by Jacob Whaler
“Leo?”
He gently pulls Jessica down so they are both lying on their backs staring up at the sky. “It was my fault he died. I put him in harm’s way when I left him and Yarah alone back on Yarah’s world. Jhata would never have come if I had stayed. I should have been able to protect Leo from her.” Both hands go up to cover his eyes. “Just like Dad. I couldn’t stop Ryzaard from killing him either.”
“But you can stop torturing yourself.” Jessica’s fingers find his arm and gently squeeze. “You did the best you could. You came back to Earth and saved ten million people from dying in Ryzaard’s nuclear nightmare. Leo would have agreed with that. Now, just let it go, and move on.”
“Let it go. Move on.” Matt repeats the words like a mantra. “It’s not that easy. All the people close to me end up . . .”
“No Matt.” Jessica’s hand goes over his lips. “Don’t say it. Bad karma.”
“You’re right.” Matt vents all his frustration in a single, short exhale. “Let’s spend the night here and then move on at first light.”
“Where to?” Jessica’s fingers find his hand and close tightly around it.
“I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe we could hike the Appalachian Trail.”
Jessica giggles. “All the way to Maine? With an eight-year-old?”
“It would give us good cover.” Matt looks for the orange dot of Betelgeuse above the belt of Orion. “Just another family out on a summer excursion enjoying the wonders of nature. We could take it slow all the way through autumn.”
“Why Shinto?”
Matt turns his head. “Huh?”
“Why is Ryzaard using Shinto? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Good question,” Matt says. “We know his goal. Complete takeover of the world so he’s the only one in control. Once everyone joins Shinto, I suppose he’ll use it as an instrument to manipulate the masses.”
“But how will he do it?” Jessica rises up and straightens the blankets on Yarah. “Brainwashing?” She throws one over to Matt.
“That’s pretty much what I’ve been seeing in the dreams. Huge gatherings of people. Mass ecstasy. Ryzaard in control.” Matt sighs as he looks up at Sirius, brightest star in the night sky. “He’s got a master plan, thinking way ahead. Unfortunately, he hasn’t shared the details with me.”
“So, what do we do?” Jessica leans over Matt, her face directly above his.
“First this.” He reaches up with both arms and pulls her down until her warm lips spread out against his. Then he gently lifts her over Yarah, depositing her on the ground next to him. “You need to rest. So do I. Hopefully, I won’t have the dreams tonight. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
With a finger, Jessica draws a line down Matt’s forehead and the bridge of his nose. “Do you think the dreams are coming from the Allehonen?”
“No idea.” Matt slides his hands under his head. “It may just be my Stone, giving me glimpses of the future. A possible future. I’ve tried to reach out to the Allehonen for contact, help, anything. Nothing but radio silence. Almost like they don’t care.” A cold chill runs down his back and turns into a tremble. “Ryzaard’s whole operation has gotten so massive. Sometimes I think he’s actually going to be able to pull it off.” He rolls over with his back to Jessica, eyes drifting shut.
A split second later, a sharp blow between his shoulder blades jars him awake and forces a cough.
“Hey, what was that all about?” Matt says.
“You,” Jessica says. “I’m not going to lie here and watch you melt into a puddle of tears.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Matt, listen to me. Don’t waste time worrying about how it’s all going to work out. It’s OK, not being able to see the whole picture from beginning to end.” The heel of Jessica’s hand caresses his spine. “Ryzaard’s tried so many times to kill you. Maybe he can’t. Maybe it’s your destiny to destroy his plan and save humankind.”
“So, I’m some kind of superhero? That’s not a very comforting thought. Too much pressure. I’d rather just . . .”
“Go back in time? Go back to just being Matt Newmark, the guy with a super-hot wife who likes to ski and climb? Not a care in the world?”
“Exactly,” Matt says. “Just a normal guy with a normal life. Is that too much to ask?”
“There’s no use wasting time hoping for what’s never going to happen.” Jessica pushes her palms into Matt’s back. His muscles go soft under her touch. “Embrace your destiny.”
“You believe in destiny, in fate?”
“I believe in you.”
CHAPTER 10
Matt waits until the familiar exhale of air that means Jessica is asleep. Turning over, he watches the peaceful rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
But there’s no sleep for him. It’s been the same pattern ever since they arrived here.
He quietly sits up and moves to the ledge overlooking the valley. Pulling his knees up to his chin, he drinks in the beauty of a full moon and its glow that lights up the valley extending out below. Successive mountain ranges, one behind another, flow horizontally across his line of sight, like giant wrinkles in a lush carpet of trees. The crying of cicadas floats up, reaching a crescendo and slowly dying down to begin a new cycle. A great horned owl calls out somewhere down the slope.
Where is the Woman? Does she expect me to fight Ryzaard alone?
Matt lets his head drop between his knees. In his mind’s eye, he sees the Woman, one of the Allehonen. Bronze skin illuminated from within. Eyes like orange flames. The white robe hanging loose on a strong frame. Broad nose, generous lips, prominent cheekbones. Bare feet and delicate hands. All of it chiseled to perfection, as if from polished marble.
Where are you?
Images, familiar from prior dreams, begin to pass through his mind.
The Woman stands on a brown plain watching the warriors on black horses charge over a ridge. They lean forward in their saddles, swords hanging low to the ground. She turns back and catches a glimpse of her husband and child, standing with the other villagers behind her. As the lead warrior approaches, the Woman holds up the Stone in her hand. Lips moving in silent supplication, her eyes go skyward.
Matt’s seen the ending of this scene many times. He wants to cry out to her, tell her to run. Anything to help her avoid the inevitable conclusion.
The blade swings down in a slow arc and separates the Woman’s head from her neck and shoulders in the middle of its trajectory. Dropping silently to the dust, the Stone rolls and comes to a stop.
The warrior dismounts from his horse. With a half grin, he bends down and picks up the Stone.
Why didn’t she fight back?
The scene fades to black, rewinds and opens up again.
The Woman stands alone facing the galloping horde. With the Stone in hand, she stretches out her arm and raises it to the sky.
Matt senses the change in the air. A phase-shift.
As the lead warrior draws close, he bends forward and down to prepare his blade for contact.
Time slows.
Five meters away, the Woman’s eyes shoot open. A thin disk of brilliant light explodes out of her Stone. Its leading edge engulfs the army, a laser cutting through warriors, severing torsos, taking off limbs and heads, decapitating horses. The invaders fall in bloody heaps to the dirt.
The Woman lowers the Stone and walks forward. Mangled corpses of warrior and beast lie strewn about her. She finds the chieftain of the army dressed in black armor of hardened leather, lying on the ground, an arm and leg missing, struggling to breathe as his lifeblood pools in the dirt. His blackened sword is visible a short distance away, still grasped by the hand of the severed arm.
Bending down, the Woman pulls the sword from the dead hand, grabs it by the hilt and raises it up as she turns to face the villagers. A war whoop bursts from her lips, and she turns and thrusts the sword down through the warrior’s chest and into the sand. The warrior shudders as if shocke
d by a jolt of electricity. Blood dribbles out the corners of his mouth. The Woman stares down, watching him die.
A shout goes up from the villagers. They move forward into the mayhem, swarming over the fallen bodies, finding swords and spears, and finishing off the rest of the army in like fashion.
The images fade from Matt’s mind.
For the rest of the night, he dreams of a massive dark shape that stalks him through a misty forest.
When he wakes in the morning, Matt has one blanket twisted around his legs and another wrapped around his neck. His body is a tight ball of aching muscle, head throbbing, a new bruise on his arm.
“You didn’t sleep much.” Jessica says. “More dreams?”
“Dreams. Visions. I can’t tell the difference anymore.” He tells Jessica about the images of the Woman.
“The Woman and her village didn’t die this time?”
“No. Not in the second version of the dream. She used her Stone to fight back.”
“Strange.” Jessica hands him a hunk of bread from her pack. “Any idea why the dream changed?”
“Nope.” Matt chews slowly on the crust. “No idea at all. But I know where we’re going.”
“The Great Appalachian Trail?”
“New York City.” Matt gathers himself to his feet. “The time for running is over.”
CHAPTER 11
Miyazawa walks from his transport across the deep green lawn on the north side of the White House. Today is the official launch of the US campaign, and he has a busy schedule, starting with a brief meeting and photo-op with the President of the United States.
As the hem of his robes float an inch off the grass, a wall of journalists wave hands and shout at him in the aggressive fashion of the American press. Engaging the inner ear implants, he is enveloped in a bubble of silence and surrounded by the four broad-shouldered men escorting him, two in the front and two in the back.
At the end of the rope walkway, they usher him through a set of open glass doors that close behind him, sealing him off from the outside world.
“This way, Your Holiness.” A man in a dark suit and laser glasses steps forward and bows at precisely the correct angle. “The President is anxious to welcome you.”
They walk down a white corridor and into a high-ceilinged room. Multiple doors hang along the three walls. All but one of them are shut. Following his escort through the only open door, Miyazawa steps off the hardwood floor and onto the deep carpet of the Oval Office.
His eyes are immediately drawn to a man in his early fifties with a white shirt and blue suit. Conservative feather epaulets rest on his shoulders.
Miyazawa’s escort steps to the side. “Mr. President, I present His Holiness, Tomoyuki Miyazawa, High Priest of the Earth United Shinto Alliance.”
“My pleasure,” says the President. “Welcome to the United States of America. We’ve been looking forward to your visit for some time.”
The President steps out from behind his desk and walks forward, hands at his side. Miyazawa bows deeply. When he looks up, the President is still standing, awkward and erect.
“Please sit down. I’d like to talk about your plans.”
The President directs Miyazawa to a set of two chairs against an adjacent wall, set up with the American and Japanese flags behind them. Miyazawa sits in the chair in front of the American flag.
“First of all, let me say that it’s a great honor to have been invited to your country.” Miyazawa’s head drops in an elegant sitting bow.
“After what you did for the American people, and the people of the entire planet, I can assure you that the honor is all mine.” The President casts his glance at the escort, still standing like a sentinel near the open door, hands behind his back. “Jim, would you mind stepping into the hall for a moment. I’d like to have a couple minutes with our esteemed guest alone, before the press stampedes in here.”
The man nods and walks out of the room, pulling the doors shut behind him.
“Now, Mr. Miyazawa, tell me about your plans.”
Miyazawa makes every effort to smile, not sure of the result. “With all due respect, we wish to build a shrine in every city and town across your great country. A thousand a day for the next 30 days.”
“Incredible.” The President’s eyebrows crawl high on his face. “I can’t imagine the manpower and financing such an ambitious effort requires.”
“We have many benefactors and an entire industry in Japan dedicated to the production of shrines and the training of new priests.” Miyazawa clasps his hands together and drops them into his lap. “We find that moving quickly is the most efficient way to meet the needs of the people.”
“Splendid. You can count on my full support.” The President leans in closer and lowers his voice. “There is one other matter that I had hoped to discuss with you. In private.”
The pleasant smile on Miyazawa’s face vanishes for a split second until he is able to force it back. The President’s words have caught him off guard. It’s highly irregular to have any discussions of substantive importance on such official state visits, all of which are highly choreographed and planned in advance.
“Of course.” Miyazawa’s body presses into his chair and struggles to relax. A film of sweat sticks to the undergarment on his back. “What would you like to discuss?”
“I’ll get right to the point. It’s about The Event.”
Miyazawa’s eyes narrow, but he keeps silent.
The President lifts his body into an upright position. “Based on the intelligence provided to us by your organization, it appears that the Chinese were the first to initiate the nuclear detonations, yet they vociferously deny any wrongdoing, claiming it’s all the result of high-level hacking into their systems. I was hoping you could shed some light on what really happened.”
Miyazawa stares ahead, unsure of how to proceed. “As you know, Mr. President.” The words begin to flow before he knows what he’s saying. “The Earth United Shinto Alliance is a purely neutral party, committed to world peace among all nations, reaching out to all and showing favor to none.”
“Of course.” The President nods. “I fully understand the delicate position that you occupy. I was just hoping that, as a supporter of world democracy and freedom for all, you might be able to assist the United States in—”
To his horror, Miyazawa finds himself shaking his head vigorously back and forth, completely out of character. Words rise in his throat. He struggles in vain to hold them back.
“Before we are able to proceed with our month-long campaign for the benefit of your country, I must have your word that you will not attempt to interfere in, or carry out any investigations concerning, our internal matters.” After he hears the words he has just spoken, Miyazawa sits mortified. Against his will, his lips open again. “Do I have your word, Mr. President?”
The President’s mouth drops open. “Well, yes, of course, we have no intention of—”
Before the President can finish his sentence, the doors burst open and a mob of journalists barge into his office, holo-cams engaged as they point at the two men sitting in chairs.
An oversized smile graces the face of the President. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Miyazawa. We wish you every success as you spread your work of peace through our nation and bring the blessings of Shinto to our shores.” His hand extends out in a show of friendship.
Something lifts Miyazawa’s hand, and the President’s moist fingers wrap around it. “The pleasure has been all mine.”
CHAPTER 12
“See how it works?” Ryzaard relaxes in his chair as a large color holo of the private interview between the President and Miyazawa plays above the crystal table.
Jerek shakes his head in silent admiration. “I don’t know how you do it, but it certainly seems to work.”
“For individual subjects, it’s easy. I simply think the words, and they speak them. There’s nothing they can do. I’m in complete control. I’ve been do
ing it with the Shinto priest for the last several months.” Ryzaard blows a line of smoke off to the side. “But there are limitations. As powerful as the Stones are, it only works for certain weak-minded individuals. Yet there are billions of people in the world. The question is: how do we control them all?”
“You’re going to need incredibly sophisticated technology.”
“We already have it, but it’s still in the experimental stage.”
“You’re talking about the implant you tried on Little John?” Jerek shakes his head. “That turned out to be a total disaster.”
“Not a total disaster.” Ryzaard leans back. “It did work to a certain degree, enough to allow me to take over his Stone. But the implant procedure was too cumbersome. We need to tweak it so that it’s much quicker, simpler, more reliable.”
Jerek takes a long inhale, holds it and lets the air escape slowly out his nostrils. “Mass production of implants for mind control on an enormous scale. Instantaneous connection on contact with skin. No invasive surgery. It involves novel issues of neurology, brain structure, mental states, mass psychology. I’m a physicist, not a psychiatrist.” Jerek’s eyes wander up to the ceiling. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“As I said, we already have the basic technology.” Ryzaard’s fingers move across the bluescreen on Jerek’s desk. A holo of the green jewel shaped like a miniature Stone floats in front of them. “With the right people, we should be able to open this up, reverse engineer and improve on the design.”
“I’ll need help. Brain specialists, especially any with neuro-implant experience. But even with the best minds on our team, it may be beyond our current level of technology.” Jerek leans in close to the holo, running his fingers across its surface, gazing at the prototype. “Who knows what we’ll find when we open this up. If we even can. Where did you get this? The design looks so . . .”
“Alien?”
“Yes,” Jerek says. “That’s the word.”