by Douglas Falk
“Deus ex machina? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about a literal divine intervention—the grandest false flag operation ever orchestrated. I am talking of their staged alien invasion.”
“Alien invasion?”
“Yes, and if they pull that off before the veil is lifted to the world, then all is lost, John. All will be lost. I’m not joking.” William appeared to be trembling.
John rose from the couch and waltzed around nervously. “I still don’t understand.”
“Okay, let me lay the groundwork for you. The CliffNotes, yes. Where to start? We have been programmed to expect an impending alien invasion for nearly a hundred years now. It has been foreshadowed in radio, television, novels everywhere. The mainstream media have been pushing it to the forefront, always reminding us of who else is out there in this vast universe of ours. And it has been most successful. If you were to ask anyone, regardless of their age, gender, or ethnicity, an astounding number of them would answer in a resounding yes to one particular question.”
“And which question is that?”
“Are aliens real?”
I would have answered yes to that question only a month ago. If there really are a septillion of Earth-like planets out there and an infinite amount of galaxies, nebulas, and stars, then there really is no statistical reason to assume that Planet Earth is the only habitable place for humanlike species. But seeing as I’m not sure if we are on a planet anymore…
“And you are guessing that the powers that be are using this knowledge to their advantage? That their fake alien attack would be believed by all, and that it would unite all mankind and rally under the banner of a One World Government?”
“Yes. Something along those lines. Ronald Reagan kept hammering home this very point in many of his speeches during his presidency back in the eighties: the fact that there would be no event more effective to end our petty squabbles if we were under siege from something out of this world, an outer planetary invasion.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Well, now you do know. And there’s something else I want to dovetail back to while we are talking about this. Wernher von Braun…do you know what his last dying words were to his wife?”
“I have no idea.”
“He said…” William coughed and cleared his throat. “Beware of the fake alien invasion. It’s coming.”
John was sceptical. “How do we know he really said that, though? A final, cryptic Rosebud-like message to the world? That sounds like an urban myth, to tell you the truth.”
“It’s not, John. His wife confirmed it, and those were not just his dying words—towards the end of his life, he talked about this a great deal. His remaining family members all tell the same tale—he spoke of a staged alien invasion that was to come, and he warned them about it. He wanted them to prepare. In light of this, John, do not doubt me for a second. I will see it done, and we will be in Antarctica soon. One way or the other.”
“I shouldn’t have doubted you, or the cause,” he said remorsefully. “We’re in this together.”
“It’s all right, John. It’s all right to suffer through a faltering moment when on the brink of the voyage of a lifetime. A refill of that scotch?”
“I’d love to. Or a White Russian if you would have it in you—”
“White Russian! I’m not The Dude, John. And you are not nearly as cool as his bowling buddies. Besides, we don’t have any Kahlua milk here. Another fine glass of the water of life for you, I think.”
John reluctantly nodded in approval of the prospect. William walked over to the drinks cabinet and unscrewed the Jameson bottle. He filled their two glasses to the brim and handed one back to John. “A toast! To us! To the Admiral Byrd and the Captain James Cook of the twenty-first century. Cheers!” he said and raised his glass.
John chuckled. “Laying it on a bit thick there, are we not? Oh well. Who’s Byrd, and who’s Cook?”
“I’m Byrd, naturally. The Indiana Jones of the fifties. You are far too conservative and old fashioned—therefore, you are Captain Cook. I salute you!”
“Hear, hear,” roared John and took a sip. He put the glass down and looked out over Perth once again through the panoramic windows. His gaze wandered from the city itself by the coast, down to the beach and the sea. Far away over by the horizon, the Sun had nearly set. The ocean bathed in a crimson colour palette, and John allowed himself to dream of the voyage to come. He closed his eyes.
“We are really going to do this. Gosh. We are so close now, yet it still seems so far away. Let the waters roar, Jack…”
“We are,” William said firmly. “Whatever the cost. And I have decided—we are going to seek aid from one of the most influential men in the world. Oscar Milton is his name. Excited?”
10
“What on Earth is that thing?”
Oscar Milton stared at the creature in awe. He had never laid eyes on a creature so obscure looking.
“It’s a wombat, sir. A marsupial.”
“Thank you, Allison. Fascinating creatures!”
Allison Ellsworth reached for her handbag on the floor and started poking around, until she found the item she was looking for. She pulled up the iPad and Googled for quick facts about wombats.
“The wombat is the number one highlight here at Caversham Wildlife Park, sir. Along with the koalas, which are equally as popular. People from all around the world flock to this very spot in order to see a glimpse of them. It’s a pilgrimage of sorts. They are most beloved,” she said and cleared her throat. “Oh, and the word wombat comes from the language of the Aboriginals.”
“Interesting, interesting. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have the time for an Oriental language crash course today.”
Oscar turned around from the wombat enclosure and took his beige cap off his head. He looked up to the sky. There was not a cloud in sight, and he felt as if the Sun was soon to burn his skin to a crisp. He stroked his long sweat-dripping beard and donned the cap again.
“I guess this is how it would feel like being thrown into a furnace. What’s the time, Allison?”
“Noon. 12:03 to be precise.”
“It’s been that long? Christ. We better head back. The convention starts at two. I can’t strut right into the convention looking as if I just came back from a tour in Amazonas where I had to machete myself forward for three weeks straight. I need a shower. I would gladly have spent more time here wandering amongst the koalas, penguins, and the rest of the exotic animals, but I am needed elsewhere.”
They walked out of the zoo through the main entry gate, and Allison phoned for a taxi, which arrived almost immediately.
“Peppers Kings Square Hotel. It’s on Wellington Street,” said Oscar.
“I know the way,” said the driver calmly and drove away from the zoo.
Left-side traffic. I’ve been here for five weeks, but I still can’t get the hang of this thing. And before that, Indonesia a whole week. My learning curve is steep indeed. I’m getting old.
As he let is mind wander off to the convention, his skin began to crawl at the thought of the speech he had to give. All of a sudden, the iPhone in his pocket buzzed.
William! And he’s calling me from…Australia? William’s here? A technical malfunction, no doubt. My son’s back home in Sweden, en route to Ystad.
“William! There’s something off with my phone. It says that you are ringing me from hereabouts, down under!”
“Your phone is telling it true. There is no bug or malfunction, I can tell you. I am here, Dad. In Australia…Perth. And I need your help.”
Allison noticed that her boss was in a state of complete bewilderment and confusion from whatever the caller had said to him.
“But, what are you doing here? Did you lie? Did you lie to your mother?”
The other line was dead silent for a long moment, until he spoke. “Yes. I lied about Ystad.”
“Why would you do that? And why in the na
me of God are you here, and in which part of the city are you now?”
“It’s a complicated affair. I, I mean we, are at the Treasury on Cathedral Avenue. I’m here with my friend John Wilander, a friend from class. Can we meet today?”
“You’ve lured a fellow classmate to accompany you down to Australia?! And he’s also supposed to be in Ystad, I presume?”
“That is true.”
“What in the love of Christ are you up to?” Oscar screamed in fury. William did not reply. “We will meet all right. Now.” He hung up the phone and coughed.
“Driver. Forget Wellington Street. Drive straight to the Treasury on Cathedral Avenue…and step on it.”
11
“John, repeat the plan out loud for me. Please.”
William turned away from the panoramic window in the suite and looked straight into his eyes, still sitting in the couch sipping on Jameson. “Repeat it to me. What will we tell him? What’s our pitch?”
“We are heading to the South Pole. It’s a destination we’ve dreamt of going to for a long time. Once we reach the Pole, we turn right back again, and eventually we will fly back to Stockholm once we’ve returned to Australia safe and sound. There and back, nice and easy in a couple of weeks. Slam, bam, wham. Easy. A couple of weeks—tops.”
“Good. If he only knew that we may never return…”
“He wouldn’t believe us even if we told him,” said John.
“And thank heavens for that. And what is it that we need?”
“A vessel capable enough to reach the Antarctic coastline, and a few good men on board. And resources—lots of them. State-of-the-art tech, medical kits, repair tools, food, water, the works. And what did we conclude about the Snowcats? I can’t remember.”
“Snowcats! Snowcats, John? Never mind how bulky they are, how are we going to refuel them? There’s no gas station down there in the white, empty void. Even if we were to bring portable gas with us and fuel up manually, it won’t last very far. No. We are going to walk and rely as little as possible on vehicles of any kind. Also, our cover story dictates that we are only pursuing this voyage to reach the South Pole—and you don’t need no Snowcat to reach the ceremonial South Pole. Hell, even Amundsen did it a hundred years ago, and he made it the whole way without any motor driven vehicle of the sort! He rode a sled pulled by a pack of polar dogs! Huskies, they were. Might have been Samoyeds. Oh, whatever. My point stands.”
“I suspected as much. I just wanted to throw it out there. It would work…it should, if your father will act in the manner of our liking. The way we think we will act.”
William fondled his round glasses and looked at him with an empty stare. “Who knows?” he said and wandered off and about in the room nervously, for the eleventh time.
Twenty-one stories below, a yellow-tinted Opel Astra cab pulled up by the Treasury Hotel and dropped off two passengers.
“Allison,” said Oscar hurriedly. “I need you to go to the convention in my stead and hold the line for me. I’ll be in touch. All right?”
“If you say so, sir,” said Allison and hopped back into the taxi. She waved the window down and peeked her head out. “I’ll stay there and wait for your return!”
“Thanks plenty. That would be all, Allison!” he cried just as the taxi drove off, and he marched straight into the lobby of the Treasury. Striding forward like an angered bull charging towards a matador in a Madrid bullfight, he resolutely presented himself in front of the reception desk.
“Pardon me,” he told the receptionist. “I am here to visit two fine young gentlemen. Milton and Wilander. Which room?”
“Of course,” said the receptionist and browsed the computer in front of her. “Milton…yes. Penthouse suite, floor 21. Room number 237.”
“Thank you,” he said and undonned his beige cap. He walked with determined steps towards the elevator hall. The elevator doors opened, and he walked in and pressed twenty-one.
John fiddled around nervously with his phone.
How the hell is this going to play out? It’ll be all right. It’s just the angsty part of you freaking out. Pull yourself together, John.
All of a sudden, a noise echoed through the suite. Three loud knocks—and William rushed to the door. He looked through the keyhole and saw to his delight that the expected visitor stood right outside. He opened the door gently and let the man in.
Although William recognised the man as his father beyond any reasonable doubt, he was clad in the most unusual garb. It was not only the rugged clothing that stood out—his father looked worn out in his overall demeanour. Oscar wore a torn-out GANT cap and a dull T-shirt with matching shorts, a dress code that to William screamed run-of-the-mill tourist. His beard was much longer and whiter than he had remembered…longer, and more unkempt. The man before him was a far cry to the successful businessman who appeared in tailor-made suits on the covers of various papers and magazines.
My dad has turned into a scruffy old bear. He looks like Saul Berenson from Homeland!
“Father!” cried William and embraced his senior. They hugged for a mere second until Oscar yanked back and looked feverishly around the suite to get a lay of the land. He spotted John, who had seemed to be hiding behind the cabinet. When John realised that he had been noticed, he stepped out and waved at Oscar with an uncertain gesture.
“William,” he said and looked straight into the eyes of his son with a piercing gaze. “Tell me now, please. What the hell is going on here?”
William smiled nervously. “I will, Dad. Come in.”
Oscar was taken aback by the overblown luxury the two youngsters had decided to wallow in. King-size bed, panoramic view over Perth, sixty-inch Panasonic 3D television, the well-sorted drinks cabinet. Oscar noticed more than one vintage wine inside the cabinet, being a connoisseur himself.
“You people are more well off than I am, it would seem. Good gracious, William.”
John decided it was time to present himself more formally than a half-hearted hand gesture. He reached his hand out to shake Oscar’s. “John Wilander. I’m a classmate of William’s.”
Oscar inspected him from top to toe with a sly look in his eyes. “Yes, so I heard. A pleasure to meet you,” he said and spun right away to William. “All right, enough with this. Tell it all now and tell it true. I want to know why you’ve run off all this way, and why you lied to your mother about it.”
“Fair enough,” said William and asked him to take a seat in the couch.
“Perth is not the final destination for John and I. We are pointed towards Antarctica, Father—the South Pole to be more precise. It would be a major milestone for the both of us; going to the utmost southern extremity would be a huge achievement for us, something to put on the resumé, so to speak. I know this is crazy and it must seem like it came out of nowhere, but we really do want to travel there. We’ve been planning this for quite some time. We didn’t want to tell anyone. It would just raise eyebrows and cause needless worry for our near and dear.”
William looked at John, who nodded approvingly.
Oscar was bewildered. “So, you’ve gone and gotten yourself some kind of…wanderlust? Did you have an epiphany one morning? Because I can’t recall you ever talking of going off to the South Pole, nor any other exotic landmark of the sort. What brings you to the world’s end?”
John chuckled internally over how Oscar was blissfully unaware of the irony in what he just said.
“Wanderlust,” said William. “Yes…something like that, I suppose. The bottom line is that this is something we really want to do. And we ask of you, if you would be so kind, to provide us something that we need to pursue this voyage.”
“And what would that something be?
“A ship and a loyal crew. To accompany us all the way. From sea to land.”
William couldn’t tell if Oscar deeply pondered his call for help, or if the man was just tired. He was slouched in a strange position on the couch, and his eyes looked weary. At last, he spok
e. “I don’t want you to head down there. It’s dangerous, and you have zero experience in traversing vast swaths of uninhabitable land. Nor have you ever faced a climate so harsh, to my knowledge. I’ve never been to Antarctica myself, but I know enough to make the judgement call that it would be a risky business indeed.”
He paused for a while and drew breath. “That all said, you are a grown man now, and you can do as you please. You’re mature enough to make your own decisions in life, and I won’t stop you. In fact, I am somewhat enthralled that you have decided to do something so ambitious. You’ve wasted quite a few years of your life just sitting about in your comfort zone, if I say so myself. No offence.”
“None taken,” said William and raised his arms up in surrender.
“Good. What I am trying to say is that while I think this might turn out to be an unwise endeavour when all is said and done, I am proud of you for trying. It might make a man out of you. I will back the both of you and will provide you with what you need…on one condition. You will tell me in exact detail, right down to the last inch of your plan, and how this is going to work. After that, I will back you.”
William looked nervously at John, drew a deep breath, and started talking.
12
They were both in awe of the towering giant of a vessel ahead of them. The cruise ship Savannah was anchored no more than ten feet away from them, and John wanted to board her right away. As the waves crashed in to the side of the unrelenting titan of a ship, John reached for his gloves in his trench coat pocket. It was a cloudy day, and the wind was blowing through the harbour mercilessly.