Ice Storm (31 page)

Four glittering walls stood before me, angled toward the center of the room. They were thirty-feet tall, measured thirteen feet wide, and contained enough space for three doors. Thousands of colors, from topaz to lemon, filled my eyes. Mirrors, gilding, jewels, and gold mosaics sparkled under my light. It was almost too beautiful for this world. I felt a sudden urge to grab hold of that beauty. To wrap it up, deliver it to the stars. Only there could it possibly find its equal.

"God Almighty." Graham inhaled through his nostrils. "Is that what I think it is?"

My flashlight traced over the walls. I saw thousands of polished beads. They greedily swallowed up my light, emitting a soft glow in the process. "Yes." I swallowed hard. "It's the Amber Room."

P
ART
V

Amerika-Rakete

Chapter 88

Aaron Jenner twisted his head in all directions. He felt completely baffled. Where the hell was he?

He noticed the rock walls on either side of him. There was ample room but they felt a little too close, a little too tight. He saw various people in front of him. They looked like soldiers. Maybe he was on some type of mission.

He stopped and shook his head. His mind felt cloudy. His head felt like it was partially filled with helium.

"Are you okay?"

Jenner spun around. An unfamiliar woman faced him. She leaned casually to one side, her hands shoved deep into her parka pockets. Evidently, they were somewhere cold.

He swallowed. He knew his name and his profession. He could recall his earliest childhood memories. So, why couldn't he remember anything more recent? "I'm fine. Just taking a break."

"We don't have time for a break. You promised me this would be fast."

He stood there for a moment, surrounded by mental clouds. He needed to clear his head, refocus. "Go on without me. I'll catch up in a minute."

She pushed past him. Her touch electrified his brain. Memories flooded his head. Beverly Ginger. Antarctica.
Werwolfsschanze
.

The Amber Room.

His right forefinger twitched. His wrist jerked. His forearm quivered. Fury overtook him as he plastered his back against one side of the dark tunnel.

He gripped his arm with his left hand. It was a force of habit. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't do him any good. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the writhing. The involuntary movements would continue to roll up his arm, moving from muscle to muscle. When his chorea acted up, he was little more than a puppet at the mercy of forces outside of his control.

Genetic forces.

A finger tapped his shoulder. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Don't worry about me." Jenner gritted his teeth. "Get over there. I want the Amber Room within the hour."

The man flashed him a strange look. Then he hurried away to join the other soldiers.

Jenner had seen that look before. In fact, he'd seen it many times, ever since he'd first experienced chorea at the relatively young age of twenty-six. But chorea wasn't the worst part. The worst part was his all too frequent episodes of short-term memory loss.

The tunnel felt unusually hot. Large beads of perspiration dripped down his face. But he didn't dare wipe them away, not while he had so little control over his body.

He looked up. Above, he saw the rough edges of fractured rock. He didn't care for the tight quarters. In fact, a large part of him longed for the vast icy expanse and the cold blizzard. But he couldn't leave, not yet.

Not without the Amber Room.

The writhing ceased. Jenner released his arm. It thumped against his side. He glared at it for a moment. Then he wiggled his fingers. He proceeded to test his other muscles. They worked just fine.

One of these days, his muscle control wouldn't bounce back so readily. Over the next few years, his motor skills would become increasingly dysfunctional. The writhing movements would worsen. His muscles would grow rigid. Simple tasks like speaking and chewing food would become increasingly difficult.

And his mind would fare no better. His memory deficits would creep past the short-term stuff. His long-term memories would fade. His body would forget how to perform ordinary functions. His working memory would all but disappear. Dementia would inevitably follow.

Such was the curse of Huntington's disease.

He wrenched his wool hat off his head and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he started to walk again. A dull, slippery sheen covered the smooth ground, making each step a precarious adventure in balance. Due to his muscle problems, he was forced to step slowly and with great care. This irritated him to no end.

Jenner stepped into a cavern. A lake sat in the middle of it. His eyes lingered on its glistening surface for a moment.

He lifted his gaze. On the opposite end of the lake, he saw a vault door. A group of soldiers were gathered around it. "What's the hold up?" he asked.

Holly pulled off her hood. "I already told you."

He gritted his teeth. "So, tell me again."

"It's some kind of vault. Cy and the others locked themselves inside it."

"A vault?"

She nodded.

Jenner leaned against the nearest wall. The Amber Room was close. He could feel it. Years of long nights, staggering bills, and fruitless searches were about to come to an end. And yet, he wasn't happy. Pleased, perhaps. But certainly not happy.

Negative thoughts consumed him. The rest of his life would be a nightmare. At most, he'd live another fifteen to twenty years. Then he'd die a painful death, most likely from pneumonia or heart disease.

Deep down, Jenner wished he'd never been born. He was a product of poor genetics. He'd been born with an autosomal dominant mutation in one of his two Huntingtin genes. It was that simple. And there was nothing he could do about it. There was no cure. There was no way of stopping the oddly spelled Huntingtin gene from expressing itself. The only way to end Huntington's disease was to eliminate it completely from the gene pool.

Charles Davenport had proposed that exact same solution back in 1910. He'd wanted to use forced sterilization and immigration control to stop the spread of Huntington's disease within the United States. But of course, modern civilization was too squeamish to do those things.

The future genetic make-up of society was far too important to leave in the hands of fate. Certain genes needed to be ripped out of civilization. Other genes needed to be preserved and even encouraged. The Great Dying—after the right people were inoculated—would do just that. This, Jenner knew, was his lot in life. It was his fate.

It was his legacy.

Chapter 89

The amber glowed at me, beckoning me to touch it, to embrace it. I sheathed my machete. Took off my gloves. Reached forward.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Graham asked.

Slowly, I retracted my hand. Then I pulled my beam away from the amber panels. They still glowed but not as strongly.

The amber was in spectacular shape. Far better than I'd ever expected. Apparently, the geothermal lake provided just enough heat to keep it from growing brittle.

My insides felt like they were being ripped apart as I studied the sculpture. I knew I had to destroy it. But I sure as hell didn't savor the idea. The Amber Room was the most magnificent piece of art I'd ever seen. It was worth a fortune. But it was more than that. It was my chance at redemption, my chance to prove my worth to the Explorer's Society.

My chance to be remembered.

Graham eyed the amber. "How do you want to do this?"

I looked around, taking note of the vault's contents. I saw papers, notebooks, and other burnable materials. Loose pieces of metal, if struck correctly, could provide us with sparks. "We can burn it. A fire should consume any dormant bacteria."

A hard object pounded against the vault door. It quivered gently.

"Hopefully, it won't consume us too." He hobbled toward a desk. "Well, let's light this sucker up."

My mouth went dry. "Wait."

"For what?"

"There's got to be another way."

He stared at me.

"We can save it, Dutch."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"It's priceless."

"It's deadly. Hell, it's beyond deadly."

"We can crate it up, carry it out the exit. We can take it back to New York before Aaron even knows we're gone."

"Speaking of the exit …" He looked around. "Where is it?"

I followed his gaze, swinging my light across the room. The exit wasn't the only thing I didn't see. "Beverly?"

There was no response.

"I don't see her." Graham's eyes opened wide. "But I see something else."

"What?"

"Remember Fenrir?"

I nodded.

"Looks like he's got a brother."

Chapter 90

I pulled out my pistol. The wolf stood about twenty feet away from us. It looked eerily similar to the one Baxter had killed. "Did you take Pat's gun?"

Graham nodded.

"Good. I'll distract it. Swing to the side, out of its field of vision. Aim for its throat."

"That won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not alone."

I whirled to the southeast. Two other giant arctic wolves stood near the corner. Slowly, they fanned out.

I backed up until I stood next to Graham. "So, Fenrir isn't a single wolf with mythical abilities. It's a whole damn wolf pack."

"That must be how they survived all of this time. Ordinarily, arctic wolves don't last more than ten years in the wild. They must've propagated and fed on the descendents of the other experimental animals."

Another chilly breeze brushed past me. "The air's flowing right past them. They must be guarding the exit."

"Then I guess we've got our work cut out for us."

The first wolf darted toward me.

I raised my pistol. Squeezed the trigger.

The wolf yelped and leapt backward.

I lifted my flashlight and held it alongside my gun. Then I took a few steps forward, making sure to keep the beast in my sights.

The other two wolves bared their teeth.

Graham pulled out Baxter's pistol. He shifted it from left to right.

The injured beast eased back a few feet. The other wolves held their ground.

"They don't seem interested in leaving," Graham said through clenched teeth. "Looks like we're going to have to find a way to kill them."

The wolves circled around us, drawing closer in the process. Carefully, we edged along the western wall. We passed by a bunch of tables. Microscopes and odd-looking instruments lined their surfaces.

We reached the southwest corner. Slowly, we weaved our way between several large machines. They looked like primitive computers. Then we made our way toward the southeast corner.

"How're we doing?" I asked.

"Could be worse," Graham replied. "It looks like they're giving us the exit."

"What about the Amber Room?"

"I say we wait for Jenner. While he's dealing with the wolves, we can get the fire started."

I tightened my grip on the pistol. "There's something odd about this vault."

"You're only figuring that out now?"

"No bones. No broken tables. Not much debris on the floor. It's clean. Almost too clean."

The wolves inched a little closer to us. But they made no sudden moves.

I reached the southeast corner. My beam illuminated a large crevice in the wall. Dust and small chunks of rock lay scattered around it. "Cover me. I want to check it out."

Graham swung his pistol in a wide arc, keeping an eye on all three wolves at once.

I took a quick peek at the crevice. My beam illuminated a narrow gap. It snaked upward at a steep angle. "There's definitely an exit here. Whether we can fit through it is another matter."

"Hurry up," he said. "They're getting closer."

A series of soft growls hit my ears.

Graham glanced at me. "What the hell was that?"

Slowly, I backed away from the crevice. "More wolves."

"So, they weren't letting us escape. They were penning us in."

"Yeah." I pointed my pistol at the crevice. "I think I know why this place is so clean."

"Why's that?"

Claws clicked against rock inside the crevice. They sounded close, very close. "This might be a vault to us. But it's a lair to them."

Chapter 91

A powerful quake knocked me off my feet. I slammed to the ground. Lost my grip on the gun. Graham fell on top of me and then rolled away. Vaguely, I sensed the wolves struggling to gain footing. Jaws snapped at my limbs. I felt the air from their lungs, smelled the blood on their breath.

Loud ringing filled the air. It got louder and louder until it felt like my entire head was about to explode. I clutched my ears. Arched my back. Screamed at the sky.

And then the sky collapsed on me.

Giant slabs of rock fell at my sides. I tried to scramble out of the way. But the shifting ground tossed me about, scrambling my brain.

"Dutch," I shouted. "Beverly. Where are you?"

I couldn't hear a response. Hell, I couldn't even hear my own voice.

I lifted my back off the ground just in time to watch the last arctic wolf vanish through the crevice. I turned my head to the right. Abruptly, a large hunk of rock hit the ground next to me.

I reeled back. My head slammed into something hard. My torso crumpled to the floor. My vision blurred. Then it vanished altogether as a thick cloud of dust shot into the air.

What the hell is going on?

The ground trembled for another minute. Then it ceased. Gradually, my senses returned and I took stock of the situation. My right leg throbbed. My left shoulder ached. My chest felt compressed. A dull pain filled the back of my skull.

Small rocks slid across larger ones. Pebbles tumbled down the crevice. I heard gusts of wind coupled with distant howls.

"Dutch?" I lifted my voice. "Beverly?"

With some difficulty, I slid out from under a pile of rubble. Then I sat up. Looked at my right leg. It appeared fine but it hurt like hell. I rose to my feet and tested it. It stung but the pain was manageable.