Realm of Shadows

by Eldon Farrell

  “NO!” Hong screams, “That’s not true! Why do you…why do you insist on believing that my father is such a monster?”

  “Why can’t you see what’s right before your eyes?” Amir softens his tone as he adds, “I know you want to believe that he’s here for you, but he isn’t. He’s after X1. Probably wants to make it a weapon if I know him.”

  “But you don’t know him,” Hong insists, “My father doesn’t make weapons. He’s just trying to help us. He had nothing to do with Felicia’s death.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Amir scoffs, “Maybe you can believe it. I can’t though, and I’m out of here before I have an ‘accident.’ Whatever X1 turns out to be, it isn’t worth my life. Leave me out of it.”

  “Amir,” Hong pleads, “This is your discovery too. You should be a part of it; Felicia would want that.”

  Placing a hand on his shoulder Amir says, “You know what Felicia would want? She’d want us—all of us—to do this together. Without your father.

  “Why do you think she took the last samples we had? Wherever she took them she wanted to ensure that he didn’t control this discovery.

  “But he does doesn’t he? She’s not going to get what she wanted because you’re enamored with daddy. Well I’m not going to end up in a pine box because I disagree. Tell your father I know nothing and I’m out. You call me a friend you can do that much for me.”

  “Amir.”

  “No Hong,” he says, “I’m gone. I know you don’t believe me about him, but be careful all right. Once he has what he wants…just be careful.”

  “Amir…”

  “Hong?”

  He starts, having not realized that his father was in the room, let alone right in front of him.

  Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Jing asks, “Are you all right son?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbles, “Yeah, I’m OK.”

  With wise eyes Jing appraises him saying, “Why don’t I believe that? Have you been sleeping son?”

  “Not much,” he admits.

  With a gentle squeeze, Jing lifts his hand from his son’s shoulder and makes his way around to the other side of his desk. Beyond the glass window behind him the skyline of Houston glistens in the sunlight.

  Taking his seat, he looks compassionately upon his only child.

  “I’m all right Dad,” Hong says, “Really. It’s been hard without her but…” he trails off not being able to find the words. After a beat he changes the subject, “You wanted to see me; I trust it wasn’t for this.”

  “Not entirely,” Jing replies, “Though I have been worried about you. I know how much you cared for the young lady and how much pain you’re in right now. You don’t have to hide that from me you know? It’s OK to be vulnerable.”

  “Who are you?” Hong shakes his head, “And what have you done with my father?”

  “Is a father not allowed to show kindness to his son?”

  “He is, but I guess I’m still getting used to it.” Hong forces a weak smile saying, “When you called me it sounded important; what’s going on?”

  Jing raps his knuckles on the top of his desk as he contemplates how to proceed. “I’ve uncovered some news that is…going to be difficult for you to hear. But perhaps I’m being hasty in wanting to share it with you. You’ve already got so much weighing you down…this can wait.”

  “No Dad,” Hong insists, “What is it?”

  “All right then, if you insist.” Jing opens his top desk drawer retrieving a letter-sized manila envelope saying, “Who knows? This might even make it easier for you.”

  “What might?” Hong’s brow creases as he asks, “What are you talking about Dad?”

  Adopting a contrite pose, Jing explains, “I had my investigators look into Felicia’s accident to try and uncover what she was doing out there.”

  Reaching across for his son’s hand Jing cautions, “You’re not going to like what they found.”

  Hong takes the envelope from his father as he slides it across his desk. Opening it he begins to read but it’s not long before his eyes blur from tears and disbelief.

  Choking back a sob he croaks, “What is all this?”

  Leaning back in his chair Jing clarifies, “I’m truly sorry son but Felicia Werner was not who you thought she was. My team found evidence linking her to The Sword.”

  “Wha-what is that?”

  “The Sword is defined as a domestic terrorist organization by the FBI. She went to meet them the day she died to give them the last samples of X1 along with all her notes on the subject but…it would appear The Sword wanted more from her and when she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—comply they staged her accident. They killed her son.”

  Hong’s vision swims in front of him. The air in the room seems to thicken in his lungs as he struggles to catch his breath. This can’t be true. It makes no sense. Felicia…a terrorist?

  “You…you’re wrong.”

  “I wish I were son,” Jing offers, “But I’m not. I’ve seen the evidence and now so have you. She used you son.”

  “Why?”

  “From what my team was able to discern they’re religious fanatics based in Missouri who believe in a radical interpretation of the Bible and have been responsible for several assassinations across the country in defense of their beliefs.

  “The ramifications of X1 on those beliefs are profound. A second genesis event is something The Sword would oppose militantly.”

  Shaking his head vigorously Hong says, “No, why would she be involved in anything like that? She was a scientist Dad. We were in love. This isn’t…this isn’t Felicia. She wouldn’t do this—I know she wouldn’t.”

  Taking a moment to allow Hong to calm down, Jing evenly points out, “And before she stole all your samples without telling you, did you think her capable of that? I know it’s difficult to hear this son, but you must.”

  “No,” he denies, “It’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” Jing raises his voice, “Then why else would she take the X1 samples? Why would she give them her notebook? Where else was she going that day son?”

  Staring at his father, Amir’s voice echoes inside Hong’s mind, she wanted to ensure that he didn’t control this discovery. Unwilling to verbalize this motive, Hong gradually looks away.

  “You see now that I am right son,” Jing declares, “But I don’t think you’re entirely wrong either. Like you, I don’t believe that Felicia was a terrorist. Her reasons for working with The Sword will now forever remain her own but I can believe that she just fell in with the wrong crowd and got in over her head.

  “If she truly was with them—was one of them—they wouldn’t have killed her in the desert after she gave them what they wanted. So now you have a choice son.”

  “Choice?” Hong asks, “What choice?”

  “You can choose how she is remembered.”

  “How?”

  “My intel has informed me that X1 has already been released into a general population.”

  “What?” Hong raises his hands saying, “Wait a minute, what do you mean released?”

  “Bioterrorism son, The Sword infected people with X1.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Hong contends, “It’s not some weapon; it’s harmless.”

  “You sure about that? Is it not a novel lifeform to which we would have no immunity?”

  “Yeah but…”

  “Hong listen to me,” Jing says in a fatherly tone, “No one knows more about X1 now than you. Come with me; together we can still stop the spread of this thing and preserve Felicia’s memory.”

  “Dad, we-we can’t,” Hong proclaims, “If you’re right about this then the CDC needs to be informed. We need to let them handle it.”

  “If we do that son, then in the eyes of the world Felicia will forever be branded a terrorist. Is that what you want for her?”

  “No but, I’m an astrobiologist and you’re a business man; what do either of us know about containing an outbre
ak? How would we stop it on our own?”

  Smiling Jing says, “Leave that to me son. I have the resources to accomplish a great many things and together, we shall ensure that Felicia’s memory is preserved. All you have to do is trust me.”

  “I trust that you are here with news I want to hear,” Jing says from behind his desk as he glares across at Samuel Slade poised in his doorway.

  Outside his picture window, thousands of lights from the towering skyscrapers of downtown illuminate the night.

  “Yes sir,” Slade nods, “I believe I am.”

  “Then you’ve found her notes?”

  Looking away for a beat, Slade admits, “Not quite yet sir but I believe I know where they are.”

  Jing continues to frown at him as he waits for further explanation.

  “An examination of her phone records in the days leading up to her death revealed that she called a Washington area number—cross-referencing it with her known associates revealed no matches.

  “I’ve since determined that it belongs to a Tyler Edlund, a marine biologist working for NOAA.”

  “Why would she call him out of the blue?”

  With a gleam in his eye Slade continues, “As it turns out Tyler and our girl both grew up in Hope and I’m betting knew each other. Now the call itself was less than a minute in length, so either she didn’t speak to him or they were quick about it.

  “Seems more likely to me though that she left a message for him—before she mailed him her notes for safekeeping.”

  “Be nice to hear that message,” Jing muses.

  “Yeah but it’s not critical.”

  “Excellent,” Jing grins, “Very excellent work Major.”

  “Sir,” he inquires, “Do you need me to head to Washington to follow this up?”

  Languidly shaking his head Jing replies, “No…that won’t be necessary. I know just how to handle it.”

  Slade salutes him before asking, “And what about Singh?”

  Jing nods imperceptibly in response, prompting Slade to smile wickedly before departing.

  The soft rapping on the hotel door startles Hong. Sliding off the bed he pads over to the door in socking feet. Pulling it open he’s faced with his father’s grave visage.

  “Dad,” he questions, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Stepping inside without a word, Jing slowly closes the door behind him before saying, “Have a seat son; there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Resting on the edge of the bed Hong anxiously wrings the bed-sheet with his hands.

  “Are you packed yet?”

  Glancing over at his belongings in the open suitcase next to the television, Hong answers, “Almost. But I’m still not convinced that this is the best course of action Dad.”

  “I’m afraid it has become the only course,” Jing sits down next to his son, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry to have to tell you this Hong but…I’ve received word that your friend Amir has been killed.”

  The words simply don’t register at first—so foreign are they to him. When they do it’s like a shot to the stomach driving all the air out of his lungs. Eyes wide open; Hong doubles over as he tries to regain his breath and the ability to speak.

  “Wh-what…?” his lips move but no words can be discerned.

  Knowing what he’s trying to ask Jing rubs his son’s back while saying, “It was a mugging Hong—or made to look like one anyway. The news is reporting it as one of those tragic random occurrences but I have my doubts.

  “Three of you knew about the existence of X1 and now only you remain my son. You now need to join me on that island as much for your own safety as for what you can do to aid me in arresting the spread of this disease.”

  “Wait a minute,” Hong lifts his head back up, “Are you saying Amir…was murdered because of our discovery?”

  With concern in his dark eyes Jing says, “I hope not son, but I cannot afford the luxury of thinking otherwise. I will not risk losing you.”

  ‘Tell your father I know nothing and I’m out…I know you don’t believe me about him but…’

  Staring at his father, Hong wills himself to give voice to the troubling suspicion growing in his gut. “How did you find out about Amir? A mugging is hardly breaking news; how do you know what happened?”

  For the barest of moments Jing’s expression changes to pride before the mask of compassion is back in place. “After what happened to Felicia I admit I was having your friend watched. For all the good it did, I was trying to keep him safe.”

  ‘Your father—the mercenary who has ordered the deaths of how many people in his twisted life?’

  “You do believe me, don’t you son?”

  Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Hong banishes the nagging doubts planted there by Amir. My father wouldn’t kill him. This is crazy…I know he wouldn’t kill anyone. Raising his head to look at him, Hong nods his assent.

  With a cordial smile, Jing moves about the room helping him to finish packing, all the while keeping one eye on his son in an attempt to determine if his suspicions are growing.

  Hope, North Carolina

  “Tell me it’s not true.”

  “Hong,” Jing glances over at his son’s arrival, “I’m a little busy right now.”

  “Yeah that’s what I hear,” Hong steps further into the classroom that under normal circumstances would be used for teaching English. His eyes dart accusingly between his father and the hulking soldier in black fatigues he’s speaking with.

  “You can’t do this Dad,” he stubbornly insists.

  “This doesn’t concern you boy.”

  “Slade,” Jing silences him, “Give us a moment.”

  Reluctantly he salutes and marches from the room.

  Resting against the wooden desk at the front of the room Jing asks, “What else would you have me do?”

  Pleading with him Hong says, “There has to be another way. You’re talking about…executing 400 people. These are women and children—whole families Dad. We can’t do this.”

  “We have little choice Hong seeing as how we’ve been able to neither cure the disease nor stop its spread.”

  “We’ll call in the CDC; they’ll be able to help us. Protecting Felicia’s reputation isn’t worth killing these people.”

  Jing stares at him as if he were daft. “This is no longer about your girlfriend’s memory son. We have to draw a line in the sand right here. No matter what else we do, we cannot allow X1 to spread beyond this island.

  “If it were to get off the island, thousands, nay millions would be at risk. Is that what you’re suggesting I allow to happen?”

  Lowering his head morosely Jing confesses, “I take no pride in this order Hong. It does not bring me joy. I don’t want to execute these people—but time is running out and they will die one way or the other.”

  “Don’t…” Hong argues, “Call the CDC; they’ll institute a quarantine until a solution can be found. Dad, please.”

  “And if a solution can’t be found?” Jing poses, “What then? We expose more people to this scourge and risk it escaping these borders to kill how many more? I’m sorry son, but I can’t do that.

  “I would rather sacrifice a few hundred than endanger millions. The CDC lacks the will to do what must be done.” Rising to his feet he claps Hong on the shoulder saying, “Stay here son. There’s no need for you to see this.”

  It’s said that the worst hells are of our own making.

  Perhaps this is why the paths to them are paved with good intentions.

  Robert Savage stands at the mouth of his own hell. He came to Hope to do a job with the best of intentions but it could not save him. No matter how well-intentioned he was he’s still facing the abyss.

  In front of him soldiers in black garb are marking the time—across the warehouse, lined up in single file against the wall, those whose time is being marked.

  They are to be executed because they are sick. It’s wrong and Savage knows th
is yet will do nothing to stop it. He is sick in a way they are not. They are scared now but soon they will find peace. He knows he will not.

  For what he has been a party to he will find no absolution awaiting him—only the eternal fires roasting his immortal soul.

  The rifles are raised and aim is taken.

  He could stop it. He could order the soldiers to stand down and plead his case with Cummings again. He could…but he won’t. His soul is weak—he is afraid.

  He’s never seen anything like this disease before and while he can talk big about methods to contain it he knows it would only be talk. Deep down he fears this is the only way, no matter the cost.

  He watches his patients quiver as they stand and stare down death. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, grandfathers, grandmothers—none make a move to run. None are able to.

  The report is deafening as the rifles go off in unison. He jerks away momentarily but immediately looks back up. He watches as the victims are thrown back against the wall before falling. Some just drop—a red halo blooming around their head.

  As the shots echo, the soldiers move in and fire off more rounds to fell the slowly dying. There is no time to let them expire slowly. It is going to be a long night and when the sun comes up there will be no soul left on this island.

  Watching the bodies being dragged away for disposal as the next batch of infected are led in to their demise, he can hear hell calling for him.

  He can hear his own tormented soul crying out as he gazes unto the abyss.

  Part Four:

  Unto the Abyss

  Chapter 37

  August 24, the Present

  Hope, North Carolina

  “Lynne.”

  Caleb rushes the stage with Wendy following close behind. Mounting the steps excitedly he hurries across the rostrum to envelop her in an embrace. Resting his chin on her shoulder he squeezes her tightly while whispering his joy and relief into her ear.