by Chris Fox
Osiris didn’t answer, didn’t address the challenge in any way. He turned to the Mother, staring her directly in the eyes. Blair’s natural inclination was to look away from that haunted gaze, but of course he couldn’t. He was merely an observer here.
“Isis, you speak for the spirits. The Valley of Hidden Voices is close. Will the spirits protect us if we enter?” Osiris asked, striking a final flake from his new blade and then affixing it into a notch cut in the top of the spear shaft. He applied a thick amber-like substance to it and then wrapped the shaft in a leather strip.
“You cannot mean to enter,” Sobek hissed, eyes narrowing as he took a step toward Osiris.
Osiris uncoiled like a viper, the tip of his new spear resting against Sobek’s throat before the smaller man could react. “I am chieftain now, Sobek. Not your rival. Not your far brother. Your chief. You will abide by my decision, or we will take your meat to sustain the tribe.”
“I am sorry, Osiris,” Sobek said, shrinking away from the newly made stone blade. Blair remembered just how sharp they could be. “But surely there is another way. If we go there, we will be damned. No one returns from the Valley of Hidden Voices. It is cursed.”
“Yes,” Osiris said, pulling his weapon from Sobek’s throat. He began wrapping furs around himself, clearly preparing to depart. “Isis, I would hear your words on this.”
He turned to address the Mother. Isis, the fabled wife of Osiris. She spoke. “The spirits will offer us no protection. If we enter the valley, we do so at great peril.”
“If we do not, then we are all dead,” Osiris snapped. He seemed to be on the verge of saying more, but Sekhmet’s silent form dropped into the camp.
“They pursue us still. They will be upon this place not long after the sun sleeps,” she said. She studied Osiris’s preparations for departure. Then she began gathering her own furs.
“All of you need to decide right now if I am truly your chief,” Osiris said. He straightened, gaze roaming their assembled faces.“
“We go where you go,” Sekhmet said simply.
Isis answered by reaching up and squeezing Osiris’s arm. Blair could feel the cool flesh. He could feel his own heart beating, or rather Isis’s heart beating.
“You are my chieftain,” Sobek snarled. He seized the last of his furs and threw it about his shoulders. “If you wish to doom us with this madness, that is your right.”
The long, low trumpet of a horn split the gathering dusk, from a mile or two away. That silenced the assembled group. They moved into a loping run as one, departing the gully and winding their way between two hills. How long they ran, Blair wasn’t sure. Since the experience was a memory, he had the sense that some details were skipped.
Clarity returned when the assembled group reached the crest of a tall hill. Isis turned in a wide circle, looking out over a frozen wasteland in a way that provided Blair with a wealth of information. There were no mountains to speak of, just a few hills and the occasional glacier. If his observations were right, these people had originated somewhere in France, and they were heading northwest. That could put them somewhere in modern-day England, though he was by no means certain of his conclusion.
“Spirits below,” Sekhmet breathed. She raised a trembling finger, and Isis’s gaze followed it.
A familiar pyramid stood in the valley below, ringed on three sides by glaciers. It was conspicuously free of both snow and ice, which probably accounted for the clear discomfort evidenced by Isis and her companions. They had a right to be superstitious.
Osiris began picking his way down the icy slope without a word. The others followed, with Isis bringing up the rear. Blair could sense her emotions, the memory of intense fear she’d experienced from her first sight of the pyramid. He didn’t blame her. She’d probably never seen a structure more complex than a crude debris hut, but now she was confronted with something that, in her mind, could only have been created by a god.
They reached the valley floor swiftly and headed toward the pyramid. As the last light of the sun fled the sky, the moon cut a hole in the clouds. It provided enough light to see, but the dim light made the pyramid even more foreboding. Blair wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to see what would come next.
Osiris had stopped near the mouth of the pyramid’s entrance, which was identical to the one he’d walked through just minutes before, back in modern-day Peru. These Arks appeared to be identical, at least on the surface.
Sobek and Sekhmet drew up short next to Osiris as Isis forced herself forward. The young shaman finally drew even with the others, but Blair could feel her desire to run. She nearly did when the shadows at the mouth of the tunnel stirred and a figure emerged.
It was roughly the same height as Isis but much broader of shoulder and had a heavy brow that overshadowed its eyes. Thick, dark eyebrows gave it a brutish look, and Blair realized with shock what he was seeing. Isis and her companions were modern-day Homo Sapiens. The figure that had emerged from the Ark was not. This was a Homo Neanderthalensis, commonly known as the Neanderthal.
Modern history taught that they’d gone extinct roughly forty thousand years ago, which was quite a bit earlier than what he assumed he was seeing. Either science was wrong, or this memory took place further into the past than he’d believed.
The Neanderthal approached slowly, raising a hand to beckon them forward. Its other hand clutched a golden staff that shone in the moonlight. The head of the staff bore a large ankh, a clearly Egyptian symbol despite the fact that this memory predated Egypt by fifteen millennia or more.
Osiris was the first to move, taking several steps closer. He clutched his spear tightly, keeping himself between the Neanderthal and his companions. “Greetings, Old One. Your kind is rare. I have not seen one such as you since I was a child.”
The Neanderthal said nothing, instead taking several steps back into the pyramid and beckoning for the others to follow him. Osiris did so, and the others followed.
Chapter 78- Too Late
“Fan out and set up a kill zone,” Jordan barked. Both squads of armor trotted down the last corridor, leaping off the sides of the ramp as they entered the central chamber.
By the time he reached the doorway, his troops had already assumed defensive positions in a rough line to either side of the opening. Their weapons swept the room as the soldiers looked for any opposition. There was none.
The room had been on the losing side of a war. Ancient stone was gouged and broken. Two of the massive obelisks had been shattered. He knew Sheila’s heart would break if she saw the devastation. This place would never be the same.
Bodies littered the room. Most were his men, two armored guards and Yasmin’s blood-soaked body. Jordan crouched next to the closest form, one of the armored guards, minus a leg. It was Yuri. In theory, the armor would have self-sealed the wound, so he was possibly still alive. “Evans, carry Yuri to the surface. Get the chopper warmed up, and get him to Panama. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Evans said, shouldering his rifle. He knelt, scooping up Yuri’s mangled armor. He trotted back up the ramp, heading for the surface. The move didn’t make tactical sense. It removed one of his soldiers from a combat situation. But Jordan was done throwing away lives. Yuri deserved a chance.
He turned his attention back to the scene before him, trying to piece together the battle that had occurred.
One of the corpses was a badly mangled monstrosity with black fur. Her body was shattered, bones jutting out at odd angles and huge rents marring her flesh. Sightless eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, and she was missing three limbs.
At the far side of the room lay the entryway to the bunker. The door stood open, which could only have happened from the inside. Ice filled his belly. Somehow Smith had tricked the soldiers into opening the door. A bright white light pulsed from within the battered bunker. Jordan wondered if it had done that the last time he was here. Or had Smith already entered and started whatever process would wake that woman?
“Teams of two, cross the chamber and rush that room. Kill anything moving inside,” Jordan ordered, still scanning the central chamber as his men moved to obey. Something wasn’t right here. This was too easy.
He crossed the room slowly. He was about midway when the first pair of soldiers reached the doorway to the bunker. Something roared from the darkness, huge and terrible. It came at them sideways, just like it had back in the cornfield. A silver female tore into one of the men behind Jordan, shredding armor like tissue and tearing out his throat. He’d expected auburn, the color of Smith’s new accomplice, Liz Gregg.
The last thing he’d expected was for Bridget to show up. Even knowing she could have broken free of her cell at any time, his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that she was here now. How had she known about Smith’s arrival? He felt a brief twinge of guilt for Adams, the soldier she’d just killed. He could have done something to neutralize Bridget, but he had left her where she was, knowing she was a threat.
Jordan was still processing the attack when another form flashed from the darkness, this one completely unfamiliar. A blond female picked up Cortez and hurled the man face first into the central obelisk, where he landed with a crunch of stone and metal. How many targets were they dealing with? It didn’t matter. What did was stopping Smith from getting inside that room.
“Form a defensive perimeter around the bunker. Ureksav, Brody, get inside and terminate anything that isn’t us. The rest of us will keep them off you,” Jordan barked, already sprinting toward the bunker.
The trouble with fighting these damn werewolves was that they could vanish at will. How the hell could he fight an opponent that he couldn’t track?
He walked his rifle over the darkness, placing his back against the bunker’s battle-scored edifice. The rest of his men took up similar positions as Ureksav and Brody squeezed through the door.
The silver werewolf lunged from the darkness again, this time armed with a rifle taken from one of his fallen men. She pressed the barrel against the back of a helmet, stroking the trigger before anyone could offer warning. The man’s head exploded through his faceplate. His now headless body collapsed to the ground, leaving the werewolf open.
Jordan and two other men lined up shots, filling the air with high-pitched whines as their bullets tore at the darkness. Bridget let out a yelp as she rolled back into the shadows, the kind a dog made when it had been hurt. There was no way to know how badly she’d been wounded, of course. Or really if she had been at all, since she might be able to heal any wounds they could deal. It was so hard to know how much punishment a werewolf could take before they could bring it down.
He needed a way to flush her and her companions out. What did they want in this situation? Him and his men dead, obviously. But there was more to it than that. She was protecting Blair, giving him time to finish his work. “Everyone inside the bunker. Now!”
Chapter 79- Embarrassing Accident
Blair experienced a moment of vertigo. Then he was back within the strange control room construct, a sort of psychic waiting room. The mental construct hadn’t changed. He stood exactly as he had before, as did the Mother. Or Isis, if he were to use her real name. She stood before him, eyes smoldering with fury.
“Seven. Billion. People,” she said, voice quivering with what rage. “Do you know what you’ve done? You are like locusts, infesting every continent. Seeding the world for the ancient enemy’s return. The deathless will slaughter your people, giving them billions of willing slaves. Our world will burn, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Yet even that is not the greatest crime.
“You have destroyed the great pack itself. It is bad enough that you hunted wolves to near extinction,” she roared, eyes flashing. “You’ve twisted their DNA, creating cruel mockeries. These dogs your people have bred. They are a sad remembrance of the majestic creatures that stood with us against the ancient enemy in ages past. We have great need of the pack, but you moderns have eradicated them. It is as if your kind knowingly sought the worst ways in which to ensure your own destruction.”
“I couldn’t possibly—” Blair began.
“Silence,” the Mother thundered. Blair tried to get a word in, but her gaze silenced him more than her words had. “You are fortunate that I do not burn your mind to a cinder for your own crimes. Had you woken me when Ahiga first asked, he might still be alive. We might have had months to prepare, instead of hours. Yet you waited. Waited until it was too late.
“Then there is the matter of the Ark itself. You have destroyed two of the control rods and severely damaged another. You witnessed my memories. You know this place is older than even I can understand, yet the damage you have wrought has turned it into nothing more than a stone monument,” she hissed, leaning in close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her. “We lie naked before the storm. Our champions are scattered and leaderless, their numbers too few. Ahiga is dead. The Ark is in ruins. The enemy is upon us, and he is legion. Why even wake me at all? Why not let me go to my end in ignorance?”
“You know what? Fuck you. You don’t get to take this out on me,” Blair snapped, leaning in until his nose nearly touched hers. After all that he had sacrificed, all that he had been through, she blamed him. “I didn’t ask for this. I knew nothing about your world or about this ancient enemy. I’ve been chased, shot at, and nearly killed more times than I can count. I’ve seen friends killed. Hell, I’ve killed friends. All because of you. Because of the preparations you left. Lady, I get that you’re pissed off, but this is not my fault. I woke you up so you could help us deal with this ancient enemy. Can you do that? Because if not, you’re wasting my time.”
“You have the temerity to lecture me, little whelp?” she hissed, those emerald eyes growing dangerous. “I will deal with the pitiful wretches that assail your pack. When I am done, I will return, and we will speak of your insolence. Spend the time learning humility, for if you speak to me that way again, I will tear out your spine and hang your skull atop this place as a warning to fools everywhere.”
The world exploded into a billion tiny pieces. Blair staggered backward, suddenly back within the sarcophagus room. He caught himself against the wall, weakened by whatever he’d just experienced. The rejuvenator began to hum. Then that hum grew to a whine. The rejuvenator shimmered, and the Mother’s body began to rise, passing through the translucent material until she rested on the surface.
She flipped to her feet, shifting in midair. The process was unbelievably rapid, occurring in an eye blink. She stood, nine feet of silver fur and infinite rage.
A pair of armored men pounded their way into the room, drawing her gaze. She blurred toward them just like he would have done but far, far faster. The move shook him to the core, because it completely changed the rules as he understood them. Apparently Isis could use the powers of both sexes.
She seized both suits by the head, dashing them together like a pair of melons. She dropped the now headless corpses and turned to face him.
“We will speak when the slaughter is finished. Remember what I have said,” she roared, and her hot, fetid breath washed over him. “Humility, little whelp, your life depends on it.”
Blair wasn’t proud of what happened next. Warm wetness spread around his crotch as his bladder released itself of its own accord. Yep, she had, quite literally, made him wet his pants.
Chapter 80- The Mother
Liz staggered away from the armored soldier, clutching at the new wound in her side. The arm spurs were sharp enough to sever limbs, though thankfully she’d danced away before he’d been able to puncture anything vital. She knew she was at the edge of her abilities, chest heaving as she bled from a multitude of wounds.
Gathering the shadows was like hefting boulders. She staggered into the darkness, collapsing against one of
the undamaged obelisks. She was exhausted. Maybe she should just lie down. No, Blair still needed time, and as long as she could buy that, she couldn’t stop fighting.
“Let me handle this,” a voice growled from the shadows next to her. That must be the silver werewolf who’d shown up out of nowhere, just in time to delay the soldiers seeking to stop Blair. Without her, Liz would already be dead. “You’re in bad shape. If they get a clean shot at you, I don’t think you’ll survive.”
“You’re not doing much better,” Liz panted, nodding toward the severed arm across the room. A new one had grown back, but it still hung limply at the silver’s side. “I don’t think either one of us is going to make it out of this, but it doesn’t matter. We have to give Blair the time he needs.”
“To wake the Mother, I know. I’m Bridget, by the way. I was on Blair’s team. He might have mentioned me,” the woman said, rising shakily to her feet. The hope in her voice drew a surprising surge of jealousy. Was this Blair’s girlfriend?
“I’m Liz. He never mentioned you, but he didn’t really talk about the team,” she said, grunting as she regained her feet. “We’ve been dodging Mohn for weeks with hardly a moment to catch our breath.”
Bridget’s disappointment was brief, quickly buried under a mask of purpose. Her amber eyes glowed. “We need to attack again, keep them all from getting inside that bunker.”
Liz was too tired to answer with more than a slight nod. Bridget melted back into the shadows, and Liz did the same. The effort left her lightheaded, and she had to clutch the obelisk or risk falling. A roar sounded from the far side of the room as Bridget’s silver form barreled into an armored soldier. She grabbed an arm, yanking with all her might. It came loose with a tortured shriek of metal that battled the agonized shriek of its owner.