by Tara Ellis
Blinking at me, he realizes how he’s acting and straightens up in his chair, hands stopping their constant banging. “Well, the crystal skulls of course,” he says matter-of-factly.
I start to reach for the backpack but Chris puts his hand on my arm under the table to stop my motion. I look at him questioningly and he gives a very slight shake of his head. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, so I keep my mouth shut about our skull.
“There is one for each designated pyramid, carefully crafted and capable of more than any other current super computer. It must be put in its proper place inside the pyramid and then activated with a small drop of blood containing the correct DNA. This will then in turn link and activate the release of all the anti-virus. If you don’t even have a skull, than you’re wasting your time. I don’t have one and I don’t know where it is.” Pausing, he looks down the darkened hallway past the kitchen, tilting his head slightly as if listening.
“There’s no guarantee your blood would even work,” he explains, looking at me again. “You are only half Egyptian, Alex. Yours is the purest bloodline of the Khufu Bast, but we still have no way of knowing for sure.”
“Your blood would work, wouldn’t it?” I ask him.
“I followed your father’s tradition, you know.” Not grasping the change in subject, I look to where he has raised his hand to point at something.
Above the fireplace is a huge painting of him, and who I assume is his wife. They look happy together. “I met Susan right after I graduated from the University. It was love at first sight. My parents were appalled and my position in the society threatened, but I held my ground. Some things are worth fighting for.”
His expression darkens when he says this and he stands again, rubbing at his arms like he’s somehow cold in this hot room. “She got sick on Sunday. By the time I got back home from the city on Tuesday, she was starting to improve and I knew there was no chance for her.”
“Is that who’s in the room with the lock on the outside?” Chris asks evenly, and I understand now why he didn’t feel comfortable sharing everything with this man. He must have seen it when he went to the bathroom.
Ignoring Chris, Professor Hassan begins to pace behind the table, starting to mutter softly under his breath again. I am beginning to fear that he is quite insane.
“I waited,” he says to himself as much to us. “I waited as long as I could. You hadn’t come. There was no hope. There is no hope. God has sent this plague on us and we must accept our fate.”
“This is not the work of God!” Chris says fiercely, tensing in his chair.
“God has left us!” the professor shouts, slamming both fists down hard on the table as spittle flies from his mouth. His eyes are wild and his nostrils flared.
Baxter growls low in his throat, having come to stand beside me when he sensed the tension. I place a hand on his head to calm him, but I’m trying to guess how long it would take for me to get Jake and run out the front door.
Chris jumped up from his seat in reaction and now stands facing the professor, the table between them. “You are wrong,” he says calmly, challenging him.
Laughing, the older man claps his hands together and turns away from us. “Where are my manners?” he mutters as he walks into the large, country style kitchen. “Here I have guests in my house and haven’t even offered any tea! Susan would skin my hide.”
Unable to keep up with his personality changes, Chris and I back away from the table and head towards the family room where Jacob is still asleep. I hold the backpack close to me, comforted by the weight of the skull.
“What kind would you like, Black or Earl Grey? Oh, are you leaving?” Walking out of the kitchen with boxes of tea in his hands, the professor seems a bit flustered and confused. I suddenly feel sorry for him. This has pushed him over the edge and I can’t really blame him.
“We need … to go,” I offer.
Nodding with comprehension, he sets the boxes down and approaches me with urgency, his face now a picture of concern. “You have a few days before they’ll know everything,” he says, taking one of my hands in both of his. I let him, but am not comfortable with it.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, searching his eyes for a sign of the man that was supposed to help us.
“Well, I infected myself just this afternoon so if it works, it should take a good three days before I am to the point where I will share all my knowledge with … the Shiners.”
Pulling my hand away, I take a step back from him. “Why would you do that?” I demand. “Why would you want to be one of them? They’re killing people!”
He seems disappointed at my reaction, but takes a small step closer, pleading with me. “It probably won’t work on me, but I had to try, Alex. I don’t want to be alone, alone and so inadequate. It’s our destiny. I knew that as soon as I saw the creation under the microscope. I’m tested as a near genius, but if this corrects my brain, I will be one of the smartest humans to have ever lived! Imagine what I can do, Alex! Think of all the things I can discover and create with not only that level of intelligence, but no emotional barricades!” He smiles as he’s talking, getting excited at the thought of changing into one of these abominations. It’s too much.
“We have to leave,” I say again, moving over to the door. “Thank you for talking with us. Really. I hope that you and your wife are all right.”
We make our way out into the blessedly cool air on the front porch, and Baxter runs ahead to the truck. Jake finally raises his head and looks around groggily as Chris puts him in the back seat, trying to figure out where he is.
“If you can’t stop it Alex, then come back. I have a very pure, isolated virus that I can infect you with. It should work,” he says encouragingly.
Appalled, I turn away from him and stumble across the driveway. I will never give up, I will never join them. I will finish what my father and now I am meant to do. That is my destiny.
TWENTY ONE
Sitting huddled on the front seat in the darkness, I stare out the window and watch the receding lights. Lights that before had represented safety but now seem to mock me, like the shining eyes of the billions of people whose only hope for a cure rests squarely on my shoulders. I’m feeling that weight now and it’s hard not to collapse under it.
I point to the right when we reach the end of the driveway, and Chris turns out onto the two lane county road. “Where are we going?” he wants to know.
“To a hunting cabin. One that Dad took Jake and me to several times. It’s like over fifty years old, but will probably be there for another hundred. I’m not even sure who it belongs to, but there was never anyone else there when we went.”
“Right. The cabin from the note. I thought maybe he meant the professor’s place.”
“No, I never met Mr. Hassan before Dad died. He didn’t even live here then. So I figure he has to be talking about a place that only Jake or I would know, like with the duck blind. That letter wouldn’t make sense to someone else reading it.” We ride in silence for a while and I watch the line in the road rush at us.
Jake calls out my name and I turn to check on him. Baxter is draped over him in place of a blanket and he is curled up under his paws. He must have fallen right back to sleep, because he appears to be saying my name in a dream. Setting a hand gently on his forehead, I try to reassure him. Shuddering, he sighs and turns over, holding onto Baxter’s leg like it’s a teddy bear. I double-check the guns on the floor to make sure they are secured with safeties on and then turn back around.
“Do you think he could be right?” Looking back out at the trees creating a dark tunnel for us to travel through, I ask Chris my greatest fear.
“Right about what?”
“Not about wanting to change. There isn’t anything that would excuse the murder of millions of people. I mean about God. Is it possible he did this? I mean, he sent plagues on the Egyptians before. Do you think this is God’s plan?”
This time it’s Chris’
s turn to smile without it reaching his eyes, but for him, it isn’t due to a lack of emotion. Sadness is all I see as he stares back at me. “Absolutely not,” he answers without hesitation. “Our God is a loving God; he wouldn’t do this to us. Even during the times of Revelations, it is made clear that we will always have a choice.
“The Egyptians also had a choice. They were given numerous opportunities, actually. The greatest commandment is to love each other and to not murder. He wouldn’t take away our ability to love or drive us to murder millions of people. That’s the work of evil, Alex, not God.”
I know that he’s right, that even in the letters from my dad he refers twice now to this virus being evil. The professor has come to see the changes caused by the virus as a step forward in evolution and doesn’t want to be left behind. To deal with his guilt he has to come up with an excuse to make it okay, and blaming it all on God is an easy out.
“We need to hurry.” A new sense of urgency has overcome my fatigue and doubt. “We can’t let this happen. It has to be stopped.”
Reaching out across the seat, Chris takes hold of my hand. The physical contact reassures me that I’m not alone and I push aside all my fears. I need to concentrate on finding the cabin and moving forward.
“There’s a gas station up here a ways, isn’t there? We should stop and get some stuff. I’m starving.”
I can’t believe he’s thinking about food. “We don’t have time for that, Chris! People are probably dying right now! And what if they’re looking for us? We can’t risk being seen anywhere.”
“Alex, think about it. How long until we’re at the cabin? Then what? I guarantee you there is going to be some sort of traveling and hiking involved if we have to go find this lost pyramid. When was the last time that any of us ate or drank water? Do you even have any left with you? Because I don’t. I think we’re going to need some energy or else we’ll fail. That isn’t an option.”
Looking at him, I weigh what he’s saying. I hate how reasonable he can be, making me feel a little stupid and childish. Ultimately, I give in. “All right. But I only have a few bucks and we don’t dare use a bank card.”
“I’ve got almost twenty dollars. It should be enough for water and snacks. We’ll park out of sight and you guys can stay in the truck. I’ve got sunglasses and a ball cap in my backpack and I won’t say anything. I doubt their resources are that organized yet.”
Half an hour later we’re back on the road, eating a late dinner of cheese crackers and pepperoni sticks. Chris was right and the guy didn’t seem to give him a second thought.
Jake woke up after we stopped for food and I’ve tried to explain what was going on, without being too elaborate. He seems to have accepted things for what they are and the rest has also helped. He’s at least eating, and even laughed at Baxter trying to lick the peanut butter off his cracker.
We’re deep in the Cascade Mountains now, heading northwest. We turned off the main road a ways back and the blacktop eventually gave way to gravel. Chris is forced to slow down to navigate the narrow, rutted road and I’m doing my best to watch for the markers that I vaguely remember.
As we come around one particularly steep bend, Jacob calls out from the back seat. “Hey! There’s that one sign with the moose head on it! I always thought that one was kinda cool.”
Chris stops and I lean over him to peer through the driver’s side window. Barely visible under outstretched cedar branches, is a brown marker with a moose head at the top, marking the trail.
“Good job, Jake!” I tell my brother. His help really has been critical. I take a moment to look at him closely, dreading a time when he might start to sniffle or show other signs of the flu invading his body. What I can see of him looks rather normal and I try to focus on the task at hand.
“Okay, Chris. I don’t know if the truck will fit through there or not, but maybe we can manage to get it off this road.” I jump out to help guide him in between the trees, pulling some branches aside to make room. It’s a tight fit, but he’s able to go a couple hundred feet up the barely recognizable road before having to come to a stop. There is a downed tree and it’s way too big to even consider trying to move it. We’ll be on foot from here.
Gathering all of our stuff, Chris takes the heavier bag with the skull, tucking the handgun into his pants. I sling the rifle across my back and his backpack with the food and ammo. I am especially thankful for the flashlight Chris brought. Once all the lights go out on the truck, the dim moonlight barely penetrates the thick canopy of trees and we are plunged into a complete darkness.
Jacob moves close to me, and I put an arm around him. He has never liked the dark. Before we set out, Chris walks back to the head of the trail and takes a couple of minutes to bend the sign over. It’s buried too deep for him to pull it out, but in a short time, he has it almost flat on the ground and I doubt anyone would notice it driving by. That isn’t something I would have thought of and I’m thankful he’s so smart.
“I don’t have any shoes!” Jake complains. Looking down at his pajama-clad body, I see that he is indeed barefoot. I hadn’t even thought about it.
Going back to the truck, I rummage around in the back seat for a while and come up with some running shoes I had stored in there from cross-country season. They are two sizes too big for him, but I tie them on as tight as possible and they seem to do the job.
“How far is it?” Chris asks me as we help each other climb over the large tree trunk. Giant mushrooms are growing all over the surface, making it slippery.
“I’m not sure, exactly,” I admit. “We had always driven all the way to the cabin. Dad borrowed this cool jeep from one of the other cops he worked with, so we never had any problems getting there. I know it took several minutes so I’m guessing it’s a good three miles or more.”
“Well, at least we know no one else can make it up this road either,” he observes. “And there aren’t any other cars around. Odds are we’re alone out here.”
On the other side of the tree, I help Jacob down and Baxter easily leaps to the ground. My eyes have adjusted a bit to the dark and looking around at the woods surrounding us, I really hope that Chris is right.
TWENTY TWO
Saturday morning I wake up to a loud woodpecker banging on a nearby tree. Taking in my surroundings, I see a one-room cabin in the faint morning light and remember where we are. It was nearly two hours of walking through the dark mountains to get here last night. It must have been closer to five or six miles away and Chris had carried Jake on his back for most of it.
Chris is sprawled on the wooden floor, sound asleep. Baxter has decided he likes him, and is snuggled up close to keep warm. Jacob and I are sharing the one small cot in the space, with a thin blanket only big enough to cover our legs and half our bodies. When we had come camping here with Dad, we always brought foam pads and sleeping bags. Too bad none of that stuff was still here.
I never thought I would be able to sleep. Actually, at first, I had wanted to search for the clue and maybe set out again last night, but by the time we got here, it was obvious that wouldn’t happen. Even though we were all beyond exhausted and emotionally drained, I figured my mind would keep racing or nightmares would plague me. I guess at some point though, the body just takes over, because I barely remember my head hitting the pillow and nothing else until now.
Having left our phones behind, I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing still pretty early. Even so, I’m eager to get moving. With every passing minute, I’m afraid that more people are dying. I keep seeing that pit and imagine thousands of them all over the world. Shuddering, I pull the blanket up around my shoulders and close my eyes, trying to focus on the birds singing outside.
After a few minutes, my uncovered feet get too cold and I’m forced to acknowledge where I am and what is happening. Sitting up all the way, I re-adjust the blanket so that Jake is almost totally covered and carefully slide off the cot from behind him. Thankful that I had a sweatshirt wit
h me yesterday, I pull the hood up to help hold in some body heat and slip into my shoes. Maybe that will help keep my feet warm.
My stomach grumbles and so I find the backpack with the food in it and decide on a breakfast of granola bar and yogurt covered raisins. After carefully counting how many bottles of water we have, I select one and only drink a third of it, since it will have to last me most of the day. Once again, I’m glad that Chris is with us and had insisted on stopping for the food. We would be in a lot of trouble if we didn’t at least have the water. There is no water or electricity in this cabin and while there’s a stream not too far away, it’s never safe to drink it without boiling it first.
I pull the thin shade all the way up on the only window in the front of the cabin. It lets in enough light so that I can clearly see the huge stone fireplace that takes up the whole far wall. There’s nothing fancy about this place, but it’s obvious that whoever built it was a good craftsman and stone builder. It’s probably local river rock that was hauled up here to build the hearth.
Moving closer to it, I start examining each rock, feeling along the crevasses that are filled with mortar. It reaches all the way to the ceiling and is ten feet wide. This might take a while.
“What are you doing?” I jump at the voice behind me and turn to find Chris propped up on one elbow watching me, petting a seemingly content Baxter.
“Do you remember what the note from my dad said about this cabin?”
“I have a good memory,” he says, getting up. “But not that good. What did it say?” Baxter watches him with wishful eyes and then jumps up on the cot with Jacob when he realizes he isn’t getting any more attention for now.
Going back to the bag, I take the letter out of the front pocket and hand it to him. I go back to my task as he reads that part to me. “Then you must go to the cabin and let its warmth guide you.” “Oh … I get it. Those are a lot of rocks,” he observes, looking up at the ceiling. Getting a granola bar and water for himself, he joins me at the fireplace.