He fixed his aim upon the pack leader, knowing that was his true adversary.
Stella shifted to his side, ready to defend her father.
“Give me the gun,” she whispered.
Jason hesitated.
“I have an idea,” she pressed.
He relented and passed her his rifle, taking her dagger in trade. “I think we only have a single pulse left.”
“Then let’s hope I’m right about the dominance patterns of this species.”
She extracted what looked like a small microphone from where the rifle’s stock joined the gun. Jason suddenly remembered Harrington’s prior instructions about the DSR: how it could not only fire a sonic bullet, but it could also be used to amplify voices like a megaphone, or in reverse mode, to eavesdrop from a distance.
Stella settled the butt of the rifle to her shoulder, bringing the microphone to her lips. Instead of pointing the muzzle toward the pack as it silently stalked toward them, she lifted the gun toward the roof.
And howled.
It was a fair mimic of the pack leader’s cry, only magnified a hundredfold as she pulled the trigger, pulsing that scream of challenge up to the rooftop.
The blast echoed across the cavern.
The savage wail stopped the leader in his tracks, driving the beast into a wary crouch. It was plainly intimidated by the volume of that echoing scream.
Jason recalled his own thought from a moment ago.
In this dark world, the louder you shout, the bigger your balls.
The leader pushed away from them, one step, then another, never turning his back. The pack followed his example, shifting and darting to either side nervously, all the while slowly retreating.
Then upon some unknown signal, the pack turned and fled back into the darkness, yipping as they ran, ready to pursue less noisy prey.
Jason stared over at Stella. “You’re amazing.”
She shrugged and returned his rifle, now out of charge. Still, she tried to hide a smile of pride as she turned away. They continued on toward the far wall. At least there was enough trickling juice to keep the IR illuminator lit, but for how much longer?
He set a hard pace and crossed the last hundred yards in a matter of minutes. Far overhead, the substation shone dimly, lit by a couple of standby emergency lights.
Closer at hand, Jason stared at the steel rungs bolted into the wall. They formed a ladder that climbed the dozen or so stories to reach the Back Door.
It would be a tough haul.
Stella pointed out into the cavern. “Over there!”
Jason tensed, swinging around, expecting another attack. But she was pointing to a pool of light on the far side of the river. It was the CAAT. As they watched, it began to roll along the waterway, heading off.
Jason held his breath, then a distant triple beep of a horn sounded.
It was the prearranged signal.
Gray and Kowalski were okay. They had successfully commandeered the enemy’s CAAT, ready to pursue Dylan Wright.
Must’ve held off departing until our own lights reached the back wall.
Jason didn’t know if the others could see him, but he lifted his arm.
Good luck.
In retrospect, he should’ve saved some of that luck for himself.
As he lowered his arm, the IR illuminator flickered and died, plunging them into darkness.
27
April 30, 1:22 P.M. AMT
Roraima, Brazil
What have I done?
Kendall sat at a workstation in the main lab. He had no choice but to stare at a large LCD monitor. It displayed live video feed from a tree-mounted camera. From the stark shades of grays, it must be recording through a low-light sensor. The view revealed a thick forest, draped in vines, shaded by a dense canopy. The lens pointed down into a clearing lined by gravel.
A series of three tall cages stood in the middle of the glade. Hazard signs warned the pens were electrified, like the fences between the tiers of Cutter’s macabre garden.
This must be the lowest level.
Kendall remembered catching a glimpse of that isolated piece of rain forest. But what else was down there?
On the screen, he watched Jenna being manhandled into the centermost cage. From the way she hugged her arms around her chest, keeping clear of the bars, she must know about the danger.
Rahei slammed the pen closed.
“Our Ms. Beck should be feeling the first signs of infection,” Cutter said, pacing behind him, shadowed by Mateo in the background. “Headaches, maybe neck pain.”
“Please don’t do this,” Kendall said.
On the screen, Rahei retreated with the two other men. The pair kept a close watch on the jungle, guarding with electrified cattle prods and rifles. They all quickly piled back into the cart, swung the vehicle around the clearing, then headed out the way they’d come in.
“Why did you take her down there?” Kendall asked, glancing back at Cutter. “Why leave her alone?”
“Oh, she’s not alone.”
Proving this, something massive moved past the camera, too fast to catch more than the briefest glimpse of huge hooked claws and a shaggy coat. Still, Kendall recognized the species, falling back into his seat in horror.
“You didn’t . . .” he moaned.
Cutter shrugged. “It was an early experiment, taking a page from your preservationist playbook. De-extinction was the word you used in that paper, as I recall. It was a simple matter of using the MAGE and CAGE techniques to take a species already found in this rain forest, alter its genetic code, and resurrect its ancient ancestor.”
Kendall knew it was theoretically possible, that labs around the world sought to accomplish this very goal, and would likely succeed in the next few years. Already multiple facilities searched for ways to resurrect the woolly mammoth from elephant DNA, another sought to revive extinct passenger pigeons from its common relative, yet another worked to pull the long-deceased wild aurochs from the genetic heritage of present-day cattle. These ventures went by many names: Revive & Restore, the Uruz Project, even one appropriately called the Lazarus Project, which sought to de-extinct an Australian frog that gave birth through its mouth.
But what Cutter accomplished here . . .
“You can’t leave her down there,” he insisted.
“She’s safe enough for now, behind those electrified bars. We’ll give her another half hour, when the infection reduces her to something simpler. Then you’ll get a glimpse of what this new world will be like for humankind, when our species is stripped of its cancerous intelligence.”
Kendall felt tears threaten, knowing this monster would force him to watch what happened to Jenna.
“But you can stop all of this,” Cutter insisted. “Just tell me the name of the XNA species that holds the genetic key to unlocking your armored viral shell. One name . . . and this all ends. I will take matters over from there.”