No Such Thing As Werewolves

by Chris Fox

  He kicked off the limb of a capirona, vaulting from the arboreal crown to a perch in a neighboring tree no unblooded could have climbed. The sounds of the jungle washed over him, an island of familiarity amidst all the strangeness of this new world. The harsh cry of the macaw and the chattering of monkeys were familiar things, a precious remembrance of what had once been. These things had drawn him here, a place to contemplate, to plan, several days from the Ark.

  If the Mother’s predictions were correct he’d slept for time beyond counting. Two full ages, nearly half the longest count. It was long enough for time to scour away all knowledge of his people. What had survived? Was there some fragment? Everything depended on the seeds they had planted.

  Ahiga leapt again, seizing a thick limb and using it to renew his momentum. He lost himself in the rhythm, leaping from tree to tree as he traversed the jungle. His people had used the dense foliage to harry the ancient enemy whenever they were foolish enough to invade these shores. Champions could ride swiftly through the jungle even in their human forms, as he was now. The shelter of the trees allowed them to fall upon the unsuspecting deathless wherever they were found.

  The jungle thinned to mighty kapok trees, so distant from each other that each leap taxed even his abilities. There. A great river, dark with mud and vegetation. Its course had shifted from his day, but it was unmistakable. The River of Life bisected much of the continent and had been thick with the unblooded in their ungainly canoes during his time. If man had survived, they would be near the river, still drawing from its bounty.

  Many leaps later he paused atop a sprawling root tree near the shore, its tendrils disappearing into the dark waters. In the distance a single plume of smoke wound skyward, all but disappearing into the thick grey clouds clotting the sky. He studied the area beneath the plume, though most of it was blocked by a knot of trees on the far side of the river. Several crude structures crouched near the water’s edge, each cut from weathered planks. Only one figure moved amidst them.

  Ahiga channeled a quick pulse of energy, infusing his eyes with far greater clarity than they normally possessed. The dark-skinned man knelt on the edge of a dock, tying off a frayed rope that led to a small boat cut from the same timbers used in the buildings. An odd bulky box was affixed to the rear of the boat. What purpose might it serve?

  Ahiga leapt skyward, angling his flight high above the river. He dove into the muddy depths, the force of his flight propelling him through the water. He channeled another spark, this time into his limbs. It gave him far greater strength than any man had, allowing him to traverse the water more quickly. He swam toward the structures, careful not to break the surface lest the figure see him. The brief glimpse had certainly been less intimidating than the strangely armored warriors, but there was no way of knowing if this man possessed abilities he’d never encountered. It was best to be cautious.

  He burst from the river near the dock, landing with a hollow thud just behind the man. The stranger spun, uttering what Ahiga took for a curse. His clothing was odd, a dark pair of breeches cut just over the knee and a white shirt with colorful red markings. He reached for a long knife sheathed at his belt, but Ahiga gave him no chance to defend himself. He seized the man’s wrist in a vice-like grip, forcing the stranger to his knees, where he belonged.

  “Quien es?” the man sputtered, but the words were gibberish to Ahiga. He would correct that.

  His second hand shot out, locking around the man’s neck. Ahiga stared deep into the man’s eyes, activating his dwindling supply of energy. The world around him disappeared, replaced by a swirling vortex of memories. He sifted through them, gathering information as he journeyed through the unblooded’s mind. He absorbed many things, more than he could process quickly.

  The language was called Spanish and was spoken by many of the natives in this land. The land itself was Peru, though he was near the border of another land known as Ecuador. Beyond that was a more massive nation called Brazil. Through the man’s mind, Ahiga glimpsed vast cities, cities of millions, and they weren’t the only ones. There were other lands on other continents. The most powerful were on the continent to the north, the continent of his birth. He continued his exploration, dimly aware of the man’s trapped consciousness fluttering like a caged bird in his iron grip.

  Interesting. The world contained scattered myths with grains of truth. Werewolves, a crude but accurate description for Champions. Though much of what they knew was wrong, they even remembered the ancient enemy. The man’s knowledge painted a romantic picture of the deathless. Was that the enemy’s doing? Perhaps they had modified the genetic memory of their unblooded just as the Mother had done. If so, it did not bode well.

  Shock shivered through Ahiga’s mind as he discovered the root of the technology the people of this world had employed. They used signals indiscriminately, blanketing the world to deliver messages to their communications devices. They did so in ignorance, unaware of the tremendous abuse such a network could allow. Of how it could be employed to shape their minds and even their bodies.

  Ahiga retreated back to his own mind, releasing the unblooded. Miguel, he called himself.

  “What did you do to me?” Miguel rasped, rubbing at his neck with a calloused hand. He no longer reached for the knife.

  “Such information is useless to you,” Ahiga explained in the tongue he had stolen from the man. He released Miguel’s wrist and took a step closer to shore.

  “Why?” Miguel asked, clearly still dazed from the experience.

  Ahiga wasn’t surprised. Sifting a mind disoriented the target.

  “Because you are about to die. All who draw breath in this village are about to die,” he answered calmly. He channeled a spark of energy into his right hand, extending the claws that were his birthright. They gleamed wickedly as they flashed for the man’s throat. Miguel collapsed in a spray of blood, and his body toppled into the water with a muddy splash. He didn’t even have time to give alarm to his fellows.

  Ahiga turned toward the village, making his way between the ramshackle huts. There was grisly work to be about. Important work.

  Chapter 7- The Ark

  “Wait till you see the inside of this place,” Sheila said, boisterous enough that even coming from her the words sounded a bit forced.

  Maybe Blair was just being paranoid, but he wasn’t so sure. He paused a moment as she unzipped a tall domed tent and ducked inside the white canvas. Blair followed and was surprised to find that he could stand at full height. Despite how thin it was the fabric warded the worst of the chill.

  “You guys have some great friends,” Blair said. “We never had anything like this on any of the digs you and I were involved with. You remember the debris huts we had to make ourselves? This place is paradise.”

  “Yeah, and that’s what I want to talk to you about.” Sheila lowered her voice. Her dark eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I don’t know what we’ve gotten ourselves into here, but I don’t like it. The way the Peruvian government found us is too convenient, and they definitely have more resources than any government I’ve seen, especially Peru. Take Jordan, for example. He’s the bully they left to babysit. You know what? I don’t think he’s military at all. He reeks of corporate money. No military I’ve seen has access to so many high-tech toys. Like this little satellite dish he sets up every morning. And the pair of little black drones that circle camp.”

  “Who cares about the funding? We’re diggers, Sheila. We’re here for the knowledge, and if we have to kiss a little corporate ass to get it, that’s part of the gig. You were the one who taught me that. There’s no way I’m looking this gift horse in the mouth, not when we get to both be part of history and line our wallets for once. I just paid off my house.”

  “I care and you should too. They know something about this place they aren’t telling us. They put together the team in an awful hurry, and they’re not sparing any expense. No one does that for science,” Sheila countered, biting her lip as she stared in
the direction of the pavilions. She knelt and zipped the tent shut in one smooth arc.

  “So they sell off all the artifacts and make a tidy profit. Isn’t that always the case? Pure research is dead. Besides, our names will still be in the history books even if we don’t make another dime.”

  “Keep your voice down. This goes much deeper than profit,” she whispered, locking gazes with Blair. “Commander Jordan drove Steve to get into the central chamber as soon as possible. He hounded him to work long hours down there. Here’s the really scary part. He didn’t seem concerned or surprised when Steve’s behavior began to deteriorate.”

  “Deteriorate? What the hell does that mean?” Blair whispered, finally catching a bit of her paranoia. If Bridget and Sheila were both worried, there was genuine cause for alarm. They disagreed about everything on general principal.

  Sheila’s jaw snapped shut, trapping the unspoken words he could read in her gaze. Footsteps crunched outside.

  “Knock, knock.” Bridget’s voice came from outside the tent flap. She unzipped it, revealing a tentative smile. She looked ready to bolt, especially when she saw Sheila. “I hope I’m not interrupting. Blair, I figured you’d be eager to see the pyramid. Do you want a tour of the site? I can come back if this is a bad time.”

  Sheila bristled, eyes narrowing as she sucked in a breath. It would soon birth one of her legendary tirades, sending Bridget packing and raising tension for days. As much as Blair shared Sheila’s anger he wanted them focused on solving this thing.

  “Sheila was just telling me a bit about the site,” he interjected, rising to block Sheila’s view of Bridget. “I’d love a tour, though. Sheila, do you want to join us?”

  Both Bridget and Sheila stiffened, but neither objected. The two had been inseparable once, just like he and Steve had been. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Of course I’ll come. Bridget can barely tell the New Kingdom from the Old. You need a proper guide, not a jumped-up grad student. She can tag along though. Might even learn something instead of riding her boyfriend’s coattails.”

  Bridget replied as if Sheila hadn’t spoken. “We should start with the lowest level. There are stunning passages of hieroglyphs. The colors are mind boggling.”

  This was going to be a very awkward tour.

  “It could take years to decipher their script, but the sheer volume of symbols will yield the key. It has to be here somewhere. I simply cannot wait to find out what they’ve been waiting so many millennia to tell us,” Sheila said, clapping Blair on the back with one of her calloused hands.

  “We’ve got the best team in the world,” Bridget agreed, beaming one of those smiles his way. It stung, but having seen several similar ones so recently dulled the impact. “There’s a Rosetta stone in there somewhere. There has to be.”

  “It took five different scientists a half century to unlock the Mayan language. I seriously doubt they left Ancient Peruvians for Dummies,” he said. It was far more likely they’d merely catalogue everything here, and that the translation, if it ever came, would be made by someone decades from now.

  “They didn’t have Google. Or image analysis. Our benefactors provided a computer that can read images and find common sequences,” Bridget said, with a bit less enthusiasm. She was short enough that there was no way he could miss her cleavage. Was the low-cut top for his benefit, or was he reading too much into things? “Steve has already done a lot of work with it, so you’ve got an incredible foundation to work with.”

  Blair slipped passed her, ducking through the flap and back into the keening wind. Apparently, Northern California’s warm winters had softened him more than he’d thought. Hopefully he’d adjust quickly.

  Bridget and Sheila ducked through after him, still glaring at each other. Blair stifled a sigh, wondering who’d thought it a good idea to have the pair on the same dig. Things were worse between them than he’d ever imagined. It was disconcerting to see the pair at each other’s throats. Their words were friendly enough, but the underlying tone had been nasty. When Bridget and Blair had been together, they were like mismatched school girls, always gossiping and whispering. He knew why that had changed, but it still saddened him.

  “We’ve excavated a small portion of the wall on the northern slope and another on the southern,” Bridget explained, adjusting her ball cap to provide a bit more shade for her eyes. She wore sunglasses as well, but the glare of the sun was intense. “We wanted to see if the symbols along the lowest part of the face extended all the way around. We’re not positive they do, but we’ve found them everywhere we’ve cleared.”

  “Can you show me?” Blair asked, intensely curious. “The Mayans carved symbols into their pyramids, but the Egyptians left the outside blank.”

  “These symbols aren’t carved,” Sheila broke in, starting toward the pyramid. She threaded through a neighboring group of tents, plunging past the pavilions and toward the structure itself.

  “Not carved? How did they get there, then? If they were painted, they would have flaked off millennia ago, especially if the pyramid was covered by soil. The acid would have eaten away at the ink,” Blair said, hurrying after her. He peered up at the massive structure, such a baffling enigma.

  The trio picked their way around the mound of dirt, the pyramid filling the sky above. Its gleaming ebony surface was blinding under the sun, a beacon that could have been seen for hundreds of miles if not sheltered by the peaks forming the ravine it rested in.

  Sheila plunged ahead, making for a break in the wall of dirt. The team had excavated a twenty-foot section of the pyramid’s base, revealing incredibly detailed hieroglyphs. The multicolored symbols covered a six-foot swathe, but it was neither their complexity nor their beauty that caused Blair’s jaw to drop. The symbols could have been laser etched. They were absolutely pristine. Whatever dye had been used caught the sunlight, causing the hieroglyphs to glitter and flow as if alive.

  The glyphs had similarities to both Mayan and Egyptian writings. They used clear logarithmic symbols to represent words. That brown one was clearly a mountain. The white, clearly a cloud. Animals of all sorts dotted the panels. Most were recognizable, though, some were long extinct species or fantastical imaginings of the glyphs’ creators.

  “What do you think?” Bridget asked, sidling up next to him. She seemed amused, though he’d bet she’d had a similar reaction when she’d first seen this.

  “I can see what you mean about the builders being incredibly advanced. I’m not sure we could replicate this today,” he admitted, moving closer to the wall. The symbols were even more impressive up close. Though he couldn’t read them, he was left with the impression that they were not mere symbols but rather whole words, much like Japanese Kanji.

  “I think the scope is what gets me,” Sheila added, touching a vibrant red fox. “The entire interior is covered in symbols like these, and it seems likely the whole base is as well. How long must that have taken, and how did they do it? We tried scraping off a sample, but steel didn’t so much as scratch it. We’ve placed an order for a diamond-tipped drill.”

  Something caught Blair’s eye. He wasn’t sure what he found to be wrong, but something was definitely there. He scanned the area they’d excavated, particularly the place where the pyramid disappeared into the dirt.

  “Have you dug down to find the base? I don’t see the bottom of the marble here. What if it goes deeper?” Blair asked, kneeling in the dirt to scrape some of it away from the marble. The stone radiated heat from the blistering sun.

  “Commander Jordan de-prioritized it,” Bridget said, kneeling next to him. She rested her hands on her knees, watching as he scooped away dirt. “We were curious, but he insisted we focus on the symbols in the central chamber.”

  “What are you thinking, Blair? You’ve got that look,” Sheila asked, resting her back against the hot stone.

  “The structure could be even larger than what we’ve uncovered so far. There’s no way to know how deep it goes,” he s
aid, finally giving up on shoveling dirt with his hands. “We’d need better equipment.”

  “You’ll have anything you need, Doctor Smith. Just get a requisition form from Doctor Roberts, and I’ll see that it’s taken care of.” A deep voice startled Blair from behind. He spun to face the speaker.

  The man towered over Blair. His tree-trunk arms were bare to the sun, and a form-fitting black t-shirt covered his chest. Dirty-blond stubble and a shaved head made him look very much like a pit bull—an angry one. The dark sunglasses and black cap added to the effect. The man himself was far more intimidating than the holstered pistol at his side.

  “And you are?” Blair asked, already suspecting the answer. He thought he’d spied the man over at the soldiers’ camp.

  “Commander Jordan. You can call me Jordan if that’s easier. I’m a representative of the Peruvian government, empowered to look after their interests here. We’ve invested a great deal in this operation, and we want to make sure everything is handled according to…policy.” He delivered his speech smoothly, too, white teeth glinting as a predatory smile slid into place. “We’re eager to see your collaboration with Doctor Galk. You should consider heading down to the central chamber rather than wasting time up here. I think you’ll want to examine your colleague’s findings. I’m told they’re quite revolutionary.”

  “I’ll get to it after I’ve mapped all the exposed panels along the outer surface. I want to see if there are any discernible patterns or if there are any stylistic differences between these and the ones inside,” Blair replied. He immediately distrusted the man, and not just because Jordan had probably beat up kids like Blair for their lunch money. This man held secrets like Fort Knox held gold.