The Genesis Plague (2010)

PROLOGUE
MESOPOTAMIA,
4004 BC
    Nightfall was darker now, more ominous, thought Enliatu. The unrelenting cloud cover choked the moonlight to a dull glow and blotted out every celestial light in the heavens. And with the darkness had come great misfortune for his people. It was not that Nahna, the illuminator god of the night sky, purposely hid from the earth. All of it, Enliatu was certain, could be attributed to a malevolent earthly force: the outsider who had mysteriously emerged from the forbidden realm over the eastern mountains; the beautiful woman who was now being marched to her death.
    The captive was flanked by eight warriors carrying spears and bitumen torches. Two of the men tightly gripped the ropes fastened to the leather collar cinched around her neck. Her hands were unbound so that she could carry the mysterious clay jar that had been in her possession since her arrival six moons ago. She cradled the vessel as if it were her child.
    Her exotic fair skin and gem-like eyes were nothing like those of the dark-coloured tribes that inhabited the known lands. The women of the village were captivated by her. They’d competed to stroke her strange soft hair and smooth skin. To them, the unknown words that she spoke sounded like music, and her scent - sweet and spicy - seemed from another world. They’d prepared for her the finest foods, even braided her hair with beautiful flowers.
    The men shared in the seduction, though their attraction was far more feral. Never had they laid eyes upon such an alluring female. As Enliatu had feared, they could not restrain themselves. They had vied for her attention, and her fierce indifference merely intensified the rivalry. Eventually the men agreed surreptitiously to share the prize.
    On the third moon the conspirators - led by the two men whom Enliatu had designated to watch over her - crept into the hut where she slept. They covered her mouth, restrained her limbs, stripped away her coverings. Then, in predetermined order, they had their way with her until each man’s carnal appetite had been sated.
    The men later confided to Enliatu that she had not fought their advances. There had been no screams, no tears, no struggle. With flaccid repose she had stared at each aggressor with vacant eyes as he defiled her, a thin grimace twisting her soft lips.
    By sunrise the first man had fallen ill. First came sweating, then chills and quaking limbs … and the blood. So much blood.
    All were dead before sunset.
    If only the tragedy - the punishment - had stopped with them, lamented Enliatu.
    As the procession moved swiftly along the bank of the swollen river, Enliatu noticed that the flood had swallowed the circular granaries up to their rooftops. Soon the mud bricks that formed their walls would soften and dissolve beneath the churning water, the straw roofs carried downstream to rot. Not a trace would remain.
    Surely a cleansing was under way. Perhaps the creator, Enlil, was seeking to reclaim mankind itself, for just as men had formed bricks to build dwellings, the gods had moulded men from earthen clay.
    The procession broke away from the riverside and disappeared through a line of towering cedars. Beneath the dense forest canopy the torchlight illuminated only the nearest tree trunks against a perfectly black background. Soon the roiling river could no longer be heard. The warriors carried on in silence, while the prisoner began to softly hum a sensual melody. Overhead, the night owls, otherwise passive creatures, screeched in unison as if in response to her call. This caused the men to stop suddenly. They held the torches high and, with terror-filled eyes, searched the darkness with spears at the ready.
    ‘ Il-luk ach tulk !’ Enliatu screamed out in frustration.
    The handlers tugged the ropes, choking the prisoner back into submission. When she fell silent once more, the unearthly chorus above abruptly ceased.
    The ground rose sharply; the cedars thinned and yielded to the scrubby foothills leading up to the stark, jagged mountains. The procession paused as Enliatu made his way forward to lead them up a scree-covered slope towards a fire pit flickering bright orange. The two boys he had sent ahead in daylight to prepare the site knelt beside the pit, stirring two clay bowls that simmered over the low flames.
    The handlers goaded the prisoner ahead.
    Keeping a safe distance, Enliatu instructed the boys to confiscate her burden. When they advanced towards her, she pulled