Eddy breathed rapidly, in and out, lying on the eight foot wall. He turned his head to see the bear, which he thought would be pacing angrily below, but instead he came face-to-face with the Arctic giant. He cursed himself for forgetting how tall the bear was on its hind legs. It snapped at his face, just missing. It roared at Eddy and he could smell and feel its warm bloody breath waft across his face. The bear swiped at Eddy and caught his chest, tearing open the outer layers of his clothes, creating a wound, which, if his clothing had been any thinner, would have sliced open his stomach like a ripe watermelon.
Eddy rolled away from the bear without thinking and fell off the other side of the wall, descending eight feet to the snow below. He hit the frozen ground hard, landing on his back. The impact knocked the breath from his chest and made him feel as though his lungs had been removed from his body. He sucked air, but felt as though he got nothing in. He sucked again and again, but his lungs were not satisfied.
I can’t die like this! Air! I need air!
Eddy tried to get to his feet, but the best he could manage was a toddler-like crawl. He turned and gasped again, but this time, not for air. He lurched backward and slammed against the ice wall, knocking any air that had reached his lungs back out. But he forgot all about his depleted lungs as he stared straight forward with a blank expression.
Lying on the ice, twisted and deformed, was a body half dressed in snow gear, half eviscerated. Paul’s eyes were glassy, almost frozen, staring up at the sky; his mouth open, trapped in mid-scream. The snow around his body was frozen red, like a Satanic Sno-cone, a torture for the damned. Eddy leaned forward and saw Paul’s crucifix hanging from his neck. He knew removing the body would be impossible, but he felt he needed to bring something back to bury. Eddy moved forward, still seeing stars and gasping for air. His fingers protested as he gripped Paul’s cross in his hand and pulled. He fell back and began crawling for what he believed was the way out. It took him thirty seconds to crawl twenty feet. Air came quickly now, but his muscles had been pushed too far. He felt his body crushing his bones. A stabbing pain shot through his right calf. He flinched and shouted, thinking the bear had caught him. But nothing was there. It was just a muscle spasm. Eddy inched forward, sliding on his stomach, determined to find freedom.
His arms gave up and for a moment he lay motionless.
Get up, damnit!
He was frozen.
Move your arm!
Eddy’s finger twitched.
A pressure around Eddy’s shoulder’s made him fearful, but he didn’t flinch or scream, he was too tired, too depleted. But the movement was smooth, painless. He opened his eyes for a moment and glanced to the left. Steve. He glanced to the right. Kevin. Looking forward, through closing eyes, Eddy saw Eve standing in front of the Sno-Cat’s open door, waving them on, her face stretched with fear.
As Eddy’s eyes closed and his world descended into darkness he heard Eve’s voice. “Eddy, my God. He’s bleeding.”
Then other voices.
“Look out!”
“Here it comes!”
“Close the door!”
Then a loud whump and a roar.
Then nothing.
19
BREAKING
Pain stabbed at Eddy’s eyes as glowing white light filled his vision. Eddy squinted against the light while his hand hovered in front of his eyes. He sat up and felt a dull ache inside his head, pulsing with each beat of his heart. His body was sore all over, like waking up the day after running a marathon. The discomfort he felt reminded him he was still alive, and for that he was glad. He looked down and saw that he was lying down on the back seat of the Sno-Cat. The front seat was empty. He was alone.
Then it all came back to him. The bear. Paul. Every gory detail of what he had seen…the smell of Paul’s dead body. The pain in Eddy’s head grew worse with every thread of memory, weaving through his skull, as if pulled by a dull needle. His thoughts raced as he held his head in his hands, trying to squeeze out the pain. Had the bear gotten to the others? Maybe it was out there right now, eating one of them, eating Eve.
Eddy pushed the pain aside in an instant and reached under the front seat. His hands found something hard and cold. He pulled out a large wrench and burst out of the door with a grunt, ready to beat the bear to death if need be.
Steve fell backward and screamed as Eddy flung himself from the Sno-Cat. “Dude! What the hell!”
Nicole gasped and rolled away, fearing that Eddy might fall on her, or worse, club her with the wrench in blind rage. She jumped up and stood behind Steve.
Eddy took every breath like it might be his last. His eyes darted in every direction, looking for trouble, looking for the bear. But all he saw was the Sno-Cat, the snowmobile, and his crew, all but Paul. Eddy lowered the wrench in his right hand and held his head with his left. “Sorry, I thought…”
Eddy dropped the wrench as bright colored dots swirled in his vision. He stumbled, but was caught by Kevin. “Whoa, there… Here, sit down.” Eve took Eddy by his other arm and helped support his weight.
Kevin eased Eddy onto the Sno-Cat’s tread. “What happened?” Eddy asked. “Where’s the bear?”
“We left that son-of-a-bitch behind. I grabbed a snow-mobile when it went back to…” Steve said. His eyes were red and bloodshot. Eddy thought Steve looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. Paul.
“Steve. I’m sorry. Paul was—”
“I know, man,” Steve said. “He was a friend to all of us. Don’t give me any special treatment. Okay? Paul wouldn’t want us pissing and moaning over him, anyway.”
Eddy could see that Steve had mourned Paul’s death all he could in one day.
Steve crossed his arms. “Just promise me that if we survive the next few days, you and I will come back out here and hunt that bear down. To the ends of the Earth if we have to.”
Eddy nodded and said, “To the ends of the Earth.”
Kevin put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “To the ends of the Earth. We’ll find that bear.”
Steve cracked a smile. “Thanks, Buck.”
“Don’t forget me,” Nicole said. “I’m in, too…ends of the Earth, and all that.”
Steve smiled at Nicole and she put her arm around him, rubbing his shoulder.
Eddy stretched from side to side, feeling his muscles easing out, relaxing. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Three hours. We only stopped a few minutes ago to stretch our legs and relieve ourselves,” Norwood said as he looked down from the top of the Sno-Cat. “A combination of exhaustion and mental trauma put you into a fairly deep sleep. You had us thinking you might be in a coma for a short time.”
“How did you know I wasn’t?”
“You were snoring,” Eve said with a smile. “And you were talking in your sleep.”
Eddy looked mildly surprised. “I was talking in my sleep? What did I say?”
Kevin smiled and looked away, Eve pursed her lips, and Norwood went back to gazing at the frozen expanse through a pair of binoculars. Eddy could see that whatever he had said was embarrassing. He decided he didn’t want to know.
“Sorry to interrupt your jovial interlude,” Norwood said from behind the binoculars, “but we have trouble, incoming at three o’clock.”
Everyone jumped to their feet at once and rushed around to the other side of the Cat, staring out in the direction Norwood pointed. Straight ahead was a wash of white that undulated lightly. To the east was more of the same: flat, white nothing. To the west was a choppy field of ice spires, jutting toward the empty expanse of blue sky.
“There’s nothing out there,” Nicole said.
“I don’t see anything,” Eddy said, glancing up at Norwood.
Norwood thrust his hand down. “Step on the snowmobile and climb up,” he said.
Eddy took Norwood’s hand after climbing onto the snowmobile and was hoisted onto the metal roof of the Cat. After placing the binoculars to his eyes, Eddy focused and scanned the hori
zon. “Nothing’s there.”
“They’re still a good ten miles out. Check the horizon.”
Eddy rotated from right to left, taking in every ounce of ice and sky. Then he saw them, four specks of black against a white background. “Found them.”
“What is it?” Eve asked.
“Our friends from the dig site,” Eddy said.
Steve’s face twisted with confusion. “The Inuit?”
Eddy nodded.
“But they were on foot,” Steve said. “There’s no way they caught up with us.”
“Maybe they have transportation hidden somewhere?” Eve said.
“I doubt it,” Eddy added. “There’s no place to hide anything out here, and from the looks of it, they’re still on foot.”
“Let me look again,” Norwood said. He raised the binoculars to his eyes. “We must be missing something.”
“You are missing something,” Kevin said.
All eyes turned to Kevin.
“You’re operating under the assumption that the men chasing us are bound by human laws. We need sleep, food, shelter and transportation to survive the cold. These men are not human. They’re Ferox. What applies to us doesn’t apply to them.”
Eddy looked into Kevin’s serious eyes. “He’s right.”
“We need to do something,” Nicole said, with a nervous twang in her voice.
“Yeah, man,” Steve said. “These guys are going to catch us in no time. We gotta get out of here. Now.”
“We need a strategy,” Kevin said. “If they can outpower us, maybe we can outwit them.”
“What do you suggest?” Eddy asked with raised eyebrows.
“Easy,” Kevin said with a smile. “Oldest trick in the book.”
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
“No way,” Eddy said, with a stern look in Kevin’s direction. “I’m not going to let you go out there alone.”
“But it will work, Eddy. It always works.”
“Kev, you learned that trick playing a game.”
“I used that trick playing a game. I learned that trick from history. The military does it all the time. It’s called a diversionary tactic. They’ll be so focused on all of you in the Cat that they’ll forget all about me.” Kevin took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How far are we from the coordinates Artuke gave us?”
Norwood looked at the screen of the portable GPS. “Three miles due north. We’re almost there.”
“You see. They don’t know where we’re going. I’ll head out on foot, following the coordinates. You travel, heading for the same coordinates, but in a wide arc. They’ll follow you, not me. I’m alone. Defenseless. And they’ll assume the cold will get me.”
“And what if it does?” Eddy asked, as he paced in the snow.
“It won’t. It’s only a few miles, and we have three hours of light left. I can do it. They’ll never think that the one guy alone has the key. It doesn’t make sense.”
Eddy crossed his arms. “No way.”
Steve looked down from his post on top of the Sno-Cat, where he stood with Nicole, watching the horizon. Nicole looked out through the binoculars as Steve spoke. “Guys, listen, these jerks are moving like bats out of hell. They just gained a mile on us in two minutes. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes. If we don’t start moving, and I mean at, like, top speed, they’ll catch us before we get there.”
Eddy clenched his fists. “All right. This is what we’re doing, and I don’t want to hear a word of argument from anyone…”
Eddy scrolled across everyone’s eyes, making sure they were listening. “I’m going out alone, just like Buck said.”
“Eddy, no,” Eve said, but before she could get out another word, Eddy continued in a louder voice.
“I’m in better shape than anyone here. I can jog the three miles flat out without stopping. If they do follow me, I’ll stand the best chance at outrunning them.”
Steve hopped down from the Cat. “I see no one did the math. They just ran, on foot, a mile in two minutes. Eddy, these guys are moving at thirty miles an hour. That’s like Olympic sprinters, only they’re not slowing down after one hundred meters. You can’t outrun them.”
“But I can put the most distance between me and them. No more arguing. Get in the Cat and start moving. Now.”
Every one stood frozen, like human popsicles buried in the snow.
“Now!” Eddy’s voice was filled with anger.
Steve and Nicole headed for the snowmobile and got ready to head out. Norwood climbed into the Sno-Cat and started the engine. At least some of them were listening. Eve strode up to Eddy, eyes locked on his.
“If I don’t see you again? If this is how you say goodbye to me, I’ll hate you for it.” Eve turned around and headed back to the Cat.
Kevin stood next to Eddy. “She loves you, you know.”
Eddy turned to Kevin. “I know.”
“Better not die, huh?”
“I’ll try not to.”
Eddy stood closer to Kevin. “Kevin, listen. These aliens. These Ferox. They’ve been here on Earth, studying us, molding us. Could it be true that the very tactic we’re attempting here could have been conceived of by these guys?”
Kevin looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You’re an experienced game player, right? You use strategy like that all the time.” Eddy turned his whole body toward Kevin as if to emphasize his next words. “When you see the lone man coming…who do you take out?”
Kevin’s eyes widened. “The lone man. Every time.”
“Why?”
“Experience tells me that he’s the real threat.”
“I don’t think we can beat these guys on an experience level.”
“Then why are you going?”
“Because I’m counting on them chasing me.”
“That’s crazy. Why?”
“The oldest trick in the book is about to be re-written.”
Kevin’s forehead became crisscrossed with wrinkles. Then he gasped and his anxiety disappeared. “That might just work,” he said with a smile. “But only once.”
“Once is all I’ll need.”
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
The four men reached a crossroads of sorts. To the north was a single set of footprints. They could see by the depth of the depressions that whoever had gone in that direction, on foot, was running. With good reason, Marutas thought, smiling. This prey was turning out to be just what he needed to satiate his innate desire to hunt. But this was no simulated hunt. They hadn’t thrown people into a jungle and hunted them down like dogs to a fox. No, this was much better. This was real. The danger was real. And it spun through his mind like an intoxicating drug.
Marutas’s grin widened. The bedraggled group of scientists had not just beaten Vayu, they had killed him with a brutality that Marutas respected. Vayu was a strong warrior and had fought in hundreds of wars over the past ten thousand years. Not only had he fought in wars, but he had instigated them as well. Vayu had been one of the elite, one of the last five chosen to stay on Earth and finish the job.
But Vayu had ultimately failed his station. A pity. These humans, who now had the key and thought to undo everything they had worked so hard to achieve, had killed him. They had dared to kill a Ferox. Vayu’s spilled blood would not go unavenged. Marutas would eat their hearts before the day was through. But he would not underestimate his prey. He would learn from Vayu’s mistake. He looked at the boot-crushed snow and turned his gaze northwest, taking in the two sets of tracks. One wide, the other narrow—the Sno-Cat and snowmobile no doubt. The snow beneath the tracks was torn up and flung. They were moving fast, dangerously so.
Interesting.
On one hand there was the obvious choice. Safety in numbers. Rapid transportation. Supplies. The crew left in the Sno-Cat would make better time and survive the night, if it came in time. They were the obvious choice to carry something as important as the key. But then they had left him with a second choic
e. The footprints.
Their leader would never let one of his crew strike off alone. So he had done it himself. But he was a resourceful man, and overconfident. He would never trust one of his crew to do as good a job as he could. So he would take the key, hoping that his pursuers would follow the obvious choice.
Oh, but the Ferox are much wiser than you. We are your masters.
Marutas turned toward the footprints again, ignoring the bitter cold stinging his face. The lone man had gone north with the key. He would be their prey. Let the orbs take care of the others.
Before giving the order to head out, Marutas smelled the snow where the human group had stopped. So many footprints were pushed into the snow. He could see them now, arguing over what to do; crying over their fallen comrades—that fool in the maze of ice and bones. They had found him, by following the scent of blood, nearly picked clean, just like the whales. But the bear had been nowhere in sight. He sniffed the air again, more deeply, and caught a whiff of it—fear. They were afraid, and with good reason; they would all be dead soon.
But what they didn’t know. Oh, how glorious it will be to see their faces when they learn the truth, just as the last of their blood escapes their bodies. He would tell them then about the mighty Aeros. How much greater would it be to see them dying without hope, only then to realize that humanity, their blessed humanity, was going to be destroyed—one way or another.
Marutas barked the order and all four men began running north, following the single line of footprints.
20
THE SPLIT
In the cold vacuum of space, biological life ceased to exist. But this cold expanse between worlds, separating spheres of gravity, was home to another kind of life—electronic. The black sphere, which had spun in Earth’s orbit for thousands and thousands of years undetected by man, blinked to life. A solitary light pulsed red as the black orb floated noiselessly over the white crust of ice, hundreds of miles below.
Spinning, the orb turned the red light toward the ice covered ocean, taking it in like a cycloptic, bodiless monster. It sensed an energy signature, a presence that it had waited for since its creation and placement in the freezing void. While scientists might call this basketball-sized device a simple machine, its creators would argue that it was very much alive and capable of great emotion. Not the complex range of emotion sentient beings might take for granted, but a single emotion, burned into its sensors and data chips. Hate. Hate, loathing and animosity for one single object: the key, and even more, for the biological units within its proximity.
Raising the Past Page 18