Awoken (11 page)

“Are you telling me Lina’s turning into someone like you? The earthbone is changing her into a frigging dollman?”

The dollman shrugged. “The thief is becoming, Awoken, but she is not of the People. This one does not know how her becoming will end, only that she will be as the People.”

Diggs tugged at his mustache. “This complicates things. We’ll have to move fast.”

Michael slammed his fist down on the table, liquid silver flowing into his eyes. “I’m not moving anywhere! What the heck is going on, Diggs? Who are you, really? What are the Ven? Why are they after me?”

The dollman leapt to the bed, bowing low. “Has this one angered the Awoken?”

“Calm down, Mike,” said Diggs.

“Not this time, Diggs. I’ve had enough. Do you hear me? First, I’m calling the Wiffles to make sure they’re okay. Then I’m calling the cops, and I don’t care if they believe me or throw me in the nut house. I’ve had enough.”

Diggs’s expression hardened. “There’s a phone next to the bed,” he said. “But rest assured, if you make either of those calls, Ven will know. They will find us, and they will kill us. And anyone you tell about the dollmen or the earthbone. Make no mistake, Mike, ignorance is all that’s keeping your foster parents alive.”

Michael opened his mouth, but his angry denial died unspoken. Why had a psycho wolfman like Smiley chosen to drug Barbara and Karl when he could have torn them apart? The answer was simple—the Wiffles didn’t know anything.

Like it or not, Diggs was right.

The silver in Michael’s eyes faded to brown. “But how do I know if they’re okay?”

Diggs lifted the folded newspaper. “This says they were found unconscious but otherwise unharmed outside their burning home. The Wiffles are fine, Mike, and will stay that way as long as you don’t try to contact them.” Setting down the paper, he rubbed his scraggly cheeks thoughtfully. “As to who I am, my real name is Dr. Christopher Curtis. And until three years ago, I was a world-renowned microbiologist.”

Michael looked the bedraggled drifter up and down. “You’re kidding.”

Diggs laughed. “Did you really think an illiterate vagabond would know anything about creatures such as the dollmen or Ven?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” admitted Michael. “I was too busy trying to figure out what the heck was going on.”

Diggs winced. “I see your point. Life has been pretty crazy lately.”

“You can say that again,” Michael said with feeling. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Diggs’s expression sobered. “That conversation is overdue, I know. I’ll explain the best way I can.” Sitting up in his chair, he cleared his throat. “Once upon a time—”

“You’re not serious,” Michael interrupted.

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“The friend of the People begins at the beginning,” said the dollman. “This one thinks the Awoken should listen.”

“Sorry,” Michael apologized, biting back a smile. Diggs looked genuinely offended. “I was just…never mind, go ahead.”

On the bed, the dollman stuck his head under the sheets and began sniffing noisily.

Diggs cleared his throat again.

“As I was saying, once upon a time, there lived a small tribe of Native Americans, or American Indians, if you prefer. They were a wandering clan, pulling up roots often in search of better hunting grounds.”

“What did they hunt? Buffalo?”

“Irrelevant. Now, hush.”

“Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” said Diggs with a smile. “One day, the tribe was caught unawares by a violent storm. Searching for shelter, they found a narrow crevice in the face of a tall cliff. The floor inside was smooth and even and the walls came together above like a tent. The fissure continued far back into the cliff. Why they chose to explore? None can say. My guess is they hoped that they’d found a shortcut through the mountains.”

“Was it a shortcut?” asked Michael.

“No. The passage went on for miles before finally opening into a cavern paradise deep within the heart of a mountain.”

“Home of the People,” said the dollman from beneath the sheets. “The beginning of the beginning.”

The bed sheets flew into the air, and the dollman sprang up after them. Tackling the linens midflight, he came down with a bundle of twisted fabric and burrowed into them again.

“How could a cave be paradise?” Michael asked. “Aren’t they kinda dark and gloomy?”

“The beneath is great and wide, Awoken,” said the tiny albino, gravelly voice muffled by the sheets. “Not so great and wide as the above, but this one can still run very far in the beneath.”

“From what I’ve been able to piece together from the descriptions of the dollmen, he is right,” Diggs said. “Picture an enormous dome many miles in diameter with a massive crack across the ceiling that let in the sun, a roaring waterfall with a lake at the fall’s base bathed in rich, golden sunlight. There was life in the cave. A forest of trees and lush vegetation spread as far as the eye could see. Deer drank from the lake and mountain sheep with great curled horns climbed the sloping walls where nested many birds. The cave was beautiful, Mike, and the discovery became a turning point in the tribe’s history.”

“How do you mean?”

“At the time, another tribe, much larger than the first, had moved into the region. In time, it might have come to war. The cavern offered the tribe an opportunity to escape that eventuality. From that day forward, they became the People of the Mountain.”

“The People of the Mountain,” intoned the dollman. “The ones beneath.”

“Catchy.” Michael tried hard to keep the impatience from his voice.

What did any of this have to do with the dollmen or the Ven?

“In time,” Diggs went on, “the tribe discovered the art of masonry. As fate would have it, the cavern contained a peculiar mineral that was perfect for shaping into stonecutting tools. They named the element ‘earthbone’. With the earthbone, they built for themselves a fortress city, a mighty dwelling filled with towers and halls enclosed within impregnable walls.”

Michael sat up in his chair. “Earthbone. You mean, like in the waystone?”

“Yes and no,” Diggs said. “The waystone is a creation of the People. Purified earthbone is somehow bonded to a diamond. I don’t really understand the mechanics involved. Anyway, back to the point. The tribe had indeed discovered earthbone. And without it, could never have built as they did. The earthbone was their greatest ally—and eventually, their doom.”

“Why their doom?”

“The tribe was too talented, I suppose,” Diggs replied. “In the making of their city, they mined huge slabs of stone from the cavern walls, giving little thought to what that might do to the overall stability of the dome. Eventually, the foundation of the cave was too weak to support the weight of the mountain above.”

“There was a cave-in,” Michael guessed.

“An earthquake,” Diggs corrected. “When the sky began to fall, those closest to the cliff passage tried to escape, but it was too late. The gap to the surface closed in moments. The crack across the ceiling soon followed, plunging the whole of the underground realm into darkness.”

“Everyone died?”

“No,” Diggs said. “Generations of exposure to the earthbone had resulted in some rather spectacular changes in the People of the Mountain. Their mutations varied, but, like you, a few could merge with and even manipulate stone. These stonesingers, or Awoken, halted the quake before the cavern could collapse completely.”

“Then they opened the way out again, right? I mean, if those old Awoken could move stone around and not just break things to pieces, like me.”

Diggs shook his head, his eyes grim. “The stonesong is very dangerous, especially when there’s so much earthbone lying around. Yes, the Awoken saved their people from the quake, but the force they unleashed to do so was more than their bodies could stand. They died, Mike, every last one of them.”

“So, the rest were trapped underground,” Michael said. His stomach gave a queasy lurch. “Did the tribe ever get out?”

“Not for many, many years.”

“That’s not possible, Diggs. How could they survive without food or light?”

Diggs scratched at his whiskers. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? The earthbone is a mutagenic bonding agent, a kind of Krazy Glue for DNA. Put simply, earthbone takes the properties of one organism and binds them to another. Those characteristics are what allowed the tribe, the animals, even the vegetation, to adjust to their new environment and survive.”

“So the earthbone kept everything alive, even without light?”

“For years,” Diggs said. “Earthbone is truly an amazing substance, Mike. The only trouble is that it’s almost impossible to predict the end result of earthbone mutation.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” Michael said. “If Lina and I are both mutating because of earthbone, why doesn’t she have the stonesong? And why don’t I have silver hair?”

“Think of it this way,” said Diggs. “You can put eggs, milk, flour, and sugar into a bowl, but unless you do things in the correct amounts, and cook the recipe at the just right temperature, and for the proper length of time, what comes out of the oven is rarely the same cake.”

“How do you know all this? I get you’re a brainiac scientist, but how did you find out about the earthbone, and the tribe, and all this stuff?”

Diggs said nothing for a moment. Then, he glanced pointedly at the sheet-wrapped creature on the bed. “I learned the story from our little friends.”

The hairs on Michael’s arms suddenly rose in prickly goose bumps. “The tribe. They’re the dollmen, aren’t they?”

“They didn’t change overnight, but little by little, the earthbone stole away the People’s humanity.” Diggs pulled his pill bottle out of his pocket and carefully worked off the cap. “The dollmen stayed in the mountain for generations, absorbing the earthbone all the while.”

“We are the People,” the dollman confirmed.

“And the Ven?” asked Michael. “Are they from the mountain, too? Did the earthbone change them like the dollmen?”

“Yes and no.” Diggs poured out two pills and popped them into his mouth. “When the dollmen first reappeared, one of their scouting parties was captured by a research and development team working for a company called Viral Engineering Neugenetics.”

“Viral Engineering Neugenetics,” Michael repeated. “V.E.N.”

“An acronym,” Diggs confirmed. “The dollmen were brought to a secret facility called the Farm. There, VEN scientists subjected them to every horrifying procedure you can imagine. They also obtained a cup infused with traces of earthbone from their captives, and soon learned the cause of the dollmen’s mutation. Experiments with earthbone mutation began immediately. Eventually, I was able to help the surviving dollmen to escape. We took the earthbone cup with us, and have been on the run for months, moving from town to town, always just one step ahead of the trackers. Our luck finally ran out in Flintville. Hunters ambushed the dollmen. Only one survived the encounter, and VEN took back the earthbone cup. That cup alone will provide the Farm enough earthbone to continue their experiments…at least for a time.”

“Why?” Michael pointed at the sheet-wrapped dollman. “Why experiment with making something like him?”

Recapping the pills, Diggs returned them to his pocket. “Hard to say, Mike. In many ways the People are a scientific marvel, and not just physically. Have you had time to ask yourself when the dollmen learned to speak English? They don’t, you know. Not one of them.”

Michael frowned. “Of course they do. The one on the bed was speaking English five seconds ago.”

“Actually, he wasn’t.” Diggs smiled. “The dollmen don’t really use words. Their vocal cords emit a harmonic frequency that passes information to the Wernicke’s and Broca’s areas located within the temporal lobe and frontal cortex. You and I could speak German and French respectively and, when the dollman spoke, hear the exact same words in two separate languages. Think of the implications if that specific mutation could be artificially synthesized in a human being. He or she would instantly become a living universal translator.”

Michael tried to recall all the times the dollmen had spoken to him. It had sure sounded like English to him. What Diggs was saying seemed impossible, but so much he’d once thought impossible seemed to be the very opposite these days.

“So, VEN wanted to copy the dollmen’s singing voices?”

“In part,” said Diggs. “At the beginning, I suspect they were more interested in preventing the mutation from spreading to everyone on earth.”

“That makes no sense,” Michael argued. “The tribe mutated because they were exposed to earthbone in the cave. How can earthbone mutate anyone up here when it’s buried in a mountain?”

“Ah, but is the earthbone buried?” Diggs leaned forward. “Think, Mike. You heard the music in the stones long before the dollmen ever gave you that cup, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But not like now. I couldn’t move rock or anything.”

“But you heard the stonesong, however weakly,” Diggs insisted. “That means the power was already inside you, a mutation directly tied to earthbone. How is that possible if all the earthbone is hidden?”

“You’re saying I was exposed to the earthbone before I even met the dollmen?”

Diggs slapped his palm on the table triumphantly. “Exactly. In fact, we’ve all been. You just happen to be more receptive than most.”

“But how could that be?”

“After capturing the dollmen, the Farm’s scientists detected minute particles of earthbone in the atmosphere. Only a little at first, but the levels are rising daily,” Diggs explained. “They found the greatest concentration in the hills of Kentucky, but were unable to locate the source of the emissions. The saturation levels are still rising, Mike. America is going to start to look very different if we don’t find a way to stop the leak soon.”

Michael fought the urge to throw up. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that everybody is slowly turning into dollmen.”

“Not exactly,” Diggs said. “Like I told you, earthbone doesn’t mutate everyone the same way. The process is fluid, constantly adapting. Much depends on environmental factors and other variables I can’t begin to imagine.”