Black Mountain (32 page)

He zoomed in on Alex again, and his mouth curved into a half-smile. The man moved like a locomotive through the snow, no slowing or deviating, his arms and legs pumping like machines. The Arcadian – perfect warrior, or perfect killing machine? Hammerson would find out soon enough.

Sam remembered the unique soldier’s strength when he and Alex had fought the priest in the jungle – or, rather, the thing that had taken over the body of the priest. It had snapped Sam’s spine, and Alex had carried all two-twenty pounds of his friend on his back through that tangled green hell all the way to the rescue chopper. Sam owed Alex Hunter. He wished he was out there on the mountain; wished he could just speak to the man.

He brought his fist down on one of his useless legs. ‘Fuck it all!’

He exhaled and tried to relax. Turning back to the screen, he pulled the view up to a few miles overhead the slopes, and immediately sat forward. ‘Hello.’

Coming into the frame on Senesh’s trail were four men, large and moving in single file. Still a few miles back from her, but keeping pace. He thought of the bot that had been planted into the data feed, and the expertise that operation had required, and smiled. ‘Welcome to the party, Mossad,’ he said to the screen.

He pulled the wire mic back down over his mouth and opened the secure line. ‘Boss, you got some gatecrashers about to join you on the hill.’

*

Adira slammed into the tree and hung on, her lungs pumping huge plumes of steam into the frigid air. ‘Alex!’ Her shout was raspy, the dryness making her throat hoarse and painful.

He didn’t answer, and she didn’t bother calling again. By now he was probably too far ahead to hear. The trail he’d left was a furrow through the surface snow, but every step she took was agony to her fatigued muscles. She straightened and put her hands on her hips.
What am I doing?

Without Alex present, it was as if some sort of spell had been broken and she could think clearly. She had given up everything – her uncle, who was her sole remaining family; her country; her career – all for someone who probably didn’t even care about her anymore. Adira felt like she was waking from a dream. She looked back down the slope. The thick trees and leaden sky took on a milky texture in the weird hazy twilight. Her breathing slowed.
What would happen if I returned home now? Could I make peace with my uncle?

Turning back up the slope, she saw a bird flitter away from a strange shape on a tree trunk. A moment later it returned to peck at the area, then flew off again with something in its beak.

She took a few steps towards the tree, and made out the mess of human remains crushed against the trunk. Adira had seen many dead bodies in her time, and this looked like the unfortunate person had been hit by a truck. Someone had died badly at this spot; not just killed but obliterated. She tensed, her guard up. What kind of forest creature could have done that?

She looked up the hill, sucking in deep breaths again. She remembered Alex’s cryptic words:
I’ll know where to find it
. And began to feel concerned about what that ‘it’ might turn out to be.

*

Salamon Eitan held up his hand and his three agents immediately halted as though turned to stone. He walked ahead a few paces and looked at the furrowed trail in the snow. He smirked. The trail indicated one large body moving at speed, and another smaller one, moving slowly, his or her feet occasionally dragging. While he watched, the snow on the edges of the furrows crumbled in on the little valleys. They weren’t far behind, maybe only minutes.

He grunted in satisfaction and waved his compatriots forward. Salamon’s role in Mossad’s Kidon was to hunt down and kill the enemies of Israel. It was his duty, an honour, and one he had never failed at. It wasn’t emotional. There was no other perspective than to obey orders, and win or die. But Adira Senesh was a special case; a prominent and celebrated Mossad agent – brave, skilled and deadly. Perhaps as good as him, perhaps not.

Salamon’s orders were to bring Senesh in alive. Unfortunately for Senesh, he just didn’t want to. He felt no camaraderie for the killer of his men; rather, he believed she deserved to be punished for her betrayal of her country. And Salamon’s punishment for the betrayal of Israel was death.

*

‘You said it yourself – it could be
her
. Maybe she got lost and climbed up to find shelter. Kids are smart and resilient. If there’s any chance Emma Wilson is up there, we need to check.’ Sarah jabbed her gloved finger first at Matt and then at Charles. ‘I’ll never be able to look her parents in the face again if I don’t take a look, especially after finding this.’ She held up the small rubber boot.

Matt noticed that Charles avoided her volcanic stare just as much as he did. They both turned to Thomas, who was staring at the ground. Matt spoke first, his voice heavy with resignation. ‘Is there a way up?’

Thomas nodded slowly, then said almost sadly, ‘Have you noticed there is no snow or ice around the cave?’

Matt looked at the cave mouth and raised his eyebrows. Thomas was right. Everywhere else was coated with the sheen of thin ice, except the area immediately outside the cave.

‘What does that mean, exactly?’ Sarah asked.

‘It means it’s warm in there.’ He looked up at the black hole. He didn’t see it as a cave mouth anymore; instead, he thought of it as a doorway. And something had come out of that doorway that should have been extinct.

A ripple of nausea ran through his gut as he remembered another cave from his past. It wasn’t true that deep caves were always dead and sterile places. Some caves were very much alive, and held secrets that were horrifying and deadly.

THIRTY

The climb up to the cave entrance was more difficult than Matt had anticipated. It was only about thirty feet, and he’d done much more complicated no-rig ascents many times in the past, but the exposed rock and the muddy, greasy soil around the cave made it slippery. Thomas was right behind him, yelling instructions, with Sarah just starting the climb, and Charles stepping from foot to foot on the path, impatient to begin.

Matt levered himself into the triangular opening, and kneeled at the edge to look down at the path and beyond. His view was obscured by a grainy haze of the cloud that formed a thick curtain just past the slip path’s drop-off point, which also reduced any vertigo he might have experienced. He drew in a long breath, and immediately noticed the acrid smell – a shitty, rank animal odour emanating from the interior of the cave. Beneath it was something raw and decaying, like old mushrooms or bad hamburger. The smell wafted towards him on a draught of warm air that heated the cold skin on his face and made his nose and cheeks tingle.

He squinted into the dark hole and got to his feet, taking comfort from the fact that the breeze was blowing outwards. If there
was
anything inhabiting the cave, his own scent wouldn’t be carried inwards.
Important if it’s a predator
, he thought.

He took a few steps into the interior, and halted at the remains of the first wall. There were fresh cracks in the rock ceiling, and the stones on the floor were mixed with debris from the cave roof – all proof of their theory that an earthquake had caused the wall to crumble.

He had left his pack down on the slip path, but fumbled in his pocket for the small plastic flashlight he’d taken from it, even though it was more suited to reading a book in a sleeping bag than exploring stygian darkness.

‘Phew. Something’s dead in there.’

Matt jumped at the voice behind him. Thomas walked past and began to examine the fallen rocks of the first barrier. Sarah appeared in another few minutes, holding the top edge of the small pink boot in her teeth. Charles came immediately after her, his impatient expression suggesting he’d been held up by everyone’s slow ascent.

Thomas tapped one of the broken stones with the toe of his boot. ‘You know, I’ve never been beyond this point . . . and I bet no other human has for a hundred generations.’

He took a large theatrical step over the tumbled stones.

Twilight had descended on the mountain peak, reducing the light at the mouth of the cave to little more than a grey glow. Thomas tried to direct Matt’s hand holding the flashlight to where he wanted, but soon gave up and used his cigarette lighter instead. A barely perceptible warm breeze caused the tiny orange flame to bend towards the cave opening now twenty feet behind them.

Thomas lifted his lighter to the closest wall. ‘This what you’re looking for, Mr Kearns?’

The wall was covered in paintings and carvings. Matt’s face broke into a smile as he moved quickly to where Thomas stood and traced the images with his hand while not actually touching the artwork.

‘This is amazing,’ he said. ‘The figures are definitely Paleo-Indian . . . but some of the characters are much older . . . more like Mesoamerican. Strange, though – it’s like they’re not reproduced correctly.’ His fingers traced more of the designs. ‘As if someone was drawing them from memory without really knowing what they meant.’

Thomas crowded in closer with his lighter. ‘I’ve never seen many of these symbols; and I’ve never heard of any of my people or ancestors using them. They’ve been hidden behind this barrier for many, many centuries.’

Matt frowned, his lips moving as he vocalised the symbols and images, teasing out their meaning. After a while, he nodded. ‘Okay, it’s like a story, or maybe some kind of record. There’s mention of Tooantuh, and the battle with the Great Ones.’

He traced some more symbols and frowned again, looking confused or like he’d lost his place. He stood back and rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, then leaned forward. ‘Of course! I couldn’t work out the flow, but it’s actually telling the story backwards. This shows the defeat of the Great Ones, so the start must be further in.’

He moved his small circle of light further along into the cave. ‘Just as I thought – look at this.’ He pointed to the glyphs on the wall. ‘These characters are much older, more like
real
Mesoamerican . . . in fact, a little like Mayan. It’s telling the same tale as in the outer chamber, but it’s more detailed, richer and . . . complete.’

He indicated to Thomas where the more primitive Paleo-Indian work was gradually overtaken by the Mesoamerican – with fewer instances of the two-dimensional shapes and many more detailed drawings and carvings. Then he pointed at one central image. ‘Tell me I’m not seeing this. This can’t be real.’

The old Indian grunted and nodded. ‘So that is why they hate us,’ he said slowly. ‘They were slaves.’

The image showed several hulking beasts with ropes around their necks and waists. They were pulling carts loaded with the smaller human figures, some of whom were lashing the creatures’ huge bent backs.

Sarah made a sound of disgust in her throat. ‘Then I’d say it was more a case of revolt than attack.’ She held the small boot up and shook it, ‘Let’s look for the girl and then go.’

Charles added his torch beam to Matt’s. ‘Are you saying the Indians somehow tamed or domesticated these great anthropoids? Bullshit.’ He looked from Matt to Thomas.

Thomas shook his head. ‘This is not part of the legend I know of the Chiye-tanka. I have never heard this.’

‘It might not have been something they were proud of,’ Matt said. ‘But forget that for now. Look – don’t you see something in the picture that
shouldn’t
be there?’ He paused, but the trio looked blank. ‘Remember, this is thousands of years old.’ He waited again, before giving up and answering his own question. ‘
Wheels
! The Paleo-Indians never had wheels; they never invented them. This looks like a totally different race. And judging by the fact that the ochres and dyes are nearly fully faded, I’d say the language script is much older as well.’

Matt walked back to the other side of the second wall and briefly re-examined the carvings. He shook his head. ‘I knew it: it
is
different. There’s no doubt – the work on the other side of the outer wall must have been done thousands of years later.’

He moved deeper into the cave, stumbling as he focused on the wall rather than his feet. Sarah and Thomas followed, transfixed by the story Matt was deciphering from the strange images on the wall.

He couldn’t contain a small laugh of excitement. ‘Look . . . more proof. The glyphs are now fully carved; there are no paintings at all. The style is almost pure Mesoamerican in its detail and precision – maybe even Zoque Indian, which is more than 1000 years older than the Mayans. This inner work was done by artisans rather than rock painters or stonemasons. My guess is that each story block was created millennia apart, which is why the work’s so different in style and content. The tale was probably handed down and then reproduced.’

He shone the flashlight at the third section. ‘And that’s why the story moves from myth to chronicle. What we’re seeing now is a transcript of what
actually
happened right here, over 10,000 years ago.’

Matt pointed out a warrior that was taller than the rest. The detail was magnificent – he stood on a large rock, his arms outstretched, holding a spear in one hand and what might have been a staff in the other. ‘Tooantuxla,’ he said to Thomas. ‘Wow. I’m guessing that’s your original Tooantuh.’

Thomas touched the stone. ‘The mightiest warrior ever to have lived in our land. He will always be “Tooantuh” for me and my people.’

Matt’s brow screwed up in confusion as he tried to make sense of the ancient story. ‘This will take years to unravel,’ he murmured. ‘Basically, the humans fought the mighty creatures all the way into the caves, but they didn’t just use bows and arrows – they had swords and shields too, more akin to ancient Greek or Roman warriors.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s all mixed up.’

He moved along a few steps to the very first images, which chronicled the arrival of both the First People and the Great Ones, and his mouth dropped open.

‘
Arks
! The Gigantopithecus didn’t cross the land bridge, they were
brought here
in boats. Charles, look at this!’