Authors: James Rollins
Altar of Eden (33 page)
New York Times
bestselling author JAMES ROLLINS holds a doctorate in veterinary medicine and resides in the Sierra Nevada mountains. An avid spelunker and certified scuba enthusiast, he can often be found underground or underwater.
Find James Rollins on Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, and at www.jamesrollins.com
Subterranean
Excavation
Deep Fathom
Amazonia
Ice Hunt
Sandstorm
Map of Bones
Black Order
The Judas Strain
The Last Oracle
The Doomsday Key
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALTAR OF EDEN
. Copyright © 2010 by James Czajkowski. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rollins, James, 1961–
Altar of Eden / James Rollins. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-06-123142-1 (hardcover)
1. Veterinarians—Fiction. 2. Animal mutation—Fiction. 3. Genetic engineering—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3568.O5398A79 2010
813’.54—dc22
2009041804
ISBN 978-0-06-189728-3 (international edition)
EPub Edition © 2009 ISBN: 9780061959141
10 11 12 13 14
OV/RRD
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
SPRING
BAGHDAD, IRAQ
Two young men hurried through the Al-Zawraa Gardens toward the main gates of the Baghdad Zoo. The smaller of the two sped ahead of his older brother. He called back impatiently.
“Yalla!
Come on, Makeen!”
Makeen followed, but with less enthusiasm. He had no particular desire to ever set foot in the zoo again. The place still haunted his nightmares. But many years had passed. He had a girlfriend, a job at a video store, and hoped to save one day for his own car.
Yet, more than all that, today was his little brother Bari’s sixteenth birthday, an auspicious day. A party was planned in the park later. His mother had spent the past week preparing this birthday picnic. The apartment still smelled of baking bread and cinnamon. With the promise of a full stomach, even nightmares lost their power.
Bari hurried through the gates. His younger brother showed no hesitation. Over the years, Bari often visited the new zoo, but whenever Makeen tried to talk to him about what had happened, his brother said he didn’t remember. And maybe he truly didn’t. Bari hadn’t seen the monster, not up close, that black beast of
Shaitan.
Even to this day, Makeen sometimes woke with his bedsheets tangled, soaked with sweat, a scream trapped in his throat, picturing eyes aglow with a smokeless fire.
As he crossed the gardens he lifted his face to the sun and burned away such dark thoughts. On a bright morning like today, amid the bustle of the early-morning visitors, what was there to fear?
He found Bari dancing at the entrance. “You move like a constipated camel, Makeen. I want to see the new baby chimp, and you know the crowds gather later.”
Makeen followed. He didn’t understand his brother’s love for all things furry, but on this special day he’d tolerate it.
They wound through the various exhibits—birds, camels, bears—and headed straight toward the chimp enclosure. He strode quickly with his brother, matching his stride. Thankfully their path did not take them past the old lion cages.
Subhan’Allah,
he thought to himself.
Allah be praised.
At last they reached their destination. The monkey-and-ape exhibit had been refurbished after the bombing. It was a popular site. After the war, a few escaped apes had been recaptured and returned to the new exhibit. For Iraqis, such continuity was important. It held special significance for the besieged city, a symbol of recovery and stability.
So the birth last year was doubly special.
An older chimpanzee—one recovered in the streets—had given birth to a baby, a child born bald. It had caused a media sensation, declared an omen of good fortune.
Makeen didn’t understand that.
Even a year later, the naked chimp continued to draw large crowds.
Bari hurried to a separate entrance off to the side. It led into a small nursery ward.
“Over here, Makeen! I can’t believe you’ve not seen it!”
Indulging his brother’s enthusiasm, he walked into the enclosure. A short hall ran past a cage enclosed behind glass. At this early hour, they had the ward to themselves.
With his arms crossed, Makeen stared into the exhibit. A fake tree sprouted from a sandy floor, its limbs draped in ropes, tire swings, and woven slings.
At first, he failed to spot the star of the exhibit.
Then something as black as oil dropped from above and landed in the sand. With its back to the glass, it looked like a tiny bare-assed old man. Its skin was all wrinkled, like a suit cut too large.
Rather than being charmed, a wave of revulsion swept through Makeen.
The creature held a long stick in front of it and beat at the sand.
Bari got excited. “Look how close it is. I’ve never seen it up against the window.”
His brother rushed forward and placed a hand against the glass, trying to have an intimate moment with the chimp.
“Get away from there!” Makeen yelled, louder than he intended, allowing his fear to ring out.
Bari turned and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a
shakheef,
Makeen.”
The creature ignored them both and continued to dig at the sand with his stick.
“Let’s head back to the gardens,” Makeen said, moderating his tone. “Before Mother feeds your picnic feast to the birds.”
Bari sighed with much exaggeration. “There’s so much more to see.”
“Another day.”
“You always say that,” he said in a heavy sulk and headed off.
Makeen remained a moment longer. He stared at the small chimp, struggling to calm his heart. What was there to fear? He moved closer to the window and looked down at what the creature had drawn in the sand.
With its stick, it had scratched a series of numbers.
Makeen frowned. Clearly it was mimicking something it had seen. Still, a shudder passed through him. He remembered reading in the local newspaper about how quickly this chimp was growing, how it had escaped its first cage by stacking boxes to reach a grate. It had even fashioned a crude spear by chewing a tree branch to a sharpened point.
As if sensing Makeen’s suspicion, the chimp swung around and stared him full in the face. He fell back. The naked visage was terrifying to behold, like a wizened black fig come to life with fat lips and huge yellow eyes.
That gaze locked onto him.
Makeen gasped and covered his mouth. In those yellow eyes, he recognized a familiar and frightening sheen of intelligence, aglow with a black smokeless fire.
He stumbled back in horror.
As he fled, the chimp’s lips curled into a hungry smile.
Baring all its teeth.
I always try to root my books in the real world while dabbling in topics that intrigue me. So I thought I’d take this moment to draw the line between truth and fiction in this novel. So here we go:
BAGHDAD.
One of the seeds for this story came from reading a book about the efforts to rescue the Baghdad Zoo following the Iraqi war. The zoo was badly damaged during a firefight between American forces and the Republican Guard. Afterward, there was extensive looting, and many of the animals escaped into the city. If you’d like to read more about the harrowing efforts to protect the zoo and rebuild it, check out
Babylon’s Ark
by Lawrence Anthony with Graham Spence.
ACRES.
Lorna’s place of employment, the Audubon Center for Research of Endangered Species, is a real facility, located in a remote location alongside the Mississippi River. It’s not open to the public, but you can read many details about the staff’s wonderful efforts to preserve endangered species on the Internet. They do indeed have a “frozen zoo,” where genetic material is stored in an effort to help sustain and protect this fragile heritage. And the researchers there have been doing cutting-edge work into cloning as a means of preservation. Of course, all the characters depicted in this book are fictitious, and I’ve taken great liberties in regard to the floor plan of the actual facility.
ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL.
The claims concerning animal intelligence, especially in regard to parrots, may sound farfetched, but they are based on facts. A great book in which to read about this subject is
The Parrot Who Owns Me
by Joanna Burger. You’ll be amazed. Also the hunting habits of jaguars are based on real science, and all the details about the human-animal bond discussed in this novel are true (and we’re learning more and more about this astounding connection every year).
GENETICS.
All the chromosomal details are accurate, including the fact that geneticists have discovered old pieces of viral code in our junk DNA. But what about “genetic throwbacks”? Is such a thing possible? If you have any doubts, check out this article about a snake born in China with a fully functional reptilian leg growing out of its side:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/wildlife/6187320/Snake-with-foot-found-in-China.html
FRACTALS.
This subject fascinates me. And I’ve barely scratched the surface in this book about the subject. Fractals are found everywhere, and to better visualize and to understand the full extent, go seek out a PBS
Nova
special titled “Fractals: Hunting the Hidden Dimension.” Also, the details regarding the power and growth of “fractal antennas” are real.
ALL THINGS BRAINY.
It’s true that all animals—including humans—have strange magnetite crystals seeded throughout their brains. Scientists believe that they are still used for migration in birds—but why do we have them? I had to explore this further. As to Jack’s blood-borne illness, I based his infection on
bovine spongiform encephalopathy
(mad cow disease). This scourge is caused by a self-replicating protein called a
prion.
It crosses the blood-brain barrier and triggers madness. Of course, I just juiced up that protein for this novel. Also it’s a small detail but true: the human brain does continually produce about twelve watts of electricity, enough to power a flashlight.
THINGS THAT GO BOOM.
All of the weapons depicted in this book are real, including flechette mines and Gar’s wicked AA-12 combat shotgun. To witness the latter in action, there are many videos on YouTube.
WAR ROOM.
The JASONS are a real think tank who advise the military. They did indeed produce a paper recommending that the U.S. military invest greater resources into “human performance modifications.” They suggested further research into drugs, genetics, and the neurological fusion of cybernetic computers, all in order to manipulate the human brain and produce better soldiers. Also, the abuses related about private defense contractors are real and currently under investigation. Similarly, these corporations have been moving into scientific circles, including establishing labs outside the United States to circumvent laws and oversight.
LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION.
If you couldn’t tell, I love New Orleans. I’ve visited the city at least a dozen times—both before and after Katrina. I tried to be as true to as many details as possible. I’ve visited alligator farms, toured the bayou by airboat and canoe, walked on floating islands, and talked to people about their lives. Cajuns have a rich and colorful culture, and I tried to capture it all as best I could.
So go visit New Orleans. Have Sunday brunch at Commander’s Palace. Enjoy beignets and chicory coffee at Cafe du Monde. Take some of the great tours offered (to the Garden District, to Oak Alley Plantation, or my personal favorite, a ghost tour at night). Stop by the Garden District Book Shop (one of my favorite places to browse). Take a ride on a St. Charles streetcar. Have your palm read by candlelight in Jackson Square. And don’t forget to visit the Audubon Zoo . . . throw Elvis a marshmallow for me. Lastly, don’t miss a chance to experience one of America’s premier landscapes: the swamps and bayous of the Mississippi River delta. Who knows what you might discover out there, hidden beneath the shroud of Spanish moss and towering cypresses?
