Forgotten Origins Trilogy - Box Set: Infected, Heritage, Descent

by Tara Ellis

  I wander back inside to find Chris and Jake inspecting the fridge for a snack. Typical. As Jake turns towards the family room, arms loaded with cheese, crackers and pop, I stop him. “Woah!” I say, taking him by the shoulders and steering him in the other direction down the hallway towards our rooms. “Why don’t you take that feast with you while you pack your stuff?”

  “But I wanted to play one last video game with Chris before we have to leave,” he almost whines. Baxter is circling at his feet, mouth watering. Taking Jacob’s shirt in his mouth, he pulls as if playing a game of tug-of-war.

  “See, even Baxter knows that’s not a good idea,” Chris laughs. “Seriously though, we just don’t have time, bud. I have to get home and pack too. Don’t you want to leave as soon as possible?”

  This new perspective gets through and Jacob’s frown vanishes. “Oh man! We’re like, leaving in less than twelve hours! Cool!” With Baxter still hanging from his shirt, the two of them scurry from the kitchen in search of his hiking backpack.

  “Wow. When he puts it that way, it really does seem soon.” I say to Chris. We sit down at the cozy nook in the kitchen, and I help myself to the grapes he found. They’re kinda soft, but I’m grateful to have anything.

  “Yeah. But not soon enough. We should have left a long time ago, Alex. I hate to even go home tonight and leave the two of you alone here.”

  “We’ve been okay so far,” I reply. “If those guys knew who we were, they would have taken us right away. Why wait? I don’t think they know. We just have to make it out of town without getting caught.”

  “If it’s the Mudameere, they have to know. They knew who your Dad was Alex, and that’s why they killed him. They were already watching you before the meteor shower.”

  I chew at my nail for a while before I catch myself. Now’s not the time to pick up new habits. “Well, then we were right with our first theory. Once they succeeded in allowing the virus to be released and had their own sample of it, they didn’t care what else happened. I’m sure they still don’t. Why would they? What threat could they think I am to them? As far as they’re concerned, they’ve already won. Now it’s just a matter of time before they have their new concoction done and re-infect everyone with it. They wouldn’t see me as a threat to that plan.”

  Chris drums the top of the table with his fingers, deep in thought. He stares at me for so long that I wonder if he expects me to say something else. Suddenly reaching out, he takes my hand and holds it tightly. “I hope you’re right. But keep in mind that most battles have been lost because the enemy was underestimated. Someone has been taking people, and I don’t think it’s our own military.”

  Looking down the hall to make sure Jake is still in his room, I lean closer to Chris. “I don’t think it is either,” I whisper. “That’s why we have to leave tomorrow. It’s why we have to get this information to Senator Adel.”

  “What can you tell me about the Nephilim?” I ask, changing the subject. Talking about the Mudameere makes me anxious, and I trust Chris’s knowledge when it comes to the Bible.

  “I can’t really add much. What the professor told you is accurate. They are mentioned twice in the Bible. Once in Genesis and again in Numbers. It basically says that they were very tall and strong and took human wives. Genesis 6:4 says that they were the sons of God and were heroes of old, men of renown. The Hebrew word for Nephilim means ‘fallen ones’, which a lot of theologians take to mean that they were seen as sinners to God. The fact that many believe they are the same beings spoken of in the Epic of Gilgamesh has given credence to all of the current ancient alien theories. Alex, in comparison to some of those theories, what Professor Hassan is suggesting isn’t that far out there.”

  I knew he wouldn’t disappoint me. “How in the world do you know all of this Chris?”

  “I took a theology class last year that was offered through my church. It was very eye-opening and is what led me to look further at my own culture and other religious practices. There are many more common threads than people realize.”

  “Well, if the Nephilim really are returning and the Holocene Virus is their calling card, then I’m not looking forward to meeting them.”

  Sighing, resigned to the fact that there isn’t anything more he can do tonight, Chris looks at his watch. “I have to go. I need to get packed too and make sure that Mom is getting her stuff together. It’s a challenge to motivate her.”

  We both stand, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. I follow him to the back sliding glass door in the family room, where his bike is leaning just outside. “Do you think she’ll do okay?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. She won’t be a risk to any of us, if that’s what you mean. It isn’t like she’s still a Shiner or anything, just that she doesn’t seem to care. I’m afraid that the one thing that will get us all through the next few days and motivate us is our desire to succeed. I don’t know how she’ll push herself without that.”

  “We’ll help her,” I assure him. “Here, take this.” He’s finally dropped my hand to open the door, but now reaches back to take the thumb drive I’m holding out.

  “Why?”

  “I think that you should be the one to hide it. To make sure we get it there.”

  “No,” he disagrees. “The professor gave it to you, Alex.”

  “What Nate said was true. If your Mom stayed behind, they would eventually get what they wanted out of her. The same goes for me. I’m the obvious one. It makes more sense for me not to know.”

  “No,” he insists, forcing the drive back into my hand. “I can’t quite explain why, but I just know that you are the one who is meant to do this. We are all here to support and help you, Alex. But the only way we will be successful is if you lead us. Lock up behind me!”

  Not giving me a chance to object, he closes the door and makes a locking motion on the other side until I slide the latch into place. Smiling at me, Chris mouths goodbye and I watch until he disappears into the darkness outside the reach of the back porch light.

  Standing there, I stare at the small piece of metal and plastic in my hand. The information on it is more valuable than any amount of money.

  How do I protect it? It’s not like I can keep it in my pocket or zip it up in my backpack. Turning, I find Baxter sitting quietly behind me. I sit down in front of my friend, thankful that he is always available when I need some company. Grasping him by the collar, I pull his face down close to my own. “What am I supposed to do with this thing, Baxter?” Grinning at me, he tilts his head slightly to the side, and I know what I have to do.

  SIX

  I wake up several hours later to a hand clamped down hard over my mouth. My instinct is to twist and lash out, but I find that my body is quickly pinned to the bed. I struggle to breathe, the weight of my attacker crushing down on my chest. My screams effectively stifled, unable to suck in another breath, I stop moving and look into the face just a couple of inches above my own.

  Even in the darkened room, the ice blue of his eyes stand out. They are piercing and cold like a predator. He can’t be much older than Chris, maybe nineteen or twenty. His square jaw is set, teeth clenched. I can see that I managed to scratch his cheek before being subdued and I take some satisfaction in it.

  Nostrils flaring, I try to control my panic, telling myself I am getting enough air. He has caught up both of my wrists in his right hand, holding them at a painful angle above my head. His right knee is jammed into my left hip, his left elbow my shoulder. The rest of his weight seems to blanket me and my inability to fight back is terrifying.

  He brings his face in closer to me and I flinch, turning my head to the side. Lips brushing my ear, he whispers just loud enough for me to hear. “You don’t want your brother to wake up, Alex. Things could get ugly then.”

  At the mention of Jake, my fear turns to dread and I look back into my attacker’s eyes, tears spilling onto my cheeks. For a brief moment, I think I might see compassion, but then he actually smirks, as if amused
at my pain. I hate him.

  He must sense the change, because before I even realize I’ve tensed up to fight again, he bears down on me. The grinding pain in my hip causes me to gasp and I immediately go limp again. He rewards my compliance and lets up, but lowers himself closer like we’re two lovers in an intimate embrace. I almost prefer the pain. Removing his left hand from my mouth, he reaches up and takes one of my wrists. Pulling my arms down to my sides, he holds them firmly there, his chest now resting on my own. “Good girl, Alex. You learn fast,” he says, our lips almost touching. “That will make things easier for everyone.”

  I feel a prick in my arm and, surprised, look over to my right side. There is another dark figure there, dressed in black. I hadn’t even been aware of anyone else in the room. He is holding a syringe above my arm, having just injected me with something.

  My fear intensified, I turn back again to the man now laying on me. His face starts to swim in and out of my vision, whatever drug they gave me already working. He is smiling now, his teeth amazingly white. How can they be so white?

  I shake my head, trying to clear it and form a rational thought. Something is wrong, isn’t it? Who is this good-looking guy staring at me? Why is he in my bed? I become more aware of the way our bodies fit together as I look into those crazy blue eyes, and squeeze my own shut. No! He’s the enemy, he threatened Jacob! I try to push at him, to get him off me but find I can’t even lift my arms now.

  “Shhh, Alex. Don’t fight it. Just go to sleep.” He’s whispering in my ear again. I wish he would stop that. It’s confusing me. Am I dreaming? I hear Baxter growling now. Scratching at my door.

  The change in the men is immediate. The one with the syringe walks quickly over to my window and I can see in the moonlight that it’s open, the screen removed. Someone else is standing outside of it. The weight on me disappears and I gratefully take a huge breath, sighing at the same time. I feel myself being lifted effortlessly, and the last thing I remember are those eyes looking down at me, then darkness.

  ***

  There is a distant hum that at first seems relaxing, flowing along with me on this current of sleep that doesn’t seem to want to let me go. After a while - I have no idea how long - it starts to get more annoying. Just as I feel like I am going to slip into the quiet blackness, the noise gets my attention again and keeps pulling me back. I finally become more aware to the point that I want to know what it is.

  I find that I can open my eyes if I try. The blinding white light of the room is painful, so I squint instead. All I can see is what is directly in front of me, which happens to be a rough looking cot on a concrete floor. The rest of my brain starts to catch up, and the horrific scene from last night surfaces to my consciousness. Whimpering, I force my eyes open the rest of the way, not caring about the pain it causes me. My heart rate doubles and my breathing becomes ragged as my survival instinct takes over and dumps adrenaline into my system. My head begins to pound in response, adding to my discomfort, but I look around wildly, trying to take it all in. I have to figure out where I am.

  The room is vast, almost like a warehouse. The noise that seemed so loud to me before has faded into the background and I see that it’s coming from the rows of florescent lights hanging high up in the tall ceiling. One is flickering randomly and I am drawn to it, having to will myself to look away as I fight against the remnants of the sedative. There are dozens of empty cots lined up all around me, like a triage unit waiting to receive its victims.

  I try to sit up, but find that I am tied down to the small bed. They are loose, cloth restraints but effective. At least I can scratch my nose, I think to myself as I rub absently at the tickling sensation that won’t go away. Probably from the drugs.

  My movement must have gotten someone’s attention because I can hear them walking briskly across the room towards me. Moments later, an older man dressed in white and holding a clipboard comes to stand next to my bed, looking down at me with a frown.

  “Well. Finally awake, are we?”

  I stare back at him silently, my thoughts still fuzzy. I don’t know this man, but it seems obvious he’s some kind of doctor. Confirming my suspicions, he reaches out and places his fingers on my wrist, checking my pulse. He then shines a light into my already sore eyes and scribbles on his board.

  “Where am I?”

  “Do you feel nauseous?” he asks, ignoring my question.

  I think about it for a moment, not sure at first what my answer is. “I don’t think so. Where am I?”

  Ignoring me again, he simply scratches his head, writes something else and then walks away. I try and turn to see where he goes, but my restraints prevent me from turning over in the bed. I’m becoming more aware by the minute and it isn’t helping my headache. I’m still breathing too fast and I try to control it, closing my eyes. I’ve suffered from claustrophobia in the past so have learned a lot of coping skills, but this is definitely testing my limits.

  As my anxiety starts to win the battle, I begin to pull harder at the straps on my wrists and ankles. I seem to be wearing a small hospital gown and am covered with a thin white sheet. It slides off my legs and falls to the floor, leaving me feeling more exposed, and I struggle even harder. I can’t handle this. I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe!

  “Alex!”

  The stern command snaps me to attention, and I freeze like a mouse in a trap. Trying not to move, I look around for the source of the voice.

  “I’m sorry that our first meeting wasn’t under more…civilized circumstances.” A handsome, older man who looks to be in his late forties walks around into my field of vision. Bending over, he retrieves the sheet and spreads it back over me. “I apologize for the straps, but it’s really quite necessary for now.”

  “Who are you? Where am I?” I demand, struggling again. I’m sure to have bruises, but I could really care less.

  “My name is Nossor Busiri. You are someplace safe. I promise to take care of you, Alex, and soon this will all make sense. You will understand then how it is for the best.”

  I recognize his last name as Egyptian and I pause in my vain attempts at freedom. I look at him more closely. Yes, he definitely looks Egyptian with his dark hair, skin and distinctive features. Except for his eyes; they are the same incredible blue of the man who attacked me last night.

  “Alex. You’re awake.”

  Cringing at the voice, I look to the other side of my bed and confirm who it belongs to. I will never forget his face. He looks a bit younger in the harsh lights, but it is certainly him. He has the same smirk on his face as he did last night when I lay helpless beneath him.

  “You have already met my son, Seth.” Nossor says. They have the same eyes, but other than that, Seth does not look at all Egyptian. With his blonde hair and square jaw, he appears more Swedish than anything else.

  I look away from him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. “Why don’t you go ahead and try to explain it to me now?” I say to Nossor, ignoring his son and all the politeness.

  “Alex dear, you wouldn’t understand yet.” Nossor says, shaking his head. His condescending tone infuriates me and I can feel my face turning red. I know now that he is just toying with me. Like father, like son.

  They are both dressed in the same black uniform-like outfits: black cargo pants and a snug knit long-sleeved black shirt with some sort of insignia stitched over the left breast. I study it closer and see that it is a gold colored, gothic-style letter M with a thin gold circle around it. In tiny print along the inside of the circle, under the M is the word ‘heritage’.

  Well, they obviously belong to the Mudameere, so that answers that question. Doesn’t make me feel any better. I look up at a row of small windows high up on the opposite wall and can see that there is faint sunlight working its way through. It’s probably been no longer than eight hours or so since they took me, I’d guess. I feel horrible thinking of how frantic everyone at home must be by now. I have to find a way bac
k to them.

  “There’s no way to escape from here Alex,” Nossor says confidently, seeing me studying the windows.

  The Doctor walks up to him, and says something I can’t hear. They both nod in agreement and he comes closer to me, pulling a syringe from the pocket of his white lab coat. I don’t think it’s a sedative this time.

  “You won’t even want to escape in a few days, after you’re feeling better,” the doctor tells me, wiping at my arm with an alcohol wipe. “I think you’re going to appreciate the enhancements we’ve made to the Holocene Virus.” For some reason, I find it amusing that they would bother to clean my arm just to infect me with a virus. A weird, strangled laugh escapes me and I know that I am bordering on hysteria.

  “Don’t worry, Alex. The Docs made a special version just for you.” Seth is squatting down next to my head, back to whispering in my ear.

  “NO!” I scream, writhing on the cot, the sheet hitting the floor again. Holding down my left wrist, the doctor lines the needle up with my vein. “Don’t do it! God please, please don’t do it! Just tell me what you want. You don’t have to change me!” Seth silently holds my shoulders down and I feel the sting of the injection.

  The task accomplished, the doctor steps back and Seth lets me go. My vein burns as the virus works its way up my arm. It’s too much. Wailing now, I reach across with my right arm and just able to reach it, claw at the vein.

  “Get it out!” I moan, my voice hoarse and hardly recognizable. “Get it out!” Long red tracks appear down my arm as I successfully scratch my skin.

  “Sedate her!” Nossor demands. Seth is quick to grab my arms and hold me down again, but I’m not done. I’m like a wild animal caught in a trap, hissing and snapping at his face. When I can’t reach him, I spit the saliva that I have left and find my mark. The fury he directs at me is almost enough to get through to me. Almost.

  “Sedate her before I choke her!” Seth yells, and I know he means it.

  My head starts to swim again and I know the doctor has managed to give me another shot. I recognize the effects and almost welcome the peace it brings me.