Paradeisia: The Complete Trilogy: Origin of Paradise, Violation of Paradise, Fall of Paradise

by B. C. CHASE

  As they approached what appeared to be a larger, lobby building, a FlyRail gondola slowed as it sped into an attached station. Gonzales pulled up under a portico, and immediately a man with short, curly hair ran up to the car, opened the back door, and hopped in, scarcely giving Gonzales time to come to a complete stop. As they sped away, the man smiled and offered a hand to Henry, “Hey, man! I’m George! Never thought I’d be riding a transport with the big man himself!”

  “I understand you’re the man who switched off the power to the villa and saved our lives. I do thank you,” Henry said, shaking his hand.

  “No problem, man! Now I think you be returning the favor. Does this luxury vehicle be having a radio? Where are the tunes, man, where are the tunes?” George leaned forward and fiddled with a touch screen until the speakers were blaring Soca music.

  As they drove along, Gonzales glanced at Henry and said, “Do you want to try to retake the island, sir?”

  “I somewhat doubt we can,” Henry said grimly. “Not unless we have an army. Any idea about this place that could shed light on what they are after?”

  “Jinkins hired me after the portal was finished, I think because there were some events that made him very worried. He wanted to build up a competent security force, fast. He had backed out of several major projects he had going on down there. Everyone was very tight-lipped about it, I couldn’t get any answers about what really happened.”

  “Who might know?”

  “There are very few people left from the early days.” He paused, then said, “I think Doctor Kaufmann and Doctor Pearce were here then. But they went down the portal on the expedition you sent.”

  “Seems I sent everyone with any value at all down the portal.” Henry grumbled. He looked apologetically at Gonzales, “Present Company excepted, of course.”

  They rode in silence for a time. Then Henry said, “So you have military experience, and yet you didn’t volunteer to go down the portal when I was looking for a team?”

  Gonzales looked ashamed. Then he said, “I won’t ever hold a gun again. Just isn’t happening.” He looked at Henry and firmly asserted, “But I’m not a coward.” Then he said, “Where should we go?”

  “Let’s make sure Lady Shrewsbury is safe. You should assemble your security team?”

  “What security team?” Gonzales laughed. “They had all been apprehended by the army, last I checked.”

  “Do they have munitions?”

  “They carry nonlethal armaments. Rubber bullets, Tazers, things like that. So if you’re thinking we could raid my stockpile, it wouldn’t be of any use.”

  Henry shot him an inquisitive look. “You mean to tell me there aren’t any guns on this island?”

  “Jinkins demanded it. It was an absolute rule of his. No weapons of any kind. But I know Adriaan Holt kept a collection from his professional hunting days in Tanzania. They would be in his suite in Out of Africa.”

  “He was with the team who went down the shaft, too, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Bugger. Well, given the circumstances, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind us raiding his stockpile.”

  Paradeisia West Maintenance Road

  The road twisted through the thick vegetation, the sounds of frog calls loud on either side. As Gonzales careened around a bend, one of the tires crunched a frog. He said, “It’s mating season. It’s like this every year—a plague.”

  Henry winced, “I hope the hotel windows are thick in this area. That would be difficult to sleep through.”

  “I guess it won’t really matter now.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  Henry noticed a small bird flying outside his window. It seemed odd for the thing to be out there flapping away in the middle of the night keeping pace with the car. He looked at it closely and realized that it was no ordinary bird. Its head was a small bubble with a pivoting camera inside, and it was airborne by virtue of a propeller in the front. Its wings flapped, but they seemed to serve to steer it right or left. Henry nodded to the bird, saying, “We are being watched.”

  Gonzales acted quickly, veering the Land Rover over to collide with the tiny drone, which careened off and smacked through the leaves of a ficus. Gonzales slammed on the brakes. “Let’s make sure it’s dead.” He, Henry, and George jumped out and searched among the brush. Henry heard a rustling and spotted some leaf litter moving. Gonzales immediately stomped on it repeatedly until it didn’t move anymore. He said, “We shouldn’t risk driving in the open more than we have to. We’ll have to take a detour at The Congo.”

  Back in the vehicle, Gonzales said, “They had to build a drainage tunnel because this area kept flooding during the rainy season. Ended up costing a fortune, but it works. It empties onto the Out of Africa plain.”

  “The developers paid for it?”

  Gonzales shook his head, “Not sure. All I know is it became a major point of contention. Regardless, we have to get rid of this car. They know we were driving it.”

  Henry said, “Agreed, but one thing you may not do, sir. You may not call a Land Rover a ‘car.’ It is a Land Rover and nothing else.”

  The Land Rover dropped off the edge of a cliff where the road curved. It freefell down until it hit an outcrop, then tumbled end over end to land at the bottom in a pile of wreckage. The soca music echoed off the rocks even in its mutilated state.

  Henry, George, and Gonzales were peering over the edge of the cliff. George smiled, “Would you call it a Land Rover now?”

  “Certainly. Gently used,” Henry replied.

  The Congo Hotel’s giant glass fractal dome rose up from among the trees, creating a dramatic contrast of architectural sophistication against natural beauty.

  Gonzales led Henry and George to a side door built into the concrete foundation. A fingerprint reader gained them access. Inside, they walked down a utilitarian hallway which culminated in an entrance to the glass dome.

  Henry was surprised to hear the sound of giggling. Some children were splashing one another as they floated by on inflatable tubes in a steaming waterway surrounded by lush greenery. Beyond that was a sculpted mountain with glowing streams of simulated lava. Gonzales led the way down a carpet-covered trail edged by tropical foliage. As they reached a junction where another trail crossed the path, a bellboy passed in front of them, pushing a suitcase cart. Henry commented, “Looks like everything’s functioning smoothly.”

  “If they are planning on keeping everyone here in quarantine, who is going to feed them?”

  “That is an excellent question, and apparently one about which the vice president wanted no input from me.”

  “This way,” Gonzales said, turning down a path toward the looming form of the volcano. At its base was a busy plaza with wood-and-rope fences that edged a brightly illuminated waterway into which a trickling waterfall fell from the rocks of the volcano. Gonzales crossed the waterway to large, cave-like openings topped by rustic signs:

  CINEMA

  DIAMOND PLAZA

  GORILLA GRILL

  They crossed the bridge to the AMETHYST PLAZA. The carpeting gave way to a polished, translucent gemstone-like surface of purple. Randomly placed lights in the floor illuminated at intervals. A short hallway with walls and ceiling of jagged crystal that shone from within, sometimes forming images advertising various luxuries, opened up into a cavernous space lined with high-end retailers. From the ceiling hung enormous quartz formations.

  Gonzales charged on toward a small door at the far side of the cave. He opened it, displaying a large storage room with a dozen Segways. “These should help us get where we’re going. When we go down the tunnel, we’ll just have to hope the rain doesn’t start up again.”

  The Segways’ headlights illuminated the interior of the seemingly endless round tunnel twelve feet in diameter with a surprisingly steep slope. A small stream of water flowed at the lowest point. The air was damp and musty, and there was moss growing in patches. Sometimes it got slippery and Henry worr
ied his Segway would careen out of control. The slope leveled in some spots, but for the most part it had been downhill.

  From up the tunnel, there was a sudden low rumbling sound. Gonzales said, “Uh oh. That can’t be good. I hope they haven’t found us.”

  It almost sounded like vehicle traffic. The tunnel was certainly wide enough for cars. But as the sound became louder, it transformed from a rumble to an ear-splitting roar. The air became thicker and the stream gradually grew in volume. Henry, George, and Gonzales moved their Segways toward the sides to make way for the water. But it only increased until, suddenly, there was a turbulent thunder from behind and Henry looked back just in time to see a wall of water rushing toward them with tremendous speed. Before they could react, it was upon them and Henry’s Segway was ripped out from under him. He briefly saw Gonzales disappearing in the avalanche as Henry himself was swept away, his body pounded as if he was being buried by a thousand sand bags. In the chaos, he was surprised to find his head bobbing up over a surface of fierce rapids. He took a breath, the ceiling merely two feet above his head passing by at what looked like a hundred miles an hour.

  “Mr. Potter!” Gonzales shouted, his voice nearly lost to the clamor. Henry looked toward the sound to see that ahead the tunnel ended in gray moonlight which illuminated vapor clouds that rose into the air. Gonzales shot out of the tunnel, disappearing under the edge of the water, and Henry tensed as he felt a powerful current rapidly sucking him to the drop off. As he toppled over, he held his breath and scrunched his eyes shut. His gut rose to his chest with the sensation of falling. Then the heavy water seemed to punch him to a pulp as he landed at the bottom. He made sweeping breast strokes and kicked furiously to free himself from the power of the cascade. There was a torrential downpour, so even though he was out of the waterfall, water was still dripping on his face. Once he was some distance away, he looked around and saw that they were in a large lake. He shouted, “Marco?”

  “Over here,” Gonzales’ voice replied. Gonzales and George were swimming away, toward the edge. Henry followed, surprised by how difficult it was to swim with all his clothes on. He would have kicked off his shoes, but he was certain he would need them, so instead he collected them with his hands and tried to use them as paddles. His foot struck the bottom, and before long he was able to walk along it. They approached the tree-lined shore, slimy algae rippling on the surface. As they dragged themselves out and trudged onto ground, Henry, panting heavily, said, “Did you know the tunnel ended?”

  “Yeah. Figured we’d ditch the Segways and jump into the lake.”

  Henry emptied his shoes of water as he said, “You’ve got some bullocks. That was a very high jump.”

  “Fewer than a hundred feet. Not tall enough to kill a man. We’re lucky the water didn’t kill—” Gonzales was interrupted by a loud roar, then two snarling growls together.

  “That’s the tigers,” Gonzales said. “They’re fighting.”

  Henry stopped putting on his shoe, said, “We have tigers in Out of Africa?”

  “They’re here temporarily until their habitat is finished at the India Explorer section.”

  “And what was your plan to deal with them?”

  “Don’t worry about them, sir,” Gonzales said with assurance.

  The rain lessened to a cold drizzle, ensuring that their clammy clothes would not dry. As they walked through the jungle, sounds of the fighting tigers drew nearer. Until they stopped.

  Gonzales said, “They know we’re in here.”

  “I’d like to avoid them if it’s just the same to you.”

  A bird called from somewhere nearby in the forest. “That bird has probably seen them. Letting us know they’re coming,” Gonzales grinned.

  “How considerate.”

  They marched on. With every step, Henry’s dress shoes made a sucking sound. His feet were freezing. The clouds above the trees turbulently moved by, pockets of moonlight shining between them.

  After they had walked for two miles, there was a sudden growl behind them. Henry spun around to see a tiger standing in a small clearing in the trees. The cat was shockingly huge: eleven feet long at least. Its fierce eyes stared at Henry, but it didn’t move except to swish its tail back and forth with mild interest. Henry was frozen with fear, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Another growl from behind came from the second tiger as it paced into view. Its coat was white with gray stripes.

  “Hello, kitty, kitty, kitty!” George said, extending a hand to the beast.

  “What in the name of all that’s good do you think you’re doing?” Henry intoned.

  The tiger strode toward George, then rubbed up against him as he patted his back. “You didn’t know? ‘Dem not normal tigers. ‘Dem toy tigers.”

  Gonzales said, “He’s right. That’s why I wasn’t concerned about them. They’re genetically modified to be docile. This paddock has all kinds of animals, predators and prey. But nobody gets eaten.” Then, to the cat, he said in a baby voice, “You don’t eat any of the other animals, do you?” The cat purred in response, engulfing his hand with licks from a giant tongue.

  Henry couldn’t help tensing up as the other tiger rushed past him to Gonzales for its share of the attention. Gonzales obliged, saying, “These cats come from a company called Convergent Genetic Science. They specialize in creating zoo animals. Most of the animals in Out of Africa come from Convergent. When you first came, you might have seen them unloading the new lions and the gorilla at the port.”

  “I did see containers that said ‘live cargo.’”

  “That was them.”

  As they walked on, the cats accompanied them, purring and occasionally pushing their weight up against them. As Henry was knocked off his balance by the white tiger, he said, “Their breath is atrocious, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That must be from their vegetarian diet.”

  “Probably.”

  As they went along, Henry got the distinct impression that not all of the tigers’ nudges were simple geniality. There seemed to be a purpose in what the tigers were doing.

  Gonzales, trying to lead the way to the left, was suddenly pushed off his feet. He landed on the soggy ground and looked up at the orange tiger as it stood over him, panting. “That isn’t very nice!” Gonzales scolded as he rose to his feet.

  As he tried to walk around the tiger, it paced back and forth to impede his path. “Out of the way!” Gonzales said, but when he persisted in trying to get around, the tiger stepped forward and butted its head on his chest, knocking him straight back onto his buttocks. “We can’t play right now,” Gonzales insisted firmly. The tiger strode up and gave Gonzales a friendly lick in the face, then purred. Then it gently took Gonzales’ forearm in its mouth.

  And tugged.

  George rushed to Gonzales’ aid, wrapping his arms around the tiger’s neck and pulling, “Bad cat! Let go!” The white tiger quickly grasped George’s shirt with its teeth and pulled. The shirt ripped into two pieces, but the feline kept pulling until George was forced to release the orange tiger. “Watch it! What you doin’ wit your bad self!” he shouted. But the white tiger took George’s hand in its sizeable jaws and pulled him away.

  Henry was noticing that there were bones scattered on the ground when suddenly there was a crack as the tiger clamped down on George’s wrist, blood spurted from its jaws. George screamed. This drew the orange tiger’s attention, and it released Gonzales to trot over to sniff George with interest. Eagerly, it lapped the blood that was trickling down his arm, then sniffed George’s face.

  Henry was frozen in shock. He looked around for anything to use as a weapon. But then the orange tiger was licking up George’s arm, like an aggressive lover, until it began to lap his neck and face. George was whimpering, trying to shelter himself with his arms, but the tiger gently nipped his face, peeling skin away to reveal bloody flesh and bone. George fell backwards, screaming, as the tiger clamped its jaws down on his skull. Then t
hey both lunged upon him and began to feed in a slow, affectionate way.

  Henry backed away, but tripped as his foot landed on something round. It was a skull topping a skeleton. A lanyard was around the neck with an ID tag. Blood was smeared on it, but he could make out the letters

  PAR IA

  FICI TOR

  ERS AS

  He felt a tap on his arm and jumped. It was Gonzales, motioning away toward the trees. As he led the way, Henry dutifully followed him, unable to stop himself from stealing a look back at the scene of carnage as they slipped into the darkness.

  Once they were far enough away that Henry was certain they couldn’t be heard, he whispered, “They’ve been killing for some time. There were bones all over the place. I saw an ID tag. Could that be the answer to some of the disappearances of people on the island?”

  Gonzales shook his head, “Only the handlers would have come into the paddock, and none of them had vanished.”

  “Did you say the new lions came from the same company as the tigers?”

  “Yes.”

  “And are they in this paddock as well?”

  “Almost all the Out of Africa animals are in this paddock. It’s supposed to be a genuine savannah.”

  “Well I’d say it’s a little more genuine than Jinkins intended.”

  “Adriaan told me he never wanted the animals from CGS. He didn’t like them, said they were soulless.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud snarling from the direction of the tigers.

  Henry said, low, “I think it’s time we run, eh?”