James Rollins - Altar Of Eden

Lorna pressed. “You have to stop thinking of them as individuals. There is only one intelligence out there, spread fractally among the group. They are a single psyche stretched across multiple minds. And for years, you’ve been abusing that psyche, torturing it on multiple fronts.”

She stared at Malik, waiting for him to object to her assessment of his cruelty. His silence spoke volumes.

She continued. “Under such prolonged and sustained abuse, is it any surprise you began to see psychotic breaks? But you’ve been tackling this the wrong way. Trying to weed out this problem by culling only the violent ones. These breaks aren’t arising from individuals in the group, they’re coming from the whole, from the hive mind that you’ve abused to the point of psychosis.”

Bennett and Malik shared a worried look.

“So you’re suggesting the entire hive mind out there might be psychotic,” Malik said, his voice cracking with disappointment. “Driven insane.”

“Maybe even worse.”

“What do you mean worse? ” Bennett asked.

“If what Dr. Malik described is true about their IQs, the entity you’ve created out there isn’t just insane-but brilliantly insane. Beyond our comprehension, beyond rehabilitation. Pure rage and madness coupled with cunning and guile.” She shook her head. “You’ve created a monster.”

JACK STARED DOWN the length of his shotgun at the woods. His skull felt as if it were on fire. The corpse behind him reeked of blood and bowel. Why had they tossed it at Jack’s group? As a threat, a distraction? Then why didn’t they just attack?

As he studied the forest he sensed them on all sides. Jack and his men were surrounded, trapped. He again considered the corpse, his mind working fast.

Why throw it here?

Then he suddenly knew. He glanced over to the body, remembering the rattle of automatic fire. It sounded like it had come from more than one gun. Whatever was out there had dispatched the trained soldiers as easily as swatting flies. If they wanted to take out Jack’s team, they could do so just as easily. But instead they threw the body here.

And he knew why.

As a message.

Jack called to Mack and Bruce. “Lower your weapons.”

To demonstrate, he dropped his shotgun from his shoulder, held it at arm’s length, and crouched to set it on the ground.

“Are you nuts, sir?” Mack asked.

“Do it. If you want to live.”

Mack grumbled under his breath but obeyed.

Jack knew the corpse was tossed here as a warning. To show that their lives were forfeit if they didn’t surrender. He also sensed that whatever shared this island knew Jack’s team was different from the commandos.

As the weapons were dropped, shadows shifted, and a shape slipped into view. Much closer than Jack had suspected. Only a couple of meters. Others stirred out there, too. Some larger, some smaller.

“Jack…?” Mack hissed at him.

“Stand down,” he warned.

Mack complied, but he was not happy about it.

The shape moved closer. At first Jack thought it was a large chimpanzee or a small gorilla, but as it stepped into the sunlight it walked upright like a man. No shambling or knuckle dragging. It cocked its head as it came forward. Jack noted an ear was missing, leaving a long jagged scar down one side. This was no surgical wound, but one lost in combat.

As it stepped closer yet again its flattened nostrils flared as it took in Jack’s scent. Naked, the creature was covered in fur-and blood. Though smaller by a couple of feet, its body was heavy-boned and layered with muscles. Jack suspected the creature could rip him apart with its bare hands.

But for the moment there was an uneasy truce.

Large shining eyes stared at him.

Jack noted the intelligence there. But there was no warmth, no welcome. Those eyes remained as cold as a winter star.

Jack’s blood settled into the pit of his stomach as another realization struck him. He remembered Lorna’s description of genetic throwbacks. He knew what faced him was not any animal-but was once a man.

Another of the creatures, his face knotted in a snarl of threat, appeared behind the first. He carried a lightweight assault rifle, likely confiscated from the dead body behind Jack.

To the left, a black-furred tiger shoved into view. Lips rippled back to reveal fangs as long as daggers.

All their gazes fixed on Jack.

The combined focus set his head to aching, his skull bones to vibrating. He had to resist pressing his palms against his ears.

The first creature came forward until he stood directly in front of Jack. He leaned closer and sniffed at his clothes. Hands reached up and gripped Jack’s shirt. Fingers dug in, and the arms jerked wide, ripping open his shirt. Buttons went flying. With Jack’s chest and belly bared, he felt exposed and vulnerable. The bandages that Lorna had dressed over his wounds stood out starkly against his naked skin.

Hands reached again and tore those away, too, taking with it some hair and a bit of scabbing. Jack winced but made no move to shove the other away. Fresh blood dribbled down his stomach.

To the left, Mack swore under his breath, his hands still in the air.

On the right, Bruce remained in a fixed crouch. A pack of small wolves faced his teammates. Jack saw Bruce’s eyes dart toward the weapon on the ground.

“Don’t,” Jack warned between clenched teeth.

Bruce obeyed, but his gaze remained fixed on the rifle, ready to leap at the first provocation. Jack couldn’t let that happen.

The man-beast before Jack cocked his head and leaned close, sniffing at the trails of blood down his chest, taking in long deep breaths. His small head then tilted back, eyes slightly closed, as if tipping that scent deep inside him. Over the creature’s head, Jack noted the others doing the same. Even the cat’s eyes slipped to half-mast, as if taking in his scent.

For a moment a rich smell of blood filled his own nostrils, almost overpowering in its intensity. Then it was gone.

The examiner’s face rose before him. Hands gripped his shoulders and dragged him down until Jack was nose to nose with the beastly form. Jack smelled its fetid body, noted each eyelash, heard the rasp of its breath. Fingers remained clamped on his shoulders. He felt the raw muscular power in that grip.

But it was the eyes that held Jack’s full attention.

Pupils dilated as Jack stared. It was like peering down into a dark well. He sensed that the abyss had no bottom-but it was far from empty. Something strange stared back out at him.

The static in his head ratcheted up to a volume that threatened to crack his skull. It felt like his brain was trying to squeeze out his ears. As he rode a wave of agony his sight suddenly narrowed until he seemed to be hanging over that bottomless abyss.

He was trapped there for a breath-then the beast shoved him away, and Jack stumbled back into a tree. The pressure in his skull receded to a dull throb.

The creature turned and headed away. The other beasts swung like one body and vanished back into the forest.

Jack remained standing, trembling.

What the hell just happened?

The beast who had confronted him glanced back before disappearing. Cold eyes stared at him, then down to the shotgun at his feet. The message was clear.

Mack stumbled over to Jack. “What now, boss?”

He crouched and retrieved his weapon. “We go with them.”

“What?” Bruce asked, aghast. “They’ll tear us to pieces.”

Jack knew his teammate’s warning was not without merit. For the moment he had passed some test of fire here. What that test was he didn’t know-and passing it scared him as much as it relieved him.

But he was also under no delusion. This was no warm welcome. They simply shared a common enemy. Nothing more. He remembered the coldness in that attention and knew that the uneasy truce would last only as long as this war.