The Antonov landed on a narrow airstrip in the middle of the jungle island of Ulilangkalulua. Guards and Filipino workmen looked on as the large aircraft touched down, its landing gears screeching on the paved cement. The roar of the plane’s engine was deafening.
Somewhere in the distance, a woodland camouflaged Cherokee Jeep drove up to the site, with Kazansky driving and Shamus sitting in the front side passenger’s seat. “How much longer do we have to sit here for?” groaned Shamus. “Just until it lands, Shamus. Stop whining. I also don’t want you talking back to the visitors. If you keep this up, they’ll be more afraid of you than the subjects.”
“Is that a good thing, sir?”
“It is if you want to be fired.”
“I see sir.”
“I’m glad that you do.”
The Antonov’s cargo door opened up, and let out a loud hydraulic hiss. “Hell-lo Isla Ulilangkalulua!” shouted someone from inside the plane; out stepped Hawke, smelling the fresh jungle air. He was followed by StoneHand and Antagonist.
“Those are the guests.” said Kazansky. “Now you behave yourself, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” mumbled Shamus. “They look like a bunch of great big faggots to me, though.”
“See what I mean? You can’t even hold your tongue for five minutes and you’re already calling people a bunch of-”
Kazansky was cut short. StoneHand was waving to him from the airfield. Waving back, Kazansky geared the Jeep and drove forward. As he approached the airfield, Antagonist mumbled, “He better have a damn good reason why he brought us all here.”
The Jeep stopped in front of the plane and the two men stepped out. Kazansky raised his hands into the air in a welcoming gesture, “Welcome to KazanTopia, everyone! I’m glad you could all make it! We’ve prepared quite a show for you today. Since this is the first time the park has ever been opened to anyone from the outside, it is my decision that I should show you around. If you will all please follow me on the tour, I’m sure that you’ll find…”
Antagonist interrupted, “Why are we here?” Kazansky clasped his hands together and replied to him, “It’s a surprise. Just get in the car and we’ll show you.” Antagonist’s eyes darted like a nervous eagle, but he stepped into the Jeep anyway. StoneHand and Hawke followed in afterwards, with Shamus closing the door, mumbling something along the lines of, “I’m not a goddamn babysitter… damn fags… think they own the place… fags.”
Inside the Jeep was a communication system with a direct link to the park command center. This meant that Ferguson could be called as long as he was at his station. Kazansky picked up the headset with a microphone and put it on his own head. There was also a speaker in the car so that everyone could hear. “Okay, Sean, you can open the gates.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Sean.”
“Dude, even if I had like a truckload of bulls and their shit – I couldn’t get to you. I’m all the way back here.”
“Just open the damn gates.”
“Alright dude. Lol!”
“And don’t call me ‘dude’. It’s sir as long as we’re both in this park.”
“Sorry sir. Fwee!”
“What was that all about?” asked Antagonist. “That was the park engineer. Good man, but a little… slightly… deranged.” StoneHand piped up, “You have a deranged engineer? Dude, that is so cool.” Shamus was shaking his head.
The Jeep stopped in front of a large steel gate. They heard a mechanical whirr as the huge, heavy gate slowly opened. It let out smoke and stopped with a loud “chug”. The Jeep then drove in, with the visitors in the back taking in the view around them. “So, Alexei…” asked Hawke, “I want to know, why’d you invite me? I am, after all, an enemy of your country. I was suspecting foul play when I received your invitation.” Kazansky, eyes still on the road, grinned and said, “Let me put it this way, Brad. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’” Hawke paused for a moment, “I’m not so sure what you mean by that…” Kazansky nodded slowly, “Just wait and see.”
The Jeep arrived at a security checkpoint, where two Russian guards in khaki chemical suits and gas masks stopped the vehicle. Kazansky rolled down the window, “Hello there sir. Just a standard security check, as you ordered.” said one of the men. Kazansky nodded, “Glad to see that my instructions to Schildkröte are being carried out.” The guard nodded back and said to the visitors, “If you will all please surrender any deadly weapons and chemicals that you have with you, we’ll gladly let you into the park.” They looked at each other and shrugged. Hawke reached into his holster and handed the guard a Makarov pistol. Antagonist surrendered a knife, while StoneHand was having second thoughts about being separated from his crowbar. “Uh, sir,” said the guard, “That crowbar is considered a deadly weapon. If you could please surrender it…” StoneHand looked at the guard, pleadingly. Kazansky rolled his eyes and said, “Let him keep the crowbar, Osakov.” The guard shrugged and said, “Okay, sir. You’re the boss.”
As they drove on, they had reached the game trail, they came to a stop. “Why are we stopping?” asked StoneHand. “This is where it gets good.” replied Shamus. As far as one could tell, they were surrounded by nothing but dense jungle. “Hey Ferguson.” Kazansky said over the communicator, “Lift the camouflage.”
“You got it, dude!”
“What did I tell you about the ‘dude’ calling?”
“JUST DO IT!!”
The jungle suddenly sunk into the ground, revealing a well hidden barbed wire fence which one could see through. And inside the fenced area, there were soldiers in gray uniforms and black helmets in jackboots and riding trousers. The visitors stared, wide-eyed. “Are these guys good actors or what?” remarked Hawke, observing how they gave the correct commands in German and goose-stepped in formation. Kazansky replied with a smug smile, “Well, they’re naturals, the whole damn lot of them. See – they’re not actors. They’re the real thing.” The three visitors looked at him with quizzical expressions. “What do you mean they’re the real thing? That’d be like bringing them back from the dead…” said StoneHand. “Exactly.” replied Kazansky, crossing his arms.
“I don’t understand.” said Antagonist. Kazansky pointed a finger matter-of-factly and said, “Every single Nazi that has died in the service of Hitler is being brought back to life here at this park through the miracle of human cloning.” A long pause followed. “You’ve found the secret of immortality.” said StoneHand. “Well, not exactly…” Kazansky said, rolling his eyes. Shamus explained, “There are a lot of major side effects that these subjects exhibit. We have only managed to replicate their military attributes. Their social and human qualities are very underdeveloped.”
“Such as?” asked Hawke.
“Such as their ability to interact. They can only communicate through pre-programmed orders.”
“Did you say pre-programmed?”
“Aye, but I’ll not be one to be explaining this to you. You better ask Dr. Voronov, the park medic and supervisor of the cloning facility.”
Kazansky nodded, “I’ll get him on the communicator for you. “Ferguson?”
“Yeah dude?” Kazansky paused for a moment.
“Get me Doc Voronov on line 2.”
“Sure thing, dude!”
“Yes you are, sir!”
A long pause.
“Ferguson! When I get my hands…”
Voronov interrupted, “You called, sir?”
“Ah, comrade Voronov. The visitors are asking about the neural pre-programming.”
“Well, it’s a very complicated process, involving genetic alteration. We found a way to make this particular DNA extremely susceptible to change, and we can now add new attributes to the clones from every new batch. But for every new attribute gained, there is a great loss in another mental area and more unwanted side-effects.”
“Such as?” asked StoneHand.
“Just drive up to them and you’ll see what I mean.”
Kazansky geared the Jeep and drove nearer to the fenced area. Some Wehrmacht infantrymen who were near the fences turned around, slightly startled by the Jeep, and stared at it. Their expressions were blank and somewhat bovine, with their mouths hanging open. The whole lot of them were skinny to an abnormal degree, and their eyes were sucked back into their sockets – but the most noticeable thing about them was that their eyes were completely black.