Beyond Hades: The Prometheus Wars (4 page)

"What about the Egyptian version?" asked the general.

Talbot tried to conceal his shock at the depth of the general's knowledge.

"That is largely discounted as myth. In Egyptian scriptures and hieroglyphs there are several mentions of a place called
Keftiu
, which Plato also mentioned in his writings, but he erroneously stated its location was within the Greek islands and claimed it to be Atlantis. Keftiu was actually reputed to be north-west off the northern coast of Egypt, not Greece, and was supposedly destroyed in similar fashion to Atlantis."

"Your brother believed something different altogether," said General Sharpe. "And he was right."

Talbot's curiosity skyrocketed. His heart pounded and his breathing came in ragged gasps.

"Please tell me," he prompted, trying to remain calm.

"Thomas worked out that Atlantis was in fact located off the coast of Africa, about a thousand miles directly west of Senegal. There is an archipelago of islands there called The Republic of Cape Verde. Atlantis was once located on one of these islands."

"So you mean you've actually found it?" asked Talbot, unable to conceal the excitement in his voice.

"Your brother died finding it," replied the general somberly.

Talbot's excitement evaporated at the words. "Tell me how he died." The words almost sounded like a plea.

"He died trying to find a way to undo what we've done. Upon finding Atlantis, we managed to create sealed areas of the city; places we pumped dry in order to explore. We discovered a vast underground catacomb full of machinery -"

"Machinery?" interrupted Talbot, momentarily forgetting who he was addressing. "That's not possible."

"It is. And if you interrupt me again, I'll have you tied in that chair and gagged." The words were not an empty threat.

Talbot's mouth snapped shut while his mind buzzed uncontrollably.

"As I was saying," continued General Sharpe, "we found vast underground caverns full of machinery, the likes of which none of our scientists had ever seen. Made entirely out of a stone similar in composition to granite, this civilization had managed to mold it like the finest sculpture, yet it is somehow immune from erosion. The minutest detail, stuff we can't replicate today, is involved in this technology which, though centuries old, performs better than any machine crafted today. It is truly astonishing that such an ancient race of people were able to fashion anything so marvelous.

"These machines are enormous, and even after years under the ocean, no signs of decay tarnish their design. They remain perfectly intact." The general's face took on a faraway look, but an instant later his gray eyes snapped back into focus, piercing Talbot with their intensity. "Upon them are instructions written in a language none of our linguists could decipher, yet your brother was instantly able to understand it, word for word."

Talbot's mouth dropped open once more, and he yearned to interrupt, but the general's warning still hung in the air like a hungry vulture circling a dying man.

"Nobody, not even your brother, could explain his innate ability. With his assistance, we were able to re-engage the machinery. We foolishly restarted something which should have been left lost forever. We opened a gateway of sorts; a temporal portal into another universe. Put simply, Doctor Harrison, we opened a doorway into Hell."

Talbot's mind exploded, and he shook his head mutely, sure he had misheard the large man.

"Not the Hell the Bible teaches us, rather the Hell from Greek mythology: a place called Tartarus," continued General Sharpe. "I assume you have heard of it?"

Struggling to form thoughts around the terror pounding within his brain, Talbot replied hesitantly. "Thomas was the expert, but as an archaeologist I still know the legend of Tartarus quite well. It was allegedly an enormous pit, supposedly the place for the world's
evil
souls - a land even beyond the realm of the dead known as Hades. Zeus expelled the Titans there after they tried to take over Olympia, or something like that. The Titans were called the Elder-gods, and stories spoke of their strength being legendary; so their prison - Tartarus - must have been mightier still. It was said to have resembled Hell very much - perhaps even providing the inspiration for the biblical place of the damned."

The general nodded gravely. "In essence, the machinery your brother restarted after centuries of laying forgotten opened a doorway into this dimension. We discovered a land populated by creatures previously believed to be completely mythical. It is a place from Greek folklore, inhabited by creatures such as the gryphon which attacked your escort helicopter."

General Sharpe paused, his expression somewhat haunted. "We've managed to stop or contain most of the beings which tried to escape, but some creatures - like the gryphon - are simply too powerful for us to contest."

"What do you need from me?" asked Talbot, his curiosity too powerful to restrain any longer.

General Sharpe didn't seem to mind the indiscretion; if he did, he covered his irritation well. "Doctor Harrison, your role here is simple. We need you to close the door your brother opened."

Talbot froze, his entire body totally shocked beyond reaction.

"I-I can't do that!" Talbot spluttered. "My brother was an expert in Greek mythology. I'm an archaeologist."

"Mr. Harrison, your field of expertise is irrelevant. We believe there was a part of your brother's brain which was somehow attuned to this culture, and that's why he was able to decipher their dialect. We hope, as his identical twin, you will be able to do likewise."

"That's a big hope," muttered Talbot.

"Well, it's actually more than a hope, Doctor Harrison. Our scientists did a scan of your brother's brain before his accident and deduced a part of his mind was in fact overdeveloped. The lobe which understands writing and language was far more advanced than any other human on record and firing in areas which are not normally so developed - a type of epilepsy without seizures of any kind. Tell me, can you speak any other languages?"

Talbot paused, unwilling to admit a truth which might condemn him to the same fate as his brother. He hadn't missed the pause in the general's speech when it came to Thomas's death. Something bad had happened to his brother, something the general was unwilling to disclose.

"Don't bother trying to lie to me, Doctor Harrison," commanded the general, seemingly reading his thoughts. "We already know you can speak at least five languages other than English, and you apparently taught yourself every single one. That is not normal."

"But it doesn't mean I can understand the language you're talking about," protested Talbot, feeling his grasp on the situation slipping.

General Sharpe pointed at the dossier Talbot had been reading only moments before. "That's written in a language nobody's been able to decipher for thousands of years. Only you and your brother have been able to interpret it out of scores of linguists who've tried. We believe it may be the lost language of the Keftiuan - the language of Atlantis. If not, then it's something found nowhere else on the planet. Our most powerful computers can't even begin to understand what a single word says, but you were just studying it like it was a Playboy magazine, albeit with less interesting pictures."

Talbot glanced at the papers on the desk, noticing for the first time the strange characters which he'd understood so easily. He hadn't even registered the oddness of the lettering, as intrigued as he'd been with finding out what Thomas had written. Even the fact he had recognized Thomas's script in such a language had escaped his notice.

Damn.

Klaxon alarms blasted throughout the base, and the door slammed open. Colonel Wilson burst in, panic corroding his previously stoic demeanor.

"Sir!" he gushed. "Subject number 4247 has breached its captivity."

Talbot glanced at the general, noticing how his complexion paled at the colonel's words, but his command swiftly overtook his fear. "Order troops into position for defending the base. All scientific staff and crew are to retreat to Base Bravo via the thermo-tube. I don't think we'll be able to contain that bastard again."

Colonel Wilson promptly moved to the door, motioning for Talbot to follow. Stepping through the exit he called out to Captain Benedict, who sprinted over to them and saluted.

"Captain," began General Sharpe, "from now on your one and only concern is this man's safety. Get him to Professor Weinstein at Base Bravo and from there to point Zulu."

Captain Benedict saluted once more and primed the chamber of his M-16.

Oh shit.

They all exited together, moving through corridors until, without farewell, the general and Colonel Wilson moved off down one tunnel, while Captain Benedict motioned for Talbot to follow him down another.

"Have you ever fired a weapon, Doctor Harrison?" asked the captain as they dashed along the empty passageway.

Talbot shrugged - now probably wasn't the time to ask if Playstation counted - and Captain Benedict paused before drawing an M9 Beretta semi-automatic 9mm pistol from the waistband of his pants. Talbot noticed the much larger grip of what appeared to be a Desert Eagle sitting in the holster at his hip.

Benedict handed Talbot the M9. "Don't use it unless you absolutely have to, sir. It won't be much use against what just got loose anyway, but it's best you have something to defend yourself with in case I'm killed."

Talbot wanted to ask the captain what he meant, but they were moving again. Benedict's boots clattered against the steel steps as he led Talbot through a bewildering series of corridors and stairs, and Talbot noticed they were always heading down - deeper into the bowels of the base.

Intense gunfire echoed down side-tunnels branching away from their escape route, and Talbot glimpsed the occasionally worried expression flashing across Captain Benedict's features as he increased their pace in order to stay ahead of the battle.

They continued descending until the captain finally slammed through a door, his M-16 swinging, checking the area's security before motioning for Talbot to follow. Talbot stepped out cautiously, and froze. His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped.

Opening before them was a colossal man-made grotto, at least five hundred yards across, its reinforced concrete walls rising so high he couldn't see the ceiling. Fluorescent tubes dotted the walls, and several spotlights flooded the area in artificial light, but the roof still remained shrouded in obscurity. Talbot had the impression of being at the bottom of a massive chasm.

One entire wall appeared to be a set of enormous blast doors; interlocking teeth strengthening the point where they joined in the middle. The doors themselves must have towered some hundred and fifty feet above them! Glancing around, Talbot saw hundreds of troops escorting what looked like civilians toward... toward....

The weirdest form of transportation Talbot had ever seen in his life.

Shaped similar to an elongated gridiron football - sharply pointed at both ends, round and thick in the middle - the carriage of the vehicle was at least three stories high. Seamless and white, the transport looked more like a spaceship than anything designed by man. It looked immeasurably aerodynamic and
fast
.

Marines were hastily moving the civilians up a ramp in the center of the vehicle and through a large hatch in its belly. No windows marred its perfectly sleek sides, and Talbot's panic paused, astonishment freezing him. It must somehow travel under the earth - unless the massive sealed exit in front of it led to the surface... or under water.

Several marines had seen them and about twenty broke away from the main group, sprinting over, weapons raised. When they arrived, the troops were immediately ordered into defensive positions around Talbot by Captain Benedict. One man, older than the others, had a thin string of brown wooden beads wrapped tightly around his left hand. As he focused on the object, Talbot's nerves rattled within him.

A set of brown wooden rosary beads coiled around and around, the barely-visible crucifix pressed firmly into the palm of the man's hand. What could be here, within this most secure of military bases, that could leave a seasoned veteran scared enough to clutch a rosary?