The Genesis Plague (2010)

some kind of excavating machine. On either side, the natural limestone formations had been left intact, looking like a moonscape. Around the cave’s perimeter walls, his light glinted off enormous stainless-steel holding tanks shaped like inverted baby bottles. For a moment he felt like he was back on the tour of the local Budweiser brewery, in the fermentation room.
    Holt and Ramirez trotted over to Shuster, while Hazo paused to catch his breath.
    ‘How did this get down here?’ Holt asked.
    ‘Must have been brought in here in pieces … assembled on site. Modular construction. See there,’ Shuster said, moving his rifle muzzle up and down so that the light emphasized one of many riveted seams connecting the container’s outer steel panels.
    ‘Looks like a shipping container,’ Ramirez said.
    ‘Sure does,’ Shuster said, making his way around it.
    ‘For what, though?’ Ramirez mumbled. Thoughts of the ancient legend had his imagination running wild. The short hairs on his neck bristled.
    ‘Take a look at this,’ Shuster called over.
    Holt and Ramirez kept their M-16s at the ready and angled around the hulking container. A pale purple light glowed on to a grooved steel ramp that led down from the side of the container. The container’s short side was two and a half metres square, partially enclosing a central entryway a metre wide, two metres high. Beside it, a mechanical door mounted on rails had been slid open. Semi-transparent plastic flaps - like those used for meat lockers - dangled like a curtain from the top of the entryway to provide an air barrier. The flaps distorted the details of the container’s interior, but provided enough visibility to suggest that there was no one inside.
    Ramirez immediately spotted six identical containers lined neatly in a row behind this one. ‘ Seven containers?’
    ‘That’s right,’ Shuster said, backing up and aiming his light up over the container. ‘And take a look up there.’ He traced the beam along the tubular flex-duct leading out from the top of the container to where it joined a boxy central trunk that rose like a chimney for fifteen metres before disappearing through the cave’s lofty vault. Six identical flex-ducts branched off the main feed and patched into the tops of the other containers. The gentle breeze pushing out between the entryway flaps confirmed that fresh air was being pumped in from above ground. ‘It’s a ventilation system,’ Shuster said.
    ‘Detainment cells?’ Holt guessed.
    ‘Maybe Saddam’s weapons lab,’ Ramirez said.
    ‘Only one way to know for sure,’ Shuster said, noting PVC pipes snaking down beside the duct work. Water lines, he guessed. ‘Stay here. I’ll take a look inside. See what we’ve got.’ He swung his M-16 up on to his shoulder and ascended the ramp. Bathed in pale purple light, he felt like he was boarding a spaceship.

69
    While the marines were preoccupied with the strange box-like structure at the cave’s centre, Hazo had just made a discovery of his own. As he’d squatted to catch his breath, his flashlight tilted towards the cave’s outer wall and highlighted a most unusual anomaly, easy to miss in the enveloping blackness. Amid the cave’s natural rock formations, anything man had touched stood out glaringly. And what he saw was nothing natural.
    Resuming a standing position, he directed the light at the spot where the rock face had been smoothed flat around a modest arched opening burrowed into the rock maybe a metre up from the ground. It reminded him of a mosque’s qibla niche that directed Muslims towards Mecca during prayer.
    He considered calling out to the others. But he needed to conserve his energy. A profound lethargy was settling into his limbs and his fever was spiking. Perspiration was welling out from his pores.
    Compared to what the others had found, this was something he could inspect alone.
    Mindful of his footing on the uneven ground, Hazo made his way to the wall in stops and starts. He squared his body with the niche and directed his light inside it. It ran much deeper than he’d thought, extending maybe two metres into the rock like a small tunnel. The interior surfaces were covered in hash marks. Hewn with a chisel, he guessed. A deep lip the width of his hand had been carved around the rim of the opening. Probably meant to keep in place a seal - a thick seal.
    Perhaps the seal had never been set in place. Or more likely: the seal had been removed . It stood