He turned his attention to the coffin, immediately trying to open it. Without any handle though he had no success and frustrated, dropped the spear and tried with both hands to force it open. Despite all his strength forcing the lid, the top did not move an inch. Surprised, Sousa stood back and figured that it must’ve been locked somehow.
“How do you open this?” He looked at Samuel, who by now had ceased breathing. “Dammit!”
With a little panic starting to set in he wondered what Fahwad would’ve thought if he woke up to find out Sousa had impaled Samuel on one of the spears.
“Screw him … piece of shit.”
He looked the desk over, trying to find some sort of way to open it but was unsuccessful, he had no idea how to open the coffin and started to fret a little.
“Catlin!” he said to himself, thinking perhaps she’d know how to open it and allow him access. Surely she could open it and then he could share the power with her, together the two of them could become a very powerful couple. He knew she wouldn’t say no to him, she was mad with desire for him.
“Catlin?” he called out, exiting the room.
No response.
“Catlin, where are you?” he shouted again, making for the stairs.
Still no answer, the facility was dead quiet.
“Where the hell are you woman? Catlin!” Sousa called and called but got no response, he checked the rooms along the hallway as he went, finding them all empty. He reconnoitred the other rooms and still found nothing. Everyone was dead and no sign of Catlin, he began to worry a little.
The last place he looked was the room at the end of the hallway. Detention.
“Catlin?” he asked as he opened the door.
There were only two small holding cells in the room, one of the cells was open and empty. The other, Sousa remembered, was where he put Smith. It seemed he was the only person left in the installation.
He was about to turn and leave when he thought better of it. He went to the steel cased door, opened the small latch and peeping in asked, “Catlin in there hey?”
“No.” comes the reply, the whites of Smith’s eyes the only thing showing in the room.
“Well you’re no bloody good to me then are you?”
“Take hand?” Smith responds, sticking his hand through the slot.
“Huh?”
“Take hand … see as seen.”
“Piss off man.” Sousa whacks at the hand annoyingly and decides to leave Smith where he is, not bothering to close the slit. “Always bloody touch and see with you!”
He wandered the facility in search of Catlin, even going to the trouble of searching above ground, checking every nook and cranny as he went. Every room and every hallway was covered, but still he found no sign of Catlin, nor of any other people for that matter. Frustrated, Sousa found himself back in the detention section, Smith seemingly his only company in the facility.
“Well I guess it’s me and you boy.” He tapped the cell door with the spear he still carried.
Smith again sticks his hand out through the slot, enough so half his arm is out. “Touch ... see as seen.”
“I’m not going touch you …” Sousa’s about to dismiss him again when he notices the writing, in barely legible black marker ink, written on Smith’s hand.
“What’ve you got there man? What’s written on your arm.”
“Sousa is the key.”
Sousa’s a little taken aback. “Ah, say what now?” He leans in and, touching Smiths hand, see’s that indeed the words were written there. He thinks back to the night he shot Smith in the head, remembering he wrote something on his arm that night with a pen he stole.
“Sousa De Boro.” Smith blurts out.
“Huh.”
“See as seen … touch … see Sousa … Smith remember … Smith help.”
“Why would you want to help me?”
“Because Sousa is the key.”
“Ja, why you keep saying that hey?”
“Catlin gone.”
“Gone? Where?”
“Not come back.”
“How would you know?”
Smith doesn’t reply, only retrieves his hand from the slot.
“Did she say something?”
“Gone … Smith all have left.”
Sousa knew he was in a quandry, he’d just killed Samuel and needed to get into the coffin before Fahwad woke up and found out. He also knew if he got into the coffin he could setup the wires again and transfer the energy to himself, he could steal the power before Fahwad even knew it.
He’d seen Samuel use the laptop and knew he could do it himself, he could have the power, all of it. He could become great. All he had to do was open that coffin and make the transfer, screwing Fahwad out of the deal.
The thought that Catlin may have left troubled him though, but he knew once he finished this task he would surely have the power to find her and bring her back to him. Maybe he could make her his wife and share some power with her.
This only left the question of Smith, was he a threat? No, Smith hadn’t touched a hair on his head since they’d met. He’d even gone to the trouble of reviving him back in Melbourne, Sousa quickly decided he wasn’t a threat but didn’t understand why he would want to help him.
“You say you touch and you see?’
“Yes,” Smith replies.
“So if I take you to Samuel and you touch, you can see how to open the coffin?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you want Smith?”
“Want end … only Sousa help, Sousa is the key.”
“And how do you propose we make that happen hey?”
“Have choice Sousa.”
“Ja, you said this before. I’m sick of hearing it. But do tell me, why is it that you brought me back when I was dead on the street?
“If cannot fight enemy, must join.”
“Well in your case I say that makes sense hey. So, you want to make a deal with me then?”
“Sometimes can make good deal with bad guy … want give choice.”
“And what choice is that?”
“Offer to Sousa.”
“And just what are you selling boy?”
“Sousa … only one thing want …”
“And that is …?” He looks at Smith stupidly, before he realises what he means. “Power. You want to offer me some power?”
“Not some Sousa … all.”
“From where?”
“From Smith … from Fahwad.”
“All your power. Whatever that is, you want me to have it?”
“Yes.”
“Your power is useless.”
“Smith cannot die Sousa … Smith make glass rain … Smith help Sousa live.”
“Ja, ok,” he agrees. “You do seem to have some sort of power then.”
“You are the key, Sousa.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Is written … here arm.” He sticks his hand back out.
“Ja, I know. But you said it to me all those other times too, that doesn’t explain why you want me to take your power.”
“Writing on wall.” Smith pulls his hand back.
“Where?”
“Inside.”
Sousa edged forward slowly, opening the latch, cautious of Smith’s location in the cell. Satisfied he was in no danger he bent down and spied a look inside the small cell until he could see something that’d been etched on the walls of the cell.
IF YOU CAN’T BEAT EM, JOIN EM
He squinted as he looked at the writing on the wall, “What the hell man?”
“Not hell … message.”
“Message?”
“Life full of signs, look … follow.”
“And?”
“A
nd Sousa is the key.” He holds up his arm again.
“Huh?” Sousa muses, starting to piece Smith’s thought pattern together inside his head.
Die, touch, see as seen, remember.
Sousa starts to wonder if Smith truly is a loony, that when he gets hurt his memory resets itself somehow. And if that was true he could only act on the signs he saw when he awoke. For why in the hell would he want to just give his power up to Sousa of all people, that is unless all the stars aligned the right way.
The right way that led Smith to this cell, to see the writing on the wall inside it and the writing on his hand. Smith didn’t actually know if what he was doing was right, he was just following the signs. And those signs just so happened to be in Sousa’s favour.
This was a chance for Sousa to take advantage, the stars had aligned in his favour. Smith didn’t know any better, so better Sousa take advantage.
“You know Smith … I think I like the way you think,” he suddenly realised. “I am the key!”
- -
THE MAN ON THE RED ROCK
She floated for days, weeks even. She had no concept of time, nor did she know in which direction the waters took her, she could only stare blankly as the world went by.
She didn’t attempt to eat or drink, she just lay still, transfixed in a world of her own thoughts.
It was raining heavily when she’d exited the Destiny facility and it hadn’t relented since, a constant downpour the likes she’d never seen before. It roused her after the fall, but she hadn’t cared much then as she was more interested in why she was still here, still alive after the fall.
A three-hundred-foot fall.
As Catlin lay strewn on the rocks the rain continued, raising the water levels to the point where it started to flood. The inundation caused such a rise in water levels it eventually picked her off the rocks and carried her eastwards with its flow.
Soon the torrential flooding caused rapids, undertows and other dangers and Catlin was forced to find something to keep her afloat.
She spied a large eucalypt tree floating nearby, swam to it, climbed on top and resumed her position of laying down, facing skywards, still naked as the day she was born. She stayed like that, looking up to the heavens almost blanklessly, her mind devoid of any thoughts.
She didn’t fight or resist what was happening, she just let the water take her wherever it wanted, resigned to whatever fate was in store for her.
Catlin was in shock.
Clueless as to how she had survived a deliberate fall from the mountain.
She had jumped and dropped well over three hundred feet, landing on a coarse rocky escarpment below. The fall should have killed her instantly, at the very least left her wounded.
As she lay on the large eucalyptus tree though, she felt no different now than before the fall. Initially she couldn’t move but quickly she recovered physically, much to her amazement, but mentally she was a wreck.
She thought her previous near-death episodes had been the result of Destiny protecting her, or perhaps even Sousa lurking in the background. For what other reason could there have been for her ability to avoid injury and death over the years. But now, Destiny was no more and Sousa was nowhere to be seen, she was all alone yet still alive.
She drifted with the tree, as did her thoughts, over many days and many nights. Occasionally she would come across debris that looked manufactured. Things like large telegraph poles, the odd car, wood and corrugated iron.
Whatever was going on around her, clearly she was in the midst of a great flooding of the land.
Fate it seemed, eventually brought her to a rock, a large red rock in the centre of the land mass that used to be called Australia. It’d been the first object to appear on the landscape for days and the first sign of landfall she’d seen in her time floating.
She found herself intrigued and sat up on her tree, observing the monolith with an almost reverent intrigue. Of all the places in the world, I end up here.
For a moment she considered swimming over to it, perhaps to rest again, but decided the effort wasn’t worth it. Instead she chose to lay back down on her side and watch as the log carried her past the giant red rock.
Just as she rounded the easternmost tip she thought noticed a person, a man, sitting on the rocks edge. She sat up quickly and squinted into the distance, trying to see if her eyes were telling the truth.
A lone, black skinned man, sat resting upon the rock.
She could have sworn she’d seen him before.
She instantly dipped her hands in the water and tried paddling, attempting to steer the giant log in his direction, but swiftly realised the futility of trying to steer a hundred-foot tree. Abandoning the tree, she jumped into the water and started swimming her way to the rock’s edge.
Despite having to navigate a strong current and get a hold on the slippery rock, she found a small crevice and managed to climb the giant red rock to its zenith, to the point where she saw the barely clothed, dark skinned man.
“Hello?” she called, approaching him from behind.
No reply came from the solitary figure who remained seated on the edge of the rock, she moved up closer.
“Hello?” she called again.
“Hello,” comes the soft reply.
“What are you doing?”
“Make rain.”
“What?”
“Make rain.”
“Why are you making it rain?”
“Flood.”
“And what would come of flooding?”
“Clean earth, clean threads ... revive.”
“What!” she replied, startled. “Threads?”
“Yes.”
“Is that possible?”
“Is what?”
“The threads, the flooding … are they connected?”
“No.”
“How’d you make it rain?”
“Close eye … make happen.”
“Right,” her eyes rolled.
“Here … touch … see as seen …” the black man sticks his hand out for her to take.
“Errr … what?” the woman replied, unsure.
“Take hand … see as seen.”
Catlin hesitantly stuck her hand out for him, but the man involuntarily shook it off after only a brief touch. He seemed to lose his composure as well, as if the touch had broken his concentration.
“Who are you?”
“Uh, Catlin, my name is Catlin.”
“You are not your name, who are you?” He frowns, wiping his hand on the rock.
“Umm, I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re not normal man, when I touch people I can ... but you are not.”
“Not what?”
“Not like everyone else.”
“Like people?”
“Yeah. You’re more like them?”
“Who?”
“The ones from up there.” He looks to the sky, scratching his head as he does so.
“What are you talking about, my name is Catlin.”
“This very strange, there no more people left, why you here? You should have gone with him?”
“Honestly kid, I don’t know what the hell you are talking about.”
“They’ve already left, you have missed them.”
“Kid, I just said I do not know what the hell you are talking about!”
“Your kind, they are gone from here.”
“My kind? Oh man, I’m so confused right now. What are you trying to tell me, my people came here and then left. And where did these people of mine go?”
“To where they came from.”
“Oh, of course, how silly of me. Are they coming back?”
“No, but hope he does.”
“Who.”
“Smith, ho
pe he come back.”
“Who’s Smith?”
“He … he friend.”
“He’s the dark guy right? Same as you?”
“Yes.”
“Kid, please, can you help me? I haven’t got a clue what’s going on.”
“Don’t know you.”
“Well neither do I it would seem?”
“You don’t know who you are?”
“I have never known. I mean, I thought I did, but lately I just don’t know and nobody seems to want to help me either.”
“Can understand, not long ago was the same … was in the dark about who also.”
“Can you help me?”
“With what?”
“I want to know about myself, I have so many questions about me.”
“Is it all about you?”
“No but everyone keeps telling me little details, small things, nobody ever tells me the truth about who I am.”
“There is no me or you. Suggest that if you are here then you belong to them.“ He indicates skyward, with an incline of his head.
“What do you mean if I am here?”
“Everyone else is dead lady.”
“Everyone else who?’
“Mankind.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, many people died from the threads returning, the rest … flood.”
“Right.”
“Please sit … give hand again … will help.”
She extends it and he takes it hesitantly, trying to ignore the obvious discomfort it gives him as he does so. The two sit, hand in hand, with eyes closed. Catlin more than lost her concentration a few times, but the kid seems not to notice the passing of time, he seems deep in thought.
“Sense great trouble inside, but cannot see all,” his eyes open. “You are one of them and some of the other too, because of that, not all clear.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Your parents, they are both of a different kind. One from the sky and the other from the Earth.”
“Martha and …”
“Not them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you have some of your mother in you and some of your father, a strange mix indeed.”
“Who are my parents? The Conley’s?”
“No.”
“Oh shit, she was right. Lucinda, Ma’am, she was trying to say something before she, well … was killed.”
Recalling Destiny Page 73