by B. C. CHASE
Gonzales slipped and fell, desperately grasping for something to hold as he slid backwards. He disappeared from Henry and Lady Shrewsbury’s sight as the vessel reached a sixty-degree angle. Then, after a moment, the boat splashed back down into the water. Gonzales was drug off the back, clawing for grip, his scream gurgling into silence as the water closed over his face. The killer whale’s fin slinked backwards under the surface, but its glowing red spots above its eyes were visible as it quickly swam deeper and out toward the cave exit.
The remaining whales circled near the dock, sometimes turning their heads to eye Henry and Lady Shrewsbury who backed away between the cylinders searching for safety. Henry was alarmed to discover that the dock was not connected to the cave wall on the other side. On any side, in fact. It was simply a ten by ten foot square, and as one of the smaller whales breached onto the side, it pitched alarmingly. The whale quickly slipped off, seemingly frustrated by the obvious obstacle of the cylinders.
Only then did Henry notice the yellow warning stickers on the tubes. DANGER: EXPLOSIVES. The sticker was repeated in various languages. “What the devil?” he said. Suddenly, there was a rumble from the diamond plate floor.
The dock began to move.
A wake formed in the water behind the now-mobile dock from propellers concealed underneath. “This isn’t a dock at all,” Henry said.
“That begs the question,” said Lady Shrewsbury, “what is it?”
“Well, there are explosives in these cylinders. So it doesn’t take a giant leap of imagination to assume this is a fireworks launch.”
The mobile dock made its way out of the cave, trailed by the vigilant orcas, surfacing to spraying and expose their ominous black fins. Once they were back out in the open, the mobile dock traversed the water at remarkable speed, heading for a bay lined with lamp-lit walkways and hotels. One of the buildings had a large sign which read, “Poseidon’s Platter.” There were people milling about everywhere.
The lamps suddenly extinguished and a bold voice with an anonymous accent echoed over the bay, “Tale of Atlantis is not for the fainthearted or those with closed minds. It is a tale of mystery and enigma beyond time or dimension. So join us as we share with you this little bedtime story.”
“For the love of peace, it’s a show,” Henry said. “We’re in a bloody show!”
“That language isn’t helping our situation,” Lady Shrewsbury warned.
“Well it doesn’t bloody well hurt, either,” Henry retorted.
From near the shore, a man rose up from the surface with a water powered jetpack. A spotlight illuminated him, and giant screens came to life on two islet cliffs on the other side of the bay, showing his face.
And the fireworks launch came to stop directly in the center of it all. The whales now began to peer up at it, as if to assess their options.
The jetpack man said, “Welcome to Atlantis Bay! My name is Skyler and I will be your host tonight.” His jetpack sent him across the length of the shoreline, and all the people stared up at him eagerly as he passed them. “Why me? Well,” he laughed, “Because I’m the one who discovered it. Yeah, you might not believe it, but the real, actual, true, unbelievably 100% verified and certified Atlantis is only forty nautical miles from this island. You can actually go see it for yourself on the Voyage to Atlantis casino cruise. But tonight, you’re going to discover it as I did. My story begins when I met Ignatius Jinkins, the found of Paradeisia. He had heard of my interest in the theories about Atlantis, that it was actual near here, so he invited me to join him for lunch.”
The screens showed Jinkins and Skyler sitting at a café in the FlyRail Hub where the interior waterfall splashed behind them. Henry noticed that Jinkins looked somewhat older than he did in person.
Jinkins said, “So I hear you’ve some interesting theories about Atlantis. You think it’s in the area, and by in the area, I do mean very close, indeed.”
“Yes,” Skyler flattened a giant map, “If you look here, I think it’s forty nautical miles from here, at most.”
“Is that so? And what makes you think that?”
“Well, Atlantis isn’t what anyone thought.”
“No?”
“No, it’s not a lost city that fell into the sea. Not anything like that.”
“You do have intriguing ideas, my lad. What is it, then?”
“Well, first a little explanation. Many of the American Indians believed in sky gods, the seeding of the earth, panspermia. There is some evidence that they met with beings of superior intellect, and tried to imitate them through the elongating of their skulls and so forth.”
Jinkins was nodding indulgently, though a little quizzically.
Skyler was now saying, “A superior technology, superior intellects capable of accessing an entirely different dimension. Beyond our time and space. Imagine, Mr. Jinkins. We are talking about the ability to turn mere thought into reality.”
Jinkins replied with a chuckle, “Well that’s nothing new to me, lad. I’ve always believed in the reality of imagination. The mind is a fruitful womb indeed. It all starts up here,” he tapped his head. “One thought is all it takes to change the course of history!”
“Well yeah, Mr. Jinkins. But I’m talking about more than that. Have you ever wanted to control your dreams? I mean, for example, have you heard of lucid dreaming?”
“No, I haven’t. Do explain.”
“It’s being aware that you’re dreaming, and controlling the outcome. That’s what I’m talking about, here, only beyond that. I’m talking about beings who recognized that the reality of the mind, or maybe I should say soul, is a truer existence. They built a world, Mr. Jinkins. Atlantis is not a city, not a civilization. It is a world. And it is a world from beyond dimension, created in imagination, and habitable only by those who have the key.”
“And what is the key?”
“Illumination,” Skyler said, folding his arms.
“That sounds quite mystical, but I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“If you unlock your soul from its corporal prison, you can go there.”
An eager smile slowly spread across Jinkin’s face. “Well, lad. I am indeed intrigued.” He paused, stroking the end of his mustache. Then he said, “You’ve got your support. Now when can you start your little expedition to Atlantis?”
The fireworks launch jolted as one of the whales attempted another mount.
Grasping a cylinder for support, Shrewsbury said, “Do you suppose if we wave they might notice us stranded here and stop the show?”
“It’s too dark now. Maybe after the fireworks start they’ll spot us.”
“I fear all they will see by then are our smoldering remains.”
“I fear you could be right,” Henry stated, eyeing the cylinders.
Their fears were suddenly brought to life as music blasted over the bay and a shell blasted from a cylinder, exploding above them in a shower of sparks. Black soot covered them.
“I suppose this means the preshow is over!” Henry shouted.
“Merciful heavens,” Lady Shrewsbury shrieked, another shell shooting up, sparks trailing it as it rose high above the plaza.
Out in the midst of the bay, colossal fountains burst forth, timed to the music and illuminated with lights and lasers. A fountain close to the launch suddenly erupted and released a shower of water which drenched Henry and Lady Shrewsbury.
No sooner than the fountain had stopped than, on one edge of the barge, a fan of twenty-foot sparks began to spray, spreading excruciating heat, while two glittering shells shot up, spiraling around one another as they climbed. Far across the bay was a matching performance on a second barge. Without warning, two killer whales launched themselves onto the opposite side of their own barge. Henry and Lady Shrewsbury clung to the cylinders as their weight inclined the launch.
“They’re working as a team!” Henry cried incredulously.
Suddenly a whale or two must have pushed up from the bottom because the craft c
areened over and splashed into the water upside down. Henry just had time to draw a breath before he was totally submerged. When the bubbles cleared, the gigantic head of a killer whale was right before him.
Staring at him.
The orca slightly opened its mouth and lowered its head. Henry was unable to escape as it gripped his foot and quickly pulled him down into the depths. The powerful rush of water against his body sent him sprawling backwards from its mouth like a lizard in a cat’s jaws. The orca swam quickly, its powerful tail making dramatic strokes to propel him away from the surface. He saw Lady Shrewsbury above him suffering the same fate, her foot in the clutches of a smaller whale’s mouth. They were powerless, being towed deep into the water. Henry watched helplessly as the undulating ocean surface retreated at a breakneck pace.
Atlantis Bay
As the whale speedily descended, it suddenly dawned on Henry that he felt no excruciating pain from his foot, though his ankle was hurting from the sheer drag of his body against the water. The whale was not holding him with its teeth, but rather with the tip of its mouth.
He was being handled with care.
This didn’t help his ears, however: they were mildly throbbing with the plunge.
Straining his neck, he was able to watch ahead and, with the intermittent flash from fireworks above, saw that they were barreling toward the black form of a submarine.
The killer whale released Henry directly in front of the wall of the sub. Lady Shrewsbury was released next to him, and suddenly the wall opened inward and they were sucked in with a rush of water.
Finding himself swirling around a chamber that was rapidly filling with water, he gasped for air. He didn’t have long because the water quickly raised to the ceiling while the doors closed. Then air bubbles burst from the floor and the water receded. As his feet reached the floor, he stood and frantically searched for Lady Shrewsbury.
He couldn’t see her.
Drawing a quick breath, he squatted in the water and spotted her, prone at the bottom. He grasped her and stood, pulling her to the water’s surface. Her eyes were closed. As the water level reached the floor, he spread her out and felt closely with his cheek for a breath.
There was none.
He turned her over, and water spilled from her mouth. Her eyes suddenly flew open and she coughed violently. He gave her a helpful pat on the back. The cough subsiding, she sat up and, fixing her hair, said, “Next time I think I should like to enjoy ‘Tale of Atlantis’ from a somewhat less intimate vantage point.”
Henry smiled, “I couldn’t agree more.”
Suddenly a loud bang from a round hatch in the interior wall drew their attention. A spindle wheel on the hatch began to turn.
Human in form, though in some way strangely reptilian, soldiers with organic, skin-tight plates for armor escorted Henry and Lady Shrewsbury to the dark bridge where a soggy Gonzales stood at gunpoint behind the crew manning the controls. Large overhanging screens displayed the view of reefs and sea life outside the submarine, silhouetting the crew. The orcas could be seen circling the vessel and intermittently rising for air.
The tallest man, standing in the center, drew one leg backwards and pivoted. As he did so, it became apparent that the joints of his legs were not human. His arms were long and muscular, with clawed hands, and his face had large reptilian eyes. A forked tongue tasted the air from between sharp teeth. His eyes not looking at any of them, but off to the side, he said with a gravelly, hissing voice, “You will see truth.” Then he turned back to the screens. The submarine traveled through the waters, craggy rocks and coral on all sides. Eventually it passed into deeper waters where nothing but the orcas could be seen as they circled and surfaced for air.
On one of the screens was a red grid overlying an outline of the coast. Henry watched the screen closely. Rather than following a path directly out into the ocean, the submarine was hugging the coast in a trajectory toward a peninsula. Countless dots on the screen with insignia indicated, Henry assumed, other vessels. There was a formidable arsenal surrounding the island.
They reached the peninsula and the submarine surfaced. Henry, Lady Shrewsbury, and Gonzales were forced down a hallway and up a circular staircase through an opening and into the moonlit, cool air. The profiles of dozens of ships loomed nearby, and in the distance were the blinking lights of others. It was as if the entire navy of the United States was arriving.
A small inflatable craft with a loud engine was pressing against the submarine, the roll of the sea raising it up and down dramatically, spray shooting through the gap. The clouds had dissipated, revealing a crystal, starry sky.
The soldiers shoved them, sprawling, onto the little boat, and it quickly autopiloted away from the sub and spun around to face the mountainous coast. Behind, the soldiers quickly disappeared down the hatch and the submarine pulled forward, submerging.
The inflatable jumped off each rolling wave as it sped toward the island, saltwater splashing back onto the hapless passengers. Marco said, “This is our chance. I’m getting out of here.” As he moved to leap off, Lady Shrewsbury restrained him, “Don’t!” An orca surfaced beside the boat, fixing an eye on them and blasting a powerful plume into the wind.
The boat piloted into a small harbor and slowly steered up to a dock. A chopper was waiting nearby on a road. Henry felt a strange disconnection from his surroundings as he boarded the aircraft, heavily armed soldiers stepping in to monitor his every move. They had hardly sat down before the rotors whined and the chopper was in the air. The doors were open, and cool wind whipped their clothing and hair.
It was a short flight over a terrain of forested ridges to the crater lake under the two steep mountaintops. The glass, triangular structure of the FlyRail Hub was visible high above the cliffs, shining in the moonlight, with the magnificently tall waterfall streaming off the edge of a platform in front of it and into the lake below. They soared directly over the lake and then rose at dizzying speed along the cliff face, cool droplets from the waterfall blowing in.
A sudden panic overwhelmed Henry, quickly followed by a hot rage. But there was nothing he could do, no way in which he could vent this feeling. No one to shout at, no command to give, no disparaging remark to make. He was entirely powerless, a sensation as unfamiliar to him as it was disquieting. Without control, what was he, really? He felt eyes upon him and looked at the source.
Lady Shrewsbury was staring at him, her face pale in the starlight, her white tousled curls being battered by the wind. And yet, she appeared as dignified as ever. Her face broke into an almost imperceptible hint of a smile.
Why was she smiling? How could anyone smile under such a circumstance?
It irritated him.
She swallowed, blinked. Was she trying to hide her fear? Is that why she was smiling?
He looked at Gonzales, whose face was as enthusiastic as a bouncer’s. A hand touched his knee. His aunt’s hand. She said, “Do not worry.” She looked at him reassuringly.
“I’m not—” he stopped. Who was he fooling? Certainly not himself anymore. The reality of this moment was that his entire being was consumed with worry. He was worried by his own powerlessness. He was worried by the threat to their lives. He was worried for all the tourists on the island, feeling a personal responsibility to each of them. He was worried about the team he had sent down the portal. He was worried, most acutely, about Aubrey. He managed a smile back, “Thank you.”
The helicopter soared over the top of the waterfall, revealing the river that flowed out from under the glass wall of the 320-foot-tall FlyRail Hub structure, down a series of concrete steps and off the edge. They lowered toward a heliport, one of two on each side of the waterway.
“Now for the moment of truth!” Babel shouted, turning to face Henry, Lady Shrewsbury, and Gonzales. The soldiers raised their machine guns. The helicopter rose up and exposed their backs to the precipice where mist from the falling water rose up and caught the moonlight. The steep edge of the far side
of the crater framed a view of the coast, with the magnificent StarLine Paradeisia Hotel and the Coliseum of Rome dominating.
“I have to congratulate you. This truly is Eden on Earth. Beautiful. But it is even more than that. It is the making of Eden. The people on this island represent the most genetically diverse group ever assembled in one place. All the best that the human race has to offer is here.
“China has been preparing for a long time now, even if they didn’t realize what for. They got a jump start on us and have created clones that produce viable ova by the million.
“We were late to the game. To make the new human race that will populate the new world, we needed ova. China isn’t sharing. Whoever gets there first will dominate this new world, and we would much prefer our ideals reign supreme.
“We tried to find another way. We wanted a technological solution. But there is nothing that can produce what we needed as quickly as we needed it. We must harvest them directly from women. There was no other alternative. This is the final solution.
Babel sighed, “So we have the ova, billions more than we thought now that we have the population on this island.” He spun around, and confronted Henry and Lady Shrewsbury, “What we need now is the new world. So, are you going to help us save the human race?”
Henry said, “You’re telling me that you are harvesting the eggs of all the women on this island?”
“Yes. And we’ve already harvested billions more from Baltimore. This was the most efficient way to get what we needed assembled at a single processing point.”
“So you will kill the women to do this?”
“Unfortunately it is the only way to do it expediently.”
“Expediently?” Henry repeated.
Babel nodded regretfully.
“How many women?”
“Think of how many lives we will create. Billions upon billions of human lives that would otherwise never have existed.”