Despite himself, Nathan felt a wave of curiosity clash with his revulsion. “Reanimation?”
Blackwell rubbed his hands together, eradicating any of his earlier discomfort. “Yes. Complete cellular regeneration as though taken from a living, breathing person instead of a ravaged corpse. And here’s the kicker: those resurrected cells would spread to any necrotic tissue they came in contact with, reanimating those as well.”
Nathan slowly nodded. “A discovery that potentially could advance modern medicine ahead by leap years. Cure cancer. AIDS. Maybe even regenerate missing limbs.”
“Not to mention mortality itself.” Blackwell’s pupils quivered when he stared beyond as though at the face of the future. “Make no mistake. With time, money and research, the possibilities are endless. Think about it, Nathan. Isn’t even the probability worth risking everything to recover that research?”
Nathan lifted the bottle of Chateau Lafite and frowned, surprised to find it empty. “You mean everything like our sanity and our lives?”
“Precisely.” Blackwell sat back with a smile. “Sometimes you have to bet everything, and damn the risk.”
“And sometimes you fly too close to the sun and melt your wings.”
“Icarus.” Blackwell nodded. “A warning example of over-ambition. Though inapplicable in this case, I appreciate the metaphor.”
“I thought you might. You mentioned Prometheus earlier, and named your artificial island Tantalus, who was cursed by the gods to suffer in Tartarus knee deep in water with fruit hanging over his head. The water receded whenever he tried to drink, and the fruit was always just out of his reach. No matter how quickly he moved, no matter how he struggled, he could only desire and suffer. It’s where the word tantalize comes from. Just like this obsession you have for Stein’s research. You seem to have a thing for Greek tragedy. Ironic, and one might say ill-omened for a venture as uncertain as this one.”
Blackwell shrugged. “The Greeks loved their tragedy. Men vs the gods, with humanity usually the loser. But it’s really no different than reality in a way, isn’t it?”
Nathan couldn’t help the sneer that twisted his mouth. “I’d agree a hundred percent. Your type certainly behaves like the gods of the Greeks. Drunk with power and money. Amoral. Decadent. Greedy.”
“Celebrated,” Blackwell said. “And powerful. Yet not invulnerable to falling from the heights to the grisliest of humiliating hells. The gods simply reflected the mindsets of the people, Nathan. What was in their gods was what was in themselves. It’s no different today. Those with nothing worship those with everything, yet secretly envy and despise them as well. That’s why a fall from grace is so celebrated. It’s as if a god was pulled from the heavens and subjected to the judgment of mere men.”
“You never know when it’s your time,” Nathan said.
“Not at all. But you should see that your contempt is wasted. We’re both self-made men. The difference between us is I understand how the world works, while you trudge in the muck of self-righteousness and shake your fist at those who sail above you. Icarus or not, I have to tell you that the view is much better from above.”
“Until those wings start to unravel.”
Blackwell clapped his hands together. “That’s what makes it so exciting. We are carving new legends now, gentlemen. Sailing into uncharted waters and unknown perils, determined to capture our own Golden Fleece.” He raised his glass. “And to the victor go the spoils.”
Michael’s answer was a dry, humorless laugh.
Blackwell raised a bemused eyebrow. “You don’t seem too enthused, Michael.”
“About what?” Michael spoke in between ripples of mirth. “You rich pricks think every problem in the world can be solved by throwing money at it. You have no idea what you’re heading into. What your people are headed into. We’re all going to die out there. We’re going to die, and my only consolation is that you’ll be right there along with the rest of us when it happens.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he broke off in an eruption of hysterical laughter.
“That’s the spirit, Michael.” Blackwell motioned to the waiting stewardess. “Darlene, another bottle. We simply must celebrate. It’s time to eat, drink and be merry. For as the man so pointedly noted, tomorrow we die.”
As Michael continued to laugh like a madman, Nathan glanced outside the window, straining to not stare at the grimy smudge, which appeared to have enlarged in that short period of time. The clouds dissipated, allowing a view of glittering buildings, canals, and crisp tides on white sand. The sun scattered rays across the entire view, transforming it into shades of crimson and blood orange.
They were descending.
Chapter 7: Conspectus
US Coast Guard District 7 was right off the coast of Miami, positioned where South Beach ended and the Keys began. Elena sat to the rear rows of the conference room, watching the group of hardened Special Forces soldiers more than feeling a part of them. They were a pack of wolves rabid for slaughter, prone to rowdy laughter every time something mind-bogglingly deadly was mentioned.
The military escort was split into three teams of five. The soldiers were a motley crew of assorted ages and nationalities. There was one other woman other than Elena, who went by the improbable handle of Charlie Foxtrot. She wore her hair braided in cornrows and had a chiseled, almost masculine face. She blended right in with men, who looked as though they had been handpicked by the sole criteria of having ventured into the worst hellholes on planet Earth and survived.
Their commanding officer stood with his back against the wall and his arms folded. Damon had introduced him as Major Steele — an apparent legend of sorts, judging by the reactions of the other soldiers. Steele seemed to be one of those types who was always rumored to have been killed in action in some glorious way, at least until he showed up again. He didn’t look like a legend. His features were nondescript, his age indecipherable. He studied the group with dark, penetrating eyes.
Damon addressed the unit as if prepping them for an ordinary military excursion, except with terms like ‘mutated abnormalities’ and ‘fear-inducing psychedelic toxins’ thrown in.
“Listen up, meatheads.” He leveled the group with a somber gaze. “Forget every mission you’ve ever had the pleasure of surviving. This is something different. You think you’ve seen hell? Your worst mission will be a cool dip in the pool compared to this one.”
That seemed to get their attention. The group sobered up, collectively focused on Damon’s every word.
“This mission will be taking us beyond what’s normally accepted as reality. I’m talking deep science. That Neil deGrasse, Stephen Hawking theoretical stuff. Since that’s like a different language to grunts, I’ll turn it over to our consultant on all things aberrant. Come on up, Mr. Ryder.”
Nathan? Elena turned and stared. Nathan had been lurking in the corner of room, unnoticed. She had been told he was coming along, but didn’t believe he’d actually show. It was complete against his nature to volunteer for a military excursion, especially under the direction of Chimera.
He looked completely out of place in a room full of soldiers, even if more casual than usual in pleated jeans and a vest over a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. She had to admire his ability to keep his composure under the challenging stares of the Special Forces crew.
He cleared his throat and pointed to a series of images on the main screen. “A little background info: I’m sure all of you are familiar with military events like the Trinity atomic tests, disasters like the Chernobyl meltdown, and unexplained mysteries like cryptic disappearances in the Bermuda Triangle. What you don’t know is that they’re all related. All of those incidents, along with many more, are the result of thresholds opening and spawning assorted monstrosities into our world. These incidents are called Aberrations by the few experienced enough to survive and combat them.”