Susan nodded. “Once opened to sunlight, the lake will build to a blow. If I missed it…”
“Then the world would be defenseless for three years. No cure. The pandemic would spread around the world.” Lisa imagined the microcosm aboard the cruise ship expanded across the globe.
The horror was interrupted by Seichan’s return, pounding up to them, breathless, her face shining damply. “I found a door.”
“Then go,” Susan urged. “Now.”
Seichan shook her head. “Couldn’t open it.”
Kowalski pantomimed. “Did you try giving it a hard shove?”
Seichan rolled her eyes, but she did nod her head. “Yes, I tried shoving it.”
Kowalski threw his hands high, surrendering. “Well, that’s all I got.”
“But there was a cross carved above the stone archway,” Seichan continued. “And an inscription, but it’s too dark to read. The words might offer some clue.”
Gray turned to the monsignor.
“I still have my flashlight,” Vigor said. “I’ll go with her.”
“Hurry,” Gray urged.
Already the air was getting difficult to breathe. The glow in the lake had spread far, sliding along the length of the spar toward shore.
Susan pointed to it. “I must be out on the lake.”
They headed toward the peninsula of rock.
Gray paced Lisa. “You mentioned a trespassed biosystem earlier. Mind telling me what the hell you think is really going on here?” He waved to the glowing lake, to Susan.
“I don’t know everything, but I’m pretty sure I know who all the key players are.”
Gray nodded for her to continue.
Lisa pointed to the glow. “It all started here, the oldest organism in the story. Cyanobacteria. Precursors to modern plants. They’ve penetrated every environmental niche: rock, sand, water, even other organisms.” She nodded to Susan. “But that’s getting ahead of the story. Let’s start here.”
“This cavern.”
She nodded. “The cyanobacteria invaded this sinkhole, but remember they needed sunlight, and the cavern is mostly dark. The hole above was probably even smaller originally. To thrive here, they needed another source of energy, a food source. And cyanobacteria are innovative little adapters. They had a ready source of food above in the jungle…they just needed a way to get to it. And nature is anything if not ingenious at building strange interrelationships.”
Lisa related the story she had once told Dr. Devesh Patanjali, about the Lancet liver fluke, how its life cycle utilized three hosts: cattle, snail, and ant.
“At one point, the liver fluke even hijacks its ant host. It compels the ant to climb a blade of grass, lock its mandible, and wait to be eaten by a grazing cow. That’s how strange nature is. And what happened here is no less strange.”
As Lisa continued, she appreciated being able to talk through her theories. She took a moment to explain Henri Barnhardt’s assessment of the Judas Strain, how he classified the virus into a member of the Bunyavirus family. She remembered Henri’s diagram, describing a linear relationship from human to arthropod to human.
“But we were wrong,” Lisa said. “The virus took a page out of the fluke’s handbook. Three hosts come into play here.”
“If cyanobacteria are the first hosts,” Gray asked, “what’s the second host in this life cycle?”
Lisa stared toward the plugged opening in the roof and kicked some of the dried bat guano. “The cyanobacteria needed a way to fly the coop. And since they were already sharing this cavern with some bats, they took advantage of those wings.”
“Wait. How do you know they used the bats?”
“The Bunyavirus. It loves arthropods, which include insects and crustaceans. But strains of Bunyavirus can also be found in mice and bats.”
“So you think the Judas Strain is a mutated bat virus?”
“Yes. Mutated by the cyanobacteria’s neurotoxins.”
“But why?”
“To drive the bats crazy, to scatter them out into the world, carrying a virus that invades the local biosphere through its bacteria. Basically turning each bat into a little biological bomb. Laying waste wherever it lands. If Susan is correct, the pool would send out these bio-bombs every three years, allowing the environment to replenish itself in between.”
“But how does that serve the cyanobacteria if the disease kills birds and animals outside the cavern?”
“Ah, because it utilizes a third host, another accomplice. Arthropods. Remember, arthropods are already the preferred host for Bunyaviruses. Insects and crustaceans. They also happen to be nature’s best scavengers. Cleaning up the dead. Which is what the virus compelled them to do. By first making them ravenously hungry…”
Lisa’s words stumbled as she remembered the cannibalism aboard the ship. She fought to stay clinical, to be understood. “After stimulating this hunger, ensuring a thorough cleanup, the virus rewired the host to return here, to this cavern, to haul their catch and bring it to the pit, to feed the bacterial pool. They had no choice. Similar to the fluke and the ant. A neurological compulsion, a migratory urge.”
“Like Susan,” Gray said.
Lisa grew grim at the comparison. She pictured in her head the life cycle she had just described. Triangular rather than linear: cyanobacteria, bats, and arthropods. All joined together by the Judas Strain.
“Susan is different,” Lisa said. “Man was never supposed to be part of this life cycle. But being mammalian, like the bat, we’re susceptible to the toxins, to the virus. So when the Khmer discovered this cavern, we inadvertently became a part of that life cycle, taking the place of the bats. Spreading via our two legs instead of wings. Sickening the population every three years, triggering epidemics of varying severity.”
Gray stared toward Susan. “But what about her? Why did she survive?”
“Like I said, I don’t have all the answers.” She remembered her earlier discussions about Black Plague survivors, about viral code in human DNA. “Our neurological systems are a thousandfold more complex than any bat or crab. And like the cyanobacteria, humans also have a great capacity to adapt. Throw these toxins into our more advanced neurological system, and who knows what miracle might churn out?”
Lisa sighed as they reached the spit of land.
As she turned, she noted a strange sight above. Puffs of smoke streamed out of the pair of the idol’s eyeholes, brightly lit by the sun’s fire.
“The neutralizing powder,” Gray said, spotting the same and hurrying them along. “Nasser must be finalizing the upper vault’s decontamination. We have no more time.”
11:39 A.M.
At the top of the stairs Vigor knelt beside the low stone door. Seichan held the flashlight behind him. An archway of limestone framed a slab of hewn sandstone, a mix of natural and man-made.
Above the door, set into the limestone’s arched lintel, was a bronze medallion, impressed into it was a perfect crucifix. Vigor had examined it, sensing Friar Agreer’s hand here.
And it was confirmed below.
Vigor ran his fingers over the stone door. The solid slab had been inscribed with writing. Not angelic. Italian. It was the last testament of Friar Agreer.
In the year of the incarnation of the Son of God 1296, I set to stone this final prayer. The curse was set upon me when I first arrived and caused me great suffering, but I arose like Lazarus from a deadly slumber. I do not understand what bedevilment has befallen me, but I was preserved, marked in some strange manner, feverish bright of skin. For such succor, I ministered to those few who survived the great pestilence. But now a strange compunction has come over me. The waters below already begin to boil with the fires from Hell. I know it is to my death that I am driven. With great effort I did convince and oversee the construction of this seal. And I go with only one prayer on my lips. More than my own soul’s salvation, I pray this door to be forever sealed with the Lord’s Cross. Let only one strong in the spirit of the Lord dare o
pen it.
Vigor touched the carved signature at the bottom.
Friar Antonio Agreer.
Seichan spoke behind him. “So after Marco left, they exposed the friar to the disease, but rather than dying, he survived. Like the woman below.”
“Maybe the other glowing pagans who offered the cure to Marco’s party could tell Friar Agreer would survive. That is why they picked him. But the date, 1296. He lived here for three years. The same time span Susan described between eruptions.” Vigor glanced behind him. “She was right.”
Seichan waved to the door. “There’s more writing under the name.”
Vigor nodded. “A quote from the Bible, book of Matthew, chapter twenty-eight, concerning the resurrection of Jesus from his tomb.” Vigor read the quote aloud. “‘Behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from the sky, and came and rolled away the stone from the door, and sat on it.’”
“That’s a lot of help.”
It was.
Vigor stared up at the crucifix carved into a bronze medallion above the door. He said a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.
Before he could finish, he felt the ground shake under his knees. A great crash of rock echoed behind him, sounding as if the cavern had collapsed.
Seichan retreated, taking the light, off to investigate. “Stay here!”
Darkness descended, chilling him. Though he could no longer read the words, they blazed in his mind.
Behold, there was a great earthquake…
11:52 P.M.
Gray knelt over Lisa as the resounding shock rattled through the cavern. Kowalski sheltered her other side. One of the stalactites broke away from the roof and plunged into the pool’s depth. From where it had broken off, a scatter of deep cracks radiated outward, spanning the limestone roof.
Susan crouched halfway down the spar of rock as it thrust out into the glowing lake. All around the waters trembled with vibrations, sloshing back and forth. The stirring churned up more acidic wash, choking the air.
Rich with the Judas Strain.
Smaller concussions struck above, pounding like cannonballs against the roof of the cavern.
“What’s happening?” Lisa yelled.
“Nasser’s bomb,” he gasped out, ears ringing.
Earlier, Gray had examined the foundation pillars of the Bayon. He had found the columns riddled with fissures and cracks, pressure fractures from old age and from periodic shifts in the earth. Gray imagined that the concussion of the double-strength bomb had widened the fissures even more. And then the wash of acid — splashing outward and flowing into all those cracks — had dissolved the hearts out of the pylons.
“One of the foundation pillars must have collapsed,” he said. “Taking down a section of the temple with it.”
Gray stared up.
The tumbling of stone blocks had stopped — but for how long? He swung around to Susan. She stood up, slowly, warily. She glanced back, plainly wanting to return to shore. But instead, she turned and continued onward.
Past her shoulders the twin beams of sunlight glowed even brighter as the noon hour struck, the full face of the sun baking down atop the ruins.
“Will it hold long enough?” Lisa asked, staring out at Susan.
“It’ll have to.”
Gray had no doubt that if another foundation pillar collapsed, the temple’s weight would flatten this limestone bubble like a pancake. He pulled Lisa to her feet. They couldn’t stay. Even if the pillars held, the lake was near to erupting.
The entire pool now glowed, from shore to shore. Where the twin beams of sunlight struck, the waters had begun to bubble, gasping out more toxin into the air, more of the Judas Strain.
They had to leave.
Down the spur of rock, Susan reached its end and sat down, hugging one knee. She kept her back to them, perhaps fearful if she saw them she would lose her nerve and come running back. She looked so alone, so frightened.
A racking cough shook through Gray. His lungs burned. He could taste the caustic toxin on his tongue. They could wait no longer.
Lisa knew it, too. Her eyes were bloodshot, weeping heavily from both the sting of the air and from the fear for her friend.
Susan had no choice. Neither did they.
They headed toward the distant archway. A flickering light halfway ahead revealed Seichan running back. Alone. Where was Vigor?
Another crack of rock blasted above.
Gray cringed, fearing another avalanche.
The reality was worse.
The stone plug shattered out of the rooftop, raining down chunks of the block. Sunlight blazed down. A large slab bearing a corner of an upturned lip splashed leadenly into the water, swamping Susan. More pieces struck like depth charges.
Triumphant voices echoed from above.
Gray heard Nasser’s voice call out. “They have to be down there!”
But Nasser wasn’t the worst danger at the moment.
The full face of the sun blazed unfiltered upon the lake, combusting the pool. Already primed, close to critical mass, the bubbling became an instant boil, erupting in vast expulsions, coughing up gouts of gas and water.
The pool was blowing.
They’d never make it to the stairs.
Gray backpedaled, dragging Kowalski and Lisa with him a few steps. He yelled at Seichan. “Drop flat! Now!”
He obeyed his own advice, waving Lisa and Kowalski down. Gray grabbed the abandoned tarp they’d used to transport Susan. He dragged it over all three of them, trying to trap as much air as possible.
“Pin your edges close to the stone!” he ordered the others.
Beyond the tarp he heard the crackles of boiling water, furious, hissing angry — then a deep sonorous whoop, as if the entire lake had jumped a foot then dropped. Water washed his ankles, then swept away.
The air under the tarp turned to liquid fire.
The three of them huddled, gasping, coughing, choking.
“Susan,” Lisa finally croaked out.
12:00 P.M.
Susan screamed.
She didn’t cry with mere lungs, or the flutter of vocal cords. She howled out of the core of her being.
She could not escape the agony. Her mind, still attuned by sunlight, continued its detailed recording of every sensation. Forbidden from oblivion, her being scribed every detail: the sear of her lungs, the fire in her eyes, the flaying of her skin. She burned from the inside out, propelling her cry to the heavens.
But was there anyone to hear?
As she expelled all of herself upward, she finally found her release.
She fell back to the stone.
Her heart clenched one last time, squeezing out the last of her.
Then nothing.
12:01 P.M.
“What about Susan?” Lisa gasped.
Gray risked a peek from under a flap of tarp, craning back toward the rocky spar. The lake still boiled, burning under the fiery sun. The air above the lake shimmered with an oily miasma.
But the worst flow of gasses spiraled upward, through the opening, drafting up the flue of the Bayon’s central spire, turning tower into chimney.
Gray knew it was the only reason they lived.
If the cavern had still been sealed…
Out on the spar another of their party had not fared as well. Susan lay sprawled on her back, as still as a statue. Gray could not tell if she was breathing. In fact, it was hard to see her shape against the glare of the sunlight.
And that’s when he realized it.
The rocky spar did not extend fully into the stream of sunlight.
Susan still lay in shadow — but she no longer glowed. The brightness in her had blown out like a candle.
What did that mean?
Overhead, screams echoed down from the temple, now awash with the pool’s toxic expulsion. Gray also heard more stones striking the roof of the cavern. The caustic gas had further weakened the precarious balance of stone above their
heads.
“We have to get out of the cavern,” Gray said.
“What about Susan?” Lisa asked.
“We’ll have to trust she had enough exposure. Whatever she needed to happen, hopefully happened.” Gray rolled to his knees, coughing hard. They all needed the cure now. He stared over to Kowalski. “Get Lisa to the stairs.”
Kowalski pushed up. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
Lisa clutched Gray’s wrist as he stood, keeping the tarp over their heads. “What are you going to do?”
“I have to get Susan.”
Lisa pinched around to see — then covered her mouth. The lake still roiled heavily, popping with gas. “Gray, you’ll never make it.”
“I’ll have to.”
“But I don’t see her moving. I think the sudden explosion was too much.”
Gray remembered Marco’s story, of his forced cannibalism, drinking the blood and eating the flesh of another man to live. “I don’t think it matters if she’s alive or dead. We just need her body.”
Lisa flinched at the callousness of his words, but she did not object.
“I’m going to need the tarp,” Gray said.
Kowalski nodded, clutching Lisa by the arm. “Fine by me. I’m taking the girl.”
Gray whisked away from them, cocooning himself in the tarp. He wrapped his head, leaving only a slit to peer out. He heard Kowalski and Lisa running down the strand.
Another boulder crashed onto the cavern roof from the temple above.
As good as a starter’s pistol.
Keeping his head low, Gray sprinted down the causeway.
Thirty yards.
That’s all.
There and back.
Steps from the shore, Gray bulled into the rising miasma of toxin. He held his breath. Still, it was like hitting a wall of fire. His eyes immediately burned, squeezing his vision to a pinpoint, while tears turned the rest of his sight into a watery blur. Barely able to see, he closed his lids, pulled the slit shut, and ran blind, counting his steps.
At thirty he risked a fast peek. An inferno greeted him.
The Judas Strain sf-4 Page 45