Origins

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Origins Page 32

by Mark Henrikson


  Mark then placed the cap back on his head, pulled the director’s body back onto the chair and proceeded to rummage through the desk drawers. He knew it was a desperate move since Alfred was smart enough not to leave any useful evidence just lying around, but desperation was all he had at the moment.

  Finding nothing of interest in the desk, Mark moved on to searching through the trash, which only contained a couple used tissues. He was about to give up all hope when he spotted a half-full paper recycle bin with a document shredder sitting on top.

  “God bless those tree hugging types,” Mark said as he tossed the shredder aside and carefully sifted through the tattered narrow strips of paper.

  With some effort he pieced together an airline flight itinerary. Alfred was due to catch a plane to Cairo that evening.

  “Lucky cap indeed,” Mark said to himself. Then he grabbed his cell phone, tapped his favorite speed dial button and raised the phone to his ear. “It’s me. Looks like I’ll be joining you in Egypt after all.”

  Chapter 53: Past the Point of No Return

  Hastelloy hastened his strides to catch up with Mosa. The group of exiles was far enough away from the city to be out of sight. The day was uncharacteristically hot, and that was saying something for the middle of a desert, due to the ash cloud trapping the heat and humidity close to the ground. It was a small consolation that the sun’s intensity was muted by the cloud, but that also would become a serious issue before long.

  “The time for confident displays is over Mosa. We need to stop for a few minutes to get ourselves organized,” Hastelloy said.

  Mosa slowed to a stop and turned to face Hastelloy with tears in the corners of her eyes. “Get organized for what? Organize ourselves so the vultures can have an easier meal when we all collapse from starvation or heat exhaustion? What have I done?” Mosa cried as she sat down on her knees on the sand and held her head in her hands.

  Hastelloy gently laid his hand on her shoulder and outlined the burned flesh from the branding iron. “We’ve passed the point of no return, there’s no room for self pity or doubt anymore.”

  Captain Hastelloy then signaled for his crewmen to come up and join the conversation and instantly morphed into authoritative command mode. “I need the three of you to take a head count so we know what we’re dealing with. We especially need to know how many elderly and young children we have as they’ll be the limiting factor for our mobility.”

  “Yes, sir,” the three crewmen responded in unison and immediately moved to perform their assignments.

  Hastelloy pulled out the navigation unit he’d concealed in the palm of his hand since disrobing to leave the city. Hastelloy showed the shiny object to Mosa and turned it on. A detailed holographic map of the surrounding five mile radius filled the air between them.

  Mosa’s hands fell limp at her side as the mesmerizing sight took hold of her. With great trepidation she reached forward to touch the hovering map. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers when she witnessed her outstretched hand pass right through the ghostly image.

  “How . . . how are you doing this?” she finally stammered.

  “In the coming days you’ll see many wondrous things that may seem impossible to you. Let’s push past the question of how and simply move onto the what,” Hastelloy said dismissively.

  “This is a map of our surroundings. We are here,” he said while he pointed to the map with his index finger. “The city we just left is here, and this blue line represents the river. Tomal told me there is a village where most of the slave traders operate out of on the far side of that river. This is the only source of shelter nearby. Those men perpetuated the evil of slavery by rounding most of us up. I have no moral reservations about taking that village by force and using it for our own benefit. Do you?”

  Mosa still looked dazed by the display of incomprehensible technology. She collected her faculties enough to shake her head to confirm her agreement.

  Hastelloy tapped a few buttons on the small device causing the scope of the map to narrow, and the detail broadened to show the rise and fall of the terrain and the depth of the river water. “Fortunately, it is the dry season so the river level is very low. It narrows to about 100 feet wide, at this point and the water is only three or four feet deep. I’m a little concerned about the current, but it should be fairly tame so I think we can forge a crossing there.”

  Hastelloy looked up from the map to make sure Mosa was following his explanation before continuing. “Once the census is done we need to walk directly east for about a mile to reach the crossing point. Do you agree?”

  Hastelloy’s instinct was to take complete control of the situation and force Mosa into the roll of a subordinate but that was not possible. She was viewed by all as the leader. To usurp her authority would be a grave mistake. She needed to make the decisions, so Hastelloy waited obediently for a response.

  Mosa shook her head and blinked her eyelids rapidly and then looked at Hastelloy with a renewed sense of purpose. “I agree. How will we take the village once we find it?”

  “The old fashioned way,” Hastelloy replied with a wink and then turned off the navigation unit.

  Despite the exiled group’s size exceeding five hundred people, they moved at a fairly quick pace. When the march to the riverbank began there was only two hours of daylight left. It was an odd sensation that as the daylight drew to a close the light level actually increased around them as the ash cloud continued to dissipate.

  Hastelloy was concerned they may need to force a dangerous crossing of the river during the night time. As it turned out, they made excellent time and arrived with an hour of daylight to spare.

  As expected, the water level was only waist high at its deepest point. The current was stronger than Hastelloy would have liked, but was still manageable. He gave Gallono the signal and the commander led forty strong men into the water. The men locked wrists with each other and collectively stood their ground against the current. Any man who lost his footing was instantly supported by the strength of those around him. This formed an unbreakable human chain that spanned from shore to shore.

  With the human supports in place, the exiles crossed. Small children were hoisted onto the shoulders of parents to assure their heads remained above water. Under normal circumstances, five hundred naked bodies pressing against each other might have made a person blush, but all sense of modesty was long gone with this group. When someone slipped in the current it was perfectly acceptable to grab hold of whatever body part was nearby for help, and no one even gave it a second thought.

  As the last individual completed the river crossing, the men who formed the support line retracted to the other side. Only Tonwen and Valnor remained on the original riverbank. Hastelloy signaled with a wide arching wave and the two men set off jogging to the north. They had a daunting journey ahead of them, but Hastelloy was confident they would fulfill their orders.

  Back on the eastern bank of the river, Hastelloy and Gallono found the highest sand dune nearby and ascended its height to take advantage of the view. Once at the summit, the two men waited for the darkness nighttime brought with it to fall across the landscape. Gallono was the first to notice a faint glow on the horizon about a mile, perhaps two, away.

  The two men scampered back down the slope and returned to the exiled group. Mosa was making sure everyone had something to do. Most were gathering driftwood along the shore to make fires during the night. Others rounded up grass and leaves to serve as kindling. Still others scoured the river for any stones larger than a person’s head to surround the bonfires. Stones were useful because they retained heat quite well and would amplify the warming effects of the fires.

  Everyone else was busy raking up the bodies of locusts that littered the ground. A meal of insect bodies wasn’t gourmet, but it prevented starvation.

  Hastelloy felt satisfied everything was in hand for the group to survive the night so he made his way to Mosa and reported his findings. “We spotted the
village southeast of here, about two miles away. Gallono and I are going to move in for a closer look to see what we’re up against.”

  Hastelloy lowered his body to the ground as he crawled over the last hill to reveal the slave trader village. The compound consisted of six large buildings in a roughly circular pattern around a courtyard with a water well in the middle. There were fenced areas to hold cattle, or slaves if needed, but they were empty at the moment. The occupants of the village hadn’t replaced the animals lost to pestilence yet.

  Even if the light of the bonfires hadn’t guided Hastelloy and Gallono to the village, the loud roar of drunken laughter and music would have done the job. The courtyard was filled with rugged men drunk beyond the point of being able to stand. Others sang songs with friends or molested their concubines.

  Gallono let out a soft laugh of amusement. “It’s like they know this is their last night to live. I don’t think they could make this any easier for us if they tried.”

  “Perhaps, but we’ll prepare the attack as if we’re facing a well-trained and sober army. Plan for the worst and hope for the best,” Hastelloy said dryly. “I see thirty-two males and ten females, what is your count?”

  Before Gallono had a chance to reveal his figures another man stepped out from the largest structure. He announced his presence in the courtyard with a loud growl as three half naked women slinked out of the tent behind him. He was an absolute giant of a man compared to those around him, with scars all over his torso and face. The man was unmistakably familiar to Hastelloy and Gallono.

  “Anum,” Hastelloy spat.

  “The slave trader who captured us in the first place; this assault just got personal,” Gallono stated without a hint of his usually playful tone. “Let’s see how tough that guy is when I’m not unarmed and outnumbered twenty to one, or chained to the ceiling.”

  “Doing one’s duty can be unpleasant at times, but on a few rare occasions it’s a real pleasure,” Hastelloy said as the two men crawled backwards down their lookout mound. “Anum’s day of reckoning is finally at hand, and it’s my pleasure to turn that hand into a fist and smash him like the grubby bug he is.”

  Chapter 54: The Old-Fashioned Way

  Hastelloy sat next to the dying fire at the exile’s riverside camp. He looked to the east and was disappointed to detect the first hint of daylight peeking over the horizon. Hastelloy looked over at Gallono, who was also still awake at the early morning hour. Apparently the anticipation of battle and revenge didn’t allow his mind to rest either. Both men shared a concerned look as daybreak was only an hour or two away. Their golden opportunity to attack the village was in danger of passing them by.

  Disheartened, Hastelloy lay back on the ground and tried to let his mind relax. The stones around the dying fire warmed half his body while the other half had long ago gone numb from the cold night air. The feeling was not particularly pleasant so he mentally moved on. The waves beating against the shore were a more welcoming distraction so he allowed his mind to focus on their rhythmic sound.

  Every couple of seconds he noticed a harsh smacking noise coming from down river. Hastelloy quickly determined the sound was moving closer and at a high rate of speed. Accompanying the wet crashing sound was a high-pitched whine. The pieces clicked together in Hastelloy’s mind and he instantly sprung to his feet.

  Gallono did likewise when he saw the sudden motion from his captain. The commander took an aggressive posture as if he was expecting a surprise assault from the water. “Relax Gallono, its friends. The boat has finally arrived. Go ahead and wake the volunteers who are going to be part of the assault and bring them over here.”

  Hastelloy walked toward the water’s edge and arrived just in time to see the metal hull of Tomal’s hastily designed and constructed boat on final approach. Abruptly, the boat bottomed out on the shore, and the engine shut down.

  “Tell me you’re packing some serious heat?” Hastelloy asked.

  “And how,” Valnor responded as he tossed a heavy backpack over the side and proceeded to follow the baggage with his own body onto the beach. “It’ll be nice to work with proper tools and weaponry for a change.”

  “What about clothing, were you able to replicate enough garments to go around?” Hastelloy asked.

  “We got those too,” Tonwen responded as he threw pile after pile of one-piece linens and tie strings off the boat. “The men can tear them in half to make skirts while the women can cut a hole in the middle for their head and wear it like a dress.”

  “It’s not going to win any fashion awards, but they’ll do,” Hastelloy commended.

  Valnor picked up the backpack of weapons and unzipped the front panel to show his wares. “As requested, four disruptor rifles and a few dozen stun grenades.”

  “Excellent,” Hastelloy beamed. He heard Gallono approaching from behind with the two men who volunteered to help with the assault.

  “Gallono, you have ten minutes to show these brave men the do’s and don’ts of stun grenade use,” Hastelloy ordered.

  **********

  While the sun cast its first light of the morning across the village, six men descended from a hilltop and proceeded to fan out across the compound. The men spread out, one covering the front door of each structure that surrounded the central courtyard.

  Hastelloy and his three crewmen waited outside their respective buildings with a stun grenade in their left hand and a disruptor rifle in their right. The two volunteers held a stun grenade in each hand and two more tied around their waist.

  Hastelloy glanced around one last time to make sure everyone was in his designated position. Satisfied, he pulled the pin out of the grenade with his teeth and threw it in the front door. Quickly he ducked back around the corner, mashed his eyelids shut and buried his index fingers into his ears.

  Even though he was outside the room and taking precautions to protect his body, Hastelloy still felt dizzy when the grenade detonated and he stood up to enter the building. The way the device worked to disable its targets was quite simple. A flash of light momentarily activated all light sensitive cells in the eyes, making vision impossible. At the same time an incredibly loud blast produced by the grenade disturbed the fluid in the brain. No neurological signals could be sent to the body for approximately thirty seconds. That was more than enough time for a trained Novi soldier to enter a room and dispatch every person inside using his disruptor rifle.

  When Hastelloy entered his building he mentally began a countdown from thirty and allowed his close quarters combat training to kick in. He quickly walked down the middle of two rows of occupied bedrolls. Some beds were empty while others had one, two, or even three occupants. The body count was unimportant. As he walked down the isle and alternated shooting left to right, methodically killing every individual unfortunate enough to be in the building.

  With the room cleared, Hastelloy ran back to the front door and was about to go outside when the subliminal countdown in his head hit zero. He jumped out of the doorway and shut his eyes and covered his ears once more.

  After two loud thumps were heard, Hastelloy got back to his feet and sprinted over to a building one of the volunteers was attacking. The man didn’t have a rifle so he simply tossed stun grenades into the building on thirty second intervals until one of the armed attackers could do his duty.

  The second volley into the room gave Hastelloy and Valnor enough time to enter the structure and eliminate the occupants. With his portion of the assault now complete, Hastelloy ran back outside to check on Gallono and Tonwen’s progress.

  Hastelloy waited no more than half a second until he saw Gallono step out of his secondary target building. The two exchanged looks and Gallono hung his head and mouthed a curse.

  Hastelloy let out a laugh. “You’re getting slow old man.”

  “Anum was in my first building and he had a lot of company with him. I probably had to fire twice as many shots as you,” Gallono replied. Then he handed his rifle to Tonwen and walk
ed back to his primary target building. While on his way, a barbaric growl resonated from inside the structure.

  Hastelloy and the others jumped back in surprise, but Gallono continued his trek uninterrupted. He was halfway across the courtyard when the massive seven foot figure of Anum stomped out of the building’s front door.

  “Damn it, Gallono, couldn’t you at least once take the easy and safe approach?” Hastelloy admonished.

  “My honor needs to be satisfied and that isn’t accomplished by killing that animal in his sleep. I want the bastard to know who did this to him,” Gallono responded while never taking his eyes off the giant man he intended to fight.

  If Anum was suffering any ill effects from the stun grenade or the sudden realization that his entire slave hunting party was now dead, it didn’t show. The massive beast of a man walked right into hand to hand combat with Gallono.

  While the two combatants squared off, Hastelloy pointed his disruptor into the air and fired three blasts to signal Mosa it was safe for the exiles to move into the village. Hastelloy returned his attention to the duel and saw the two men were still busy testing each other’s agility and speed.

  Anum was an exceptionally strong individual, there was no mistaking that fact. The strength came at a price, however. The man had a terrible case of the slows and Gallono seized upon the weakness immediately.

  Anum jabbed with his left and then tried to land a knockout blow with his right. Gallono easily sidestepped the powerful stroke and landed a furious barrage of kidney punches as he moved around to Anum’s backside.

  The giant man tried to retaliate with a no look backhanded swing, but Gallono anticipated the move. He caught Anum’s arm mid swing, tucked it under his armpit and continued the spin as he dug his hip underneath Anum’s legs to send the man’s huge frame twirling through the air and crashing to the ground in a heap.

 

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