Chapter 49

49

May 14, 5:38 P . M . ANAT

East Siberian Sea

Elle paced around Jason's body. She had to keep moving, if only to hold her panic at bay.

This can't be happening again...

She flashed to the young Russian pilot, Fadd. His body had lain for hours inside the plane while they had flown here. Jason's face had Fadd's same bloodless complexion and blue lips, but at least his chest still moved. So, there had to be hope.

Anna knelt beside Jason and held his hand. "There must be something else you can try," she pleaded with Harper.

The ship's doctor knelt next to Jason on the floor. Omryn had carried his limp form into the lodestone chamber, draping him across the rune-lined trench in the floor. The Chukchi crewman now guarded the tunnel entrance.

"I've tried everything I could," Harper explained, waving a hand over her open med pack. "This is little better than a first-aid kit when it comes to severe reactions like this. If this was an anaphylactic reaction, the EpiPen should have helped. Same with the corticosteroids. He needs fluids, a hospital, labs, a tox screen."

Elle summarized her answer. "He needs to get out of here."

Harper sighed and lifted her stethoscope, ending with her own terse conclusion. "He doesn't have much time."

Anna searched for another answer, her gaze falling on Elle. "Those plants. The Hyperboreans made that elixir out of them. The same species that poisoned Jason. Maybe the medicine could help him."

Elle knew the nun was grasping at straws. Still, she stared over at the tall pots inside the room. "Even if there's anything in those containers, they're long past their expiration date by now."

"What does it hurt to try?" Anna said. "He's already dying."

Elle conceded this point. She crossed to one of the jars and attempted to pry off its lid. It wouldn't budge. The sealant had turned to cement over the passing centuries.

Omryn noted her effort and stepped over. He tried, too, but with no better luck. Rather than give up, he picked up a loose rock. It was twice the size of his fist. He lifted his arm, swung hard, and cracked the lip of the pot. Two more strikes, and Elle was able to pick the shattered pieces of the lid away.

Omryn pointed his flashlight into the jar's depths.

A dark sludgy liquid filled the pot to three-quarters. It smelled far from medicinal, more like rancid fish oil that had been fermenting—in this case, over centuries.

Anna hurried to them, carrying Harper's canteen. The nun had already emptied the water out. Without hesitation, she dunked the bottle into the black slurry and filled it to the brim. Once done, she rushed back to Jason.

Elle followed, while Omryn returned to guarding the door.

Anna handed the canteen back to the doctor, who looked dismayed.

"Do we bathe his wound with this?" Harper asked. "Force him to swallow it?"

Elle lifted her palms. "We've come this far. Do both."

Harper nodded. She grabbed some gauze sponges and soaked them thoroughly, keeping her nose turned away from the stench. She then placed the dripping compresses over the puncture wound under Jason's jaw. She left them there and shifted over to fill a measuring spoon from her med kit. Grimacing, she dribbled the sludge past Jason's lips, across his tongue. He failed to swallow, so there was no telling if anything reached his stomach. It appeared most of it drooled back out.

Anna knelt next to him, one hand clutching her throat with worry.

Elle resumed her pacing.

Harper checked Jason's pulse and blood pressure.

"His vitals are getting worse," the doctor concluded.

Anna covered her face. "Then it's been a waste of time after all."

Elle didn't have the strength to console her. Anna sought solace elsewhere and shifted her hands to lips, whispering a prayer.

Still, Elle knew their effort hadn't been a total waste. The exertion, the movement, even the flicker of hope, had stirred her enough to think more clearly, to push her panic further back.

She took a deep breath and pictured that steamy garden. She remembered her earlier quandary, wondering how such a garden could be so deadly, so invasive, yet the ancient gardeners here had harvested those fields on a regular basis. And from the old Greek legends, Hyperborean emissaries had visited foreign lands. Yet, none of those stories told of a sporulating affliction that spread wider.

"Maybe the Hyperboreans were naturally resistant to the toxic spores."

Harper heard her. "What are you getting at?"

"I don't know. Somehow the Hyperboreans were able to live with the sarkophágos species and not fall ill. Back at the garden, I saw copper boats that the harvesters must have poled across those hot mudflats. And there were those hanging leather outfits, likely meant to cover skin. Still, the gardeners must have occasionally gotten stung by those poisonous tendrils."

"I would think so," Harper admitted. "If the Hyperboreans were smart, they'd have had an antidote handy. Back on the beaches of Australia, during the summer months, we're plagued by box jellyfish, which deliver a burning, deadly sting. Kills people. So the beaches installed these metal stanchions full of vinegar bags to counteract the venom. Saves many lives."

Elle nodded, then more vigorously. "Of course..."

"What?" Harper asked.

"Remember, the Hyperboreans were smart." Elle turned to Anna. "I need your help. I'm not sure how much I can carry on my own."

Anna looked confused, but she stood up. "From where?"

"We're going back to that infernal garden."

Elle rushed for the exit, drawing Anna with her.

Harper called after them. "Hurry. His body's starting to tremor."

Elle glanced back. Jason's arms and limbs were quaking against the stone. She turned to Omryn. "Help hold him down. Keep him safe until we return."

She didn't wait for confirmation and set off at a fast walk, then a run.

Anna chased after her.

Elle didn't slow when she reached the chamber with the mudpot. She angled to the side and over into the vine-encrusted corridor. She continued along it, breathing hard, driven by fear, but also by hope.

The distance to the garden was easy to gauge. The reek of decaying flesh grew richer with each passing meter. When it finally watered her eyes and churned her stomach, the end of the tunnel appeared.

Elle slowed as she neared it, not wanting to run headlong into the bubbling mud and the dangers growing there. As she crossed the threshold, she ducked to the left, to where a pair of copper boats were beached on the stone apron. Next to them, a rack held an entire outfit of leather, made to cover a gardener. She ignored it all and dropped to a knee before a row of stone-corked jars, each a foot tall. Earlier, she had thought they were primitive canteens, clay water jugs.

But they're not— hopefully they're not.

She slid one closer, struggled with its stone cork, but she had no better luck than she had with the amphora pot. She grumbled and resorted to Omryn's technique. She grabbed a rock and smashed the neck off the jug in one swing. The cork and the top of the jug bounced and rattled into the mud. Some of the container's contents—a blue-green oil—splashed out.

She sniffed at it, appreciating the wintergreen scent. "This sure as hell isn't water."

Anna joined her. "Will this help Jason?"

"Only one way to find out."

Elle grabbed a fresh jug, shook it to make sure it was full, and passed it to Anna. She considered giving the nun a second jar, but her thin limbs struggled with just the one.

Frustrated and scared, Elle hauled a new one for herself, while cradling the open jar under her other arm.

I can carry two .

She didn't want to be frugal. Jason was deep into his affliction. She didn't know how much antidote he might require at this point. Unfortunately, the ancients had never carved a formulary of dosages into a wall.

They should have.

"Let's go." Elle stood up, hefting her two jugs.

They set off again, moving slower with their burden. Each laden pot weighed more than thirty pounds. Elle's heart pounded with urgency. She pictured Jason's limbs quaking, while blurring his features with young Fadd's.

We can't lose him, too .

She considered abandoning the jar she had broken into, to lighten her load, so they could move faster. But she hugged it tighter, knowing Jason would not likely last another lap back to the garden if she needed more. She planned on bathing his entire body in this elixir and forcing as much down his throat as she could without drowning him.

I need every drop .

They half-trotted, half-plodded their way up the tunnel.

As they rounded a curve toward the exit, hushed voices echoed back to them. She flinched, fearing she was already too late and that Harper and Omryn had come to tell them as much. Then shouting erupted, followed by rifle fire, and heavy blasts of a shotgun.

Someone found the others .

Elle paused, but Anna continued ahead, plainly intent on delivering the antidote even if it meant getting caught. Already committed at this point, Elle followed. She couldn't let Anna go alone.

They passed around the curve, and lights shone brightly at the end, illuminating two men in body armor. The newcomers stared toward the magnetite chamber. Elle had no trouble identifying the two, especially the giant.

Anna recognized them, too. "Sychkin..."

The vehemence she poured into each syllable of the archpriest's name was palpable. This was the man who had killed her brother, Igor. Maybe not directly, but he was definitely as much to blame as the one who had pulled the trigger.

Unfortunately, that anger was not just tangible to Elle.

Yerik turned toward the tunnel. He either heard Anna or spotted their arrival. His scarred features hardened, and he swung a huge pistol toward them.

Elle dropped a jug. Before it crashed to the floor, she grabbed for her holstered sidearm with her free hand. Still, her reaction was too slow.

Another was not.

Anna held forth her yellow flare gun and fired at the pair. In her fury, the nun's aim was poor. The flare struck the floor, ricocheted off a wall, and bounced into the next chamber with a flare of crimson fire.

Still, it proved enough.

Yerik bellowed, covering his face, already gnarled by an old burn. Panicked, unnerved by the flare's fire, he tumbled backward. He snatched at Sychkin for help, but it was no use. Gravity had hold of his massive frame.

Yerik twisted and fell, one arm still reaching for Sychkin. A single word burst from this throat, breaking his vow of silence for the first time. "Papa..."

Then he crashed headlong into the boiling quagmire.

Sychkin got dragged to his knees by that last desperate grab of the terrified man. He fell at the pit's edge as Yerik's bulk struck the mud. A heavy, steaming wave splashed up, striking his upturned face. He screamed and rolled away. His fingers dug at his cheeks and eyes. He bellowed through the scorching mud, while writhing on the floor.

Anna lowered her flare gun, showing no remorse, only satisfaction.

Before they could move, another armored figure ran into view from the magnetite chamber. It was a lone Russian soldier. He had lost his helmet. Blood covered one side of his head. Though panicked, he grabbed Sychkin by the wrist and dragged his screeching body toward the main tunnel. With his other arm, he pointed his rifle. The soldier fired toward the lodestone chamber, failing to note the two silent women in the side tunnel.

Then the soldier and his burden were gone, trailed by Sychkin's screams.

"C'mon," Elle urged and crossed the last of the way.

Reaching the mudpot room, she shied from the body sprawled facedown in the molten clay and sulfuric water. A scuffle of boots drew her attention. Omryn stumbled out, clutching an arm around his stomach. Blood soaked around his limb.

"They caught us off guard," the man explained, waving them toward the chamber. "When I was holding Jason down."

He led them back inside, then remained posted at the exit, leaning on the wall.

"Omryn..." Elle mumbled.

"Go." He nodded to the jug in her arms. "Try your medicine."

Inside, two men lay dead from huge wounds. Omryn's shotgun was designed to drop polar bears in their tracks—and apparently, Russian soldiers, too.

Harper rose as they entered. She had thrown her body over Jason, protecting her patient with her life. The doctor snatched up a six-inch roll of gauze and stepped toward Omryn.

She glanced back at Jason. "Gave him a shot of valium to calm his seizures. Nothing more I can do. Time for you two to play doctor, while I see to a patient I can help."

Elle didn't argue. Omryn needed his belly wound wrapped. And from here, Jason's survival was mostly out of their hands. It was up to the Hyperboreans.

She and Anna rushed to Jason's side. Elle still held the jug she'd broken open. She dropped to a knee and poured its contents over his face, across his neck wound, and down his body, baptizing him with the blue-green oil.

Without being told, Anna snapped the neck off her jug. "What now?"

Elle took her jar. "Hold his head up."

The nun dropped and pulled Jason's shoulders across her knees. As Anna cradled his neck back, Elle tipped the jug and washed the oil across his lips, dribbling it down his throat with as much care as she could manage, trying to time it with his exhalations. Again, there was no swallowing. She might be drowning him, but she poured until the last drops fell away.

She then tossed the empty jug. "Better pray this works."

Anna took her words literally, lifting her fingertips to her lips, bowing her head over Jason.

They waited for some sign.

Elle studied his body. At first, there was no reaction. Then a slight flutter of his eyelids and fingers. She feared he was starting to seize again. Then the movements became more purposeful. His eyelids blinked. His palms pressed against the stone. His knees bent. It was like he was trying to push himself out of the toxic storm within. Finally, his body relaxed. His legs extended, dropping flat.

But not in defeat.

Jason mumbled, and the roll of his eyes focused, staring up at Anna's bowed face.

"You're awake," Anna whispered.

"I... I was never asleep." He groaned. "Heard everything. Saw most."

Elle cringed, realizing the toxin must have been a powerful paralytic, trapping him in his body—but not numbing him.

"Hurt so bad. The burning." He tilted his face. "But worst of all. That black sludge. It was horrible. Tasted like sh—"

He was cut off by a huge blast, then another, and another.

Elle turned toward the exit as the salvo built into a deafening barrage. She recognized the source.

Grenades...