Seal Two

by Sara Shanning

  “K792.”

  Eitan’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he ran through security checks to access another file. K792.

  “You can go.” He dismissed Lazar, already scrambling to align what this new discovery meant.

  The click of the door barely registered.

  ‘Thomas and Miriam Harmel, one daughter, Kara. Military funding to Swiss bank accounts. Artillery, black market, warfare research. DNA experimentation on daughter failed. Born mute. Subject invalid.’

  Kara.

  Eitan picked the data screen back up, and stared at the picture. It didn’t make any sense.

  He tapped a button on his com. “Send Lazar back in,” he ordered.

  Kara. He knew her parents. They were indifferent and vain. Power hungry. Kara had been a mistake that they hadn’t wanted, and the mother had agreed to experimentation on the fetus without even a flinch.

  Eitan did not know the specifics, but he recalled the parents had unrealistic expectations that their child would somehow be superhuman. When she had been born normal and mute, they had been disappointed.

  Eitan scanned the sub file. It outlined what he had recollected, and told him the rest of the story. Thomas and Miriam had wanted to leave her with Xis. They hadn’t wanted the bother of a child. The scientists had rendered her invalid and discharged her into the parents’ care, despite the objections.

  “Where is Kara now?” Eitan asked the moment Lazar crossed the threshold.

  “Gone. The Informant lost her after the war began.”

  “Is she dead?” No, he thought, the moment he voiced the words. There was a significance to this. Kara was special, just like the others.

  “No body was found.”

  “Find her.” Eitan lifted his chin, narrowed his eyes. “Alive. Keep her that way.”

  Lazar dipped his chin slightly and pivoted, exiting.

  “What does this mean?” Eitan mumbled aloud. Were there others? What was he supposed to do with them if Lazar did find them? He couldn’t hand them over to Afion, he knew that.

  He would do everything in his power to hide what he knew from Afion. For now, Alric, Ashar and Kara were safe. Eve was not. The second Afion discovered the link to the The David Profile, Eve was dead, and the others would become hunted until they joined her in the grave.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ashar sat up, startled by a hand on his shoulder. Irv crouched next to him.

  “Irv? Where have you been? I’ve missed you!” he mumbled sleepily.

  “Shh, keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake anyone. Big problems, bro. I’ve been scouting.”

  “Scouting? It’s been weeks.” Ash was fully awake now and peered at his friend curiously. Irv’s normally unkempt hair was worse than usual, knotted at the ends, and dirty.

  “Yeah. It’s bad, Ash. Really bad. The army is literally shooting people for no reason at all but to terrorize. No one is fighting back. The government is still quiet. I’ve been stockpiling everything I can get my hands on, but people are scared and so afraid any stranger is an Axis soldier that they are turning on each other.”

  Irv was taking things out of his backpack and setting them beside Ash as he talked. Canned food mostly, first aid supplies, twine, small tools, ammunition. His nail beds were coated with dirt. Ashar scowled at a spade. That would have been handy to have before.

  “I brought someone back with me that I think can be an asset for you. He has a military background. Marcus. He’s standing guard outside at the edge of camp.”

  Ash picked up a box of bullets that Irv set down. “What is this for?”

  A gun came out of the bag and Irv shoved it into Ashar’s hands. “Protection. Keep it on you. Only you. Don’t tell the others that you have it.”

  Ash didn’t want the gun. It felt heavy and cold. He didn’t like that having it in his hand made what was happening beyond the forest seem more real.

  Irv rose, easily slinging the bag he had just emptied over his shoulder and shifting toward the door of the shelter. Ashar noticed it was an addition to his pack, that the supplies he had brought had been extra weight. And he’d brought them for him, for the others in the camp.

  “Irv, wait!” Jolted that his friend was leaving again, Ash shoved at the flap of his sleeping bag, dropping his voice at Irv’s shushing sound. “You’re going back out there?” he asked, tugging at the zipper that was hindering his ability to rise. Fear for his friend gripped him. More questions about what was happening, and the man Irv had brought, formulated.

  “Irv, why won’t you just stay?”

  His companion for the past few months of his life hesitated before slowly turning, a frown creasing his brows. He shoved at his tangled hair. “You said something to that pastor. Asked him if he had ever heard God calling to him.”

  Ash waited, the sleeping bag forgotten, his breath catching, his heart hoping.

  “I have,” Irv continued. “I just didn’t want to. I know all about Jesus dying on a cross. I went to church every Sunday with my parents. I prayed. I wanted to believe that God loved me. Then every Sunday I went home and my father would beat my mother and me. Curse. Drink.”

  Sadness and pain were heavy as Irv spoke. For a long moment he seemed lost in his memories. His last words were like darts. “My father was the Pastor, Ash. He lived a lie. He said one thing and did another. I didn’t know how to see God through all of that.”

  Throwing back his shoulders, Irv nodded once. “You’ve shown me that your words mean something in the short time I’ve known ya. Who you are… I’ve learned a lot from you. So, if you are going to be selfless and help these people, then I will help you.”

  Stunned, humbled, and grateful that Irv was still his friend, he watched Irv go.

  Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, Ash freed himself from the stuck zipper and went in search of Marcus. Waking to find a strange man in the camp would alarm the others and he wanted to meet the new addition and find out what he knew.

  The moon was bright, and the tree frogs sang their nightly melody. Ashar scanned the shadowy trees. The pines hung their heavy branches low, boughs waving gently in the night breeze.

  He realized how easily one could conceal themselves around them. Had they become too comfortable already? Ashar had never thought to place one of them as a guard. He had considered them safe surrounded by the trees, hidden by the foliage of the forest.

  “Marcus?” he called as quietly as he could. His half-finished shelter was on the west edge of the clearing, closest to the lake. The first that an assailant would come upon.

  “No need to wake the camp.” The voice was low and calm. Marcus shifted out of the tree cover, making himself visible. “We can talk in the morning. I don’t sleep well, so I’ll stand guard.”

  It was difficult to make much out in just the moonlight. Ashar nodded his agreement and went back to his sleeping bag.

  There was no sign of Marcus as the camp woke and began the morning routine: start the fire, fish, gather water, check the traps and scrounge for edibles. They gathered leaves that they would use as plates.

  Ashar took a fishing pole for himself, hoping that he would be the one to encounter the new arrival before anyone else. It would be easier to explain around the campfire when everyone was gathered.

  It was curious that there was no sign of Marcus. He’d said he didn't sleep well so Ashar figured it was possible that he had eventually bedded down out of the way somewhere.

  The water was beautiful with its backdrop of towering pines and mountain slopes. The rising sun glimmered through the trees and shimmied its way over the placid water toward him as he stepped up to the banks.

  A ripple on the surface beckoned him with his fishing line. Ashar carefully maneuvered along the rocky bank to get closer.

  “You need fish, I got fish.”

  Bracing his foot on a rock, Ashar turned. Marcus stood down the bank, holding up a net fat with fish. Ashar could see the black lines of a tattoo snaki
ng their way around his wrist and under his jacket sleeve.

  Marcus was tall and thin but obviously muscled. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache was free of the gray that was beginning to weave through his light brown hair. His face was lined more than what Ashar thought a man his age should have. Ashar thought he could see the military background in the way Marcus stood and held himself. If it was possible to notice such a thing.

  “I wondered where you’d gone off to.” Ashar was mindful of his foot placement as he made his way back to the hard dirt of the forest floor. The fish liked to hide among the rocks and it made for a great fishing spot, but the rocks were treacherous to walk on.

  “So you don’t sleep well and you’re an early riser?” Ashar and Marcus fell into step together and headed back to camp. Marcus lifted a shoulder as an answer.

  Ashar eyed the net full of fish. “How’d you catch so many?” As a whole, the group had never caught more than two fish in a single day.

  “I have good reflexes,” Marcus answered simply.

  “Well, the group will be happy about the fish. I’m not sure how they are going to feel about you.”

  “Won’t matter, will it? Irv says you’re the leader and they’ll listen to you.”

  Ash smiled at Irv’s sentiment. He hadn’t felt like the group’s designated leader since the shelters had been finished. They all worked together and had found a good rhythm, in his opinion.

  They were becoming a small community, comfortable in their routine for the most part, though there was still grumbling. Ashar understood that they were all doing their best to cope with a new lifestyle and the loss of those they had loved. He had realized that living off the land did not give the others the same sense of satisfaction and accomplishment that he felt.

  He was finding that he cared about the members of the group, would call them his friends. Together, they continued to make the space they called their home as livable as possible. They shared the everyday tasks required to survive, even if he did have to prompt them at times and they were still learning.

  Discussions about what happened beyond the trees often ended in tears for some, anger for others. Curiosity was a shared emotion. Ashar hoped that Marcus could shed some light on how those outside of the forest had fared, and how they were surviving in the continuing war. He hoped it would help settle the restlessness that still hovered over the others every day. It was his sentiment that if they were sure they couldn’t waltz back into the same life they had known, then they could let it go and find some contentment in the life they now led.

  Their rustic village came into view. Ashar could see Monty sitting near the fire, his shoulders hunched in, his body language giving off the same ‘stay away’ message as usual.

  “Well, this is home,” Ashar stated, arching a hand through the air to encompass the area. “We’re working on the finishing touches on the shelters. I’ll introduce you at breakfast.”

  Monty had looked up and was staring at Marcus with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Monty, this is Marcus. He’s here to help.”

  “Help with what? One more mouth to feed?” Monty’s tone was not welcoming, his demeanor sullen.

  Marcus held up his net of fish. “I have a knack for feeding myself,” he said shortly. He shifted his attention away from Monty back to Ashar. “These are cleaned, I just need spears for them.”

  Ashar nodded, leading him to their in progress wooden kitchen, which was really nothing more than a wood slab set atop two stumps with a crudely built wooden box beneath for storing supplies.

  “Who taught you how to take care of yourself out here?” Marcus asked, spreading the net and removing a fish.

  “Irv,” Ashar said quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “They don’t know about him.” He handed Marcus a sharpened stick. They kept a stockpile, making and adding more as they found pieces of wood that would work.

  “Why is that?” Marcus questioned, sliding a stick through a second fish.

  Ashar shrugged. “They’ve never met him. I just don’t see any reason to share.”

  Marcus said nothing more about it as they carried the fish to the fire.

  Monty didn’t offer to help as they readied the fish over the fire on spits. Ashar felt that Monty was not adapting at all. He often wondered if Monty suffered from depression or a different mental handicap that affected him.

  Ashar heard the family returning, smiling as he listened to Kate giggling. Kate was as happy to go out and gather sticks as she was about chasing a butterfly. She stayed close to her parents but also seemed to like following Mariah around. Sometimes she would sit next to Ashar around the fire, giving him a smile every so often for no reason at all that he could find.

  She was a cute kid and he liked it when she sat next to him and talked about the things her innocent mind fixated on. The last time she’d settled beside him she had wanted to know all about where the bunnies were and if she could have one as a pet.

  Patrick grabbed Kate’s shoulder and tugged her back, going on alert when he spied Marcus. His arm shot out to stop Chloe and Luke from moving past him.

  Ashar walked out to meet them, appreciating the caution that made Patrick assess the situation before blindly trusting it.

  “This is Marcus,” he explained. “He’s joining us. Come and meet him.”

  “How do we know he is safe? Where did he come from?” Chloe asked, clutching her husband’s arm. Chloe continually struggled with fear. Storms, strange bugs, bear, being alone. There was always something. Ashar had observed Patrick’s many, many attempts to comfort her. Even after the time that had passed, Chloe was still given to bouts of tears. She didn’t share with the rest what they were about and was never far from Patrick’s side, her dependence on him obvious.

  Ashar prayed for her often, hoping his prayers would somehow ease her.

  “Yo, who’s the new guy?” Carl called before Ashar could answer.

  “Carl’s the friendly one,” Ashar explained as Carl joined them. Carl didn’t hesitate to set his bounty aside and shake Marcus’s hand.

  “Always good to have another set of muscles around, I say,” Carl said with a grin as he looked Marcus over. “Where’d you come from?”

  “You’ve never said that before,” Monty mocked Carl.

  “Let’s wait for the others before I repeat the same explanation over and over.” Ashar ignored Monty and picked up the cloth full of edibles that Carl had set aside. He spread it out and began to divide the berries, dandelions and clover into sections.

  Adam and Mariah came back together with full water bottles. “Traps were empty,” Mariah told him, eyeing Marcus curiously as she set her canisters down.

  Adam abandoned the bag he’d carried water bottles back in, his nose wrinkled as he regarded Marcus. “Who’s that guy? What’s he doing here?”

  Ashar got up to get a stack of leaves for plates. He transferred the plant fare, passing the first portion to his left. “I’ll explain while we all eat.”

  They settled on the stumps set around the campfire, Mariah divvying out fish while he finished with the rest.

  “This is Marcus,” Ashar began when he was seated. “He has a military background that could be useful to us all.” He hoped that by adding something about what Marcus could offer, the group would more readily accept the new presence.

  Since that was all that he knew, Ashar looked at Marcus, waiting for him to tell the group anything else he wanted to add. Marcus had everyone’s full attention.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marcus seemed hesitant to speak.

  “Tell us what’s happening out there,” Patrick urged.

  “Patrick,” Chloe admonished. “Marcus, tell us about yourself instead. How did you end up here?”

  “I’d rather answer the first question,” Marcus said dryly, getting up to help himself to more fish. “You won’t like it, though. It’s a message of death with no hope for an end at this point.”

  “There’s always hope,” Ashar murmured.


  Monty grunted. “Don’t start with your God talk again, please.”

  Ashar shook his head. Grief had been, and still was, fresh. He prayed for himself, for each person around him. He hadn’t said much about God at all, but Monty had responded with anger when he had.

  Sitting back down, Marcus continued. “There have been a few reports of the American government trying to rally, but nothing has been successful. I haven’t seen any US troops myself. Axis claims victory after victory over the cities, and is boasting that they intend to conquer the entire world. People are afraid.”

  Chloe was already crying, wiping at her flow of tears with the sleeve of her shirt. “I just want to go back to the way things were.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Not going to happen any time soon. War is a darkness that bleeds into everything good.”

  “Isn’t anyone fighting back?” Mariah spoke forcefully, her shoulders tense as she leaned forward to listen. Ashar was surprised. Mariah did not often display anything but calm.

  “No, I don’t think so. Axis is destroying everything in its path, reaping a harvest of fear and terror. Their agenda is destruction and they boast about more war, but they don’t seem to have a clear outcome in mind other than that.”

  Carl huffed out a confused breath. “Well, people don’t just start a war without wanting something. They don’t have, like, a leader wanting to rule the world? I don’t get it. You don’t just go around murdering everyone in your path indefinitely.”

  Adam awkwardly patted Carl’s shoulder. “I’m just glad we’re here, and not out there.”

  Marcus glanced at the two children in the assembly. “To put it as mildly as possible, Axis enters a city and murders anyone in their way, leaving bodies on display like trophies, and then they set everything on fire. That seems to be their signature. They feed off of it.”

  “So we’re stuck out here like cave people? There’s nowhere safe to go?” Chloe wiped at more tears, sniffling hard.

  Marcus sighed and shrugged. “I told you it wasn’t good. Axis seems to like the big cities, so a lot of people are seeking refuge in small towns, hoping Axis won’t pass through. Some people living in the smaller towns act like nothing has changed, but Axis is like a parasite. They consume whatever is in their path and move on.”