"That's not what I mean. What if you revive someone but their soul has already departed their body?"
"Then we've got a zombie apocalypse on our hands." Her eyes flitted back to the GPS device. "We're real close. We should probably walk from here."
I took my foot off the accelerator. Carefully, I pushed the brake pedal. The Sno-Cat slid to a halt. I opened the door and stepped away from the vehicle. Holly, GPS in hand, took the lead and we trudged northeast for several minutes.
The snow was thick as a sheet. I took a quick glance behind me. The Sno-Cat was invisible. "How are we doing?" I asked.
"We're close," Holly replied. "Very close."
"Where do we go from here?"
She pointed. "See that ridge? The one that kind of pops out of the ground? We found the tardigrades on the other side of it."
Peering through the whirling powder, I spotted a peculiar snow bank. It rose about a foot into the air. Then it ran straight for a bit before dipping back to ground level.
I fingered the handle of my machete. Maybe this was the true Werwolfsschanze. If so, that meant the Amber Room — or whatever was left of it — was finally within my reach.
I stopped in front of the snow bank. Kneeling down, I brushed away some powder. Then I thrust my fingers into the snow and started to dig.
Holly's eyes grew wide. "Is that concrete?"
I began pulling away larger sections of snow. Particles danced in the air. "Sure is."
"You knew about this, didn't you?"
I kept my head down and continued to attack the snow. Holly joined me. Rupert retreated to the Sno-Cat and returned with a couple of shovels.
We worked the edges, digging around the sides. The concrete was laid out in a rectangular shape, roughly ten feet long by twenty feet wide. It was too small to be a laboratory. But it was the perfect size for a vault.
My excitement surged. I moved to the center of the object. I stabbed my shovel into the snow a few times. It banged against metal.
"What was that?" Rupert asked.
I scooped away some snow. A curved piece of metal, covered with ice, appeared. "It looks like a door."
"Where's it go?" Holly asked.
I shrugged.
"I think you know more than you're telling us."
"I wish I did." Slowly, I reached for the handle.
"Hold it."
I paused. A gust of cold air slashed against my cheeks.
"We found the tardigrades close to here," she said. "Whatever killed them might be down there."
Rupert nodded. "We should see about getting our hands on some HAZMAT suits."
"Did you experience any ill effects when you found the colony?" I asked.
"No."
"And the bacteria that killed the tardigrades … it was dead right?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then we'll be fine." I gripped the handle and pulled. The metal groaned. Smoky, rancid air flowed into my nostrils as I swung the door into an upright position.
"Do you see anything?" Holly asked.
I shifted a support bar into place. Then I pointed my flashlight beam into the space. It was at least ten feet deep. I couldn't tell for sure though because the ground was covered. "I see dead bodies," I said. "This is a grave. A mass grave."
Chapter 36
Baxter jumped out of the Sno-Cat. A strange feeling chilled his spine as he stared at the second Sno-Cat. A thin layer of ice covered it. But otherwise, it looked abandoned.
He trudged forward, staying low to the ground. He kept a watchful eye on the landscape. Soon, he reached a small plain. The snow dipped a few inches in height. It felt softer under his feet.
He zigzagged across a series of rifts. His boots sank deeper into the snow. Flurries soared into the air.
He reached the second Sno-Cat. His eyes narrowed to slits. Again, he felt iciness creep down his spine. He stopped and turned in an arc. He didn't see anyone watching him. He only saw snow. Majestic, falling snow.
He studied the powder around the vehicle. He didn't see any of Fenrir's pawprints. Then again, he didn't see any footprints either.
He yanked the door open and examined the cab. What he saw surprised him. Or rather, what he didn't see. Save for a wad of paper on the seat, the cab was empty and surprisingly clean. Baxter picked up the paper. He unfolded it to reveal a satellite image of the region. Several locations were marked and numbered.
He took a quick look at the cargo area. It was well stocked with food, space blankets, and the usual survival gear. Everything was in its correct place. Nothing was missing.
Slowly, he closed the door. The whole situation reminded him of those old ghost ship stories. A crewed ship would happen upon a boat in the middle of the ocean. They'd hail it, only to find it had been abandoned without a trace.
His heart beat a little faster. He'd spent most of the day searching for more pawprints. He'd worked well into the night with no luck whatsoever. Eventually, he'd been forced to abandon his search.
He'd called into Kirby, only to discover most of the residents were out in the field. He'd panicked. The last thing he needed was for another massacre. He'd swiftly placed numerous radio transmissions, ordering everyone to reconvene at Kirby for the night. He'd gotten in touch with some of the residents. But others — namely, Beverly and Morin along with Reed and the Whitlows — remained out of touch.
Crazy Roy had offered to search for Beverly and Morin. Meanwhile, Baxter had set his sights on Reed and the Whitlows. He'd gathered their tracking data and hurried after them. A small part of him had feared the worst. And yet, their Sno-Cat and the area around it seemed quiet.
Baxter walked around the vehicle, committing the details of the scene to memory. There was no blood, no signs of violence. It was like God had reached down and plucked them right out of the cab.
Baxter turned his attention to the satellite image. He couldn't afford to waste time. He had to find Reed and the Whitlows. He had to get them back to Kirby as quickly as possible.
Their lives depended on it.
Chapter 37
Darkness shrouded the area below. But Holly's flashlight illuminated the bodies. They were piled high, stacked unceremoniously on top of one another.
I quickly realized what had happened. The Nazis had initially dumped deceased test subjects into the mass grave. But over time, they'd grown increasingly nervous about the bacteria. So, they'd sealed the mass grave and started to incinerate the bodies instead.
I clambered down a ladder, stopping about two feet above the corpses. I wrapped my arms around a rung and turned on my flashlight.
I saw a middle-aged man. His body, covered in rotten clothes, shows signs of starvation.
"He's frozen solid," I said. "But his skin looks yellow, jaundiced."
"Anything else?" Holly asked.
"Both sides of his neck are swollen." I studied his clothes and saw big holes in his sleeves. "His armpits are swollen too."
"How swollen?"
"They look like giant blisters."
"Must be buboes."
I extended the flashlight, pointing the beam directly into the crook of the man's arm. "Buboes?"
"Its a swelling of the lymph nodes," Holly explained. "It's fairly common for certain infections."
"Like what?"
"Like tuberculosis and the bubonic plague."
"Bubonic plague?"
"Yeah. A lot of people think it caused the Black Death, one of the worst pandemics in history."
I retracted my flashlight.
"The bacteria is probably dead," she said. "But just to be safe, don't touch anything."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Hang on a second." Holly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small satellite phone. She lifted it to her ear. "Hi Pat. Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't pick up. We've been busy."