Preston Child - The Babylonian Mask

“Believe me, Lieutenant. I have seen things people only read in mythology, so I would not be so quick as to deem this irrational,” Sam declared. “Most of the absurdities I once scoffed at I’ve since found to be in some way scientifically plausible, once you dust off the embellishments of ages added to make something practical sound ridiculously fabricated.”

Marduk nodded, grateful that someone there had the capacity to at least hear him out. His sharp look jumped between the men who listened to him as he studied their expressions, wondering if he should even bother.

But he had to bother because his prey had escaped him for the most nefarious undertaking of recent years — to ignite World War III.

Dr. Fritz had kept quiet all this time, but at this point he felt he had to add something to the conversation. With his eyes cast down to the hand in his lap, he testified as to the strangeness of the mask. “When that patient came in, burning, he asked that I keep the mask for him. At first I thought nothing of it, you know? I thought it was precious to him and that it was probably the one thing he had saved from a house fire or something.”

He looked up at them, perplexed and horrified. Then he locked onto Marduk, as if he felt the need to make the old man understand why he’d pretended not see what he saw.

“At one point, after I put the thing down, uh, on its face, so to speak, so that I could attend to my patient. Some of the dead flesh that had peeled off his shoulder clung to my glove; I had to shake it off to continue working.” He was now taking shivering breaths. “But some of it landed inside the mask and I swear to God…”

Dr. Fritz shook his head, too embarrassed to recount the nightmarish and ludicrous claim.

“Tell them! Tell them, in the name of the holy! They have to know that I am not insane!” the old man cried. His words were troubled and slow, for the shape of his mouth made speech difficult, but his voice penetrated the ears of everyone present like a crack of thunder.

“I have to finish my work. I’m still on the clock, I’ll have you know,” Dr. Fritz tried to change the subject, but nobody moved a muscle to support him. Dr. Fritz’s brow quivered as he reconsidered.

“When…when the flesh fell into the mask,” he continued, “the surface of the mask…took shape?” Dr. Fritz found that he could not believe his own words, yet he remembered what had happened just so! The faces of the three pilots remained frozen in disbelief. Sam Cleave and Marduk, however, had not an inkling of judgment or surprise on their faces. “The inside of the mask became…a face, just,” he inhaled deeply, “just concavely. I told myself that it was the long hours and the shape of the mask playing tricks on me, but once the bloody tissue was wiped from it the face disappeared.”

Nobody said anything. Some of the men had a hard time believing it, while the others tried to formulate possible ways in which this could have occurred. Marduk thought this would be a good time to append the doctor’s stunner with more of the incredible, but this time to present it more from scientific standpoint. “That is how it happens. A rather macabre method is employed by the Babylonian Mask, utilizing dead human tissue to absorb the genetic material contained therein and then forming that individual’s face as the mask’s.”

“Jesus!” Werner said. He watched Himmelfarb run past him, headed for the en suite toilet. “Yes, I don’t blame you, Corporal.”

“Gentlemen, may I remind you I have a ward to run.” Dr. Fritz reiterated his previous statement.

“There is…more,” Marduk jumped in with a slow, boney hand aloft to accentuate his point.

“Oh great,” Sam smiled sarcastically, clearing his throat.

Marduk paid him no attention and laid out more unwritten rules. “Once the Masker takes on the facial features of the donor, the mask can only be removed by fire. Only fire can dislodge it from the Masker’s own face.” He then added solemnly, “and that is why I had to do what I did.”

Himmelfarb could take no more. “I am a pilot, for God’s sake. This mumbo-jumbo shit is definitely not for me. This is all too Hannibal Lecter for me. I’m out, friends.”

“You were given a mission, Himmelfarb,” said Werner sternly, but the Corporal of the Schleswig Air Base was out no matter what the cost.

“I am aware of that, Lieutenant!” he shouted. “And I will be sure to convey my grievance to our esteemed commander myself, so that you will not be reprimanded for my behavior.” He sighed, wiping his moist, pale brow. “I’m sorry, guys, but I cannot handle this. Good luck, really. Call me when you need an airman. That is all I am.” He left and closed the door behind him.

“Cheers, lad,” Sam bade goodbye. He then addressed Marduk with the one vexatious question that had been hounding him since the phenomenon was first explained. “Marduk, I’m having trouble with something here. Tell me what happens if a person just puts on the mask without any dead flesh action?”

“Nothing.”

One cohesive chorus of disappointment ensued among the others. They had expected more far-fetched rules of the game, Marduk realized, but he was not about to make things up for entertainment. He just shrugged.

“Nothing happens?” Kohl marveled. “You don’t die an excruciating death or asphyxiate to death? You put on the mask and nothing happens.”

“Nothing happens, son. It is just a mask. Which is why very few people know about its sinister power,” Marduk replied.

“What a boner killer,” Kohl complained.

“Alright, so if you wear the mask and your face becomes someone else’s — and you don’t get set on fire by a crazy old bastard like you — do you have the other person’s face forever?” Werner asked.

“Ah, good one!” Sam exclaimed, immersed in fascination for it all. If he were an amateur he would be chewing the end of his Biro and taking notes like mad by now, but Sam was a veteran journalist able to memorize countless facts as he listened. That, and he was secretly recording the whole conversation from the tape recorder in his pocket.

“You go blind,” Marduk answered nonchalantly. “Then you become like a mad animal and die.”

Again, a hiss of amazement coursed through them. Then a chuckle or two ensued. One was from Dr. Fritz. By now he had realized that trying to throw the bunch out was futile and besides, he was becoming interested now.

“Wow, Mr. Marduk, you just seem to have a ready answer for everything, don’t you?” Dr. Fritz shook his head with an amused smirk.

“Yes, I do, my dear doctor,” Marduk agreed. “I am almost eighty years old and have been responsible for this and other relics since I was a fifteen-year-old boy. By now I have not only familiarized myself with the rules, but regrettably seen them in action too many times.”

Dr. Fritz suddenly felt foolish for his arrogance and his face showed it. “My apologies.”

“I understand, Dr. Fritz. Men are always quick to dismiss what they cannot control as lunacy. But when it comes to their own absurd practices and idiotic courses of action they can throw almost any explanation at you to justify it,” the old man said with difficulty.

The doctor could see that the restricted muscle tissue around his mouth was making it really uncomfortable for the man to continue speaking.

“Um, is there any reason why people who keep the mask on go blind and lose their minds?” Kohl asked his first sincere question.

“That part has remained mainly lore and myth, son,” Marduk shrugged. “I’ve seen it happen only a few times over the years. Most people who’ve used the mask for insidious purposes had no idea what would happen to them after they got their vengeance. Like every evil drive or desire attained, there is a price. But mankind never learns. Power is for gods. Humility is for men.”