The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden) Page 7

  But this was different.

  These hallways and corridors led to the Chamber of the One.

  But who was the One?

  What were these halls so diligently protecting?

  And who could be more important than those who were discovered within the crypts deep inside the chamber of Eden?

  If Alyssa survived, she knew she would eventually find the answer.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kaya had checked in with Demir twice. The second time there was more white noise, an indication that Demir and his team were moving deeper into the facility, the signal growing weaker as they moved out of range and, eventually, he knew, would die off until there was nothing but the cold sound of continuous static.

  After eating an MRE, he tossed the empty package into the abyss, watching it as it seesawed out of sight and into darkness. He then lay back with his hands and fingers locked behind his head as a makeshift pillow, and mused about things that didn’t matter, of anything that would simply rush the moment of time.

  He thought about women.

  He thought about riches.

  And he mired himself with romantic fantasies as he closed his eyes and brought his lips up into a measure of a smile.

  Pleasant images rolled through his mind, creating vivid dreamscapes of summer nights where sunset skies were red and orange and mauve, where palms swayed on white-sandy beaches as creamy tides rolled softly in.

  The sound of cicadas lulled him, a soft melody, almost dreamy.

  Then it suddenly became a loud disharmonious chattering of teeth. But they weren’t teeth at all.

  Mandibles clapped together in metered tapping, the pace quickening and growing towards a crescendo.

  Kaya’s dreamscape shattered like the myriad pieces of a kaleidoscope, the images and bright colors became fragmented, and then disappeared all together as true darkness swallowed him whole.

  He quickly gained his feet and snapped on his shoulder lamp.

  From the upper edges of the room an oily darkness that was blacker than black began to slide down the funnel-shaped floor and toward the choke point. Carapaces shined against the light, the shells possessing a natural polish to them.

  And Kaya found himself pushed to the edge of the abyss, the inky mass hoarding in with mandibles clacking, striking, the noise growing to deafening heights.

  So Kaya lowered his lip microphone . . .

  . . . and called out to anyone who would hear his pleas.

  #

  “Mulazim awwal Demir!”

  Demir lowered his lip microphone. “Go!”

  “Demir, the floor . . . it’s . . .” Then a long trail of white noise.

  “Kaya!”

  “The floor, Dem . . . ir . . . the floor . . . is . . . alive!”

  Demir cocked his head. What? Then: “Repeat?”

  “The floor . . . is alive.”

  Alyssa fell into Savage, who corralled her close with a sweep of his arm. They both knew that Kaya was a dead man. Whenever Eden came alive, the odds were usually for the house and against the player.

  “Kaya!”

  “No . . . where to go . . . no . . . Deeeeemiiiiiiiiir . . .”

  Then there was a long and anguishing scream of complete agony that was summarily cut off by a constant stream of radio static.

  “Kaya! . . . KAYA!”

  There was nothing but rolling static.

  Demir raised his lip microphone and cast his eyes to the floor.

  He sighed: Kaya . . .

  Then he allowed himself a moment of undisturbed quiet, acknowledging the loss of Kaya with a quick prayer, and then with subdued emotion, he said, “He said the floor was alive.” He faced off with Alyssa. “What does that mean?”

  She sounded sorrowful, almost apologetic for his loss. “One of two things,” she said. “It could mean that he might have triggered something within the room, causing it to change . . .”

  “Or?”

  She swallowed. “Or because there was something else in the room with him, which is the most likely scenario.” She then looked ceilingward. “And it appears that it’s coming our way.”

  In unison everyone looked up, as if to spy the glimpse of the shape that was following.

  And in unison, they pressed forward into darkness trying to draw space between them and whatever killed Kaya.

  #

  They had picked his bones clean, leaving behind a Pollock design of fresh blood along the floor.

  They had taken Kaya with little effort, swarming over him like ants to a picnic, their mandibles ripping and tearing the man down to his skeletal frame before he fell to his knees in pending death.

  They clambered over one another fighting for morsels. The flesh, the entrails—the soldier was of little sustenance to appease the masses as a whole, the scarabs far from satiated, their numbers beginning to dwindle.

  Through their incredibly sensitive antennae system that was pocked with holes capable of picking up scents and movement, the collective unit was able to detect more life forms moving west in the corridors beneath them.

  Mandibles clacked in precise meters and measures that were highly evolved, their olfactory senses understanding a language designed to either provide a warning, a biological interest to procreate, or to lend a message of survival, such as the location to a bounty of food.

  . . . clack-clack-clack . . . clack-clack . . . clack-clack-clack . . . clack . . .

  Scarabs were by nature blueprinted to cling to surfaces and climb with ease, defeating the laws of gravity. And this was the case as they clung to glass-smooth walls, the sea of blackness flowing into the abyss and to the trapezoidal passageway below, hungering for more.

  And they moved quickly and efficiently with few losing their footing and falling into the abyss, their numbers lessening so marginally that they would never be missed, the beetle a creature of indifference. But when they reached the opening, when they amassed at the area surrounding the trapezoidal archway, and as soon as their numbers were great enough, they spilled into the corridor as a tidal wave of oily blackness like a flood breaking through a breach of a weakened dam. In fluid motion they made their way into the shadows and closed the gap between them and their quarry in what could only be considered a quantum leap, their hunger driving them ravenously forward.

  In Eden, where the world had dramatically changed, they would not be denied.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  They had followed the only given path that the tunnel offered them.

  There was a series of right-angle bends with no other cutoffs, no other avenues, just a seemingly endless run to nowhere.

  At the end of the .5 kilometer mark—according to Alyssa’s pedometer—they came to a wall of black silica and crystal that was actually a bas-relief mural offering an overview of Eden like satellite imagery, the map a perfect layout as if drawn from a celestial eye.

  She reached her hand out in awe and felt the 3-D rises of the diagram. The architectural design and precise placement of the structures shared a common thread. The position of Eden and its surrounding temples mimicked the exact placement of the pyramids of Giza, which were set in a pattern to correlate with the locations of the three major stars of the Orion Belt: the Alnitak, the Alnilam and the Mintaka.

  ۝ ڱ €

  “John, look at this.”

  He joined her.

  “It’s a map of Eden,” she told him. “The city of Eden.” She continued to run her hands over the raised pyramids on the map. The largest pyramid had the etched symbol ۝ burned into the raised image to symbolize the star Alnilam, the largest star in the Orion Belt, which represented the largest pyramid on the map, the temple of Eden. The pyramid west of Alnilam carried the etched symbol for Mintaka, the symbol .ڱ

  Then: “John. Look here. The symbol of Mintaka, it was the master image above the door leading into this corridor.” She turned to him. “This isn’t just a passageway,” she said. “That master symbol above the trapezoidal doorway was tellin
g us that we were entering the second temple of the city, the temple of Mintaka, or the Chamber of the One. I didn’t know what it meant when I first saw it. But now it all makes sense.” She examined the wall map further. “We’re west of Eden,” she said. “We know that.” She held a finger to the model image of the westerly structure as if pressing a doorbell. “And if this map is accurate, then there’s a third temple to the east of us, to the east of Eden.”

  “The temple of Alnitak,” he said evenly. “The smallest temple of the three.”

  “Exactly. These temples were built to imitate the three major stars of the Orion Belt: the Alnitak, the Alnilam and the Mintaka. If we arrange the pattern of these stars with an aerial view of the temples as seen on this map, they would line up perfectly with the pyramids of Giza. And there lies the common thread between Eden and the Great Pyramids. Those who built Eden also influenced the building of the three major pyramids in Egypt.”

  John appraised the map. The tie was certainly there.

  “There’s another temple, John. There’s a third temple.”

  “Yeah, well, we need to think about getting out of this one first.”

  Hillary joined them, feeling disconnected because of his faux pas. He was a seasoned archeologist who made a sophomoric mistake that cost the lives of two men. So the mantel of guilt weighed heavily upon his shoulders, his need for redemption enormous. “It appears that this temple is ushering us into a single direction for a purpose,” he said. “Perhaps the answer ‘why’ lies somewhere within this area.”

  Perhaps.

  Alyssa continued to examine the bas-relief mural of Eden, finding the carving very unique and distinct, the art itself a marvel of creativity cut into black silica. At the end of the wall she discovered an opening. It was disguised by pooling shadows, the breach blending in with the darkness of the background and going virtually unseen. “Here,” she said. “There’s a passageway.”

  Light beams converged. It was a large room. At the opposite end was another bas-relief carving of a mural, the entire wall a schematic of the temple of Mintaka, their temple. Alyssa walked up to it with a sense of awe, this mural was wider, longer and taller—like the screen inside of a movie theater. Lights danced and played over the images, the crystal and gems on the wall winking back at them with iridescent spangles of light.

  “This is amazing,” said Alyssa. “Eden had its designs. But it was nothing like this.”

  Whereas Alyssa was lost in the throes of scientific lure, Demir and what was left of his team scanned the area for hazards and possible triggers. The area appeared secure. But that meant little to Demir who knew that innocent-looking traits can sometimes harbor the severest consequences.

  Hillary was just as enamored as Alyssa, the old man’s mouth dropping in admiration.

  And John Savage proved to be somewhere in between, his experience as a former SEAL keeping him duly prepared for immediate dangers. Whereas his new-borne interest in archeology was pulling at his concentration at the same time, marginally dulling his senses of awareness.

  The wall, the carved mural, was detailed regarding Mintaka and its levels, where walls should have been but shifted, the structure realigning itself with different and newer configurations every time a trigger was initiated.

  "We have to assume that everything behind us was reconfigured," she said, "when the wall shifted. But everything in front of us appears untouched since the triggers have yet to be initiated.” She stepped closer to the wall, her light looking for clues. And then she motioned to the ministers who took several pictures to use later as a reference guide and map as they moved forward.

  She spied the mural, looking for the minutest of clues, or for anything that may indicate on the most infinitesimal level as to where the next trigger may lie. But she couldn’t find anything but straight lines, right angles, archaic symbols denoting certain rooms and chambers, all leading to a massive area at the lowest level of the temple. In the room’s center was a rectangular image, most assuredly the image of a sarcophagus, with the symbol ₱ embedded inside. Below that image was the ancient word Πθεύς.

  ₱

  Πθεύς

  Translation: ANU

  Alyssa barely managed to bring a hand to her chest to placate a heart that had the potential to misfire. She had seen the script before. She had seen it in ancient texts where the characters shared the same cursive in Sumerian and Babylonian literature.

  She was looking at the blueprint leading into the Chamber of One. But the script was clear. Not only was she looking at the primary chamber inside of the temple of Mintaka, she was also looking at the ultimate discovery. She was looking at the given bearings that would lead them right into the Chamber of Anu.

  Anu, she considered.

  . . . The creator of mankind . . .

  . . . ALL LIFE UNDER ONE . . .

  She was looking at the Chamber of God.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “She’s absolutely correct in her assessment,” said Hillary. “It states: Anu.”

  “Anu?” led Demir.

  Alyssa pointed to the mural, to the bottom where the chamber lies. “Anu is the Sumerian god and the Creator of mankind, also the first known and chief God. The Sumerians also referred to Him as Chief of the Annunaki, an ancient race of gods from the 12th planet—as they also counted the sun and the Earth’s moon. The Sumerians were not allowed to carve images in Anu’s original form, so they fabricated, creating a giant hominid-like figure standing over eight feet and far heavier and more muscular than humans. We see this all the time in statues and pictographs depicting Titans, otherworldly hominids of great height and strength. The ties that bind these two cultures together are the carved or painted depictions of gods bearing elongated skulls.” She moved closer to the carved mural, flashing her light over the image of the sarcophagus in the lower chamber. “If this is true,” she began, “Then the path behind this mural will lead us directly to the chamber of Anu, to the Chamber of God.”

  “God has no image,” said Savage.

  “Not true,” she returned. “Many cultures today have images of their gods. China for one has a very distinct image in Buddha. As does many other religions. Catholicism believes in the ideology of ‘God creating man in His image,’ meaning the intangibles such as humor and goodness—a life form consumed with total goodness. But Catholicism is not without its iconic figure either, choosing Jesus as the symbol of man, the son of God who appears humanlike.”

  Hillary moved beside her until their shoulders were almost touching, apparently forgetting his faux pas and the need for redemption at the moment, both consumed by the knowledge the wall was offering them in the form of pictographs and images. “The Chamber of Anu,” he whispered, the man completely enamored.

  She nodded. “All Life . . . Under . . . One.”

  “Does the map show any dangers?” asked Demir. “Or triggers we can safely bypass.”

  She allowed the light to trace over the wall. There was nothing, no indications, no clues, absolutely nothing. “It appears that those secrets were held by the priests who once walked these halls, but perhaps there may be more illustrations in the halls before us.” She walked to the end of the mural to another opening in the wall and flashed her light down the corridor.

  There was nothing but darkness.

  “Are you sure?” asked Demir. “Please look—”

  “There is nothing.”

  “Then we take our chances,” he returned. “We will move on until . . .” His words trailed. In the hallway behind them came the sound of rushing water, but not quite.

  Demir motioned and ordered two members of the Maroon Berets to check out the source. “Only far enough to see what it is,” he told them in Turkish. “Then I want you two to fall back.”

  With the points of their assault weapons raised, the commandos pressed forward . . .

  . . . And entered the corridor.

  #

  Tabib and Peroz were skilled soldiers, both h
aving served in UN skirmishes over the years, the men earning their berets after serving illustriously for almost six years. But as they progressed down the hallway the sound of rushing water grew cacophonously louder, the noise now sounding less like the forward push of a raging tide, but more like the multiple muted tapping and ticking of typewriters embroiled together to sound oddly like water pouring forward.

  The men entered cautiously, the sound growing and nearing their position.

  Something had spilled forward into their range of light, a black mass sweeping down the corridor like a wave of oil, a surge of inky darkness coming at them with unbridled speed.

  They raised their weapons and pulled their triggers, the MP5K’s going off in sync, the muzzle flashes lighting up the hallway in strobe-light fashion, the soldiers yelling out in bravado as bullets tore into the carapaces, the fist-sized shells exploding on impact and sending fragments upward and outward, with yellow and white innards marring the walls, the gory designs like drip painting. But the wave kept coming forward, the oily darkness gravitating toward the firefight rather than repelled by it.

  Both soldiers turned and took flight.

  When they entered the area of the mural walls they cried out a warning in Turkish, which galvanized Demir to cry out in English. “Move!”

  “Why? What is it?” said Hillary.

  “If you want to find out, then stay behind. For the rest of us, move!”

  They headed down the corridor, away from the bas-relief murals and into darkness.

  The rush of the tide grew louder, getting closer to eclipse them.

  Demir prodded the unit forward, prompting them to forget the possible triggers ahead for the monstrosity behind.

  After traveling about 100 meters they came to a black silica wall.

  There were no side passages.

  Just a wall.

  They quickly pooled at the barrier, frustrated, scared, pulses running at an all-time high, their lives about to come to an end, fingers clawing at a glass-smooth surface.