The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden) (11 page)

“God has no image,” said Savage.

“Not true,” she returned. “Many cultures today have images of
their
gods. China for one has a very distinct image in Buddha. As does many other religions. Catholicism believes in the ideology of ‘God creating man in His image,’ meaning the intangibles such as humor and goodness—a life form consumed with total goodness. But Catholicism is not without its iconic figure either, choosing Jesus as the symbol of man, the son of God who appears humanlike.”

Hillary moved beside her until their shoulders were almost touching, apparently forgetting his faux pas and the need for redemption at the moment, both consumed by the knowledge the wall was offering them in the form of pictographs and images. “The Chamber of Anu,” he whispered, the man completely enamored.

She nodded. “All Life . . . Under . . . One.”

“Does the map show any dangers?” asked Demir. “Or triggers we can safely bypass.”

She allowed the light to trace over the wall. There was nothing, no indications, no clues, absolutely nothing. “It appears that those secrets were held by the priests who once walked these halls, but perhaps there may be more illustrations in the halls before us.” She walked to the end of the mural to another opening in the wall and flashed her light down the corridor.

There was nothing but darkness.

“Are you sure?” asked Demir. “Please look—”

“There is nothing.”

“Then we take our chances,” he returned. “We will move on until . . .” His words trailed. In the hallway behind them came the sound of rushing water, but not quite.

Demir motioned and ordered two members of the Maroon Berets to check out the source. “Only far enough to see what it is,” he told them in Turkish. “Then I want you two to fall back.”

With the points of their assault weapons raised, the commandos pressed forward . . .

. . . And entered the corridor.

#

Tabib and Peroz
were skilled soldiers, both having served in UN skirmishes over the years, the men earning their berets after serving illustriously for almost six years. But as they progressed down the hallway the sound of rushing water grew cacophonously louder, the noise now sounding less like the forward push of a raging tide, but more like the multiple muted tapping and ticking of typewriters embroiled together to sound oddly like water pouring forward.

The men entered cautiously, the sound growing and nearing their position.

Something had spilled forward into their range of light, a black mass sweeping down the corridor like a wave of oil, a surge of inky darkness coming at them with unbridled speed.

They raised their weapons and pulled their triggers, the MP5K’s going off in sync, the muzzle flashes lighting up the hallway in strobe-light fashion, the soldiers yelling out in bravado as bullets tore into the carapaces, the fist-sized shells exploding on impact and sending fragments upward and outward, with yellow and white innards marring the walls, the gory designs like drip painting. But the wave kept coming forward, the oily darkness gravitating toward the firefight rather than repelled by it.

Both soldiers turned and took flight.

When they entered the area of the mural walls they cried out a warning in Turkish, which galvanized Demir to cry out in English. “Move!”

“Why? What is it?” said Hillary.

“If you want to find out, then stay behind. For the rest of us, move!”

They headed down the corridor, away from the bas-relief murals and into darkness.

The rush of the tide grew louder, getting closer to eclipse them.

Demir prodded the unit forward, prompting them to forget the possible triggers ahead for the monstrosity behind.

After traveling about 100 meters they came to a black silica wall.

There were no side passages.

Just a wall.

They quickly pooled at the barrier, frustrated, scared, pulses running at an all-time high, their lives about to come to an end, fingers clawing at a glass-smooth surface.  

And the darkness that was blacker than black kept rolling their way, a tidal wave of death that had no conscience, no remorse, and no agenda other than to rip and tear the meat from their bones.

It was nearly upon them.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The assault weapons were nearly useless, bullets ripping and tearing into carapaces and taking out so few that the action in itself was futile, a worthless exercise in self-defense.

The tide kept coming.

Savage, a man of true optimism who believed that there was a solution for everything, flashed his light in all directions behind him, above him, the light giving off enough illumination to tell him that the wall was about nine-feet tall, and above that a ledge that blended so closely in color with its background that it was hardly noticeable.

“There!” yelled Savage, pointing. “There’s a ledge!” He interlocked his fingers into a makeshift stirrup and allowed Alyssa to place her foot inside. When she did he hoisted her to the shelf above where she easily found her footing and reached a hand down, helping others to get above. Others joined in, making an assembly line of hoisters to lift those toward salvation.

The tide was closing in.

The clacking of mandibles grew intensely loud, opening and closing; their instincts driving them to seek and take new ground, to find prey and to devour it cleanly.

Most of Demir’s team made it to the ledge, Savage staying behind, helping, which caused concern with Alyssa. The oily mass was nearly upon them, less than 20 meters away and closing. Nearly a dozen men remained on the floor, including Savage.

She cried out. “John!”

He looked up, then behind, saw the tide closing in.

Demir reached a hand to him. “It’s time,” he told him. “You can do no more.”

John reached up and grabbed Demir by the wrist and tried to pull himself up. His hand was slick, the hold, at best, a tenuous one, and then he slipped.

“Come on, Savage!”

The wave of darkness was quickly closing, less than 5 meters away.

John jumped up, this time the connection a solid one with Demir and Savage both grabbing each other’s wrist. 

But the climb was weak as Savage’s feet were unable to find traction against the wall, slipping, his legs dangling beneath him, bait for the taking.

“C’mon, Savage!”

John found minimal purchase with the soles of his boots and began to climb, finding marginal success.

“You do want to see the face of God, don’t you?” prodded Demir. “If you do, then pull yourself up.”

Savage found his footing. The remaining soldier who was on the floor with him did the same, both men scrabbling for the ledge as they were being pulled upward in unified effort.

But the soldier slipped, his feet hanging.

And the tide closed in, hitting the wall with incredible impact, the level of scarabs boiling upward as they clambered over one another, the level rising.

John made it topside.

The commando, however, was not as lucky.

The soldier screamed as mandibles locked on and tore away at the fabric and flesh, consuming the man as his eyes suddenly flared to the size of saucers, the pain becoming white hot.

Savage grabbed for the man, latching onto his assault weapon, a strong hold. But the moment became a game of tug-of-war with John pulling, the scarabs pulling, the man’s flesh pulling apart like strands of rubber, the muscles giving, separating, the soldier about to be divided in two.

John released the man, allowing the scarabs their bounty, the act drawing the look of ire from Demir.

In John’s eyes it was an act of mercy, the man lost beyond hope, his death hopefully a quick one.

In Demir’s eyes, however, he saw it as an act of sacrifice by surrendering a man who didn’t need to be surrendered, an act to buy them time.

The man was pulled underneath as the tide rose, his cries of anguish subsiding, and then gone.

Demir leaned over the edge. Another man lost. Then he reasserted himself by getting to his feet and driving his people forward before the tide rose above the lip of their landing.

They all ran on complete adrenaline, each person striving for every dark inch in front of them. They came to a series of bends and curves, the one and only route that led them towards the Chamber of the One.

#

There was a
sound behind them like a chattering of teeth, the scarabs mounting the ledge and coming forward in a natural tide of overwhelming darkness with their mandibles snapping and clicking, their wickedly keen tongs waiting to strip meat from bone and to feed.

They were closing the gap.

“MOVE!” yelled Savage, taking glances over his shoulder.
They were too quick
, he considered,
and
far
too many
.
And there was no way they could outrun, outgun, or outmaneuver these creatures.

The team moved forward with urgency, into deeper darkness, the shadows before them another formidable foe possibly hiding things within. 

“They’re right behind us!” yelled Hillary. “Faster . . . We have . . . to move . . . faster!”

The black tide rolled forward, moving with liquid speed down the corridor.

When the team rounded a bend they were confronted by another wall.
You have got to be kidding me
, thought Savage. He shined the light upward. It was like the other wall, with a landing that led deeper into the temple. “Up! Everyone up!”

This time they were faster and more efficient, with Demir’s team hoisting the ministers and civilians topside before aiding their teammates.

As soon as the last man crested the ledge to the next level the beetles hit the wall, hard, the level of scarabs once again rising like high tide.

The team was on the move with everyone racing towards the salvation of the foreground.

After taking a series of right angles they came to another wall. There was no ledge, no landing to scale to—just a wall.

“Oh my God,” whispered Hillary. “There’s no way out. THERE’S NO WAY—”

“Shutup,” Savage said curtly. He then looked behind him. So far the corridor was clear. Then he turned to the wall and noted the markings of archaic script, perhaps a riddle:

তালিকার
সমসাময়িক
ыкавнь 
প্রকাশ
рырыцы. ∑ыбар
তাসভ্যতার

ліку быў асьв
নাম
মনুষ্য
নাম
স্থান
পায়।
হতে
হয়
ঐতিহাসিক
ও
ঐতিহ্যগত
গুরুত্ব
সম্পন্ন।
পর্যটকেরা
প্রথম
лічб
তএআশ্চর্যজনক

лічылася ьвятой лічбай
প্রতিটি
лёямёр
প্রকাশিত
праць
এই
স্থাপনাসমূহকে
Фіў,драцоў
লিকাএকটিতালিকা
даньнеьпінайвыда

কটিপ্রাচীনকালেসালের
 
ей

“Alyssa! Here . . . on the wall! There’s script! I think it’s a riddle.”

She moved beside Savage. The lettering could be marginally seen, the inscription in blends of Sumerian, Egyptian and a language long since dead. Below the message were four crystal dials with symbols on them. The first dial had the archaic word ‘ICE’ engraved onto it, the symbol
ᵮ
; the second dial had the stamped symbol
Ƣ,
for the word ‘SEA,’
;
the third had the imprinted symbol
∂,
for
the
word ‘SHADOWS,’; and the last dial had the symbol
ﺟ
,
representing the word ‘WIND’
.

ᵮ                 Ƣ               ∂                 
ﺟ

“There’re dials underneath the writing. They appear to be symbols of elements.”

“Some,” she answered, running her fingers over the writing.

“Can you make out what it says?” asked Savage.

She nodded her head, and then she read the lines fluently: “They follow and lead, but only as you pass.
Adorn yourself in darkest black,
and still they are darker.
Always they flee the light,
though without the sun there would be none. Find me from the four below, and to the Chamber of the One shall you go.”

“More riddles about darkness?” Hillary offered.

Everyone ignored him, assuming the question to be rhetorical.

Alyssa stepped aside and allowed John her immediate space. Deciphering the text was her strength. Solving riddles was his. It was a symbiotic relationship that served them well.

He stared at the riddle and recalled key words and phrases:
Follow and lead, but only as you pass. They flee the light, but without the sun this element would not exist
.

He then looked at the answers:
ice, sea, shadows, wind
.

‘Follow and lead’
could mean the path of a winding river that leads to the sea, but that didn’t make much sense to him since the key phrase was, ‘
but only as you pass
.’ But then again, when reading the next line, it states:
they flee the light, but without the sun this element would not exist
, which could mean that the ‘
ice
’ melts beneath the light of the sun. Do the sea and wind flee the light? The sea may shift during the phases of the moon. Or is that just the ocean?

John began to rake his fingers nervously through his hair.