The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) (40 page)

Despite the tension Valerie smiled. “Yeah, we can go to one of the office trailers. Come on, follow me.”

The room was cramped, but it did give them shelter from the constant rain. Paul had also requested the presence of the researcher from the American Museum of Natural History who tipped them off, so they waited a half hour as the man was picked up by a military escort since he was just living nearby. Dr. Edwin Worlich, a noted archaeologist, sat on the opposite end of the table, his balding forehead was somewhat matched by his khaki-colored suit. Paul had met him before and knew him to be a very learned and honest man as he sat to the right with Captain Niven beside him. Valerie and Joe were facing them as they both wondered what was going on.

“It’s good to see you again, Edwin,” Paul said as he shook Dr. Worlich’s hand.

Dr. Worlich rubbed the bald spot on his head and then adjusted his thick eyeglasses. “Likewise, Paul. From what I’ve seen, it looks like you’re the head of a new Federal agency or something like that.”

Paul grinned. “More like an ad-hoc task force. In fact, I’d like you to join us.”

“Since the museum is now off-limits and higher education has been shut down for the time being, I guess I might as well accept then, otherwise I have a feeling you’d draft me anyway,” Dr. Worlich said as he leaned back on the metal folding chair and smiled faintly.

Captain Niven turned to look at Valerie and Joe. It was obvious that she found the pleasantries to be pointless and just wanted to get down to business. “How credible is this lead of yours?”

“We’ve gone through thousands of tips that the entire police department had gotten in the early days of this whole crisis, and the tip Dr. Worlich gave us was the most credible based on what’s happening so far,” Valerie said.

Joe leaned forward. “So could you go back to the beginning and tell us what happened, Dr. Worlich.”

“As you all know, I’m one of the curators of the museum’s Division of Anthropology,” Dr. Worlich said. “About two weeks ago, we had uncovered the remains of a petrified tree on Hatteras Island, off the coast of North Carolina. We were able to transport it to the basement level of the museum, and began the painstaking process of examining it. The reason why we felt this particular tree was special enough to warrant closer study is because there were strange symbols that were carved on the trunk … me and my assistants believe that it may have been written in Powhatan.”

Paul’s brow furrowed in slight confusion. “Powhatan? But the Algonquin tribes of that area never had a written language, it was all verbal. Are you sure?”

“Not completely sure, but I suspected that it was, and I was preparing a paper on it,” Dr. Worlich said. “The symbols that were inscribed on the trunk had an extraordinary resemblance to cuneiform script and Mayan hieroglyphs. I gotta tell you, Paul, it was an extraordinary find and I was able to convince the board to get a transportation budget on it when one of my grad students uncovered it on Hatteras. After we got it to the museum, strange incidents began to happen. That’s when the rains started and one of my assistants disappeared while working on the trunk a few nights later. We called the police and they searched the entire museum, but not a trace of him was found. A few days later came the evacuation order, so the senior staff closed the building and we all left during the initial phase. The cops called me back for an interview just yesterday about this and I told them all I know.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Hatteras Island, do you think it might have something to do with the Lost Colony, Edwin?”

“Could be,” Dr. Worlich said. “Either way, it looks like we’re going to have to wait until this whole mess is over with before we can start researching it again. I’m just glad we were able to lock it up in the vaults for safekeeping.”

“Hold on a minute,” Captain Niven said. “You’re losing me here. Can you explain the significance of this island? And what is this Lost Colony you’re talking about?”

“The old name for Hatteras is Croatoan Island,” Paul said. “There were theories that the lost colony of Roanoke may have settled there after their disappearance on Roanoke Island.”

“Roanoke?” Joe said. “I’m not too familiar with it. Can you explain further?”

“The Lost Colony was a sixteenth-century British settlement that was based in Roanoke Island,” Dr. Worlich said. “Sir Walter Raleigh founded it and it was England’s first attempt to establish a permanent colony in the New World. A little over one hundred colonists lived there, surrounded by small tribes of Croatoan Indians. In fact, the first English child born on American soil was named Virginia Dare, and she was a part of that colony. The Roanoke Colony were the ones that introduced tobacco and potatoes to Europe. Now the ship that brought them there left to return to England for supplies, but when they came back three years later the colony was gone.”

Valerie rubbed her chin as she was taking it all in. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“I mean every living person in that colony was missing when the relief force got there,” Dr. Worlich said. “The settlement was deserted. Not a living soul was behind the wooden walls they had set up for defense just three years earlier. There were no signs of battle; it was as if all the inhabitants of the colony just dropped whatever it was that they were doing and disappeared into the wild.”

“No clues? Nothing at all as to what might have happened to them?” Valerie said.

“One very cryptic clue,” Paul said. “The only thing that they found of any significance was a single word carved on a fencepost in the village stockade. It merely said: Croatoan.”

Valerie seemed confused. “That’s it? Just that one word and nothing else?”

“That’s it,” Dr. Worlich said as he clasped his fingers together on the table. “The ultimate fate of the colony has never been solved. Granted, both England and Spain were at war and so it took years for a relief ship with supplies to get back to Roanoke, because England needed every ship it had in order to fight the Spanish. So it often took years to support the colonies out in the North American continent. Even the Spanish themselves were looking for that colony, but they never found it.”

“The one-word clue that was left there might pertain to Croatoan Island, but there never was any proof that the colonists settled in that place,” Paul said. “The colonists were instructed to carve a Maltese cross on a tree trunk as a sign that if they were forced to leave Roanoke, then there would be a message to the relief parties, but no such carving was ever found.”

“There has been some archaeological evidence uncovered about fifty miles away from the original site of the Roanoke colony, but it’s pretty sparse because of shoreline erosion,” Dr. Worlich said. “The true fate of the Lost Colony is one of the great unsolved mysteries of history.”

Captain Niven crossed her arms and frowned. “So what you both are saying is that what’s happening right now might be some sort of curse? Because you brought the archaeological remains of that so-called lost colony into the museum in New York?”

Valerie looked at her. It was obvious she was skeptical. “Granted, it’s pretty thin in regards to motive, but we don’t seem to have any other leads to go on. This one lead coincides with everything, well almost everything anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Paul said to her.

Valerie leaned forward so they all could see the scar on her face. “I’ve survived an attack by a large group of cultists just days ago near the East Village. They had flayed the skins of their victims and were using obsidian knives as weapons. My partner was killed. I believe the only thing that saved me was that I wore an old Aztec charm on my neck that was visible after I fell. My mother is full-blooded Aztec and she told me that the god Xipe Totec is walking around Manhattan right now.”

Paul looked up in confusion for a minute. “Xipe Totec? The Flayed God? Are you sure?”

“It has to be,” Valerie said. “I’m sure you government types have also seen the video footage of those creatures attacking people in Central Park, right? From their appearance alone it was obvious those were tzitzimitl, Aztec demons that looked like skeletal women.”

“I’ve seen the footage and I’m not disagreeing with you,” Paul said. “It’s just that from the database we’ve set up, it seems that these so-called Pagan gods and their demons are formally tied to a geographic location as to where they originated. I myself survived an attack by Celtic demons called Fomorians in England, but my point is why would an Aztec god that’s tied to Central America be doing here in the Tri-state area?”

“Well, since you did mention the Fomorians, and they were based in Ireland yet they somehow made it to London, right?” Dr. Worlich said. “Perhaps the Aztec gods may be making a push up north to us?”

Paul nodded. “That’s certainly a possibility, but I would have thought that they would go through the southern states first. If what Detective Mendoza is saying is true about Xipe Totec, then how was he able to bypass the south?”

Dr. Worlich shrugged. “They’re gods, obviously. I guess their power is pretty absolute at this stage.”

“Which brings us to the next question,” Joe said. “Suppose we do find a connection with that relic you have in the museum. What then? How do we kill a god?”

“My mother said that you can’t kill a god,” Valerie said. “The most we can do is to trick him in order to foil his plans.”

“She’s right,” Paul said. “We may need a plan once we get into the museum. How to deal with Xipe Totec and how to deal with those demons.”

“Guns don’t seem to affect them,” Joe said as a matter of factly. “We’ve requested some flamethrowers. Perhaps if we burn them down, it might do the trick, but so far our request has not been approved.”

“You’ll get them by late this evening,” Captain Niven said. “We have a contingent of special forces troops here with us. They’re veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan, and we’re in the process of equipping them with special weapons that might be able to help so they will join you in the push to the museum.”

“Which brings me to another question,” Joe said. “I must request that Detective Mendoza be given tactical command of this operation. She knows the area and has experience.”

“Just because she survived one attack doesn’t mean she’s experienced in dealing with these creatures,” Captain Niven said brusquely.

Paul put his arm up to calm things down. “Hold on a minute, we’re all in this together. Detective Mendoza, will you consent for allowing our soldiers to go with your team? You will have overall tactical command, but you must be willing to give them leeway if things get dicey out there.”

Captain Niven looked at him in surprise. “Now wait a minute, this is now a Department of Defense operation and we have qualified military personnel who will be put in command and General Benteen is—”

Paul cut her off with a wave of his hand. “The president gave me the authority to chair this task force. If the NYPD feels that they have enough expertise for this mission, then they can retain command of their own units.”

Valerie placed her hands on the table as a sign of concession. “I’m not a soldier and I have no experience in warfare. All I would like to do is to get my forensics team into the museum and have a look at this tree trunk. Whatever the government wants to do is their business as long as they don’t interfere with what my men are doing. They are free to give out orders to their own soldiers, and I will definitely cede command to them if we’re attacked, deal?”

“Deal,” Paul said with finality as he ignored Captain Niven’s angry glare. “Since this could be a very significant lead, I’m going along too.”

Captain Niven’s eyes were now wide as saucers. “What? You’re the head of this task force. The area is too dangerous and I will not allow you to take that risk, Professor.”

Paul shrugged. “Somebody has to go down to that museum basement and get a thorough examination of that tree. If there’s any clue we can get in regards to solving this crisis, then it’s imperative that we have all hands on deck.”

“I cannot permit this, if anything happened to you we would have no idea on how to continue to deal with this crisis,” Captain Niven said.

“Someone with some knowledge of anthropology has to be down there to deal with whatever it is that’s written on that tree. If we can make an assessment on the scene, it would be of great help in solving this mystery,” Paul said.

Dr. Worlich cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Paul, she’s right. You’re too valuable to be sent into the lion’s den. Since I’m currently not doing anything, I volunteer to go in with the troops.”

“This could be a suicide mission, Edwin,” Paul said to him.

Dr. Worlich shrugged and smiled. “I’m divorced, the kids have their own families now, and as far as I know, they’re safe. Anyway, I am part of the museum staff and I know my way around there. Unless I do my part, this whole thing could get worse.”

Paul turned to look at his military liaison. “You need to give him the best protection necessary, it all hinges on whether Edwin can decipher the meaning of the writing on that tree bark.”

“I’ll do you one better, Professor Dane,” Captain Niven said. “I’ll be going with him and you can monitor us both from the command HQ.”

“That’s it then,” Joe said. “All we can do now is wait for those weapons you ordered and we’re good to go.”

“And don’t forget to pray to whatever gods we have on our side,” Valerie said.

Israel

Ron Boland stared at the orthopedic cast on his left leg, the plaster had solidified and it was obvious that he couldn’t bend the knee. That meant that any kind of running was out of the question. Then again it wouldn’t have made any difference, since his right wrist was handcuffed to the metal frame of the wheeled bed that he was lying in. He was in some sort of infirmary. The room had white painted walls and a single steel door was located on the far side. All he remembered was lying in the back of the Land Cruiser out in the middle of the Arabian Desert. The moment he had closed his eyes someone had hit him with a stun gun. The rest of his short term memory was a blur. He vaguely remembered being put on the back of a cargo plane and the next thing he knew they were treating his leg.