Zhang Li snorted as he remembered. They’d closed that drill location, stored the strange flesh, and then within a day, had forgotten about mysterious sample. It was of no consequence or interest to the mission.
Zhang Li ground his teeth again as the mind-tearing sound of the huge circular rock cutter dragged him back to the moment. He pushed his hard hat back, wiped his brow and then squatted next to some dinner plate sized shards of stone, one in particular catching his eye. He turned it around, and frowned down at it. He then grabbed at the others, turning some over, sliding them closer and then rearranging them like a jigsaw.
His eyebrows knitted. Millions of years ago, the area he was in was probably an ocean floor, and the soft mud had taken an impression. In the matrix he could make out a fossil imprint — a circle, nearly two feet wide, serrated at its edges, and in the center a hole. He placed one of his fingers into it, and it sunk in to the second knuckle.
The thing reminded him of something he had glimpsed at the Beijing Maritime Museum — fighting scars on an ancient sperm whale hide. He couldn’t quite place it in his memory, and gave up. Zhang Li got to his feet. Like a window on a world long past, the ancient continent gave up its secrets to those it determined were worthy, but today, he was not to be one of them.
The rock cutter made a high, screaming noise that made him wince. He had been part of the deep dig for years, and knew every pitch, clank, grind, or whisper that came from the huge boring tool, and this was the sound of the giant circular blades spinning in space.
Voices yelled for a halt, and Zhang Li jogged down the tunnel. The air was still thick with floating dust that stuck to the skin, and combined with perspiration to run like oil from the men’s faces. His dig foreman, Li Peng, waved him over.
Zhang Li nodded to him. “What is it?”
Peng shook his head. “Not sure. We’ve opened a cavity — a big one.” He looked briefly over his shoulder before turning back to Zhang Li. “There’s also a signal emanating from inside. It was trapped behind the rock face.”
“A signal — man made?” Zhang Li stepped past him. “Looks like the earth has done our tunneling for us. And now, we better make sure we really are alone.”
Zhang Li ran for his life. His breathing was ragged and hot, and he blinked at stinging perspiration that ran greasily into his eyes.
They were all gone now — the engineers, the workers, and even the military guards. He cast his mind back; the first few had vanished in the night — simply wandered off in the darkness they had thought — cold madness or got themselves lost somewhere in the newly discovered labyrinths. But then more disappeared during the daytime dig, sitting down for a break, or moving into a side tunnel to take a piss, always by themselves. One minute they were there, and the next they had vanished as if they had been nothing more than smoke.
As their numbers dwindled, some of the men had said they saw their missing comrades and had rushed headlong into the dark after them. Their screams and scuffmarks on the cave floor were all that remained.
Zhang Li had followed once, and then seen them — the guilao — ghost people. One of his missing security men had stood there in the darkness, unmoving, unnatural. The guard seemed glisteningly wet, and though his mouth was open, no words came. Sho Zhen, the geologist, had approached — he took only two steps before the guard had attacked… or rather sprang at his colleague so fast that he seemed to fly. From there, reality had become a confused nightmare.
He changed; it wasn’t a guard at all, but something stinking and fleshy that stuck to his friend, sucking on to him, and agonizingly impaling him to then drag him away screaming into the darkness. Zhang Li had remained standing rod-straight for several minutes, mouth gaping, feeling nothing but a warm wetness spread at his groin. He slowly wiped a hand over his face, feeling the slick perspiration.
His remaining team had gathered behind him, demanding he return them to the surface. But instead, his jaws clenched with determination — he was the leader of the team, and a respected scientist, not some superstitious villager. His guards had guns; he needed to take control. He decided then; he would do it, bring them all back safely.
Against their wishes, Zhang Li had taken their remaining crew and ventured down into those dreadful, stygian depths. Drag marks against the stone marked their path, and deeper and deeper they had descended, until they eventually found their answers… the horrifying answers to his missing team members.
…and now those answers pursued him, the last man left, all the way to the surface.
CHAPTER 4
The floorboards felt cool and smooth under Aimee Weir’s bare feet. She knew just where to place her toes so the boards wouldn’t creak.
This was a habit now, waking at midnight, usually jolted alert by fleeing nightmares about her past, or chasing the specter of a love long gone. Perhaps it was her young son, Joshua, who kept the ghost of Alex Hunter alive. Joshua’s features and his unique abilities reminded her every minute of every day of the Special Forces soldier who changed her world. His presence lingered in the dark corners of her mind, refusing to dissipate. I’m right here, Alex seemed to say, every time Joshua smiled up at her.
She stopped in front of her bedroom, deciding. Her partner, Peter, slept soundly, and only a small part of her wanted to return to share the bed with him. She had wanted a father for Joshua, and Peter had played that role. But as much as he loved her, and maybe she even loved him, there would always be a ghost between them that refused to be exorcised.
She passed by the room, and placed her hand on Joshua’s door handle. She smiled and shook her head; she checked on him too much — every night when she woke — worried that if people knew about Joshua, knew he was Alex Hunter’s son, they may try and take him from her. Or perhaps even worse, she would wake up one time and find that he had been nothing but a mirage. He was the only good thing she had from those strange times.
Last look, she thought and quietly opened the door. It was cold — strangely so — the curtain billowed from a slight breeze. The window was open, and it shouldn’t have been. She frowned and her head snapped around to look to the bed. It was empty.
Movement drew her attention back to the other corner of the room, and her breath caught as a large shape loomed. There was a single red dot where two eyes should have been. Aimee screamed.
“Sir, extreme intrusion — Buchanan Road.”
“What the fuck?” First Lieutenant Sam Reid leapt to his feet, the huge HAWC towering over the soldier leaning in at the doorway.
At thirty-nine, Sam was the oldest HAWC in the ranks, but he was the strongest, and the best military tactician on the team. He was also crippled from the waist down, as he had suffered the brutal shattering of his L1 and L2 spinal plates, and worse, had had his cord severed.
But advancements in experimental bionics and battlefield armor had meant test pilots were needed — Sam had enthusiastically volunteered to try out the new MECH suit, or part of it. The Military Exoskeleton Combat Harness was the next generation heavy combat armor. On Sam, the half body synaptic electronics were a molded framework that was built on, and into, his body — light, flexible, and a hundred times tougher than steel. Sam was as good as new, except now the big man could run faster than a horse, and kick a hole in a steel door.