The Eden Project (Peter Zachary Adventure)

by John Bolin

  Wait a minute. She could see it?

  The cave had lightened. Illumination was seeping everywhere, a white saturating light. And this wasn’t flame or flashlight. It was sunlight.

  Below her, she could see the hints of light getting brighter. She was still being tossed from one side to the other by the water. Her arms banged against rocks and her body ached and burned—but she was still alive. This has to stop somewhere. She heard it before she saw it.

  A waterfall.

  * * *

  The mouth of the cave suddenly materialized in front of her, an open hole raging with white foam. It was definitely a waterfall, but not one on the inside of the mountain. The stream she was on emptied out into another, probably larger, stream that cascaded down the side of a mountain.

  Alex realized that unless she could stop herself, she would be shot out of the mountain and down the waterfall. She thrashed desperately, trying to find some way out. She tried rolling toward the edge, where the steps had been, but it was no use. The pressure of the water made it impossible to budge from the center of the bowl. It was no use. She only had one choice. The opening in the cave was right there, only a few yards away.

  She tightened her legs and arms, held her breath, and whispered a prayer. An instant later, she shot out of the mountain into thin air. Her stomach jumped to her throat.

  Alex braced for the impact but kept falling, her feet lowering slightly.

  She saw a pool below her, now only twenty feet away and coming up fast. She stretched her toes like a ballerina and plunged in.

  The water engulfed her, and she shot down five, ten, maybe fifteen feet.

  She kicked vigorously until she burst from the surface. She was breathing fast and hard, her arms stroking the water, keeping her afloat.

  “Yeeeeah, baby!”

  She turned her head. It was Linc, smiling from ear to ear. And Peter and Skins. She turned again. Gator was swimming next to Tima, toward the shore. Alex was in a lagoon, a pool in a series of successive pools that followed the waterfall down the mountain. They were alive.

  Too numb to speak, she followed Gator to the edge of the water. The others were also swimming to the shore. Her muscles were screaming and her heart was still racing, but she managed to drag herself up to the edge of the pool and onto an outcropping of rocks. She leaned forward, her knees resting on a clump of grass.

  Alex looked out at the valley below her and couldn’t believe her eyes.

  It was as if they had found a forgotten world. The valley stretching before her was completely covered by a layer of low gray clouds, an umbrella of mist. The valley was surrounded by mountains, with the exception of one gap where a river flowed out. The basin formed a rough circle ten miles from side to side, she guessed.

  Alex spotted half a dozen waterfalls in the encircling mountains, like the one she was sitting under, crisscrossing into the jungle on the valley floor below. In some places the water drained in what looked to be sinkholes, deep pools that filled up with rainwater and ice melt runoff. The pools were filled to various levels, some of them flooding over into nearby meadows and wooded areas.

  It had stopped raining. She wondered if it had been raining here at all. The sun still managed to gleam through. In some places the mist made the light dance in scintillating glassy patterns, and in other places majestic beams of light shot from the clouds to the valley floor.

  Alex breathed in. The smell of flowers was thick and sweet. A light breeze blew by, and she closed her eyes, almost forgetting the ordeal of the past twenty-four hours. When she opened them again, she saw birds flying—diving and swooping—in the air around her.

  Either this was Jurassic Park or they’d stumbled into the Garden of Eden. She’d never seen a place so big be so verdant. She kept expecting a brontosaurus to lift its neck out of the jungle and look at her.

  “Look,” Linc said, pointing, “there are buildings down there.”

  Alex followed his gaze. She spotted a small cluster of structures situated on the bottom of the slope they were perched on. There were three nondescript buildings, painted white, below them. On the rooftop of each building Alex could see a big black rectangle. Solar power, probably.

  Alex could make out little paths that ran between the buildings, but no one appeared to be on the paths. A trail or road led out from the building and snaked across the valley. Bridges crossed over little rivers in places. The road split off in several different directions. Each one ended with similar clusters of buildings. She counted four clusters.

  On the far side of the valley, near where the river escaped out of the valley, there was a larger cluster of buildings that appeared to be a sort of central campus. The structures were partially hidden due to the trees and the haze of distance, but she could see that some of them appeared to be made of glass or some other shiny material. They glistened in the sun.

  The picture in front of her was beautiful, mesmerizing even, but Alex had to admit to a dull sense of dread.

  “Well, well, well,” Peter said, standing at the edge of the cliff, “what have we here? The Island of Dr. Moreau, I presume?”

  Gator walked with Tima to where she could see the valley. When she saw the mist-shrouded jungle before her, she buried her face in his chest.

  This was the place.

  “Looks like the main buildings are out there,” Peter said, pointing where Alex was looking. “I say we rest a minute and then head down to these closer buildings. I haven’t seen any movement down there. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a place we can camp out in for a while.”

  “Yeah,” Gator said, “or a car.”

  Alex looked closely at Tima. The veins on her face and arms were black and looked unnatural. Alex was almost certain that she could actually see the girl’s blood moving under her skin. Tima’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot, but Alex could somehow still see the twelve-year-old girl behind them. She was pointing down, at the glass buildings. There were tears in her eyes, and she was shivering. She squeaked out a few words, weakly but loud enough that Alex could hear her.

  “Please, help. It come for me.”

  Alex wrapped her arms around her, hushing her. It was going to be okay. Alex was going to help her. She was going to free her from this vile sickness and bring her back to her family.

  Even as she sat there with Tima, Alex sensed an inner strength budding within her. A deep strength that came from somewhere beyond herself. She glanced up, toward heaven. They were going to make it; she was certain.

  Chapter 15

  “Stay low and wait for our signal,” Peter said. He shouldered his rifle and stepped down the hill away from the waterfall.

  “Okay,” Alex said, “but hurry up.”

  Peter heard an edge in her voice. He understood. After all, it had taken ten minutes to convince her that she’d be better off staying with Tima than going with them. Linc was shaking his head.

  “What?” Peter said. “You think I should have let her come with us?”

  “No, I’m just saying . . . the girl has some spunk is all.”

  “She doesn’t even know how to use a gun,” Peter said.

  “That doesn’t mean a thing,” Gator said, side-stepping down the mountain behind Peter. “Alex can hold her own; I guarantee it.”

  Peter smiled. He, Gator, and Linc had decided to scout out the cluster of buildings below them. It felt good to have the team together again.

  Well, most of their team.

  The mountainside was steep but not treacherous. It was mostly dirt and moss-covered rock. Within fifteen minutes they were close to the bottom.

  “Down!” Peter shouted.

  They dropped.

  They lay motionless on one of the lower ledges of the mountain as a Bell 206 LongRanger helicopter appeared on the horizon. Peter had heard it before he’d seen it, a distinct thumping he’d recognize anywhere. The helicopter was the commercial cousin of the Black Hawk choppers he’d dropped from a hundred times before. Gator and Linc flanked
him on either side.

  “They must’ve known we were coming,” Gator said. He was positioned sideways, bandana on, gun in hand, ready to roll and fire upward if he needed to. Of the three, he was the best marksman, not that it would do any good against a helicopter.

  “No way,” Peter said. “How could they? Anyway, if they’d known we were coming, they would’ve been waiting for us at the lagoon.”

  “Come on, boss,” Gator said. “We blew up their boats. Didn’t you think they’d be mad?”

  Peter held the Benelli rifle in front of him, his elbows digging into the dirt.

  The plan had been to scout out the buildings and find a place where the team could shelter and regroup. Maybe find some food. Based on what they’d seen from these guys so far, it was clear Peter’s team would be outgunned and probably outnumbered. They’d need a solid strategy.

  That had been the plan, at least, until the helicopter showed up. The thumping from the blades grew louder as the sleek chopper came closer. It was close, almost overhead. The grass and trees around it were bending and flapping from the brisk rotor wash.

  Peter checked his weapon, gripped the handle of the rifle. It was the only thing he’d brought with him. The only thing he figured he would need. Everything else had been lost with the gear during their watery escape. He quickly popped the clip out of the gun and counted his bullets. He had ten but knew he could only use nine in an emergency. The tenth bullet was already reserved for Bogart’s killer.

  “If you have a clean shot,” Peter shouted to Linc over the noise, “take it.”

  Linc nodded. He’d have to place the bullet just right, in a fuel tank or through a window at the pilot. It would be a miracle shot. If he missed, they’d be dead in a minute.

  Peter could see three men, a pilot and two others. One was scanning the landscape with a pair of binoculars, and the other had a rifle aimed out the window. Both wore aviator sunglasses.

  “I guess we can kiss the element of surprise goodbye,” Peter said.

  The helicopter swept past them. It flew a hundred yards north of Peter but then made a sharp arc, as if they’d spotted something.

  Peter thought of Alex and Tima and Skins. Had they moved?

  “What are they doing?” Linc asked.

  Peter shook his head and watched as the Bell LongRanger dipped, moved in a circle, and then nosed closer to Peter. As it hovered nearby, it offered him an up-close look at its undercarriage. He spotted the gas tank and waited for the helicopter to make another arc over his position.

  Instead, the chopper angled down toward the valley below, right in front of Peter. For a moment, the chopper was parallel with him, giving him a clean shot at the pilot. He lifted his rifle just as a man dressed in black leaned out of the opposite cabin window and pointed a gun toward a row of trees that lined a meadow.

  Linc raised his weapon.

  Peter stopped him. Wait, he mouthed.

  The punchy rapport of bullets sounded, a couple dozen in quick succession: an automatic rifle. Peter heard a loud yelp and watched as a dark shape dashed into the meadow. The shape moved quickly, with feline grace. It was too far away for Peter to make out what it was.

  “What was that?” Gator asked.

  Peter shrugged.

  Whatever it was, it began to bellow and screech and thrash around in the grass. It’d been hit. A moment later, the chopper dipped again, and the man pelted the poor creature, ripping through it with a barrage of bullets, way more than he needed to kill it.

  Peter felt a mixture of relief and angst. He didn’t mind the hunt. What bothered him was seeing an innocent, helpless animal being cornered without a chance to survive. He couldn’t help but think of Tima: her twelve-year-old smile, the way she laughed at Gator, and even how she played her flute along with Linc’s harmonica.

  He resisted the urge to shoot the guy in the head. Timing and patience.

  The chopper lifted, the nose spinning in a small arc, and started to fly back toward the main complex. It stopped a mile or so away and landed near a small lake. The blades slowed, and Peter watched as three figures stepped out and disappeared behind a row of trees.

  Peter turned his head one way, then the other. All clear. “Back to Plan A, boys.”

  He led his men at a crouch toward the buildings below.

  * * *

  The water from the waterfall cascaded down the mountain and joined with several other streams to form a tributary that wandered deeper into the valley. Peter managed to find a spot that was shallow, and they waded across toward the buildings.

  The facility consisted of three white, low cinderblock structures connected together. There appeared to be only one entrance, in the middle building. A metal sign on the front door read Private Research Facility: Do Not Enter. On the bottom, in small letters were the words: Property of The Eden Project.

  The Eden Project? Peter looked at the jungle around him. Yeah, this could be somebody’s idea of Eden, he supposed. But whose? This Khang guy? And what did it have to do with experimenting on people or stealing whole tribes? Or killing good men?

  Peter broke the padlock and went in.

  It appeared that the facility consisted of three large rooms. The place had definitely been abandoned. There were no signs of life. Dust motes filled the air where the sun beamed in through small faded windows. It reeked of mildew, but it was dry.

  They found a working bathroom in the main building, and Peter quickly saw that he’d been right about the solar panels—the whole place was wired for electricity. In a closet, he found a breaker box and flipped a few switches. Lights flickered and the room began to hum with electric life.

  It was exactly what they needed. Water and shelter, a place to regroup. While he and Linc took a closer look at the facility, Peter sent Gator to go bring Alex and the others down here.

  The center room seemed to be the hub of the place. A science lab of some kind. There was also a small break room with a miniature kitchen, a table, a couple of chairs, and a couch.

  Peter dug into his pocket and pulled out a little plastic baggie. He opened it and pinched a cigarette in his fingers. It was broken in a spot, but he could still smoke it. He produced a lighter from the same bag and lit the cigarette. After one deep inhale, everything seemed to come into focus.

  “What happened to ‘leave everything but the guns’?” Linc said.

  Peter smiled, raising an eyebrow.

  On one wall of the laboratory, two computer stations had been set up. Behind them, rows of filing cabinets were stacked together against the wall. The opposite wall was lined with an array of medical devices. Peter recognized a heart rate monitor, an EKG, and even a set of defibrillators. In the center of the room was a series of low research tables. Microscopes and other machines sat neatly every few feet.

  “What’s that?” Linc asked, pointing to an odd-looking machine on the table. Two spindles, each the size of a football, were wrapped in copper wire and attached on some kind of a rotating swivel. Between the spindles was a rectangular piece of metal. Wires and cords ran from the copper wires to a ceramic housing. A small LCD screen was attached.

  “Looks like some kind of electromagnetic device,” Peter said. He leaned in behind the machine. “Says electron microscope—serious stuff.”

  “Let’s check out the other rooms,” Peter said, heading toward a short hallway that connected the center room with one of the others. “If that chopper is any clue, these guys are armed to the gills. Look around for something we can use. Microscopes aren’t going to do a whole lot of good against an army with guns.”

  The next room appeared to be nothing more than a big dorm. It smelled like mothballs and cleanser and, with the exception of some old furniture, looked like it had been gutted. There were beds with metal frames stacked haphazardly together, but there were no linens or mattresses.

  A few old aluminum cabinets stood against one wall. Peter swung one of them open and discovered a meager supply of bandages, rubbing alcoho
l, and other medical odds and ends.

  “Are you kidding me?” a voice said from down the hall. “Is this air-conditioning? I think I forgot what cool air feels like.” It was Alex.

  “Pete,” Gator called out, “we’re back.”

  Peter and Linc hurried out to the center room. Skins set Tima down on the couch in the kitchen. She was awake but breathing slowly, as if each breath was a struggle. She smiled weakly as Linc crossed the room and sat down next to her. Skins was already rummaging through the kitchen.

  “If you’re lookin’ for cold beer, you’re not gonna find any,” Linc said. “Nothin to drink in there except water, Skins. And I’m not sure if I’d trust that or not.”