Threshold

by Robinson, Jeremy

  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.

  “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.

  EIGHTY-ONE

  MOVING AT FIFTEEN hundred feet per second, the single round fired by King covered the distance between the handgun and Adam before the weapon’s report registered in anyone’s ears. The bullet whizzed beneath Ridley’s chin, grazing his flesh and opening a wound, before piercing Adam’s forehead and punching out the back of his skull. The sound of the single shot reached the group just as Adam’s brain exploded in a cloud of blood and flesh. Ridley spun with the impact, seeing the brain matter splatter on the floor at his feet.

  Adam’s grip on Ridley’s chest loosened, and then let go. The one-armed, quarter of a body slid back and dangled limply from Ridley’s back.

  “Adam!” Ridley shouted in shock. “Adam! No!”

  Mahaleel and Cainan rushed forward to help. Mahaleel held Adam’s limp weight. Cainan helped Ridley lean back against the table.

  “He’s not healing,” Mahaleel said. “He’s dead.”

  What happened next was completely unexpected and derailed every plan King had come up with. Fiona walked into the room, hands behind her back. She looked healthy, strong, and totally unafraid.

  Ridley turned toward her.

  “Fiona, run!” King shouted.

  But she didn’t. She walked halfway between King and Ridley and stopped.

  “What are you doing?” King asked.

  Fiona looked over her shoulder toward Ridley.

  King’s stomach twisted. Something was very wrong.

  Ridley’s smile looked like a wolf bearing its teeth. “You may have killed Adam, but I’ve still got my Eve. The first of her kind.”

  “What are you—”

  “Kill him, Eve.”

  Fiona stepped toward King. She wore a slight smile. “Yes, Father,” she said and then pulled the seven-inch blade out from behind her back. Her little bare feet padded against the hard floor. Her black pajamas were dirty and full of holes. Her straight black hair hung loose around her shoulders. But her eyes were wrong. They were devoid of emotion and still, as though in shock.

  He looked at the gun in his hand. He could shoot her and save himself, but it would destroy him. He’d rather die than kill her.

  “Fiona, stop!” was all King could shout before she plunged the knife into his chest.

  * * *

  KNIGHT CRACKED A glow stick. It lit the small space in bright green light. They quickly scanned the space. To the right of the outside wall Knight saw some letters scratched into the stone. Had they not been near the back of the room, they would have missed it. He knelt down and held the light up to the wall and read the text.

  SAVE ME

  Arzu Turan. Vish tracidor vim calee. Filash vor der wash.

  Vilad forsh.

  “What do you make of this?” Knight asked.

  “It must be some portion of the ancient language,” Bishop replied. “Something she thought could help.”

  “Something that could return her to herself.”

  Bishop tilted his head in agreement. The girl had certainly not been herself. “We need to get out of here.”

  Knight opened his hand revealing the transmitter. “The charges are probably embedded in the wall, but they should still work.”

  Bishop took out a small camera with a digital display and snapped a photo of the text. “Do it,” he said, taking a step back. But something made him pause. Something about the writing on the wall.

  Knight stood waiting against the back wall. “What’s wrong?”

  “Arzu Turan,” he said. “It’s a name. Turkish. Probably common for women in this area.” He looked at Knight. “I don’t think its part of the mother tongue.”

  “So we leave it out?”

  “Replace it,” Bishop said. “With Fiona Lane.”

  Knight understood what Bishop was getting at. If Fiona had overheard the phrase directed at someone else, she might not have recognized the first part as a name. And if it was a name, Arzu Turan may have been the poor soul on the receiving end of whatever these words did. It seemed Fiona had been, too, or at least she believed she would be when she scratched the words into the wall.

  Bishop took a step back. “Okay, now blow it.”

  * * *

  AS QUEEN RAN down the hallway, past the ancient armory, she glanced over her shoulder. The first of the big cats bounded into the hall behind her. The other two were close behind. Their muscles flexed with each leap forward. Their eyes focused on her, locked on target.

  My God, they’re fast, Queen thought. Too damn fast!

  As she rounded the first of two corners that would take her back to the hallway where they’d left King and Alexander the cats had cut the distance between them in half. Queen knew she could shoot and kill all three animals if she had to, but to achieve ma
ximum chaos, she needed them alive. So instead of shooting the beasts, she willed her limbs to move faster and prayed for a miracle.

  She rounded the final corner, running as fast as she could. She could hear the giant lynx behind her, the soft pads of their feet thumping against the hard stone floor. With a final burst of speed, she lunged through the door and into the open chamber beyond.

  * * *

  FIONA HAD AIMED for his heart, but King had shifted his body to the side. The knife had come to rest between two ribs to the right of his heart and lungs. It hurt like a bastard, but had missed anything vital.

  “You son of a bitch!” King shouted.

  Ridley began to reply, but his voice was cut short by an explosion behind him. A cloud of dust and stone burst from a hallway at the side of the chamber.

  Disoriented by the explosion, but not down, Mahaleel and Cainan began speaking the mother tongue, their words barely audible to King across the room, but the effect of their words became quickly apparent as the remaining eight statues began moving.

  But then a new voice filled the room, loud and booming. It was Bishop, and like Mahaleel and Cainan, he was speaking the ancient language as well. “Fiona Lane. Vish tracidor vim calee. Filash vor der wash. Vilad forsh.”

  Ridley shook his head, recovering from the explosion. “Kill him!” he shouted at Fiona.

  But the girl didn’t move. King looked down at her and noticed a change in her eyes. She was looking up at him, first at the knife buried in his chest, which she still gripped with one hand, and then to King’s eyes. Her lips quivered. She had returned. But with the return came a weakening. He saw her pale. Dark rings formed around her eyes.

  “Kill him, now!”

  Fiona looked back at the knife and whispered, “Sorry.”

  He was about to tell her it was okay, it wasn’t her fault. But then he saw her hand grip the knife. She wasn’t apologizing for what she’d done. She was apologizing for what she was about to do. And King knew exactly what that would be. While they hadn’t let her fire a weapon at the range, they had shown her how to throw a knife. And she was good.