Threshold

by Jeremy Robinson

  King’s insides ached with rage, but he didn’t fight his bonds. Buying time for the others to act was his primary goal. If he had to remain behind while they blew the place to kingdom come and made off with Fiona, he would do so willingly. The words of his father came back to him. There is no greater love than a father who is willing to lay down his life for his children. If it came to that, he would. And with that, King realized how truly attached he’d become to Fiona.

  Damnit, he thought, I love the kid.

  King saw the laptop was fully booted and some new software was loading up. Hoping to keep Ridley’s attention off the laptop, King asked, “What happened to you, Ridley?” King asked. “After you jumped out of the helicopter.”

  The hooded Ridley turned toward King.

  “I lost an arm,” Ridley replied. “Nearly my head.”

  “And I was born.”

  The second voice came from the cloaked Ridley, but sounded different. Had Ridley’s injuries wrecked his voice? Were his regenerative abilities not as refined as Alexander’s?

  “The injection I gave myself just minutes before our brief meeting had not been perfected.” He chuckled. “When I jumped from the helicopter I had no idea if I would survive or not. But I did. I had received the regenerative gene of the Hydra, but there was one other gene that had yet to be culled. I discovered its effects when I looked in the rearview mirror of the car that carried me to freedom.”

  King noticed that Alexander had stopped struggling and started listening.

  “It was this side effect that spurred my continued research into the mother tongue. For years, long before we met, I searched the past for clues to long-forgotten powers—which, as you know, led me to the ancient remains of the Hydra. Ancient maps, runes, texts, hieroglyphs—I collected and studied the world’s history and came to a stunning conclusion: the Tower of Babel story is real. I don’t yet fully understand the mechanics of how mankind’s language fractured, only that it did. In the past two years I have pieced together several key phrases of the lost language that allow me to alter and reshape the physical world as well as the thoughts and emotions of the people in it. Not to mention I now have the key to ridding myself of this unfortunate disfigurement.”

  “Be kind,” said the higher pitched, wet voice.

  “Apologies, Adam. You will always be my first son.”

  Adam. The name struck a chord with King. Ridley had been naming his golem clones after the bloodline from Adam to King David. Was this Adam the first of his lifelike golems?

  “I hoped to separate myself from him—from Adam. Thankfully,” Ridley said, holding up a stone tablet, “the final piece of the puzzle arrived from Stonehenge.”

  King could see a series of Egyptian-like runes covering one side of the bluestone tablet. He could probably spend his whole life on the task and never decipher what it said. Ridley, on the other hand, had apparently done so already. “One of Merlin’s greatest hits?”

  Ridley grinned. “I’m afraid Merlin can’t take credit for the words recorded here. He simply recorded the words taught to him in Egypt. And it’s just one of the many ancient efforts to preserve the ancient language in stone—the only medium that can reliably last the test of time.”

  “El Mirador,” King said, realizing that Ridley had been collecting bits and pieces of the spoken and written language.

  “One of many sites that contained written samples of the mother tongue,” Ridley said. “Your primitive friends in Vietnam, though unable to read the words carved on the walls, added to my knowledge as well. And with the words gleaned from Merlin’s fragment, Adam and I can rejoin the world above as whole individuals.” Ridley affectionately rubbed a hand over the tablet before placing it down on the table behind him. “And you are just in time to witness our separation.” The cloaked Ridley stepped forward, raising his arms out to the side. “Show yourself, Adam.”

  King gaped as a third arm reached up over Ridley’s head and took hold of the hood. The fingers, thin and bent, wrapped around the fabric and then pulled back quickly.

  Ridley stood before them, bare-chested and pale, his bald head shining under the light of a halo of mini-suns. The third arm reached up and over his torso, gripping his chest tightly. A head followed it, rising up behind his shoulder. The face was Ridley’s, though slightly disfigured.

  “Thank you, King,” Adam said. “Without you I would have never been born.”

  SEVENTY-NINE

  QUEEN WAITED BY the entrance to a small room, keeping watch while Bishop and Knight checked out what was inside. She was bothered by the lack of security. In the past, Ridley had surrounded himself with the high-tech security force known as Gen-Y. They had ultimately failed him, so it was understandable that they were no longer in his employ, but if he had reason to be paranoid about security before, he had twice as many reasons now.

  Yet the hallways were empty.

  Which meant Ridley had no need for security, had lost his marbles, or had plenty of security that they had yet to discover; she hoped it was the second, but suspected it was a combination of the first and last. Maybe all three.

  Knight and Bishop exited the room. “Looks like it used to be an armory. Lots of old blades buried beneath a layer of fibrous dust. Probably ancient wood.”

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been in there recently,” Bishop said.

  “Probably not since this place was built,” Knight added.

  Queen moved on in silence, her thoughts on the mission, but also with Rook. He should be here now, she thought. But he was either dead and not returning, or alive and in trouble. Of course, she thought, he could be alive and choosing to stay away. But if that were true … She forced the thought from her mind and turned her full attention to the entryway ahead. She could hear a scratching sound. She detected a foul combination of odors next.

  She paused and breathed through her nose.

  Piss and shit.

  With her XM25 pressed firmly against her shoulder, Queen entered the chamber and froze. Large cages filled the room, lining every wall and stacked three high. She quickly noted the stenciled labels on the front of each cage, written in Russian. And beneath the labels, a Manifold Genetics logo, also in Russian. “Look,” she said, pointing to one of the logos. “These cages were either here before we took Manifold down—”

  “Or the company is still active,” Knight finished.

  “In Russia,” Queen said. They had witnessed the destruction of Manifold Gamma and Beta. And they had captured the Manifold lab in New Hampshire known as Alpha. But with plenty more letters in the Greek alphabet remaining, who’s to say there weren’t as many Manifold facilities left?

  Before Queen attempted to read the labels, she noticed the cages were not empty. The cages held a variety of twisted forms. Many on the lower level were indiscernible as any living creature on Earth, with limbs where heads should be, hoofed feet mixed with human hands and scaled faces. Many appeared dead, but their bodies rose and fell with each breath, despite not having any visible mouth or nose.

  Those in the middle cages were hale, but fearful, shifting to the back of the cage. These were oversized lizards and predatory birds. They were covered in feces from the animals on the cages above—dirty and pitiful. Despite their size, they seemed to be as docile and fearful of humans as their smaller, wild, counterparts.

  Perhaps these were wild animals before they were experimented on, Queen thought. Then she saw the top row.

  Sitting still and watching her were several mammoth, stubby-tailed gray cats. Larger than Siberean tigers, the giant cats had black-tipped ears with long tufts of fur pointing up from them. Their yellow feline eyes seemed to never blink. Their sandy gray coats were covered in oblong spots, but the fur beneath their chins and bellies was white, though stained with blood.

  Someone had been feeding them. She saw the remains of a human hand in one of the cages. Someone had been feeding them people.

  What stood out most were the long saberlike teeth
that protruded down over their lower jaw, and the two-inch-long retractable claws the cats flexed in and out.

  “Are they saber-tooth tigers?” Queen asked.

  “Lynx,” Bishop said. “They’re native to these mountains.”

  “If these are lynx,” Knight said, “then someone’s had a genetic field day with them.”

  “Richard Ridley’s calling card,” Queen said before moving through the wide path between the cages, keeping her eyes on the large cats that simply watched her move past. “Let’s get out of this fucked-up menagerie and find Fiona.”

  The U-shaped room exited into another hallway. The three moved into the hall quickly, eager to leave the giant predators behind. As they approached the end, Ridley’s deep voice returned.

  They crept forward and then heard a second voice, this one unmistakable.

  King.

  Queen motioned for Knight and Bishop to remain behind and crept up to the tunnel exit. She peered into the chamber beyond and saw five people. Two men who appeared to be Richard Ridley, or golem duplicates, and a cloaked man stood with their backs to her. King and Alexander were on the far side of the space, held several feet off the floor, clutched in the arms of two giant living statues. She quickly noted eight more statues around the chamber and slid back into the hallway.

  Walking silently, she passed by a dark slit in the wall. Something about it made her pause. She leaned in close, trying to see through the darkness. Two hands shot out at her, reaching for her face. She jumped back and aimed her weapon.

  But the hands meant no harm. They were outstretched. Desperate. And they belonged to a thirteen-year-old girl. Fiona!

  Queen rushed up to the wall and took hold of her hands. She gave them a squeeze of reassurance. Neither spoke, knowing it might draw attention. After a moment, Queen stepped back. She took out a water bottle and insulin shot, handing them both to Fiona through the crack. She didn’t need to tell her what they were for. She would know. Queen held up an index finger and mouthed the words “Be right back.”

  Fiona turned one of her thumbs up and pulled her hands, along with the water and shot, back inside the cell.

  Queen returned to Bishop and Knight, who had seen what happened, but stayed by their post. “We need to get in there now.”

  “How do we do that without attracting attention?” Knight asked.

  “We give them something else to worry about,” Queen said, and then headed back toward the menagerie. “Just get through that wall and take her topside.”

  “When should we blow it?” Knight asked.

  Queen looked back over her shoulder. “When the screaming starts.”

  EIGHTY

  KING WAS SPEECHLESS. He felt a combination of revulsion and pity: revulsion at what Ridley had become—he was more devil than god—and pity for the sickly looking version of him clinging to him like a child refusing to wean from its mother.

  “How did you escape Stonehenge?” one of the two golem Ridleys asked.

  That one’s Mahaleel, King thought, but didn’t say a word. His eyes were still focused on Adam’s, like a predatory bird.

  A hint of fear filled Adam’s eyes. The real Richard Ridley had faced King before and did so again now as fearless as any immortal being should be. But Adam … he was something different.

  “You have defiled the past,” Alexander said.

  King wasn’t sure if Alexander really wanted to make a point or if he had seen the subtle motion of King’s right arm. Either way, King was thankful for the distraction.

  Ridley and Adam guffawed in unison. The conjoined duo walked toward him, leaving Cainan and Mahaleel behind. They stopped short and squinted at Alexander. “Shall we compare who has defiled what? Hmm? I’m sure King would love to hear. I know more about you than you think, Hercules.”

  “You know nothing,” Alexander said. “I will be your undoing.”

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  Alexander flexed against the stone arms that held him tight. And though he was not able to break free, he did succeed in pushing the golem’s arms away from him. The Herculean feat of strength was enough to fully captivate the attention of all four Ridleys and gave King the opportunity to strike.

  As King unclipped the Sig Sauer handgun strapped to his thigh he considered his four targets. The two clay golems in the form of Ridley may fall to a bullet, but he wasn’t positive they could be killed. The original Ridley had as little to fear from firearms as Alexander or Bishop. Shooting him would just be a waste of time.

  But Adam. The fear in his eyes had planted a seed in King’s mind. As it grew, he remembered the Hydra. Only its central head was truly immortal. Its body could be cleaved away and would die. As could its other heads. Could Adam be killed? With only two of Hydra’s genes in Ridley’s body, would his regenerative abilities extend to Adam?

  There was only one way to find out.

  As King pulled the weapon from its holster, Adam glanced in his direction. He immediately saw the handgun rising in his direction. His eyes spread wide. His mouth twisted in fear, revealing bent teeth. The abject terror expressed in Adam’s face answered all of King’s questions a second before he found his aim.

  Then he pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  QUEEN ENTERED THE menagerie with her arm over her nose and her weapon lowered. She walked through, taking stock of the giant cats, whose heads followed her path through the room, rotating mechanically. She stopped at the center of the room, looking back and forth at the cats. Not one of them moved.

  She turned to one of the lower cages that held a motionless, ghastly body. She took out her KA-BAR knife and stabbed it into the flesh. The body convulsed, but stopped moving again after she withdrew the blade. A fresh gush of blood followed the knife out of the body.

  Three of the cats immediately stood and began pacing in their large cages.

  Those are the ones, Queen thought, and then moved to the closest cage. The cage doors were held shut by simple sliding pin locks. She pulled the first pin, but didn’t open the door. Instead she moved to the next two cages and pulled their locking pins as well. Then she moved to the exit leading away from Bishop and Knight, back the way they’d come.

  “Here kitty, kitty,” she said when none of them moved for the doors.

  The largest of the three reached out and swatted at the door. It flinched back when it swung wide open. But it quickly recovered and slowly approached the open door. The other cats saw what happened and nudged their unlocked cage doors as well.

  Queen said, “Come on kitty, don’t be a pussy.”

  When the largest of the three looked at her, she ran, not waiting to see if the cats would take the bait. With the scent of blood in the air and a fast-moving prey running away, she knew their feline instincts would take over.

  * * *

  USING HIS SLENDER arm, Knight reached through the thin slot in the wall of Fiona’s cell and placed several small directional charges. The charges packed a punch despite their size, but would direct most of their energy into the hallway, rather than into the cell. Still, he did not envy Fiona’s proximity to the explosion. Her ears would most likely be injured and it was possible she might catch some shrapnel, too. But he could think of no other way to quickly open the wall.

  He looked at Bishop, who was crouched by the tunnel exit, watching King and Alexander speak to Ridley. He had no idea what Bishop was seeing, but the man looked disturbed.

  Knight finished squishing the last bit of C4 into a crag in the wall. He quickly placed four remote-triggered blasting caps into the claylike explosives and switched on the receivers. With the C4 now “hot,” a simple push of a button would blow the wall and give them access to Fiona.

  Knight crawled to Bishop and tapped his foot.

  Bishop looked back. Knight gave a thumbs-up and motioned back down the hall with his head. They met in front of Fiona’s cell. Her dirty face looked back at them through the space in the wall.

&
nbsp; “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Go curl up in the back corner,” Knight said. “Close your eyes, cover your ears, and open your mouth. It will help.”

  “Is this going to hurt?”

  Knight hated saying it, but he wouldn’t lie to the girl. “A bit.”

  “Then wait,” she whispered. “Let me try something first.”

  “Fiona, there isn’t ti—”

  But she had stepped back into the darkness. He could hear her soft voice saying something, but didn’t understand the words. Fiona’s using the mother tongue! Knight thought, wondering how it was possible.

  The walls slowly parted, forming a door.

  Both men wasted no time entering. Fiona fell back against the back wall looking weak. They rushed to her, bracing her with their hands.

  “That was something else, kid,” Knight said.

  “How did you learn the language?” Bishop asked.

  “I’m a good spy,” she said, smiling wide.

  Knight noticed how healthy Fiona looked. Other than being dirty, she looked as fit as she had at Bragg. Did Ridley take care of her? If so, what was the point? He looked around the cell, searching for evidence that Fiona had been well cared for—water bottles, food remnants, anything. But the only thing he saw was the water bottle and insulin shot Queen had given her. The water was gone, but the shot had not been used.

  What the … Knight picked up the syringe and held it up for Bishop to see. Bishop turned to where Fiona had been standing. “Fiona, why didn’t you—”

  But Fiona was gone.

  Both men turned toward the exit and found the walls closing in. Fiona stood on the other side, smiling at them, holding Bishop’s KA-BAR knife. They dashed for the exit, but it was too late. They were sealed inside. Even the long slit that had been there closed over with six inches of solid stone.

  A moment later, they heard a muffled gunshot.