Gorgon: An Alex Hunter Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

Yanar’s face, and zoomed in on the man’s eyes. They were completely white, from sclera to pupil, blank orbs.
    Zeren Yanar opened his mouth wide, as if to scream, and revealed a tongue and throat that were also chalk-white. Though the sound was being fed back to the communications command center, they heard nothing. All that emanated from the man’s ghostly white lips was a small cloud of powder that twinkled in the harsh light of the robot’s cyclopean eye.
    As Baykal and the dozens of other military and security personnel watched, the Special Forces soldier tried to raise his arms again. They appeared even heavier than before, and showered more of the powder to the cistern floor, before cracking at the elbows and shoulders. The cracks became fissures, and then the wretched man simply fell to pieces before their eyes.
    There was complete silence in the command center. It was nearly a full minute before Atsubay Kemel Baykal realized his mouth was hanging open. For the first time in his life the Turkish Special Forces commander had no idea what to do.
    He finally spoke just two words. ‘Seal it.’

CHAPTER 4

Allandale Woods, twelve miles south-west of Boston, Massachusetts, USA
    Within the overgrown thicket, the grass moved. A manhole-sized ‘door’ lifted an inch. From the darkness, unblinking eyes followed the woman as she ambled slowly through the parkland. Allandale Woods was eighty-six acres of oaks, maples, pines, and peppermint trees. There were also deep ponds and cattail marshes fed by underground springs. It was beautiful, secluded, and where Aimee Weir had come every other day for the past eighteen months since she had returned home.
    After she’d passed by, the grass trapdoor lifted further and Alex Hunter slid out. He rose to his feet, keeping behind the trunk of a mature oak. Since finding Aimee again, he’d been at war with himself over whether he should reveal to her that he was alive, or stay hidden. Indecision racked him, short-circuiting his ability to think clearly. Seeing her both electrified and tormented him.
    He watched her, knowing where she’d stop – the same place every time. There were very few formal monuments in the woods, but this one had stood there since the end of the Great War in 1919. A single sandstone block, rough carved and dedicated to a solder who had never returned home. Aimee bent to place a single flower on the ground in front of it. He wondered if she ever questioned what had happened to the previous flowers she’d left. Alex put his hand in his pocket and drew forth a single crushed bloom. He held it flat in a hand that was black with dirt and grease, looking down at its fading beauty. His eyes traveled further down his body and took in the decrepit clothing. His hair hung to his shoulders for the first time in his life, and he also had a long beard, probably stuck with twigs and debris. He only ever thought about his appearance when he saw Aimee.
    He looked at her again – she hadn’t changed. She was still beautiful, and still haunting him, as he obviously did her.
    You got nothing to offer her. You’re dead, and you look it, a sneering voice whispered in his head.
    His jaw clenched and he took a half-step out from the tree, but, like a dozen times in the past, he stopped. What would he say to her? What could he say? She did think he was dead. He’d let her think that, everyone had let her think that.
    You’d end up killing her.
    Never. He shook his head, anger flaring.
    The Other One would. You can’t control him.
    I can, I know how now. Alex sucked in a breath and stepped out further.
    ‘Mommy.’ It was the boy – about two years old, with black hair and gray-blue eyes.
    Alex retreated into the shadow of the huge tree trunk.
    Aimee kneeled to gather him to her, and stayed down as they looked at the inscription together. A man joined them. He bent to kiss Aimee’s head and ruffled the boy’s hair. Alex leaned his head back against the tree and watched.