Chapter 20

  

            Out of the darkness came the white creatures. The Marines were the first to see them. The tunnel seemed blocked by a large, tangled nest or a bundle of rope. Suddenly the nest moved, and the ropes came alive. Desert vipers – horned and poisonous, albinos all of them. Angry white serpents’ heads rose up out of the tangle. Their eyes were like gleaming red gemstones, their fangs slick with venom. The snakes had to be at least two meters in length, maybe more. They were anything but happy.

            One of the Marines opened fire on the wriggling mass of serpents. Bullets riddled reptilian flesh; blood sprayed, and snake bodies were flung into the darkness. Amid the gunfire, the expedition team members huddled together, backing away from the violence. As they did so, they bumped into Dan Keller, whose flashlight lit the tunnel behind them. Dan was ignoring the snakes. Something else was troubling him….

            First he had heard the clicking sound – the clicking of claws. Then the skittering of thousands of chitinous legs across stone. Keller knew the sound of scorpions, but he could not imagine what his ears were telling him. Suddenly the creatures began to enter the light cast by his flashlight. The shouts behind him, the gunfire, the panic of his companions, barely registered. Dan’s eyes were fixed on the flood of arthropods approaching him, climbing over each other, their claws snapping, stinger-laden tails poised for attack. They were all pure white; he had never seen white scorpions before. They made up a wave, maybe half a meter high, moving towards him. And they were clearly in a foul mood.

            “Behind us! Quick!” he shouted to the Marines. “Scorpions!”

Pvt. Willis tore her eyes from the bloody mass of snakes, and saw the wave of little white, lobsterish creatures billowing toward them, waving their stingers. Scorpions, she realized – like a flood of damned monster crawdads! She trained her weapon on the wave and swept it with bullets…. Keller watched her work. He was impressed. An amazing woman, he thought.

Lasser first sensed the bats were coming. He knew the stirring of the air, signaling their approach, the ultra-high-pitched screech, just on the edge of audibility. But he wasn’t prepared for the living tornado that whirled out of the darkness, thousands of death-white bats spinning over their heads, baring their fangs, reaching with their claws for human hair, arms, faces…. There wasn’t much the Marines could do. They swung their weapons over their heads like clubs. The whirlwind of bats continued to assail them, and Lasser felt they were somehow sucking the air from the tunnel, deliberately trying to suffocate them. As a bat slammed into the back of his head, pitching him forward, he wondered briefly if they were carrying rabies….

When the white creatures attacked us, we were puzzled at first, then terrified. Snakes at first, then scorpions, then screeching white bats…. The Marines tried to take them out. But they kept coming. Devereaux tried to rally us.

“Your shovels!” he cried. “The shovels in your packs! Use them as weapons!”

Lasser was down, screaming, as a white bat worked its way down his head, wings flapping, and sank its curved fangs into his neck. The damned things were bloodsuckers, vampires!

I worked my mini-shovel loose just in time, extending and locking its shaft as a desert viper shot through the trembling legs of Dr. Semple and headed straight for me. It was almost as if the snake knew me, and deeply hated me. It opened its mouth, bared its fangs and hissed before striking. At least I assumed it was planning to strike. I didn’t give it time. I brought the edge of the shovel down just behind its head, decapitating it in one blow. The ghostly white body writhed in its death throes; the head lay lifeless, the eyes no longer gleaming.

Dr. Semple had dropped to the ground, and was trying frantically to extricate a flapping bat from his hair. Scorpions closed in on him, ready to climb up on his body.

I began stamping the arachnids with my heavy caving boots, and shuddered at the sickening crunch of their white exoskeletons. Fluorescent ooze leaked from their crushed hard-shell bodies. I took the point of my shovel blade and worked it under the bat on Semple’s head. I flicked it upwards, and the bat flew against the wall and dropped to the floor, dazed. I then smashed it with the shovel blade. I then came to Lasser’s rescue, and disposed of his bat as well. He clamped a hand to his bloody neck and stared at me in gratitude.

I swung the shovel over my head, taking out a few more bats, then searched the area around my feet for the next crawling attacker. I, the soft-spoken university professor, experienced a rush of adrenalin. I felt like a superhero!

At that moment, I had a kind of vision – I don’t know if it really happened or not – the serpents, scorpions and bats around me seemed to dissolve into a green mist, each animal becoming an intense yellow glow in that strange fog. Some of the glowing points of light began to wink out. The vision lasted only for a few seconds. I understood at that moment that we had not been attacked by animals, but by jinn. They had shifted shapes, transformed themselves, for their assault, but this carried great risk for them, I knew. If they died in animal form, they died as jinn. And many were dying here. The jinn were acting out of desperation.

The Marines continued to spray bullets at the creatures, killing serpents and bats for the most part, and taking out scorpions with their combat boots. Some of the creatures did get through, and inflicted serious pain. I saw Sgt. O’Dell take viper fangs in his left calf. He cut the snake in half, but he was clearly hurting. And Bakhashaf was streaming blood from his head, apparently the victim of a series of bat bites, as he sat against the wall and rhythmically slapped scorpions away with his bare hands.

Pvt. Willis was actually enjoying this! She had sliced up her fair share of serpents and peppered a cloud of white bats with bullets. Her feet did a zydeco dance on the poisonous scorpions.

I was surprised at how weak the jinn seemed. Where were their vaunted powers? Perhaps the legends were exaggerated. It occurred to me that perhaps these jinn, these opponents of Awda and his ilk, were indeed few in numbers and on the losing side of history.

It was then that I realized how wrong I was. The suicidal attack of the white creatures was not the worst of it. In fact, it was simply a diversion, to keep our attention from the main event.

Mahmoud Bakhashaf, our Saudi caver, continued to sit quietly, his head forward and dripping blood, as the Marines and the rest of us dealt with the last of the creatures. I was worried about him. I shook his shoulder.

“Mahmoud, are you okay?” I asked.

He looked up at me. His eyes had gone strange, and for a moment they glowed green!

He swung his right arm at me and pushed me aside. I went sprawling onto the tunnel floor, sliding in blood and fragments of dead animals.

Suddenly Bakhashaf was on his feet, heading toward the Marines. He walked strangely, as if just getting used to his limbs. I knew it was no longer Mahmoud. I realized he had been possessed. This was one of the things the jinn were supposed to be able to do: take over a human being’s mind and body. And they had just done it.

“No!” I shouted, to no one and everyone. I got to my feet and ran toward Bakhashaf. The Marines had turned toward us. Mahmoud was zeroing in on a private named Mark Bonaventure, a short, wiry, but extremely strong fighter. Bonaventure sensed a threat and lifted his weapon quickly. O’Dell’s flashlight played on Bakhashaf, and showed us the bizarre flaring of the young Saudi’s eyes. Mahmoud was going for the Marine’s rifle. At least that seemed to be his plan. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dan Keller came flying through the air, directly at Bakhashaf, like a linebacker intent on taking down a quarterback. But his target disappeared, and Keller came crashing to earth. Bakhashaf was now behind Bonaventure, who had no idea what was happening. The Saudi effortlessly stripped the rifle from the befuddled Marine and with a flick of his arm sent him flying against the wall of the tunnel. Bakhashaf now stood facing the team, training the M-16 on all of us. He wasn’t smiling. He looked terrified. But clearly he had us.

At least so I thought, until I realized that Mubarak Awda had rejoined us. Mubarak later explained to me what was happening at that moment, and how we managed to survive.

Imagine yourself in Mahmoud Bakhashaf’s position: picture a young Saudi caver, confused by the strange goings-on, fearful of the dark and yawning unknown, anxious to get back to a more comfortable world. Suddenly an onslaught of ghostly white beasts attacks us. The youth’s heart is racing. As Devereaux told us to do, Mahmoud lashes out at the snakes with his spade, crushes scorpions beneath his boots, ducks away from the swooping bats. In his confusion, his mind is open, and ripe for the plucking.

A renegade jinni named Sufafeesh, suddenly present but hidden from human sight, dives deep into the mind of Mahmoud Bakhashaf. The jinni is under orders to possess the human, seize a rifle from the Marines and kill them all. Possession, I have since learned, is not easy for the jinn. Entry into the human psyche involves some pain, a great deal of intense pressure, and the temporary relinquishing of some power. There are some moments of agony for Sufafeesh; then, in a flash, he is seated, and in control of the human. He sees through Mahmoud’s eyes, and hears through his ears. The Saudi’s senses are augmented by the jinn presence. His sight now includes the ultraviolet and infrared spectra, and he sees new colors beyond the purple and the red. His hearing now encompasses ultralow and ultrahigh frequencies, and instills a higher level of alertness, of readiness, in the man. There is a low, throbbing sound, coming from the earth. It sounds like the heartbeat of the planet. In actuality, it is the pulsing of the far-off City, the sound of jinn society, jinn life. At some subconscious level, the possessed mind of Mahmoud Bakhashaf marvels at the new richness of reality, like a drugged patient being wheeled into the operating room, sensing the technological wonders of the medical team surrounding him, but unable to react. Mahmoud can do nothing with the sensory input. Sufafeesh is the commander, and is ready to act. The jinni spots Pvt. Mark Bonaventure, sees a moment of doubt, and launches the man’s body at him.

In a matter of seconds, Bakhashaf is holding the rifle, and lifting it toward the group, all of whose members seem frozen in time. Sufafeesh is ready to kill them all.

Suddenly, Sufafeesh too freezes, unable to give the order to the man’s body. He is not alone inside the psyche of the Saudi: someone else is in the process of possessing Bakhashaf! In fact, Sufafeesh, at his most vulnerable when he is possessing a human, is now being possessed himself….

This is all simplistic, and perhaps a bit melodramatic, but I can’t think of any other way to describe what happened. Mubarak possessed the possessor, and effectively expelled him from Bakhashaf’s body.

Mahmoud dropped the rifle – unfired – and fell to the ground. His lungs were working furiously, as if he had just run the 1500 meters. The Marines recovered the rifle and tended to Bonaventure, who seemed dazed but basically okay. I went to Bakhashaf and tried to help him up. I had an idea of what had happened, but was unaware of the details. I was sure Mubarak was somehow involved in saving us.

“What?” asked Mahmoud, getting unsteadily to his feet. “What?”

“It’s okay, Mahmoud,” I said. “Someone just saved our lives.”

“I – I – What are you talking about?” he asked, slurring his words a bit.

I looked at the others.

“He has no idea what just happened,” I told them. “He was possessed. One of the bad guys took over his mind – and his body. But our friends put a stop to it.”

Devereaux stared at me as if I were crazy. He stayed silent; he knew the truth, but wasn’t ready to admit it.

Keller rejoined us, brushing dust from his clothes. He seemed unhurt from his failed attempt to bring down Bakhashaf.

“What do you know about this?” he asked me.

“Not much,” I said, trying to be as open as I could. “Mubarak was somehow involved, but all I have is a feeling. I think our opponents have been stopped for the time being.”

“So where is Mubarak?” Dan asked, somewhat skeptically.

“Right here,” said a voice from the shadows of the tunnel. Keller turned his flashlight and illuminated Mubarak Awda, who was walking slowly toward us.

“Where the hell were you?” Keller asked.

“Talking with my superiors,” Mubarak replied. “And helping out with your problem.” He stopped in our midst, and scanned our faces. “I think we are now in good shape,” he said. “We shouldn’t have any further delays in reaching the City.”

As they headed back to the “transition zone,” Keller spoke with Pvt. Willis about her combat skills.

“You seem to have an aptitude for this kind of thing,” he said.

“I’m a Marine,” she said coolly. “It’s my job.”

“Where are you from?”

“Louisiana,” she said. “Plaquemines Parish.”

“What’s your take on this jinn thing?”

She looked at him sharply. “You tell me. You’ve lived for years in this godforsaken place, as I understand it. You must have some thoughts on the matter.”

Keller smiled. “Godforsaken, eh? The people here think this is God’s own land.”

“Right,” said Vanessa, keeping her eyes forward, watching for threats as they walked along the passageway. “Well, who’s to say? You know, I come from a place where the supernatural is an everyday thing. We have Voodoo and zombies and God knows what else. Why shouldn’t this place have its own spirits?”

Keller studied her face as they walked. She was quite attractive, in a way. Her eyes were large and liquid, and very intense. She was a smallish woman, but very tightly wound and in control of her every move. Keller liked that. He liked a bit of self-control in this unpredictable world.

“Good point,” he said. “Well, if you think things have been weird so far, wait till you see what’s coming!”

“You mean the City?”

“Yeah, that…. But also, it seems to be getting harder and harder to get there. I wonder if we’ll even make it.”

“We will,” Vanessa said, almost gritting her teeth. Her confidence made Keller feel a bit better.
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