The Genesis Plague - Michael Byrnes [80]
Furthermore, the lack of clothing or personal effects strongly countermanded Crawford’s chemical-weapons hypothesis. Not to mention that not a trace of flesh remained on these bones. That pointed to an event long, long ago. Well before Kurds were victimized by Saddam and his Ba’ath Party goons.
There definitely was a story to be found in these bones. But what could it be?
The bot sonar hadn’t picked up any other exit tunnels branching out from this cave. Seeing how the bones were piled so high, however, Jason wondered if the sonar signal had been obstructed. Maybe there was something to be found behind the bones? There was only one way to determine if that was the case.
‘They’re only bones,’ he told himself. ‘Nothing but bones.’
Having witnessed plenty of battle zone carnage - from blown-off limbs to bullet-riddled and decapitated corpses - Jason wasn’t squeamish when it came to blood and gore. But bones evoked a different, unsettling feeling.
To Jason, naked bones underscored the impersonal, undiscriminating finality of death - the living being stripped of flesh to its crude frame. Like a vandalized car stripped down to its chassis and left sitting atop cinderblocks.
The ancients revered bones as a vessel for resurrection or reincarnation. As such, they built pyramids and lavish tombs and even mummified themselves to preserve the body’s sacred framework. This place, however, reflected a much deeper reality: death was cruel. Bones were nothing but remnants of a fleeting physical life. That’s what Jason had to believe. Because for the sorriest souls, like his brother Matthew, who’d been incinerated by ignited jet fuel in the World Trade Center on a crystal-clear September morning, nothing physical remained. Jason needed to believe that, in the end, bones didn’t determine one’s ultimate salvation.
Cringing, Jason placed his free hand on a knobby femur to get a feel for it. ‘Not so bad,’ he tried to convince himself. ‘Just like wood.’
Groaning, he tossed the light up on to the pile. Then he threw himself up on to the bones and began clambering his way to the top, using the skulls as steps.
‘Sorry, fellas …’
Halfway to the top, the pile partially collapsed under his weight as hollow rib cages buried deep beneath him folded inward with a series of brittle snaps. As if he had just cracked ice on a pond, he spread his weight flat. Once the bones settled again, he cautiously continued his ascent. Near the top there was more cracking and popping. A dust cloud of decomposed flesh wafted into his nose and mouth. ‘Aah!’ He spat out the dust, but a foul taste lingered on his tongue. That’s truly nasty, he thought.
He held the flashlight high and aimed the light into the shadowy gap behind the bone pile. Moving the light along the wall’s arc, he was able to scan about a third of the cave’s circumference. For good measure, he checked the ceiling too. Definitely no holes or openings.
He slid down the pile, sending a pair of skulls clattering across the ground. Then he continued slowly along the circle, shining the light on the skeletons. At the circle’s midpoint, he grappled to the top of the pile again and checked the rear wall and ceiling. Nothing.
Again he slid to the floor, continued along the pile. Three-quarters of the way around the circle he climbed the pile for a final inspection.
‘Okay. No way out,’ he muttered.
As he came to the end of the circle, he noticed something peculiar: dozens of jawbones had been neatly stacked in a separate pile. Upon closer examination, he discovered that none of them had teeth.
That’s odd, he mused.
Either these specimens were extreme examples of bad oral hygiene, or someone had extracted the teeth. But why would someone take them?
Then something on the ground glinted in the light. Jason bent down for a better look and at the foot of the pile saw a sharp silver edge covered in heavy dust. When