Price of Life

By Bill Bryson

At the dawn of civilization, a prehistoric hunter finds an unusual meteorite that offers him powers of life and death and makes him an immortal. Twelve thousand years later, his descendants, inheriting the gene of immortality, are living in secret among unsuspecting humans. Able to give and take life at will, they struggle for survival across the centuries.

When a group of human fanatics and evil immortals each come with their own horrific plan for world domination, other humans and immortals must join forces to stop them regardless of the cost. At stake is the survival of both races as they prepare to face the greatest challenge of their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foremost Press
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781939870209

Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson's bestselling books include One Summer, A Short History of Nearly Everything, At Home, A Walk in the Woods, Neither Here nor There, Made in America, and The Mother Tongue. He lives in England with his wife.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

France, 10,000 B.C.

He saw it plummeting from the sky like a giant fiery sphere. He had witnessed such spheres cast down by angry gods since he was a child. And every time the sphere fell, it caused great fires or burned holes in the ground that glowed in the dark for days. Sometimes the nomads found the remnants of the gods’ sky spheres. People of his tribe said that weapons forged from these remnants were stronger than those made of stone and bone. He had never seen one, but he never doubted the stories told to him by his mother and father.

Their tribal shaman, the Wise One, had once wielded such a weapon, but he had buried it after a great battle, horrified by the carnage it had caused. He became a healer instead, and when he got old, he chose Ru as his successor. Ru didn’t know why he was chosen. Gods spoke to the shamans and told them whom to choose. Ru wasn’t a great warrior, nor was he a great hunter. But Ru was more curious about things than others, and the old shaman has taught him the arts of divination. Ru had learned many things but not enough to be fully initiated as the next Wise One.

Ru was of average height, and, like most males of his tribe, he was lean and wiry. He was twenty years old. His skin was tanned by the sun, and his eyes were the color of the finest amber. His clothes and shoes were made of fine animal skins, and his long black hair was tied into a braid with two knots. Ru knew how to cook game, how to prepare healing potions, and how to make good weapons. His fellow tribesmen respected him for that, and Ru was certain that one of the women would eventually take him as his mate.

But that was not to be.

Fierce warriors from beyond the great mountains settled across the sacred forest from his tribe. The tribal chiefs met and exchanged gifts and assurances that both tribes would live peacefully. But the chief of Ru’s tribe was deceived. The strangers from beyond the mountains were more numerous. They hid their true strength, until one day they attacked and massacred everyone—men, women, and children. The warriors of Ru’s tribe fought bravely. But the enemy was too strong.

Ru was the only survivor. The old shaman, before he joined the fight, made him promise to protect tribal memory and the knowledge he had passed on to him. He had also revealed the hiding place of the weapon forged from the remnants of the sky sphere. Ru had taken the shaman’s amulets, his bone necklace, and his knowledge with him. He ran from the doomed camp of his tribe, knowing full well that if he stayed, he would die and the memory of his people would be lost forever.

But a group of determined enemy warriors had followed him, intent on finishing him off. Ru knew the land and managed to stay ahead of his pursuers. But the enemy warriors were persistent. When he saw the barren land where the fiery sphere had fallen from the sky, Ru was determined to reach it first. The sky sphere had made a large hole in the ground. The sand around the edges of the hole had turned into a transparent substance reflecting the rays of the sun.

They are about a day behind me, Ru thought as he approached the spot. I must ask the gods to give me power to survive and avenge the death of my tribesmen. The invaders with painted faces had butchered his people like animals. They showed no mercy. Ru forced down angry tears. Now was not the time for mourning.

The pit was smoking, and Ru waited until the heat from the sky sphere had died out, then cautiously looked into the hole. What he saw there was something he could hardly describe. At the bottom of the pit rested a glowing crystal the size of a large egg. Ru had never seen anything so strange, so powerful and so beautiful. The crystal beckoned to him with its hypnotic light, and, despite his fear, Ru felt his apprehension and anxiety diminish the closer he got to the gods’ celestial gift.

Touch me, the crystal seemed to speak to him. Take me, embrace me. Feel the power within me. This power shall be yours. You shall have the strength of the gods. You shall have the power of life and death over all living things.

Ru descended into the pit. It was as deep as a man was tall, and its edges were rough and glassy. He knelt beside the glowing crystal and looked into its depth, seeing his own reflection. Far in the distance, he heard the battle cry of the enemy warriors. They were coming. They wanted to kill him and take his amulets and the old shaman’s divination tools to their chief as a war trophy. Try as he might, he could not escape them. They could track him, and he could not run from them forever. Ru was not a warrior, but this time he had to take his stand here on the sacred land.

Love for his people and the desire for vengeance finally overcame his fears and doubts. Ru reached for the crystal with both hands, cradling it against his heart like a newborn child. He began to pray to the gods to grant him his vengeance. And the gods responded to his prayers, but not in the way Ru expected. His world suddenly vanished, and his temporary blindness was replaced with visions of another world, another place and time. The young tribesman could not understand what these visions meant, but by the time his sight returned, Ru found himself back in the pit cradling the sacred crystal.

But the stone given to him by the gods was no longer glowing. Its divine light had passed into Ru’s body and soul. He felt it with every fiber of his being. Unbelievable strength coursed through him. No bravery potion prepared by the shamans could even compare to what he felt now. His muscles tensed and relaxed. The enemy warriors’ battle cries were approaching. They were coming to kill him, but Ru felt a curious sensation of conflicting energies coursing through his body, his blood, and his bones.

He was no longer afraid, but now he somehow knew with absolute certainty that the gods had given him the power of life and death over all living things just as they had promised. He knew his knowledge had surpassed that of the old shaman who had taken him as his pupil. Ru loved the old man like his own father, and he would slay the evil people from the mountains to avenge his tribe and honor their memory.

Placing the crystal in his skin purse, Ru climbed out of the pit and closed his eyes. He now had a second sight given to him by the gods. He could see and feel everything, the whisper of the gentle wind, the soft hissing of the moving particles of sand, the sacred musical sounds of the forest from which the enemy warriors had emerged brandishing their axes, knives, and spears. There were ten of them—big, strong, their half-naked bodies painted in vivid colors. He knew they saw him. As they moved forward, Ru opened his eyes, commanding his body to concentrate. His intense hatred for the evil ones who had massacred his tribe coursed through his veins like liquid fire.

He allowed the enemy warriors to surround him. As they moved in for the kill, Ru unleashed the power given to him by the gods. The life force of the enemy tribesmen poured out from their bodies as they approached. Luminous strands of energy left their mortal flesh and came toward Ru. The young tribesman consumed them through his skin, increasing his vitality and his already formidable strength. With each step they took, the enemy warriors became weaker.

Ru drained them to the point of death, but not completely. Before his eyes, ten strong, young warriors turned into withered old men, barely able to crawl. Their weapons fell to the ground. As they tried to get back on their feet, they stared in absolute horror at the faces and bodies of their fellow tribesmen.

You wanted to kill me, Ru said. Come and kill me if you can.

But none of them could.

Ru collected their weapons and broke them with his bare hands until they were nothing but splinters of wood, bone, and pieces of stone. The enemy warriors snarled at him in impotent fury, their eyes full of terror and wonder. Ru approached the strongest-looking one and stared down on him.

You murdered my people, Ru said to him. I swore to avenge my tribe and I will. I will find your people. I will take their lives. There will be none of you left.

What are you? groaned one of the weak old men.

I am just a man, Ru replied.

No man can do what you did. This is a curse. You are cursed!

I was chosen by the gods, Ru replied. Gods gave me the power.

Damn you, demon, growled another withered warrior. Kill us then; don’t leave us like this!

Ru smiled. His smile was cold and his eyes hard. I will leave you here for the wolves. That’s your punishment. Killing you would be too easy.

Ru turned and left without looking back. As the sun began it journey toward the western horizon, the wolves came just as he predicted. No one heard the terrified screams of the warriors. The wolves killed their hapless prey and had a great feast. When there was nothing left to eat, the wolves went back into the forest, leaving behind the blood-stained ground and scattered and crushed human bones.

PART ONE

GODS IN FLESH

CHAPTER 1

Bilbao, Spain, Present Day

No pain, no gain. That was the standard motto of most of the personal trainers she had come in contact with during her long, exciting, and turbulent life. If those who claimed to be experts at improving mind and body lived as long as she did, they would have an entirely different opinion on the matter. Pain was part of life, and she had experienced it in so many ways that it was no longer her enemy. Small pain was good for the soul. Too much of it would drive an ordinary person insane. Her kind was far more resilient than the rest. Of course, there were exceptions. She tried not to think about those who couldn’t handle the gifts from forces they couldn’t understand.

Dina Amulai, now known to the world as Deana Anderson, was pumping iron in her private exercise room, toning her body. She felt no pain, only the sheer physical pleasure from being able to maintain her muscles in peak condition without looking like a girl on steroids. God had blessed her twice, it seemed. He had given her not only good looks, but the ability to maintain them regardless of the passage of time. There were many others like her. And just like her, they did their best to keep their secret from the rest of the world. The world was simply not ready to face the fact that there were immortal humans living among them, humans who were capable of dispensing life or death at will. . . .

The combined weight of the five-pound dumbbells in her hands was beginning to show after one hour of steady rhythmical movements. Dina lowered her hands and stared at her reflection in the full-length wall mirror. She was ninety-seven years old, but no one would guess her more than twenty-five. Her thick, black wavy hair was never touched by strands of gray. Her creamy, light brown skin remained young, fresh, and smooth. Her eyes, the color of fine ebony had seen too much. Yet Dina welcomed her immortality because it offered her the opportunity to see and feel the future as well as seek out the mysterious origin of the immortals.

Replacing the dumbbells on the rack, Dina wiped her face with a soft cotton towel, then picked up a small lemon-flavored bottle of mineral water and walked toward the window. Sipping her drink, she swept her eyes over the city and the distant Bay of Biscay shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Since the time she’d bought some real estate property here, she had fallen in love with the city, its people, and its centuries-old traditions.

Dina had learned to speak fluent Spanish and the local Basque language Euskara. The Basques were Roman Catholics and devout Christians, just like Dina’s own people known as the Romen, or the Gypsies, who migrated from India and spread across the world thousands of years ago. And just like the proud Basques, the Scotsmen, and the Irish, who had fought fiercely for their independence against great empires, Dina maintained her faith, but she was also a pragmatic realist and a scientist at heart.

Knowledge in this day and age was readily available through the Internet. Countless and invisible electronic pathways, where constantly updated information moved at the speed of light, connected every continent, every city and every village on the planet. Born before the age of computers, Dina observed the technological evolution with great interest. And when she finally realized who and what she was, she decided to take full advantage of it but stay out of history’s way. Not too long ago, she had a unique opportunity to prevent the deaths of tens of millions of people, including her fellow Romen, who were still hated, mistrusted, and misunderstood to this very day.

Dina had humble beginnings, but she had come a long way from being the simple Gypsy tribal girl who stole, sang songs, danced by the campfire, and made her money telling fortunes to the mortal fools wishing to know their future. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, Dina Amulai had another gift. She could see the future, but because it was often too painful to know and not being able to do anything about it, she rarely revealed her visions to anyone but her most trusted friends. That ability to predict things on a global scale made her one of the best financial consultants on the planet. But Dina chose her clients carefully and stayed away from shady characters. In investment circles, she was known as an honest broker. Wealth for her was a means to an end, and by helping less fortunate mortals, she tried to atone for the things she had to do to survive.

There was a knock on the door.

Dina turned away from the window. The man who entered the exercise room was tall and radiated inner strength and quiet dignity. Charles Northman, her butler, was forty years old and had worked for her for five years. Her previous butler had suffered a fatal heart attack when she was away on a business meeting. The man was old, but he had served her faithfully. If she had been home at the time, she could have been able to save him, but fate had decided otherwise. Her kind could save lives just as easily as they could take them. Her eternal youth came at a price, but Dina felt morally justified in taking the lives of truly evil people.

Charles Northman came to her with good credentials. His first job had been as a waiter at a French restaurant. Then he had gone to college majoring in hospitality management. The man liked good food and had a talent for cooking. He had worked for many people before he finished at a butler school and sold his talents to the highest bidder. But Charles was also a man of principles, and he never compromised them. Dina picked him out of many candidates and never regretted her decision. A good butler was part of the family. Trust and confidence these days was more precious than diamonds.

Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, Northman said. Professor Beckman called from Switzerland. He said to call him back as soon as possible.

Dina offered him a smile, revealing her snow-white teeth. Thank you, Charles. I’ll give him a call.

Did you have a good workout, ma’am?

Yes, I did. And I’m hungry. What’s for lunch?

I cooked a rabbit stew. For the second course, I made sweetmeats and salad with herbs, ma’am. I chose a bottle of Bollinger 2000 vintage. Then, of course, flan and green tea for dessert.

Sounds delicious, Dina said. Well, get things ready then.

Yes, ma’am.

How’s your niece?

Charles smiled. She’s recovering nicely, ma’am. It’s a shame the police haven’t caught the hit-and-run bastard who almost killed her.

They will, Dina said with conviction.

Amen to that, ma’am.

Dina took a shower and changed into an orange bodysuit made of soft Peruvian cotton. Her feet encased in leather moccasins, she glided toward the dining room and enjoyed her meal while watching the news reports on her high-definition laser TV. Good news came forth along with bad news. There was a kind of balance in the world between forces of good and evil. Still, humanity often stepped on the same rake too many times. Individuals and governments seemed unable to learn from lessons of history.

Dina was used to the political and social bullshit. Few things in the world surprised her. She didn’t suffer fools, but her road in understanding humanity had been a hard and painful one. She had plenty of time to think about the past and the future. Come to think of it, she would’ve been indispensable as a political advisor to any government. But she disliked politics, and politicians even less. Those slimy, pretentious bastards had tried to solicit money from her as a successful businesswoman for their political campaigns. She politely told them to go to hell, using her money to fund only worthy causes.

Her meal finished, she went to her study and checked her emails and the computer readouts monitoring the global stock market. Scanning the results, she made a few important phone calls advising and informing her clients. She then turned on her private videophone, dialing Professor Beckman’s number in Switzerland. Beckman was a well-known professor of anthropology and history. The old man had tremendous energy for his age, and Dina admired his knowledge and dedication. Like her, Beckman was rich and used his money wisely.

She waited for the connection. The screen lit up and the telecommunications logo on the blue background disappeared, revealing the face of an old man with blue eyes and a hawkish nose. Dr. Henry Beckman had aged well. His gray hair was still thick and brushed back from his high forehead.

Miss Anderson, he said jovially.

Hello, Professor. Dina smiled back. Looks like you have important news for me.

I do indeed. Dr. Sharp’s team has found evidence of another prehistoric settlement. Not only they have found magnificent cave paintings, they’ve found tools and human mummies with mysterious markings on them. I have the photos from the dig and just emailed them to you. Please check your mailbox.

Thank you, Professor.

Dina felt her pulse quicken. Another fascinating anthropological discovery! She opened her email box and found the secure file along with several attached photos. She opened the file and scanned its contents. She was no expert like Beckman, but she had learned enough to recognize how important this discovery was. For the time being, it would be kept secret until they found out exactly what they had discovered.

My God, she said, her eyes shining with delight.

That’s what I said when Dr. Sharp called me and sent me the pictures, Beckman said with a wolfish grin. We’re about to make history.

Indeed, Dina remarked. I’m flying there to see it for myself.

I’ll make the arrangements, Beckman said. And keep the champagne on ice.

CHAPTER 2

San Bernardino, California, Present Day

You’re going behind bars for the rest of your life, buddy, said the female FBI agent addressing the tough-looking young man, whose wrists she had just cuffed securely behind his back. Your drug-and-arms-running days are over.

Fuck you, bitch, the man replied. It’s not over until it’s over.

For you it’s definitely over, Joey, said another man in the room. The place seemed to be crawling with men and women in suits and ties, and he looked out of place in his Texas outfit, complete with snakeskin boots, jeans, brown leather vest, and a turquoise bolo tie. Your next destination is San Quentin.

Too good for him, the FBI agent said with a chilling smile.

Oh, he’ll feel right at home, added another agent.

ATF Special Agent Donald Matthew Parker turned his eyes from the attractive FBI lady to the man he just helped to put permanently out of business. Joseph Martin Philips, known by nicknames like Joe, Joe the Salesman, and Joe the Smoker, was one of the many ambitious scumbags selling drugs and weapons to people regardless of sex, age, and social standing. Philips was a known associate of at least four biker gangs, and Parker had just delivered him to the feds after posing as a buyer and a middleman for one of the biker clubs. It was a dangerous job, but Parker knew how to do it well. He was one of the few straight arrows who had no doubts about the eventual outcome in the struggle between criminals and lawmen.

The problem was the war on crime would never end as long as mankind existed.

The FBI agent, whose name was Catherine Price, nodded at her fellow agents, who promptly escorted Philips outside and into one of the waiting black SUVs. Price had style and class, Parker admitted, and she was kind of cute and had nice curves in all the right places. But she was a fed, and feds liked to keep their distance from other law enforcement agencies, considering themselves as the law enforcement elite. Parker didn’t mind. He never wanted glory when he signed up for this business. Three years as a cop on the beat, he learned the ropes, then transferred to the ATF after failing a test for the police SWAT team.

His business with the bad guy concluded, Parker tipped his hat and politely shook hands with the feds. He sighed with obvious relief when their black, shining cars rolled away, raising choking plumes of dust.

Free from his assignment, Parker took out his cell phone and called his boss at the office. The boss was happy to hear the good news, although he warned Parker that the FBI might try to take all the credit. They were right to do so, since one of Philip’s goons had killed an undercover FBI agent. The agent wasn’t exposed or betrayed, but fell a victim of a drug deal gone wrong. Parker by profession was not after dope pushers, but he hated them just the same.

Behind the steering wheel of his old but trusty pickup truck, Parker immediately felt better. He wanted to find a place where he could eat a nice meal, then find a hotel to spend the night before returning to his home in San Diego. Parker missed his surfing days and the fine sandy beach. He wished for the waters of the ocean to cleanse him of his troubles and sins. Driving on the highway, he lit one of his favorite sweet, handmade black cheroot cigars and listened to one of the rock stations on the radio.

The Coyote Diner he spotted ahead looked promising. Parker turned into the parking lot, found a parking spot, and made his way inside. The place smelled good.

ATF Agent Donald Matthew Parker had no idea that his visit to the Coyote Diner was about to change his life forever.

* * *

Laura Green was in her element as she mounted the stage facing the tables around which people sat alone or in small groups. Coyote Diner was just another place where she could make money and sell her CDs to those who liked her music. She had taken to the road after she finished college. Choosing a career was not important to her at this stage of the game. She didn’t have to worry about planning for retirement or paying money to an insurance company in case she was seriously hurt. Her parents had wisely invested for her future, but then her parents weren’t exactly ordinary parents either.

Feeling curious glances from the men, women, and children at the dining tables, Laura sat on a sturdy wooden stool and balanced her guitar on her knee as she tuned the strings, preparing the instrument to unleash its unique magic. She had the look of a young woman in her mid-twenties. Her body was slim and wiry, and she was six feet tall with long limbs and the long, graceful fingers of a pianist.

Her face, framed by chestnut curly hair, looked sweet and innocent. She had a sharp, thin nose and eyes of intense blue. Laura’s skin was smooth and carried a light tan from her numerous travels. Since she was a young teenager, she was always flirting with potential danger. Mom and Dad always warned her that her unique abilities must be kept secret. They knew it because they themselves shared them before they’d found each other and fallen in love.

Ladies and gentlemen, the diner’s manager announced. Our diner is famous not only for good food and hospitality. We’re famous for discovering new talent for your enjoyment, people who live for their art without regrets. Many of our patrons have heard talented comedians and musicians here. Now, I would like to present to you a traveling female troubadour, Laura Green! Let’s welcome her, ladies and gentlemen, and see what she has in store for us!

There was polite applause, and Laura smiled warmly at her audience. She scanned the faces, noting the appreciative glances of the younger males. Her gaze fell on a young man sitting under a framed reproduction of a daring cowboy trying to tame a wild bronco. The horse was depicted standing on its rear legs, its head thrown back, with the young cowboy holding on tight, pressing his booted feet around the horse’s flanks, his gloved hands holding the reins.

The young man under the framed painting did look like a cowboy, or a modernized version of one. He had thick, short-cropped black hair, brown eyes, and light stubble on his strong chin that gave him a tough-guy look. Laura tried to guess his age. He looked about thirty, relaxed and confident. She wondered what the guy did for a living. She could do many amazing things, but reading minds wasn’t one of them. Laura started playing, her long, graceful fingers moving on the finely tuned strings. The audience fell silent for a moment, then she began her song, one of the new ones she had written only a month ago.

I want to meet an angel

While I am still alive.

Life is full of danger,

But I want to survive.

Donald Parker, who had just ordered a large hamburger with fries, salad, and a glass of lemonade, fell under the spell of the music and voice of this enigmatic female singer. Laura Green, he noted, was not only beautiful, but she had a natural talent, both as a singer and a musician. Parker loved good music and was an avid lover of all musical styles. The only instrument he knew how to play was his grandfather’s harmonica. But here was a young lady who could probably become the next Melissa Etheridge or Lita Ford. Laura Green’s voice was amazing, and her clean and powerful soprano made many of the diner’s patrons forget about their food.

And I will fly with you!

I will make it through.

Deep in my heart the hope is burning,

I can feel the earth turning,

If I should die before I sleep,

If I should rise before I wake,

My soul will be yours to take.

Take my hand and I will fly with you!

When the song ended, there was complete silence. Parker just sat and stared at the young woman who raised her head. Her intense blue eyes seemed to reach into his soul. She was looking right at him when the rest of the diner’s patrons finally came to their senses and rewarded the singer with strong applause. Parker felt her energy, her gratitude, and her sensuality. Something about this woman set her apart from the rest. Parker had never experienced love at first sight, but here was someone who had awakened a deep spiritual and sexual desire inside him.

God, she is beautiful, he thought.

Just then, the diner’s doors opened, and a man and a woman walked through. Both were young and moved with a purpose. Parker sensed danger, but not before the intruders produced their hidden weapons in one practiced fluid motion. The man’s black submachine gun was in stark contrast with the woman’s gleaming thick-barreled revolver.

All right, everyone, this is a robbery! the man barked. Anyone who moves without our permission will have lead for lunch! Get your wallets and jewelry on the tables where we can see them!

Open the register, you fat fuck! the woman snarled at the cashier.

Oh shit, Parker thought. God help us. He felt a shiver running down his spine. This is bad, very bad. Einstein was right. God didn’t throw the dice, but God had one sick sense of humor.

CHAPTER 3

Zurich, Switzerland, Present Day

Dina Amulai sat in the plush embrace of her luxurious first-class seat, feeling the power of the air currents flowing around the sleek reinforced aluminum airframe. With her money she could easily afford a private executive aircraft, but she wasn’t extravagant about her lifestyle. She was a successful businesswoman, but she avoided publicity and glitter because people like her had to change their lives completely every fifty years to avoid suspicion. Her kind didn’t age, and that was something that would freak people out.

Feeling the aircraft starting its descent as it passed over the magnificent mountain region separating Italy from France and Switzerland, Dina closed her laptop computer and took in the eternal beauty and majesty of the Swiss Alps.

Dina smiled at the memory of fifty years ago when she had crossed the Alps with a group of daredevil alpinists just to prove she could do it. She was also one of the few women who conquered Mount Everest and survived everything Mother Nature could throw at them. The experience had been exhilarating, but even the immortals had their limits. Some of her kind she had encountered during her travels risked their lives too often, and some died, releasing their essence into the sky. Death was part of life for both species, and one had to accept that simple fact.

At the airport she was met by two of Professor Beckman’s executive assistants, a sharp young man named Joe Front and his Swiss colleague Katarina Vogel. Front had a PhD degree in anthropology and geology. Vogel had just earned her doctorate in speleology and had a master’s degree in biology. Both were in their late twenties and could barely control their excitement.

Dina assessed them and liked what she saw. Joe Front was a good-looking young man who seemed a bit too young for his scientific credentials. He was tall and slim, with thick black hair cut in a conservative style, and sharp, gray eyes. He looked a bit like Ian Fleming’s James Bond before the legendary fictional spy joined the British Intelligence.

Katarina Vogel was a head shorter than Front and solid like a cannonball. Petite, but well-proportioned and perky, this blonde and blue-eyed Swiss lady was full of energy. Her white-toothed smile was so charming that she could have easily gotten a spot in a toothpaste commercial. Unlike Front, who wore a trench coat and a suit, Vogel was encased in a canvas jacket with multiple pockets and