by M. G. Harris
It’s the craziest scene, straight out of a Mexican soap opera. Everybody dressed up to the nines and wearing fancy cologne. I can hardly believe that these are the same people who lined the underground streets of Ek Naab a few months ago in their traditional dress and watched me go to be installed as the Bakab Ix.
My mum looks amazing. She’s getting good at being the grieving widow. She and Susannah really stand out with their fair hair under the black mantillas. In front of all these strangers from Ek Naab, Mum is elegant and charming. Not a tear in sight.
Susannah is calm the whole time. I don’t expect her to be moved – she didn’t know my dad, after all. What’s a bit odd is that she also seems perfectly at home in these surroundings. I’ve never met anyone who could take so much weirdness in their stride. Nothing fazes her.
The priest – a woman – even wears robes of liturgical purple. All a bit bizarre. My mum doesn’t say anything, but I’m sure I notice her pursing her lips.
Inside, the church is crammed with hibiscus flowers. Pride of place in the church goes to a statue of the Virgin Mary. Statues of saints line the pews. Candles burn in hanging chandeliers. Dad’s coffin, draped in white, stands in front of the altar.
The service is in Latin, sung by the priest and two robed attendants, who stand with their backs to the congregation for most of the time. A choir chimes in with music which sounds just like the kind of thing you hear in the chapel of an Oxford college. I have to watch everyone else to know when to stand, sit or kneel. It’s obvious to me that at least half the people there are as clueless as I am. Carlos Montoyo stands on the other side of my mother. I’m between Mum and Ixchel. I find myself wondering about Montoyo. Does he have a family? Does he do anything, apart from quietly run Ek Naab?
I’m strangely disoriented. The whole experience is so odd, it’s hard to believe this is actually happening. I seem to go through everything on automatic pilot. Sit, stand, kneel, listen to prayers; what is it all for? How can the guy in the coffin really be my dad? How can the choir be singing a mass straight out of sixteenth-century Spain? I feel like I’m existing in the past and in the present; in Mexico, Spain and Oxford, all at the same time.
The priest talks about redemption. Whatever my father ever did wrong in his life, she reckons, his sacrifice at the end will redeem everything. He’s a hero in everyone’s eyes. I wonder why no one blames me, but they don’t.
As we process out of the church, the choir, high in their stalls at the back of the church, throws hibiscus petals over the coffin. Falling on the simple white coffin drapings, they look like drops of blood against snow.
Outside, the sky is flat and grey like a beach pebble. High above the clouds, the air stirs, preparing for a storm. We bury my father on the slope of the nearby hill, in the shade of a tree. It feels like reaching the end of a very, very long day.
As I watch the coffin being lowered into the ground, I clasp my hands together hard, to stop them shaking. It doesn’t work. Ixchel moves closer to me, her fingers reaching for mine. Her hand is small and hot. She’s trembling too.
At the touch of Ixchel’s hand, my mind flicks back to the memory of my dad in his hut on the slopes of the volcano, listening to Miles Davis on his iPod whilst Ixchel made the tea. How his eyes filled up with tears.
I sense Ixchel next to me, our shoulders touching. She turns to me, but I can’t bear to look at her. I blink rapidly; tears sting my eyes as I stare directly ahead. In my chest there’s an almost unbearable ache.
“You’ll get through this, Josh,” Ixchel whispers, and squeezes my hand.
I was desperate to have all my questions answered. . . I never imagined it would end like this. But I guess it has. Now I really do know how my father died . . . he was saving my life.
Meanwhile, pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place; the human race still has an appointment with the superwave in 2012. As to how things will turn out for me and my family . . . I’m still in the dark.
On my wrist, under the sleeve of a crisp white shirt and the suit jacket, the Bracelet of Itzamna fizzes gently against my skin. I find myself focusing on the sensation. It’s as though the Bracelet were communicating with me:
This isn’t over.
Thank you for reading ICE SHOCK (The Joshua Files #2)
If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon!
Please visit themgharris.com for updates about new books by MG.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank good friends and expert consultants: Reba Bandyopadhyay for astrophysics, Kate Salesse for forensic science and Barry Clarke for codes and ciphers.
Thanks also to all the wonderful team at Scholastic, especially my editors, Elv Moody and Jessica White, and publicists, Alyx Price and Camilla Allen.
Also to my agent, Peter Cox, for a truly brilliant suggestion and steadfast enthusiasm. Finally to my husband, David, and daughters for their support and patience… It’s not easy keeping Joshua’s secrets…
First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd., 2009
This electronic edition published in 2014 by Darkwater Books
An imprint of Harris Oxford Limited.
41 Cornmarket Street, Oxford, OX1 3HA
Text copyright © M. G. Harris, 2009
The right of M. G. Harris to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her.
eISBN 978-1-909072-06-0
A CIP catalogue record for this work is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical or otherwise, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express prior written permission of Harris Oxford Limited.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Gareth Stranks
www.themgharris.com
Contents
Beginning
From: Ixchel
BLOG ENTRY: SLEEPING IN A CITY THAT NEVER WAKES UP
BLOG ENTRY: BLUE-EYED BOY
BLOG ENTRY: BLINDED BY NOSTALGIA
Acknowledgements
Zero Moment Copyright Page
About MG Harris
The Descendant Alternate Reality Game
The Joshua Files on the Internet
Praise for The Joshua Files
For Ana-Elena, Kizzie, Deborah and Alison,
in memory of wonderful days in Brazil.
I would like to swim against the stream of time.
Italo Calvino
‘Ek Naab’ Map design by Megan Evans from Birmingham, winner of the Joshua Files “Design a Map” competition
DNA scientist found dead in Middle East yacht mystery
DOHA, QATAR The body of Cambridge professor and biotech entrepreneur Melissa DiCanio was discovered earlier today by fishermen in a yacht off the coast of Doha, Qatar. The boat was abandoned and had floated into the Persian Gulf.
DiCanio had been missing since the middle of January. The cause of death has not been released.
CCTV footage from Doha Harbour has helped police to make an arrest. Three men were photographed at the site, and one has been arrested – Simon Madison, who is also wanted by the FBI and CIA as a suspected terrorist.
Authorities intend to bring Madison to the United States of America. It is believed he will be charged with a number of offences.
Doha police were unable to comment as to the possibl
e motive for the murder.
A spokesman for the FBI said, “We’ve been after Madison for a long time. This is an important and rather satisfying arrest.”
DiCanio was born in Houston, Texas. She began her career at Baylor College of Medicine before moving to Oxford University in 1997 as a visiting professor at Aquinas College.
In 1999 she co-founded the pharmaceutical company Chaldexx BioPharmaceuticals, a privately held company which developed and markets the drug Tripoxan, with annual sales of US$50m.
In 2005 DiCanio was awarded the Chaldexx Chair of Molecular Genetic Neuroscience at Cambridge University. DiCanio divided her time between her university research group and her post as Chief Scientific Officer at Chaldexx BioPharmaceuticals, based in Interlaken, Switzerland.
Dr Marcus Anthony, Master of Aquinas College, Oxford, said, “Melissa was a brilliant scientist, a true innovator. It was an honour to know her during her time at Aquinas College. She will be sorely missed.”
From: Ixchel
To: MariposaJosh
Subject: Hey there, Mister Promise-I’ll-Write...
Josh!
You said you’d write but you haven’t. What’s going on with you? Benicio tells me a few things about his life there in Oxford with you.
But it’s not the same as hearing it from YOU.
How is Oxford? Your friend Tyler? Your mother?
I visit your father’s grave every week, just the way I promised. The sun shines on him for many hours here. I enjoy my visits. I don’t forget anything that happened. I’m there with him, for you.
Come on, write me a little message. And what happened about your blog?
You’ve gone pretty quiet, Josh. Should I be worried?
I have some important news for you. It’s about the strange inscription on the Adaptor, in case you’re still interested. . .
Your friend always,
Ixchel
De: Ixchel
Para: MariposaJosh
Asunto: Re: Hey there, Mister Promise-I’ll-Write...
Hey Ixchel,
Yeah . . . it’s been a while. I’ve just not been on the computer much. Benicio keeps me busy . . . I’m not sure how, but we seem to hang out quite a bit. Which is cool, you know? All the girls at school want to know about this college-student cousin of mine. Tyler and me, we’ve been training hard for a capoeira thing in Brazil.We’re leaving in a couple of weeks.
It’s like . . . finally I’m starting to have a life again. A normal life, I mean. I try not to think about what happened, but when things go quiet, when I’m alone, I can’t stop thinking about. . .Well, you know. I try to be out all the time doing stuff. I try not to think. Kind of hard to talk about it, really. I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.
So I’m not sure I want to know about any “strange inscription”.
It was nice to hear from you, I mean that.
Josh
To: Josh Garcia
From: Ixchel
Subject: Something I really think you’ll want to know about
Importance: High
Josh,
But you’re talking to someone about this, yes? It’s no good to keep such strong, hard feelings inside.You have Benicio and Tyler and your mother. Do you talk to them?
About the inscription on the Adaptor – we found something that I think you WILL want to know. I don’t want to write details in an email; you never can be sure where it will finish up.
I think YOU should know because . . .well, because of the You Know What. (I’m guessing we have to call it something like this?)
We need a more secure way to communicate than email. Do you know anything about that?
A hug,
Ixchel
De: Ixchel
Para: MariposaJosh
Asunto: Re: Something I really think you’ll want to know about Importancia: Alta
Hey Ixchel,
Wow . . . I wasn’t expecting this. I don’t know what to say. Of course I’m interested in anything new about the You Know What. But on the other hand, maybe I should let sleeping dogs lie, right?
Things have settled down for me since then. I’m in a proper routine here: I get up at six-thirty and go to the gym with Ty.We mark each other – he’s bigger and stronger than me, so he does more reps and heavier weights than me but I’m gaining on him. This is every day. It wasn’t my idea to be like a maniac but Ty is obsessed, OBSESSED with winning a medal at the World Capoeira Championships next month and he wants to be WELL buff. But after about a month I started to notice that I was starting to get pretty ripped too. I’ve got these biceps and shoulder muscles now and even a six-pack! Not like Ty, obviously, but he had one to start with. So I’m not going to stop now – I’ll turn back into a flabby shrimp.
Then we train for a bit. Not fighting, just the moves. Handstands, backflips, cartwheels without hands. So we can start our capoeira routine with something really awesome. I can hold a handstand for ninety seconds. That’s freestanding. Then we go to school, then home and after a snack and some Xbox, we’re back to the training.
We meet every single day.We only call each other by our apelidos – capoeira nicknames.We’re getting so good now; we’re faster and faster. People stand around and watch us. Benicio usually turns up too – doing his job, keeping an eye on me.
I’ll tell you straight – I don’t like remembering what happened on that mountain. Don’t even want to think about it. Because every time I do I feel sick, sick in my guts. I can feel that rope tightening around me again, all my internal organs being squeezed like it’s going to slice me in two. I think about the moment when my dad cut the rope. Over and over again. The rope going slack. Him falling without making a sound. His last words – “This isn’t over.”
And why did it happen; why did I go up that mountain? Who is – or was – Arcadio? How did he know so much about me? Why did I listen to him – why did I let him lead me to Mount Orizaba?
I used to have this dream, last year, about my dad. Maybe I told you? I can’t remember if I did or not. In the dream, Dad wasn’t really dead. Him and Mum, they’d been pretending, keeping things from me. Pretty crazy, right? It made me sad, but at least it was like seeing Dad, like being with him again. Then I did see Dad – for real.
That’s when it all went to pieces.
I mean, was it all meant to happen? I don’t know anything any more.
I don’t like these questions. It’s enough to drive you crazy.
So . . . let me think about it some more, before I decide whether I want to start with this stuff again. OK?
Hugs,
Josh
To: Josh Garcia
From: Ixchel
Subject: reps? ripped? buff??
Josh,
It’s good that you’ve found something to take your mind off the painful memories.You seem very focused on the capoeira, but I don’t really know what you are talking about when you write “reps” and “buff” and “six-pack” and “ripped”. Something to do with getting muscles, yes? That’s good too – you told me that you were going to get stronger so you could protect yourself and your mother.
But the world keeps turning, doesn’t it? We’re still here in Ek Naab and everything is going to happen in 2012 exactly the way it is written. The galactic superwave – all the computers in the world are going to be wiped, the end of civilization. Unless we can stop it, using all the information in the codex you found, the Book of Ix. No wonder no one in Ek Naab really thinks about anything but our job now – solving the 2012 problem.
What I’ve learned about the inscription – it isn’t just about the You Know What. There is also a link with the 2012 problem.
This is a big deal in Ek Naab. I can sense it in the air. It’s the usual thing, Josh. People talking in hushed voices
. Don’t-tell-that-I-said-this-but . . . is how every sentence starts. The only person who has all the information is . . . we both know who I’m talking about.