Altar of Eden (25 page)

Lorna followed Malik back to his office. Her legs wobbled with each step, and she came close to falling on her face after first sliding off the exam table. Bennett caught her and offered her his arm. She hated to take it, but the only other choice was to be carried there.

At least moving helped clear her head.

By the time she reached the chair in front of his desk, she felt strong enough to let go of Bennett’s arm and move to the seat. The burning ache in her lower back had also dulled to a low throb. She sank to the chair as Malik took a remote and pointed it at the wall of screens.

“This is a live high-definition camera feed from the habitat we set up on the neighboring island. The animal reserve is connected to ours by a land bridge, but we’ve set up an electric fence between the two islands and maintain around-the-clock guards. The other island is a perfect test field for evaluating how this new intelligence manifests in a real-world setting.”

The center plasma monitor bloomed to life. The clarity was such that it looked more like a window into another world—and perhaps it was. The view opened into a clearing in a primeval forest. Crude, palm-thatched huts circled the edges, and in the center, a fire pit glowed with embers.

A pair of naked figures crouched near the pit. They were the size of large children, naked but covered mostly in fur. The male rose to his feet as if sensing their observation. He searched around. His nose was broad and flat, his forehead high and prominent, shadowing his eyes. His jaw protruded, looking like it had been crudely sculpted, halfway between ape and man.

Despite her weakness, Lorna rose again to her feet, fascinated despite her personal repugnance concerning the research here. She recognized the creature. Here was a living example of the body she’d seen earlier. A hominid-like version of early man. As if wary, the male helped the female to her feet. Her breasts hung heavy. She held a hand to her belly, which bulged.

“She’s pregnant,” Lorna said, surprised.

“Due any day,” Malik agreed. “We’re lucky to catch a view of the female. She normally stays hidden and only comes out at night.”

“I named her Eve,” Bennett said with a vague note of fatherly pride in his voice.

Malik rolled his eyes a bit at the conceit of his choice of names. “She’s the first of them to conceive in the wild. We’ve normally orchestrated all breeding via artificial insemination in the lab. We’re very curious what sort of offspring she’ll give birth to.”

“How old is she?”

“The male is eight, the female seven.”

The shock must have been plain on Lorna’s face.

“The specimens mature at a very fast rate,” Malik explained.

Behind the figures, a large dark shape crept out of the shadowy forest. It kept low to the ground, padding on wide paws, tail straight back, ears laid flat. It stalked toward the unsuspecting figures. It was an ebony-furred version of the saber-toothed jaguar killed in the bayou. A juvenile, from the looks of it. Still, this youngster had to weigh over a hundred pounds, most of it muscle. Its eyes squinted toward the two targets—then in an explosion of muscle, it charged at them.

Lorna took a step back in horror.

The male suddenly swung around. The cat skidded to a stop and promptly rolled onto its back, baring its throat and wiggling happily on the ground. The female bent down, one hand supporting her lower back, and rubbed the cat’s chin. A tender smile suffused her face. Her features were a more softly sculpted version of the male’s. The cat’s tail swished in contentment.

Bennett stepped to Lorna’s side.
“ ‘And so the lion shall lie down with the lamb . . .’ ”

Malik explained less philosophically. “They’re all bonded. The habitat was established a year ago. At first there were a few deaths, but over time, the specimens established and grew into an interconnected family of sorts, connected, we suppose, by their mental affinity, sharing at a level we cannot comprehend.”

Lorna heard the longing in his voice—not out of any desire to experience it, but more out of a desire to understand and harness it.

As she watched, another three figures entered the clearing. One carried a crude spear, the other two hauled a small pig between them.

“We stock the island with deer and pigs,” Bennett said. “To keep them fed.”

“They also have wild-growing coconut and mango trees and a freshwater spring,” Malik added. “But other than that and the makeshift shelters, we’ve left them to fend for themselves. To see how they adapt, to coexist, and use their strange intelligence to solve problems. We set up weekly challenges and tests and evaluate their performances.”

Behind the trio of hunters, a pack of a dozen dogs burst out of the forest. Lean, with bushy tails and sharp ears, they looked like miniature wolves, each the size of a cocker spaniel. The dogs swept into the clearing, but rather than moving like a tumbling, riotous pack, there was a strange coordination to their movement. They gave the clearing one full run, then swept eerily to a standstill, dropping simultaneously to their haunches, like a flock of birds settling to a perch.

Another handful of hominids appeared from the huts, drawn out by the commotion. Lorna counted.

At least ten.

“It many ways,” Bennett said, “this place truly is Eden. All God’s creatures—great and small—living in harmony.”

Malik had a less biblical take on the matter. “What we’re seeing is a demonstration of fractal intelligence, where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. We believe the group has developed a hivelike intelligence, where the individuals in the habitat act like one living unit. It may be why they haven’t developed the ability to speak. They each know the others’ thoughts.”

“And perhaps that’s the way the world once was,” Bennett said. “Before we were cast from Eden.”

Rather than dismiss the biblical analogies this time, Malik nodded. “Mr. Bennett might be right. Perhaps what we’re looking at is the source of the mythology of an earlier earthly paradise, the proverbial Garden of Eden. Various versions of that story persist in cultures around the world. Why is that? Perhaps it rises from some race memory of such a prior union. Just as we still carry magnetite crystals in our brain—fractured pieces of this old neural network—maybe we do somehow recall this earlier paradise.”

“And maybe it’s
more
than just memory,” Lorna said, finding herself inadvertently caught up in the wonder of what she was seeing.

Malik turned to her for elaboration.

She nodded to the screen. “For the past decade, animal researchers and human psychologists have been exploring the human—animal bond—the strange and deep affinity humans have for animals. No one really knows the source of this affinity. We do know it goes beyond mere affection or need for companionship. New studies show the human body
physically
responds to the presence of animals in a positive manner.”

“What do you mean by positive?” Bennett asked.

She offered some examples. “People who own animals have lower cholesterol levels and a lessened risk of heart disease. Just petting a cat causes an immediate drop in blood pressure. Bringing companion animals into hospitals and hospices accelerates healing times and boosts immune responses in patients. Yet it remains a mystery
why
we have this bodily reaction.”

She pointed to the screen. “Maybe that is the answer. Maybe more than just a race memory of Eden resides in us. Maybe our bodies
physically
remember it, too. Memory locked in both mind and body.”

“That’s an intriguing view, Dr. Polk. And you may be right. Perhaps there remains some weak connection, some residual vibration from the fragments of magnetite crystals that persist, connecting us all together.” Malik sighed and frowned at the figures on the monitor. “Still, it’s the
body
part that has been plaguing us here.”

She understood, putting the details together in her head. “The genetic throwbacks,” she said to Malik, then turned to Bennett. “You mentioned the Pentagon’s interest in the performance enhancement of humans. You still haven’t gotten it right. With such mutational throw-backs, you can’t bring your research forward.”

Bennett nodded. “That’s right.”

“It’s the Holy Grail of our research,” Malik said. “A human birth without turning back the evolutionary clock.”

“Does the Pentagon even know you’re doing these human studies?”

Bennett shrugged. “They know not to look too closely. It’s why we shipped only animals on the trawler, to demonstrate our progress in order for our funding to continue flowing. We’re so close to fully realizing our goal. Can you imagine if we could tap into this resource? Soldiers who are not only smarter, but with unit cohesion like no other army.”

“But that isn’t our only obstacle,” Malik said. He stared grimly as the hunters tossed the pig onto the hot coals of the fire pit. “It seems our Eden has its serpent, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me show you.”

Malik pointed his remote at the other monitors that surrounded the plasma screen. Image after image appeared. Most were pictures of bloody wounds sustained by various men and women, some in white lab coats, others in worker’s coveralls or khaki uniforms. But one screen played a video, filmed at night, hued in shades of silver. A shape—one of the hominids—bounded down a dark beach and leaped upon a guard smoking a cigarette. It tore at the man’s throat with tooth and nail. The savagery was shocking. Even after the guard was down, the creature continued to claw at the man’s face, ripping away a chunk of his cheek.

“That happened last night,” Bennett said.

“Bouts of hyperaggression,” Malik explained. “They flare up with no warning, no provocation, no explicable reason. One of them might appear gentle one day but would suddenly attack a technician the next. It’s one of the reasons we decided to isolate the colony to the far island. They were growing too dangerous to keep here. Our head of security would have preferred to destroy them, but there is still so much we can learn by studying them. From a safe distance.”

She pictured Duncan’s map of scars. “Is that what happened to his face? Was he attacked?”

“Duncan?” Bennett shook his head. “He was injured much earlier, back when we were first salvaging specimens. Got badly mauled. Spent a week in a coma and countless hours under a surgeon’s knife just to get back some semblance of a face.”

No wonder the bastard hates them so much,
she thought.

Bennett continued: “But that’s the nature of the beast. I personally believe our aggression problem here at Eden arises because our test subjects have an unnatural connection to wild animals. Such contact defiles God’s plan. Corrupts what little bit of humanity remains in them. If we could purge that, we’d be better off.”

“And I can’t discount that,” Malik added. “There remains a feral edge to them that we can’t tame. Maybe it does rise from this merging of animal and man. To that end, we’ve restricted our next phase of research to human studies only. It’s why we need plenty of fresh genetic material.”

Lorna didn’t like the sound of that. The ache in her ovaries reminded her
where
they would harvest the new genetic material.

“But we’d appreciate hearing any insight you might have in regard to the serpent in our midst,” Malik said. “Mr. Bennett and I have already discussed utilizing your talents.”

Lorna suddenly sensed all this was some sort of test, a practical exam of her usefulness. To survive, she had to prove herself. If she failed at any point, her life was forfeit.

“Perhaps it would be best if you showed what we’re working on now,” Bennett said.

In other words, part two of her exam was about to begin.

Lorna eyed the center monitor. The village was covering the pig with leaves and stones. She watched a version of Igor up in a tree, cutting down palm fronds with his beak. The sight of the featherless parrot reminded her of all she’d lost, of the hopelessness of her situation.

Something in the forest must have made a noise. Suddenly all eyes—dog, cat, bird, man—snapped in that direction, shifting like a single organism. The entire habitat froze in place. They all seemed to be staring directly at the camera, straight at her.

Her body went cold.

Malik placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. As if that contact broke some spell, the village snapped out of its fixed focus and resumed their coordinated effort. But Lorna could not shake the menacing intensity of that attention.

“Don’t worry,” Malik said. “You won’t have anything to do with them. That place is off limits. Isolated to their habitat, they’ve become progressively insular, dangerous to anyone outside their interconnected family. It would be suicide to step foot in there.”

Despite the danger posed, she could not stop staring at the screen. Still, she understood the security issue. Having been involved with the New Orleans Zoo, she knew the obstacles and challenges when it came to safely housing wild animals, especially predators.

She was glad someone was keeping a close eye on that place.

Duncan stood on the stretch of sand that connected the two islands. He sucked on a cherry Life Savers, but not even the sweetness could dispel the bitter taste at the back of his throat. He hated to put his men at needless risk, especially when Malik couldn’t recognize a failure when it was biting him in the ass.

Across the sand, a trio of his commandos approached the forest on the far side. They were armed with XM8 lightweight assault rifles outfitted with 40mm grenade launchers.

Duncan wasn’t taking any chances.

He never did.

Malik had thought him overly paranoid when he designed the security measures to isolate the other island. A twelve-foot electric fence split the land bridge in half. Coils of concertina barbwire topped the gate and rolled out into the water. He’d also mined the seabed to either side with antipersonnel charges that would explode and shred the shallows with razor-sharp flechettes. Additionally, he’d tagged all the beasts over there and monitored their movements around the clock. There should have been no accidents, no surprises, certainly no deaths.

Duncan had seen the body on the beach. The man’s face was gone, stripped to the bone. Staring at the mutilation, he had flashbacks about his own attack—and that only stoked his anger to a hot fire. Even his own men gave him a wide berth, seeing something in his face that scared them.

And he was okay with that. He wanted his men to remain wary.

Across the way, the trio of men vanished into the forest. Duncan listened to their chatter. He didn’t have to be down at the beach, but he felt it was his duty. He wanted to be here in case there was trouble. He never sent his men into a firestorm that he wasn’t willing to follow them into. It was why his men respected him, were loyal to him.

He listened to the men’s chatter over the radio in his ear. They kept their talk to a minimum, but he wasn’t satisfied. He touched his throat mike.

“Keep silent out there. Hand signals only. Sound out if there’s trouble.”

He got confirmation from all three.

He resumed his pacing as he waited. Each minute dragged. His jaw muscles began to ache.

Finally, a new voice spoke in his ear. “Commander Kent, the team is about to enter the blacked-out zone.” The speaker was posted back at the villa’s security nest, monitoring all the camera feeds. “I’ll lose them from here, but I’ll keep tracking their ID tags.”

“Understood. Keep me updated.”

Duncan kept his gaze fixed on the forested hill across the way. During his engineering of the compound, he had installed an additional precaution in case of emergency. He had sowed the island with napalm bombs. With a press of a button, he could burn the other island down to the dirt. At the moment he was tempted to do that.

Fry the whole place. Be done with it.

The security technician spoke again in his ear. “The team has reached the tree blind where the broken camera was posted.”

Impatient, Duncan pressed his throat mike to open a channel to his team. “Report in. What’s going on out there? What did you find?”

The voice came back in a wary whisper. “Camera’s trashed. Looks like someone took a rock to it. Smashed it to bits.”

So he’d been right all along.

A mechanical glitch, my ass.

Duncan planned on laying into Malik once he got back to the villa. But that could wait. He didn’t want his men out there any longer than necessary.

“Replace the camera,” he ordered. “And hump your asses back here double time.”

“Will do.”

Before he could even sign off, the security nest cut in. “Commander Kent, I’m receiving a distress call from a commercial charter boat. They’re reporting an engine fire.”

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Like I need this now . . .

He spoke into his radio. “Where are they?”

“The beach patrol says the boat’s about half a klick from the cove, blowing black smoke. How do you want me to respond?”

Duncan didn’t like this. Warning bells rang in his head. He wanted to check this out himself.

“Hold tight before responding to the boat. I’ll be right up.”

“Aye, sir.”

Duncan stared at the dark forest beyond the gate. The others should be heading back by now. The security nest could continue monitoring their status until they were safe.

He turned his back on other island and headed up the stone stairs toward the villa. He wanted to see this foundering boat for himself. By maritime law, they could not ban the ship from seeking shelter. To do so would only draw attention to the island.

Still, that didn’t mean he had to roll out the welcome mat.

He touched his mike again. “Tell the beach patrol to keep heavy watch on that boat until I get there. And order the gun battery in the crow’s nest to maintain a fix on that target.”

During the construction of the villa, he’d had a M242 Bush-master cannon built into a bunker atop the highest floor of the villa. It fired two hundred rounds a minute with the velocity to shred through armor. Might seem like overkill, but it was a reasonable precaution considering that the seas around here continued to be hounded by modern-day pirates, raiders who attacked small islands, pillaged unsuspecting estates, and slaughtered or kidnapped anyone unlucky enough to be around.

Duncan refused to be caught by surprise. If whoever was out there wanted to make trouble, he’d make them regret it.