The Eternity Machine Page 29

  What is the truth? Will I ever know? Selene wanted to weep. She’d never felt more defeated in her life.

  -71-

  STATION EIGHT

  IRAN

  With exhausting effort as he lay on the chamber floor, Samson managed to slip a pill into his bloody mouth. The capsule was bitter to his taste buds. He had known it would be. His tongue felt so weak. It was difficult to breathe. Carefully, with great effort, he positioned the pill between his teeth.

  Then, he waited. It had taken everything he had left to bring the pill this far. He was not sure he had anything left. He silently prayed one of the mighty prayers as told in the Book. Mentally, he begged God to give him the strength to do this. He pleaded, pleaded…

  His teeth crunched the pill, breaking it. The bitterness almost made him spew out the substance. His was mouth was so dry, which was odd. He had blood in it.

  Swallow the pieces of the pill. Do this last deed.

  Convulsively, Samson swallowed the debris of the pill. At the end of the ordeal, he waited. He had no idea how long it took.

  A lifetime later, strength flooded into his ruined body. He’d lost far too much blood and chest substance. Despite that, the power of the pill numbed the pain, allowing him to think again.

  From that point, Samson began his greatest feat. He crawled across the floor, coming to the body of Jack Elliot. Samson couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but it didn’t matter anymore. He must do this thing as his last act of defiance against Mother.

  Samson dragged the inert body of Jack Elliot through the steel corridors. It must have been a gruesome sight, the two of them. Time no longer had meaning. This was his final act of existence, dragging the inert form just a little farther.

  An eon later, Samson realized he shined a flashlight in a dark chamber. The air tasted awful here. It didn’t matter. In a few more minutes, he could allow himself to die. He would have done what he could.

  Setting the flashlight on the ground, Samson dug in a pocket. He had a piece of folded paper at the bottom. He put the folded paper in front of the shining flashlight. That would have to do.

  Afterward, Samson concentrated as he prayed again, summoning every article of faith. With one of his last breaths of life, Samson struggled to his feet.

  He grabbed one of Jack’s limp arms and hand over hand hauled the inert man to his feet. With agonizing effort, he lifted Elliot, staggering to the stone object. He laid Jack’s body into the cavity. With his last surge of strength, Samson closed the stone lid and heard it latch.

  At that moment, life departed Samson Mark Three. He toppled backward onto the steel floor, dead.

  -72-

  THE STONE OBJECT

  Jack didn’t hear the soft whirring sounds or the strange snick-like noises around him.

  If he could have heard, he might have squirmed and thrashed. Instead, he did nothing. Half-moon bracelets slid out of the stone and circled his motionless arms, legs and chest-ruined torso. They clamped down, cinching him into place. Other restraints held his inert head in check.

  Jack’s eyelids didn’t open. Therefore, he didn’t see the dim red light bathing him or the silver needles inching nearer and nearer his flesh from every side. No hands moved the needles, but they seemed driven by a dark intelligence.

  A mist jetted against his face. Maybe the numbing agent did its task. Maybe it didn’t. In either case, at that moment, the needles stabbed into his flesh, but Jack’s body didn’t twist or flinch.

  The needles bored mercilessly through his flesh and muscles into his bones as Samson had surmised they would do. Liquids in slender containers behind the needles waited. Then, a stopper in each needle pushed the liquids, forcing them through the needles and into Jack’s bones so they soaked the marrow.

  Soon, the needles slid out of his bones and then out of his skin, disappearing into the stone niches. The red light vanished, leaving Jack’s body in stygian darkness.

  Even more time passed. A biological acceleration must have occurred because Jack’s body became hot. The process devoured the reserves of fat and some muscle tissue. Incredibly, the ruin of his chest, even the bones, reknit at a fantastic rate. Throughout his body, wounds disappeared as the internal heat continued. Finally, the process slowed and then quit, and his body temperature returned to normal.

  Suddenly, Jack gasped. His eyes flew open, staring into darkness. He made a surge—the restraints had already slid out of sight. He found himself trapped and fell back exhausted. Mercifully, he passed out.

  ***

  Jack awoke later, feeling different. It took several seconds for him to realize he felt no pain, no discomfort. In fact, he felt better, healthier than he ever had. A new vigor gave him hope.

  He recalled the soldier. The big man had shot him with an invisible beam. Jack had fallen. He couldn’t fathom anything after that.

  I must be in the stone object. Someone must have put me in here. The needles—

  Jack heaved against the lid. Slowly, it raised a fraction higher. He gained a better advantage because of that and heaved again. The lid opened a little more. Jack saw the light from the flashlight, and it gave him hope. He shoved harder still, opening the lid high enough to slither out.

  Afterward, Jack stood panting against the stone object. He was ravenous and lightheaded. After a moments, he checked his skin. There were tiny pink dots all over. His chest was very pink, lacking hair. His shirt was charred in front while his pants and sleeves had tears and holes in them. That meant—

  That meant the needles had sunk into his bones. The flesh had already begun to heal. The shirt confirmed the heat of the invisible beam. The pinkness of his chest showed he’d healed a massive amount. Maybe that’s why he felt so hungry and thirsty. What else did this mean for him? Had the solution changed him?

  Jack shook his head. He could theorize later. Right now, he had to think carefully. The soldier and his squad were in the facility. David Carter might be dead.

  I killed David. I shot my friend.

  Guilt billowed, a gnawing, accusing beast. With an effort of will, Jack forced that aside. He would accept the guilt later. Right now, he had a mission. He had to concentrate…

  “What the,” he said, seeing the folded note in front of the flashlight. He saw the dead Assyrian, realizing the man had saved his life. Samson’s corpse told him the others—the enemy and Selene—must have left the station. Otherwise, they would have stopped Samson from coming here.

  Jack took the note and unfolded it. He read what was written there. This was incredible, and it might even have been logical given the stone object. A new sense of purpose hardened in him. He knew what he had to do next. Now was as good a time to start as any. Thus, he picked up the flashlight, heading for the exit.

  PART FOUR:

  THE PYRAMID

  -73-

  LEARJET 85

  EASTERN MEDITERRANEAN

  The Learjet shook as it struck more turbulence. Selene hung onto her armrests with the seatbelt already cinched tight. The stars blazed through the window. Whenever she looked down outside, all she saw was the top of the thick cloud cover.

  Despair ate at her. She’d struggled so hard for days on end, and it all meant defeat. The one hundred mile swim had all been for nothing. Her escape from the mind machine in the Siwa Oasis, the flight to Tehran—Mother won in the end. Who could defeat the ancient woman? Who could understand her resources? Who had built the stations?

  The jet lurched upward, and so did Selene’s stomach. She just wanted the ordeal to end. She wanted to go home, pull the covers over her head and sleep for a year, maybe never get up again. If only she could hold Danny one final time—

  “What’s wrong?” Marcus demanded.

  Selene turned in her seat, peering across the aisle at the big man. He looked angry as he spoke through the plane’s intercom.

  “It’s gotten worse,” the pilot said. “It’s hotter outside—”

  “How much hotter?” Marcus demanded.
>
  “It’s one hundred and twenty-three outside the plane,” the pilot said. “The number of superheated air pockets has grown, too. Worse, they’ve gotten more dangerous for us as they’re even hotter than earlier.”

  Selene frowned. Clearly, the underground stations did something to the weather. They’d blasted a forest in Siberia to the ground in 1908. What caused the stations to uniformly heat the Earth now?

  The fuselage’s shaking lessened, allowing Selene’s stomach to unclench. She found that her hands trembled. She still felt groggy, although no longer nauseous. Was that how Elliot had felt in Cairo and Tehran? The man had done fantastically given that.

  “Hey,” Marcus said.

  Selene looked up at him.

  The big man pitched her a water bottle. She fumbled the bottle but finally managed to grab it.

  “Drink that,” he said.

  She studied the bottle, noticing the blue-tinted water. “Maybe later,” she said.

  “Look, if I wanted to drug you more, I would do it. Drinking that will help you feel better. I don’t want any sick people on my plane.”

  She could see his logic. So she twisted off the cap, raised the bottle and glanced at him. He stared at her too intently. She lowered the blue water, suspicious again.

  “Do I have to call Ney?” Marcus asked. “He’ll pour the drink down your throat while I hold your mouth open.”

  Selene gauged the big man. He seemed tougher than Samson had been. Marcus seemed denser, his muscles longer, heavier, more compact. There was something off in his eyes. They were deadly, as if he was on the verge of going berserk. Frankly, he terrified her.

  She sipped the water. It had a tang like orange juice.

  “Drink all of it, sister.”

  Selene frowned, staring at him again. “Why do you call me that?”

  Marcus’s smile grew.

  “If—”

  “Drink it,” he said. “Then I’ll tell you. Then, you’ll be in a condition to understand.”

  With a growing sense of fatalism, she put the mouth of the bottle to her lips and began to guzzle.

  The drink was refreshing. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until now. With a gasp, she pulled the empty bottle away. An immediate sense of lightheadedness struck. She closed her eyes and lowered her head until the top bumped against the seat in front of her.

  “You lied to me,” she slurred.

  “Wait a few minutes,” he rumbled. “You’ll feel better soon. I don’t have any reason to lie to you, sister.”

  “Stop calling me that. I’m not your sister.”

  “But you are,” Marcus said. “You’re one of us. That’s easy to see up close. It must be why Mother wants you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Selene asked, with her eyes closed.

  “Wait a bit. You should start to feel better soon.”

  She did wait, hating him as the minutes passed. He sat in his seat, watching her in his arrogant way.

  Then, to her disgust, she did begin to feel better. She’d been unbelievably groggy before. He must have used chloroform on her.

  Selene raised her head.

  “Catch,” Marcus said.

  She turned just in time. He pitched her a basket. She caught it neatly this time, no longer fumbling things.

  Selene tore off the plastic wrap. She was ravenous and hadn’t realized it until now. The basket held two ham and cheese sandwiches. In short order, she devoured both.

  Marcus tossed her another water bottle. This one contained normal liquid.

  “Starting to feel human again?” he asked.

  She avoided looking at or answering him.

  “You’re going home,” he said. “Are you excited?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fair enough,” Marcus said. “So if I were you, I’d be nicer to me so I could learn what’s what.”

  “You’re not me,” she said.

  “Are you still upset I killed your friends?”

  “Yes!” she said. It struck her that some of her terror of him had evaporated. That didn’t make sense…unless it had something to do with the blue water.

  “Don’t be upset,” he told her. “I did them a favor killing them.”

  Selene glared at the grinning man. Soon, she looked away. The idea she had anything in common with him was preposterous.

  “Do you realize that you’re smarter than most people?” Marcus asked.

  Selene shook her head.

  “Substantially smarter,” he added. “You’re a better physical specimen as well. How do you think you managed the Indian Ocean swim without becoming a physical wreck? Good genes, of course.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “I know I have excellent genes. It’s one of the things that makes me the best.”

  “The best at what?” she snapped.

  “Ah,” Marcus said, nodding. “That’s a critical question. I’m not the best in the brains department. That would be Hela and Fredrick. It’s one of the reasons they’re Mothers’ favorites.”

  Selene finally realized her position. She was talking to someone who knew the secrets she desperately wanted to know.

  “Who is Mother exactly?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Marcus said. “That’s a damn shrewd question. I’d love to know myself. What did your little movie show you anyway?”

  “I’m sure you already know.”

  “Nope,” he said. “The nearest I’ve been to a regular station was outside under the Siwa temple. I’ve just been to headquarters, where you’re going now.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you don’t know the reason for that, either.”

  “That’s right,” Marcus said.

  Selene blinked several times. She believed him. He didn’t know. In fact, she realized it was obvious he didn’t know in the way he breathed, the radius of his pupils—

  Selene groaned, lowering her head, massaging the upper bridge of her nose.

  “You’re finally feeling it,” he said. “Does it tingle? I hear it tingles?”

  “What are you talking about?” she whispered.

  “Reason it out. You should be able to do that now.”

  Selene frowned, rubbing the bridge of her nose harder. Why should she know? He didn’t make sense. He…

  She sat up with a start. She felt a tingling sensation all over. It was worst in her fingertips. She shook her hands, looking up at him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  The big man shook his head. “That’s not how it’s going to work. You’re going to tell me all kinds of things. You’re a little Brainiac, aren’t you? You’re so smart, creating new gadgets. Yeah. I know about the TR-1010. I hear Hela created stuff, too. Frederick was more theoretical, not as hands-on, if you get my drift.”

  Selene closed her eyes. She could almost feel the wheels turning at hyper-speed in her head.

  “You gave me a brain enhancer,” she said.

  “Sure did,” he agreed.

  “I suspect it must have been difficult for you to acquire it.”

  “You’re right on target, little sister.”

  She clutched her head, squeezing. “You overdosed me. My thoughts can’t slow down.”

  “We’re short on time, as you can well expect. I gave you a double dose. It’s a risk, but hey, I have to know a few things before—”

  “Before we land and you make your great decision,” Selene said. “You’re in the dark about Mother, too, aren’t you?”

  “Not as much as most people are, but it’s true I’m curious about a few things. The Day is almost here.”

  “The Day?”

  “Think about it,” Marcus said.

  Selene’s eyes grew wide. “The Day,” she said. “The Day Mother turns all the stations on full blast to do whatever it is they do.”

  “There you go,” Marcus said. “You’re
shifting into high gear. What did you see on the screen? That was Mother on it, wasn’t it?”

  “Why did you kill the others?”

  “Had no choice, “Marcus said. “I don’t want to guess wrong, you can understand. Mother won’t approve if I fall out on the wrong side of her.”

  “Are you going to kill me once you’re done with the questions?”

  Marcus stared at her coldly.

  Selene realized her life depended on what she could figure out in time. If Mother were too dangerous…would he try to kill her or be too afraid to try? Did he have truth-hearing ears as Samson claimed he’d possessed? Selene realized she could tell now if someone told the truth or not.

  If I can’t figure out Mother’s game in time, or if it’s something Marcus can’t fight, he’s going to kill me in order to cover his tracks of giving me the blue solution.

  -74-

  STATION EIGHT

  IRAN

  Jack staggered through the deep corridors of abandoned Station Eight. The air was foul down here. It was hot, too, making breathing questionable. He was also stuffed, having eaten and drunk far too much. It was crazy but he still felt ravenous.

  He refrained from popping more almonds into his mouth. His pockets bulged with them, taken from Samson’s hidden food stash.

  The flashlight didn’t shine as brightly as it used to. The batteries must be running low. He didn’t relish the idea of trying to find his way back to the surface in the dark. He had to hurry and get this done.

  With his hand before his mouth, Jack doggedly increased his pace. His skin shone with sweat and his hair was plastered to his scalp.

  It was true he’d almost died. It was also true he felt stronger than at any time in his life. The serum in the needles had already begun their transformative work. He felt strength surging through his muscles. It was a heady experience. Nonetheless, the ordeal worsened the lower he traveled through the deep corridors.