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Taking in what he could see, Kurt noticed spears and bows placed carefully against the walls and spied odd-looking geometric patterns scratched into the floors. In one room he saw metal tins filled with flowering plants taken from the rainforest. A bit of brightness in an otherwise drab place.
He and Joe had already guessed that this was one of the geothermal company’s test wells. The equipment and materials left behind had obviously proven useful for Priya and her people. But it was more than just a hideout; it was a home, a fortress, and a keep. A place where the clones—with Priya’s help—seemed to be creating their own society. One that already included its own rules, myths, and religion.
A distant part of his mind considered the chance that was being missed. For the anthropologists of the world, this place would have been the opportunity of a lifetime—perhaps the one time in history when a brand-new culture emerging from nothing could have been studied in real time.
Another part of his mind considered what Priya had done to help create it. The nonsense about touching the trees. The prayers to the Gray Witch.
He made no judgment, but the person he knew back at NUMA was logical to a fault. She was the person who chose kindness and compassion over all else, even visiting with the person who’d caused the accident that paralyzed her to help him in his own rehabilitation. He couldn’t imagine how far she’d have to be pushed to end up playing priestess to a society of clones who knew nothing about the world other than what she showed them.
At the end of the hall they came to a more properly arranged curtain. The draped canvas had a design of sorts. It suggested a place of some importance. One of the guards pushed the curtain aside while the other led Kurt past it.
They arrived in a small space with a second curtain waiting forthem up ahead. A soft light filtered through the second curtain, as if candles were flickering inside the room beyond.
“Leave us,” Priya told Kurt’s keepers. “He will do me no harm.”
One of the men placed an open palm over his heart. “The Gray Witch protects you,” he said.
“And us all,” Priya replied, mimicking the gesture.
The two guards disappeared back through the outer curtain and Priya led Kurt through the inner one.
If Kurt had expected a sumptuous room fit for a queen, with a plush bed in the middle, covered in quilts or animal furs, surrounded by mosquito netting, candles, and perfumes, he would have been sadly disappointed.
The room was a utilitarian space with stone floors. It had concrete walls punctuated with bits of lava rock sticking out here and there. It was lit by more of the harsh LEDs—though some bulbs had been covered by fabrics to give the light a softer glow.
A workbench stood against one wall. He saw small motors, electronic gear, and other items spread across it. Tools and soldering irons occupied a shelf. Larger pieces of equipment in various states of disrepair sat scattered about the floor.
Nearby were a series of drawings, apocalyptic images with naked figures walking in a line out of a large mouth made of stone beneath a dreadful purple sky. Another depicted hundreds of skeletons lying in a field, weeds and grasses growing through the bones. Some type of rain or mist was sweeping over them, and a series of dark rectangles that looked suspiciously like a cityscape loomed in the distance. The final one was an endless mosaic of faces with numbers tattooed on them. All of them contain the now familiar 6.28 of TAU.
On the floor beside the three sketches he found another panel that looked half-finished. Far less intricate, it was nothing more than repeated brushstrokes. All of them heading outward from a central spotin five separate directions. Two lines going to the right were lengthy and extended, those going to the top of the panel were of medium length, and those going to the left and down were stubby and squat.
A lopsided asterisk.Disturbingly close in form to the satellite image depicting the path of the sea locusts as barren segments of ocean they’d left behind.
Kurt had a sense the images were meant to tell a story, and not a good one.
“Come here,” Priya said. She’d crossed to the far side of the room, where something of a living space had been set up. Piled-up rubber mats acted as a bed. On top, Kurt saw coats with the Pallos Corporation logo on them, sewn together to serve as a blanket. A seat cushion acted as a pillow. It seemed this group had made use of everything the mining company had left behind.
Kurt crossed the room cautiously as she pulled a knife from beneath the pillow.
“Sit down and raise your hands.”
Kurt took a seat and raised his arms, keeping them aloft as she cut through the vines. Happy to be free of the bindings, Kurt rubbed at his wrists and stretched a bit.
Priya stepped back, keeping a hold of the knife and studying him intensely. Perhaps it was her emaciated state that made her cheekbones and brow protrude unnaturally, but Kurt sensed a lot of anger in that gaze.
“Why have you come here?” she demanded.
Of all the questions she might have asked, this one made the least sense. “Because you asked us to,” Kurt said.
“The Gray Witch asked you,” she corrected.
“Aren’t you the Gray Witch?” Kurt said.
“No,” she replied without a hint of friendliness. “The Gray Witchhelps us. She blinds TAU and offers gifts. We thank her by remaining faithful and waiting for deliverance.”
Kurt wondered if this performance was for an audience. Even priestesses had to keep the faith. Two curtains hanging between the room and the hall didn’t exactly equal the cone of silence. He could play along.
“And who exactly is TAU?” he asked.