This Green Hell

She thought again of Aimee’s comment about iridium in the original sample; and recalled the description of the “bleeding” stone discovered miles under the earth at the Egoli mine. She stared at the cooling cube, her mind testing different hypotheses, turning over the options.

‘I’ve tried this several times now,’ Michael said, ‘always with the same result. There’s a collar temperature, which, once pushed through, results in the bacteria being immediately destroyed. Up until then, it’s not only extremely vibrant, it almost looks like it’s turning from individual bacterium into some sort of coalesced multicellular life form.’

Maria swung around in her seat to look at him and he rushed to qualify his comments. ‘I know, I know — that’s impossible. But maybe Dr Weir’s right; perhaps we should be considering radiation to destroy the cells.’

‘No,’ Maria said quickly. ‘We continue with the heat process. It’s just a very robust and vigorous thermophile. It’s utilising heat the same way as a food source — just a little more energetically.’ She thought for a moment. ‘We can’t keep pushing it to 2000 degrees for every attempt at attenuation — slows the retesting process too much.’ She stood up and walked to the isolation box. ‘We’ve got power now, and therefore the cooling systems are working. So … use heat-shock — means you shouldn’t need to push it up to such a high temperature to achieve your results. Cool it with ice for thirty minutes then immediately place it onto the preheated disc. The thermal displacement shock should destroy it. Not even viruses with armoured protein coats can stand up to that.’

She looked down at the cube and frowned, leaned forward and sniffed. ‘And check the seals when it’s cool. I think I can smell a heat-production vapour.’

TWENTY-FOUR

The sun had fallen behind the tall trees hours ago; as it dipped now towards the horizon, the shadows merged into twilight. Barrels of slow-burning vegetation had been spaced around the edges of the clearing and the heavy humid air kept the smoke low to the ground, giving the campsite a Gothic feel.

Alex felt something approaching. Small sounds carried infinitesimal vibrations that could be felt deep in the inner ear, light carried colours and wavelengths not seen by normal human vision; even the skin contained remnants of Pacinian corpuscles that could detect the slightest movement — all these were like superior senses within Alex’s system. And now they kicked into action: he felt the shift in atmosphere like a bow wave preceding a ship. He tried to reach out with his senses and form some kind of image, but it refused to take shape in his mind. Must be still too far out, he thought.

Then his head snapped around and he frowned in disbelief. Amazing — so quiet. A man stood silently at the edge of the clearing, as if waiting for a sign, or an invitation. He was wearing priest’s vestments.

Aimee appeared beside Alex and unnecessarily nudged his arm to get his attention. He nodded towards the man. ‘I take it that’s your priest?’

‘Yeah, Father Alonso Gonzalez — he gives me the creeps.’

She folded her arms and stared at the man from under lowered brows. Alex smiled; he could tell the priest would get no invitation from her. Something about him made Alex extremely uneasy too. He was no taller than Alex, and not physically imposing, but Alex’s unique vision detected a cold radiation emanating from him that would have better suited a corpse.

He pressed the stud in his ear and spoke softly. ‘HAWCs, we got company. Give me a perimeter.’

In a few seconds, Mak and Franks appeared just at the edge of the jungle, one on either side of the priest, guns cradled in their arms, barrels loosely pointed at Gonzalez. Sam took up a position a few steps behind Alex; he could feel his second-incommand’s eyes boring into the newcomer.

Alex looked around; he sensed other presences now, close by, but he couldn’t distinguish them yet, or identify their positions. He winced slightly — despite their indistinct physical presence, they screamed for attention inside his head.

The remaining drill workers were gathering close to the priest. They stood still, not speaking, just watching him as if waiting for some signal. Tomas came up behind Aimee and stood just behind her right shoulder. He was bumped out of the way by Captain Garmadia, who took up position between her and Alex.

The priest fixed his eyes on Alex and glided forwards. He stopped about five feet away, but didn’t speak. It was if he was waiting for them to make the first move. It was Garmadia who obliged.

‘I am not aware of you having authorisation to be in this area, padre. Where are you from, and on whose instruction were you sent to Paraguay?’

The priest’s eyes flicked to Garmadia for an instant, then he turned his head to the HAWCs on either side of him, took in Sam, then switched his gaze back to Alex. His mouth lowered slightly behind his beard. ‘You are a North American, senor?’

Alex ignored the question. ‘You must be Father Gonzalez. Where are our men, Father? We’d like to speak to them.’

The priest’s mouth had remained open and the deep voice spilled out again. ‘Many men decided to return home. The others are safe with me.’

‘We will be the judges of that, padre.’ Captain Garmadia stepped in front of Alex, possibly feeling insulted that the priest had chosen to address the HAWC. ‘I am Captain Fernando Garmadia of the Paraguayan military forces. I am in charge of this district. I insist on seeing our men immediately.’

The priest replied to the Paraguayan soldier, but kept his eyes on Alex. ‘Do you fear the God? That one day He will rise up?’

Garmadia frowned. ‘Perdon?’

‘It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,’ the priest said, his stance as still as stone.

‘Hebrews 10:31,’ Sam said, coming up beside Aimee, his eyes fixed on the black-clad priest. ‘God is not the author of confusion, but of peace — Isaiah 4:25.’

The priest’s left eye bulged slightly and swivelled towards Sam. Then he seemed to relax and held out his hand to Alex. ‘Isaiah has words of the greatest beauty. I am sorry, I have been too long without educated company. Please allow me to formally introduce myself.’

As Alex held out his own hand, Sam said to the priest, ‘That was actually Corinthians 14:33. I thought you might have known that.’

Two things happened: the priest seized Alex’s hand, and Aimee screamed.

An explosion went off in Alex’s mind, then blackness, darker than night, engulfed him. An alien roar tore through his head, and he saw screaming human beings trapped in a blood-red web as a hellish nightmare of sharp teeth slowly descended upon them.

He heard a thousand voices, shouting in triumph now, not fear. One day He will rise up! The words came from all around him, and from deep, deep below the earth. A thousand voices, a million, that were separate and then one, as if a single mind shared a billion mouths. It was his dream playing over again.

* * *

From a dark cave, miles below ground, he heard his name — Alex, Alex … It had to be Aimee — she was calling to him from the surface. He floated upwards, happy that he could fly through the ice and stone. She was calling him and he sped towards her.

He opened his eyes. His head was resting on a soft pillow, but it still hurt like hell. There was dried blood caking his nose.

Aimee was bathing his forehead. She leaned in close to his face. ‘Alex, are you okay? You blacked out when the priest grabbed your hand, and blood started gushing from your nose. You scared the hell out of me … uhh, all of us.’

He grabbed her hand and sat up quickly. ‘Where is he?’

Sam pushed forward from where he stood at the rear of the crowded cabin. Alex could see Maria and Michael Vargis behind the lieutenant’s large frame.

‘Gone,’ Sam reported. ‘It was weird — he grabbed your hand and you looked like you’d been poleaxed. You fell, and there was blood everywhere. I was watching the priest until you fell, then when I looked up again, he just