No Such Thing As Werewolves (6 page)

Bridget’s words were practiced, as if she were parroting back a message she’d been taught.
 

“You have to admit this place is pretty unique. What we find inside could be very valuable to them.” She continued.
 

“Makes sense, I guess,” he conceded, though not without reservations. “They paid me enough that I probably should just leave well enough alone. Am I the last one to arrive? Or did you manage to get Connors on board?”

“With you here, I didn’t think we’d need him,” she said, pausing at the base of the trail. She lowered her cap to shade her eyes, face growing somber. “Besides, Steve refused to even consider it. He got…violent when I suggested it.”

“Steve?” Blair asked, finally catching up to her. A hundred pounds of stress melted away now that he was on more or less flat ground. “There’s no way. Steve’s the most non confrontational person I know. He’ll avoid you for weeks just to prevent a minor argument. Violent?”

“I know. Completely out of character, right?” She turned back to the trail, setting a dogged pace.
 

Blair let the silence stretch as they approached the pavilions. He didn’t like all the cryptic hints about Steve, but now wasn’t the time to interrogate Bridget. The people at the makeshift camp had spotted them, and Sheila was moving in their direction. She wore her self-created uniform: khaki pants with a flannel shirt covered by bright-blue suspenders. A wide-brimmed leather hat that covered a shock of black hair worked with a pair of thick glasses to complete the outfit. He doubted he would even recognize her without it.

“Blair Smith, is that you?” Sheila said, dipping backward in mock shock. Her exaggerated southern drawl made him smile. Sheila had been born in Los Angeles. She’d never been near the south. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I heard a nasty rumor that you took a job as a professor. I must have heard wrong. Though I guess that would explain the beer belly…”

“Wine belly. It happens when you live in Wine Country. That Zin isn’t going to drink itself.” Blair hefted her tiny frame in a fierce hug. “I missed you too, by the way. Even if you did get old. What are you, like forty now?”

“Forty? I’ll show you forty. God, it’s good to see you, Blair.” She returned the hug just as fiercely.
 

She leaned in close and whispered the rest. “We should talk in private when you have a minute.”
 

What didn’t she want the rest of them to know?

Blair set her down, giving her a quizzical look. She shook her head slightly and resumed her smile as she led him and Bridget toward the pavilions. Neither woman acknowledged the other. Guess he shouldn’t be surprised, given their history.

He was thankful the moment he stepped beneath the blue canvas, because someone had the foresight to set a large space heater near the center. A pair of men stood next to the collapsible table, a black plastic top with aluminum legs. The map atop it was an aerial survey.
 

“When was this taken?” Blair asked, stabbing the center of the map with a finger.

“Boy, you get right to work.” The shorter of the two men laughed. He had a dark complexion and an easy smile. His accent had probably landed the man a lot of tourist girls. “I’m Alejandro, and this dour fellow behind me is Doctor Roberts. That’s his first name, Doctor. I’m convinced of it.”

“Ignore the artist. He doesn’t appreciate the rigors of science,” the taller man droned, glancing up from a thick textbook.
Seismic Wonders
was emblazoned on the cover in blocky red letters. The man placed an arm over the cover when he realized Blair was staring. His face sported a bristly black beard badly in need of shearing. “I’m Doctor Roberts and prefer to be addressed as such. To answer your question, that survey was done three months ago. It’s a Google Earth satellite image, and as you’ve deduced it shows no trace of the structure behind me. That’s why I’m here. To determine where it came from and how it appeared. If I understand correctly,
you’re
here to tell us who built it.”

“Let’s hope so,” Blair said, offering Doctor Roberts a hand. The man’s grip was surprisingly firm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 
Blair offered Alejandro his hand, but the man swept him up in a hug.
 

“We are beyond handshakes, my friend. Together, we will unlock a world not glimpsed in thousands of years. We are more than friends. We are family.”

“Uh, nice to meet you too. So where’s Steve?” Blair asked, disengaging from the strange little Latino. There was no sign of his former friend among the makeshift pavilions. He scanned the area around the pyramid but saw nothing else of note. Perhaps there was another set of pavilions on the far side?

Everyone looked pointedly at Bridget, who dropped her gaze. Jesus. Given how uncomfortable everyone looked, Blair thought maybe she wasn’t being melodramatic about Steve’s condition.

“Blair, why don’t I show you your tent?” Sheila said, trying to fill the lengthening silence.

“I’d appreciate that. It would be good to drop this pack and get settled in. Afterwards, maybe you can show me the site.”

Bridget raised a hand as if about to say something, and then she let it fall limply to her side. She turned to examine the aerial photo, though he seriously doubted she saw any part of that map. He’d seen that expression before. She wasn’t concerned. She was terrified.

Chapter 6- Ahiga

Crouching atop the tree’s limb many feet over the jungle floor, Ahiga knew despair. The strangely armored warriors with their deafening armaments had driven him from the Ark. The fight had been brief but bloody, and he had fled when his energy waned. True, he could have stayed and likely slain them all, but at what cost had he failed? His role was vital. If he did not wake the Mother, this new world would be naked before the coming storm.
 

He kicked off the limb of a capirona, vaulting from the arboreal crown to a perch in a neighboring tree no unblooded could have climbed. The sounds of the jungle washed over him, an island of familiarity amidst all the strangeness of this new world. The harsh cry of the macaw and the chattering of monkeys were familiar things, a precious remembrance of what had once been. These things had drawn him here, a place to contemplate, to plan, several days from the Ark.

If the Mother’s predictions were correct he’d slept for time beyond counting. Two full ages, nearly half the longest count. It was long enough for time to scour away all knowledge of his people. What had survived? Was there some fragment? Everything depended on the seeds they had planted.

Ahiga leapt again, seizing a thick limb and using it to renew his momentum. He lost himself in the rhythm, leaping from tree to tree as he traversed the jungle. His people had used the dense foliage to harry the ancient enemy whenever they were foolish enough to invade these shores. Champions could ride swiftly through the jungle even in their human forms, as he was now.
 
The shelter of the trees allowed them to fall upon the unsuspecting deathless wherever they were found.

The jungle thinned to mighty kapok trees, so distant from each other that each leap taxed even his abilities. There. A great river, dark with mud and vegetation. Its course had shifted from his day, but it was unmistakable. The River of Life bisected much of the continent and had been thick with the unblooded in their ungainly canoes during his time. If man had survived, they would be near the river, still drawing from its bounty.

Many leaps later he paused atop a sprawling root tree near the shore, its tendrils disappearing into the dark waters. In the distance a single plume of smoke wound skyward, all but disappearing into the thick grey clouds clotting the sky. He studied the area beneath the plume, though most of it was blocked by a knot of trees on the far side of the river. Several crude structures crouched near the water’s edge, each cut from weathered planks. Only one figure moved amidst them.

Ahiga channeled a quick pulse of energy, infusing his eyes with far greater clarity than they normally possessed. The dark-skinned man knelt on the edge of a dock, tying off a frayed rope that led to a small boat cut from the same timbers used in the buildings. An odd bulky box was affixed to the rear of the boat. What purpose might it serve?
 

Ahiga leapt skyward, angling his flight high above the river. He dove into the muddy depths, the force of his flight propelling him through the water. He channeled another spark, this time into his limbs. It gave him far greater strength than any man had, allowing him to traverse the water more quickly. He swam toward the structures, careful not to break the surface lest the figure see him. The brief glimpse had certainly been less intimidating than the strangely armored warriors, but there was no way of knowing if this man possessed abilities he’d never encountered. It was best to be cautious.

He burst from the river near the dock, landing with a hollow thud just behind the man. The stranger spun, uttering what Ahiga took for a curse. His clothing was odd, a dark pair of breeches cut just over the knee and a white shirt with colorful red markings. He reached for a long knife sheathed at his belt, but Ahiga gave him no chance to defend himself. He seized the man’s wrist in a vice-like grip, forcing the stranger to his knees, where he belonged.

“Quien es?” the man sputtered, but the words were gibberish to Ahiga. He would correct that.

His second hand shot out, locking around the man’s neck. Ahiga stared deep into the man’s eyes, activating his dwindling supply of energy. The world around him disappeared, replaced by a swirling vortex of memories. He sifted through them, gathering information as he journeyed through the unblooded’s mind. He absorbed many things, more than he could process quickly.

The language was called Spanish and was spoken by many of the natives in this land. The land itself was Peru, though he was near the border of another land known as Ecuador. Beyond that was a more massive nation called Brazil. Through the man’s mind, Ahiga glimpsed vast cities, cities of millions, and they weren’t the only ones. There were other lands on other continents. The most powerful were on the continent to the north, the continent of his birth. He continued his exploration, dimly aware of the man’s trapped consciousness fluttering like a caged bird in his iron grip.

Interesting. The world contained scattered myths with grains of truth. Werewolves, a crude but accurate description for Champions. Though much of what they knew was wrong, they even remembered the ancient enemy. The man’s knowledge painted a romantic picture of the deathless. Was that the enemy’s doing? Perhaps they had modified the genetic memory of their unblooded just as the Mother had done. If so, it did not bode well.

Shock shivered through Ahiga’s mind as he discovered the root of the technology the people of this world had employed. They used signals indiscriminately, blanketing the world to deliver messages to their communications devices. They did so in ignorance, unaware of the tremendous abuse such a network could allow. Of how it could be employed to shape their minds and even their bodies.

Ahiga retreated back to his own mind, releasing the unblooded. Miguel, he called himself.

“What did you do to me?” Miguel rasped, rubbing at his neck with a calloused hand. He no longer reached for the knife.

“Such information is useless to you,” Ahiga explained in the tongue he had stolen from the man. He released Miguel’s wrist and took a step closer to shore.
 

“Why?” Miguel asked, clearly still dazed from the experience.
 

Ahiga wasn’t surprised. Sifting a mind disoriented the target.

“Because you are about to die. All who draw breath in this village are about to die,” he answered calmly. He channeled a spark of energy into his right hand, extending the claws that were his birthright. They gleamed wickedly as they flashed for the man’s throat. Miguel collapsed in a spray of blood, and his body toppled into the water with a muddy splash. He didn’t even have time to give alarm to his fellows.

Ahiga turned toward the village, making his way between the ramshackle huts. There was grisly work to be about. Important work.

Chapter 7- The Ark

“Wait till you see the inside of this place,” Sheila said, boisterous enough that even coming from her the words sounded a bit forced.
 

Maybe Blair was just being paranoid, but he wasn’t so sure. He paused a moment as she unzipped a tall domed tent and ducked inside the white canvas. Blair followed and was surprised to find that he could stand at full height. Despite how thin it was the fabric warded the worst of the chill.
 

“You guys have some great friends,” Blair said. “We never had anything like this on any of the digs you and I were involved with. You remember the debris huts we had to make ourselves? This place is paradise.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I want to talk to you about.” Sheila lowered her voice. Her dark eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I don’t know what we’ve gotten ourselves into here, but I don’t like it. The way the Peruvian government found us is too convenient, and they
definitely
have more resources than any government I’ve seen,
especially
Peru. Take Jordan, for example. He’s the bully they left to babysit. You know what? I don’t think he’s military at all. He reeks of corporate money. No military I’ve seen has access to so many high-tech toys. Like this little satellite dish he sets up every morning. And the pair of little black drones that circle camp.”