the gunner had the last time, every single marine scrambling for secure cover away from any exposed hatches or windows as the horrendous blaze struck.
The Super Stallion was smashed sideways by the force of the attack. Orders screamed through Talbot’s headphones and the methodical pounding of the rear gun erupted trying vainly to take down the target.
“Well it’s about goddam time!” the voice of Colonel Wilson yelled over the headphones.
Talbot followed his gaze out the port-side window. Four AV-8B Harrier II jet fighters – more commonly known as Harrier Jump-Jets – hurtled toward them. Talbot wanted to whoop with joy... if terror hadn’t stolen his voice with its arctic grip.
The fighter planes sped in, simultaneously firing missiles – AIM-9 side-winders, he guessed. They curved toward the gryphon, smoke trails blazing out behind them.
Instantaneous contact and detonation. Flames erupted from the beast’s face, right wing, and two places of impact upon its left flank. The smoke cleared and the gryphon was gone....
Only to emerge, charred and shaken, but otherwise unscathed. The huge beast beat its wings several times, seeming to consider another attack on the Super Stallion, but instead peeling away from the conflict and rapidly disappearing toward the horizon.
“Call off the fighters, we can’t afford to lose them,” Colonel Wilson ordered over the headset. Talbot sat back on the bench seat and stared down at his shaking hands.
“Welcome to our nightmare, Doctor Harrison,” said Colonel Wilson grimly.
***
After a nerve-wracking flight, each minute a tension-filled eternity anticipating further attack, the Super Stallion finally touched down at Quantico. There’d been no further incidents, and an extremely shaken Talbot Harrison emerged from the chopper’s belly, surrounded by his ever-alert escort of marines.
In his mind, Talbot had always pictured Quantico being massively isolated. Situated south-west of Washington DC, he’d seen on their low flight in that he wasn’t quite right. Despite being surrounded largely by forest-covered hills, the base seemed part of a much larger community. With streets and buildings everywhere there appeared no real focus on keeping the base remote at all. True, it wasn’t a bustling metropolis, but neither was it a shack in the desert. He mentally noted to get out of the museum more, then remembered that he currently was outside… and it sucked.
Bringing his attention back to the base, Talbot vaguely remembered several divisions of the FBI also being stationed here; something to do with their academy, he couldn’t quite remember. In addition, he recalled the DEA having involvement in the base too, but that was all secondary. For the moment he had bigger issues at hand.
After the confines of the helicopter, the sheer scope of the military base daunted Talbot – he felt completely exposed. What if that gryphon chose to attack here? Combined with the issue of not knowing why he was here to begin with, it was all he could do just to keep his legs from collapsing. His escorts moved him swiftly away from the landing area and into one of the more secure structures – a vast, nondescript, concrete building which commanded a sort of dominance over the area despite the absolute ordinariness of its design. They ushered him through the main doors, past a reception desk with a stoic-looking marine seated behind it, and into an elevator where he was silently joined by Colonel Wilson and Captain Benedict. The rest of the troops remained at ground level, and the doors of the elevator groaned ominously before it dropped into the bowels of the base. The descent lasted an eternity.
Talbot’s escorts refrained from talking. He yearned to question them about the attack on the helicopter, but felt unsure of how to break the silence. The elevator finally stopped, and the doors slid open smoothly. If Talbot had been expecting something bizarre, he was sorely disappointed. Before them stretched a simple hallway, unadorned and without exit apart from a single steel door at its opposite end.
He hesitated momentarily, and the captain and colonel promptly gripped him once more, half-dragging him down the corridor, and swiping dual-access security cards on either side of the steel door. It slid smoothly and noiselessly open and all three passed through.
A large room spanned before them, and as he was moved inside Talbot saw dozens of people shuttling hurriedly between computer stations, some glancing up at him curiously before swif
tly dropping their gazes once more. The entire back wall was mounted with screens which appeared to be monitoring stations from all over the world. Some bore graphical analysis charts constantly updating, others provided live video feeds showing either personnel in the field or bizarre landscapes resembling no place on Earth.
In the midst of this maelstrom of activity stood a large figure; a man obviously once muscular, but with the ravages of age was now slowly dissolving into fat. Leadership was etched into every crease of his emotionless visage and he wore his command like a cloak.
This could only be General Sharpe.
“It’s about time you men got here,” he barked. Colonel Wilson and Captain Benedict snapped to attention, releasing Talbot and saluting crisply.
General Sharpe returned the salute more casually, his steely gaze never leaving Talbot, eyeing him up and down. “So, you’re Talbot Harrison,” he stated.
Talbot, unsure of what to do in the presence of this domineering man, attempted to mimic the salute the marines had given, but just ended up feeling ridiculous for trying.
General Sharpe’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s hope there’s some of your brother in you, and not just a damn fool.”
Talbot swallowed heavily, his tongue seemingly tripling in size and threatening to choke him from within.
“Gentlemen, take Doctor Harrison to the briefing room. I’ll meet you there presently.” General Sharpe spun on his heel and resumed his monitoring of all that surrounded him, occasionally snapping out orders.
Talbot was escorted from the command room and through several maze-like corridors, finally ending up being ushered into a large boardroom, a long conference table in the middle surrounded by narrow-backed chairs. The door closed behind him, leaving him suddenly alone for the first time since being abducted from his home.
The events of the morning finally caught up with Talbot and the reality of everything hit him like a sledgehammer. His brother was dead, killed working for these people who had somehow unleashed monsters into the world. Terror threatened to engulf him, and he sat heavily in a nearby chair, dropping his head into his hands, trying with all his might to stop the tremors in his soul.
CHAPTER 2
The door slammed with a resounding BOOM, echoing through the boardroom and causing Talbot to drop the dossier he had found on the desk – a comprehensive study of various creatures from Greek Mythology written in his brother’s handwriting. The folder was intensely detailed, every finicky aspect closely inspected, as was his brother’s penchant. However, this seemed beyond a mere study of myth, more a comprehensive account of beings and happenings – as though it were actually a text book rather than fable. This seemed odd to Talbot, who, while not having close dealings with his brother for many years, still knew him well enough to recognize this as a step aside from his usual accounting. Perhaps his studies here had changed him.
“Doctor Harrison,” snapped General Sharpe, “I’m not known for pussy-footing around a subject, so here it is. Everything you hear or see from now on is so far beyond top secret that if you even fart the wrong way I will have no hesitation in seeing you shot. Do you understand?”
Unable to speak, Talbot merely nodded rapidly, sinking further down in the narrow-backed chair.
“Good.”
The general tossed something toward him, and Talbot reflexively caught it, instantly glancing at the object in his hand. A stone disc almost the width of his palm, it was so dark he almost didn’t see the raised symbols carved upon its surface.
“Do you recognize it?” asked the general.
Talbot studied the object. “It’s extremely similar – almost identical except for its size – to the Embryological Disc, often called the Genetic Disc. The main difference is the darker color, and the fact the original was almost a foot wide. Do you know if this is also carved from the extremely rare stone, lydite? Where did you get it from?”
The general ignored his questions. “What else do you know about the Genetic Disc?”
Talbot shrugged. “Most of what I know is based on the research done by a man named Klaus Dona from Vienna, Austria. It was a pet project of mine for a while, nothing serious. He has speculated about many ancient objects being linked with other worlds, some possibly depicting aliens or being connected to UFOs, stuff like that. All of it is probably nonsense, but it made for interesting reading.”
“What if he were right?” asked General Sharpe.
Talbot stared at him, waiting for the punch line, but soon realized this was no joke.
“If he were right... well... the repercussions would be nothing short of astronomical!”
“Could those be alien creatures on that disc, beings not of this world?”
Talbot stared hard at the reliefs. On one side the images appeared almost human, possibly depictions of the human developmental stages from embryo to birth ringing the top edge of the disc. The reverse featured obscure creature-like symbols, some humanoid, some resembling snakes, but others were completely unknown to Talbot.
“I-I guess,” he mused. “But that’s ridiculous.”
General Sharpe picked up a remote control. A projection screen lowered from the ceiling. An image flicked into focus on the canvas.
“Do you know what this is?” asked the general.
Talbot placed the disc on the table before rising tremulously and approaching the screen. Projected onto it were pictures of the underwater ruins of an ancient city, pillars strewn about like an unruly child’s toys. The images seemed odd, as though taken at great depth and under the glow of huge spotlights. The distortion of the water made it difficult to decipher the finer details of the structures.
“It appears Greek in origin.” Talbot paused, confusion furrowing his features. “But....”
“What is it?” asked the general.
“This makes no sense,” Talbot murmured, staring harder at the pictures. In a louder voice he said, “Every ancient culture had a distinct architectural styling, but this place holds aspects of designs from Macedonia, Athens, and Rome and even... some of these structures appear to be styled on Aztec architecture, but that’s not possible. What city is it?”
“Your brother believed it was Atlantis,” said General Sharpe simply.
Talbot spun around, his mouth agape.
“A-Atlantis!” he stammered, unable to believe what he’d just heard.
Legends spoke of an ancient civilization whose people defied the gods and were swept away in their wrath by a combination of tsunamis and earthquakes. Other tales suggested they had developed technology which they couldn’t properly control and destroyed themselves. So many stories from countless different cultures revolved around the civilization which many believed actually did exist, but nobody had ever discovered any evidence of it, let alone the entire city.
“Yes, Atlantis,” said the general simply. “What do you know of it?”
Talbot gathered his thoughts before answering. “Some think Atlantis resided near the Azores islands off the coast of Portugal. Others believe Plato’s writings refer to a Minoan Civilization, based on the island of Crete. In 1470 B.C. an enormous volcano on the island of Santorini erupted with a force greater than that of the much better known volcanic eruption on Krakatoa. The resulting earthquakes and tidal waves devastated the Minoan islands, possibly creating the source of the fable of Atlantis.”
“What about the Egyptian version?” asked the general.
Talbot tried to conceal his shock at the depth of the general’s knowledge.
“That is largely discounted as myth. In Egyptian scriptures and hieroglyphs there are several mentions of a place called Keftiu, which Plato also mentioned in his writings, but he erroneously stated its location was within the Greek islands and claimed it to be Atlantis. Keftiu was actually reputed to be north-west off the northern coast of Egypt, not Greece, and was supposedly destroyed in similar fashion to Atlantis.”
“Your brother believed something different altogether,” said General Sharpe. �
��And he was right.”
Talbot’s curiosity skyrocketed. His heart pounded and his breathing came in ragged gasps.
“Please tell me,” he prompted, trying to remain calm.
“Thomas worked out that Atlantis was in fact located off the coast of Africa, about a thousand miles directly west of Senegal. There is an archipelago of islands there called The Republic of Cape Verde. Atlantis was once located on one of these islands.”
“So you mean you’ve actually found it?” asked Talbot, unable to conceal the excitement in his voice.
“Your brother died finding it,” replied the general somberly.
Talbot’s excitement evaporated at the words. “Tell me how he died.” The words almost sounded like a plea.
“He died trying to find a way to undo what we’ve done. Upon finding Atlantis, we managed to create sealed areas of the city; places we pumped dry in order to explore. We discovered a vast underground catacomb full of machinery –”
“Machinery?” interrupted Talbot, momentarily forgetting who he was addressing. “That’s not possible.”
“It is. And if you interrupt me again, I’ll have you tied in that chair and gagged.” The words were not an empty threat.
Talbot’s mouth snapped shut while his mind buzzed uncontrollably.
“As I was saying,” continued General Sharpe, “we found vast underground caverns full of machinery, the likes of which none of our scientists had ever seen. Made entirely out of a stone similar in composition to granite, this civilization had managed to mold it like the finest sculpture, yet it is somehow immune from erosion. The minutest detail, stuff we can’t replicate today, is involved in this technology which, though centuries old, performs better than any machine crafted today. It is truly astonishing that such an ancient race of people were able to fashion anything so marvelous.