Kelly walked over to K’in and looked him in the eyes. K’in stared back, unable to speak, but Kelly knew the creature understood. Without a struggle, K’in allowed himself to be hoisted over Kelly’s good shoulder.
Kelly stepped carefully to the cargo hold side door and peered over the edge. It must have been no more than five to ten feet to the ground, but he hesitated. Jump, he thought. He closed his eyes and stepped off the chopper. The journey to the ground was short, and Kelly hit it heavily. His knees bent and buckled under the weight of K’in, but he managed to stay upright.
Ignoring the pain in his legs and shoulder, Kelly opened his eyes. It was dusk now, and the jungle’s wondrous shades of green and blue had faded into a mass of intertwining, black shapes. Contrasted against a burning orange sky, it was beautiful. Thick, humid air enveloped him, making it difficult to breathe.
As he surveyed his surroundings, a sense of contentment, of belonging, filled him. Kelly turned his head to address the creature flopped over his shoulder. “Is that you or me feeling that?”
K’in didn’t answer.
“Probably both, huh?” It didn’t matter. He hadn’t said it loud enough to hear over the engine of the chopper, and the question was somewhat rhetorical anyway.
A warm hand rested on Kelly’s free shoulder, a delicate touch that was contrasted by Freya’s voice straining over the sound of whirring rotors. “It’s getting dark fast, Kelly. We need to make a camp for the night. It’ll be better to be deeper in the jungle—much harder for us to be found. But the temperature will drop quickly. I have camping and combat gear for us and thermal sheets for K’in. I imagine we have to avoid him desiccating.”
“Good idea,” Kelly yelled back. He slipped the creature gently off his shoulder and lowered him to the ground. “Give me some of those thermal sheets. Let’s wrap him up.”
Freya handed Kelly a large, silver-colored sheet. It looked so fragile as it shone and glistened like tin foil in the late afternoon sun. She then turned to the Chinook and gave an okay sign to the waiting pilot. He nodded. The Chinook rose in the air, whisking leaves and fragments of trees in its wake. She watched it grow smaller and smaller before gunning off into the distance. Freya turned back to Kelly. He had already climbed into his combat gear—dark camouflage pants and jacket, a large backpack over one shoulder, and K’in on the other.
Freya focused on the tiny screen of a handheld device. “Okay. Last encoded message from Tremaine said they are moving out of Monterey Bay. If we need him, we just have to make contact.” She put the gadget back into the side pocket of her combat pants.
“Great. So, ready, Freya?” He sounded genuine and determined and even used her Christian name—all of which he had not done before.
“Are you sure your shoulder is alright?”
“Sure, I can take it. Let’s move.”
They trudged through the undergrowth, Freya shining a light in front, cutting through the gloom. Kelly struggled to keep up with the heavy creature and backpack on his back. The night air cooled, and the sun had been replaced by the white disc of the moon. It hung there, an orb among twinkling sequins sewn into a velvet sky. It was fortunate. Without the moon, the jungle would have been perilously dark.
An hour passed. The scenery didn’t seem to change. Endless vines and trees sprawled in front of them. Freya hacked at the black limbs with a machete, slicing a path through the dense understory. She stopped. A small clearing had appeared. The jungle canopy overhead still protected them from unwanted attention, but the ground before them was treeless for at least forty square feet.
“Let’s stop here,” Freya suggested.
Kelly surveyed the clearing. “This seems pretty safe. I’ll need to dig a hole for K’in.” Kelly swung the creature from his back and gently placed him on the ground. K’in looked up at Kelly with his expressionless face. His near fully formed eyes stared into Kelly’s, communicating with him. Kelly knew K’in was happy to stay put where he was.
The mud was wet and heavy as Kelly dug at the jungle floor with his bare hands. Down on his knees, he scooped chunk after chunk of earth from the same place, forming a large, bowl-shaped hole. A drizzle started and water slowly filled the ditch, causing the sides to collapse. Kelly shook his head. This could take all night. The atmosphere was damp enough. He surmised K’in would be fine. Kelly got up from his knees, now caked in soil, and trudged over to K’in. The creature stretched out his arms like a baby wishing to be picked up.
“Okay, Moby, let’s go.” Kelly picked up K’in by the armpits and walked back to the newly dug pit. He placed K’in inside and covered him with the insulating foil. “There. Wet and moist. You lucky bastard.”
Freya looked up from busying herself with the fire and raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry. Man joke.”
“It’s okay. Anyway, I think I have this going now.”
* * *
Two hammocks had been hung between the trees. Kelly and Freya understood the benefits of not sleeping on the jungle floor. Kelly lay there, staring through the canopy, fixated on a single star, lost in his thoughts.
“I’m sorry about Chris.” Freya’s voice was soft as if she did not want to disturb the tranquility of the jungle hum. “And Victoria.”
Kelly took a few minutes to respond. “Me too.”
“And I’m sorry ... sorry about your wife and daughter, too.” She was nervous, unsure how he would respond. She had learned he could be very fiery and quick to anger.
The sounds of strange jungle animals and insects melded into white noise. Kelly sighed and turned his head to face Freya, lying in the hammock opposite him.
“Chris told you about them?”
“No, he told Victoria. They thought I was asleep, but ...”
“I see. Yes, I am sorry, too.”
“She sounds like she was very important to you.”
“She was. She is—at least, in my heart anyway. It’s a strange thing, you know, to be in love with someone but so angry with them. Chris was my last piece of her, of my daughter. Now he’s gone, too.”
“I think he loved you very much.”
“I loved him.” Kelly faced the sky, fighting back the lump in his throat.
“Chris said you have bad dreams about them.”
He sniffed hard. “Yeah. But lately, they’ve stopped or, at least, been replaced. I think it’s Moby Dick over there. Somehow, we’re connected. He can project emotion into me. That thing we recovered is like an amplification device. I think that’s how they did it.”
“How who did what?”
Kelly turned back to face Freya, who was now propped up on her elbows, looking back at him.
“His species. I asked the professor how these guys were supposed to have communicated with the ancient people on this planet given all the different languages. I think they used those orb things to amplify thoughts, feelings, and memories. The professor said in most records of these creatures, there was mention of some kind of object with them. Something about the book of Thoth and Egypt, and the round thing that Oannes guy was holding. Anyway, he was already connecting with me, but when the Chinese had us hooked up to that thing, it was so much stronger. I feel calm around him.”
“Oh.”
“He’s like a baby. A bit like a blank slate. But imagine one of his kind that was educated. Imagine what they could have communicated.”
“And that is what the professor and Benjamin wanted? To use K’in to heal the world?”
“I guess so. Though I think they lost their way and went a bit nuts. I think they figured the world could tear itself apart until only a remnant of humanity was left, making it easier to start again, making K’in’s task easier. I don’t know. It was a bloody, hare-brained scheme if you ask me.”
“Then why are you still helping?”
“Because. Chris reminded me that it’s not all about me. Izel would have helped. She was selfless. Something I failed to learn from her in life. Perhaps I can learn it now.”
<
br /> Freya smiled weakly. “Sometimes, you have to lose something to find something.”
He looked at her for a few moments. Maybe she wasn’t as vacuous as he’d thought. “Yeah, perhaps you’re right.”
“Good night, Kelly.”
“Good night, Freya.”
Location: A hospital, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
Benjamin lay in the hospital bed, the monotonous beeps from the heart monitor ringing in his ears and the respirator mask smothering his face. With foggy vision, he dizzily glanced around the room until he found an open window. It was dark outside, but he could see a warm orange light flicker in the distance. In the opposite bed, the professor lay unconscious, his bandages weeping blood, the bed sheets stained red. No one was there to help. He heard the clatter of trolleys and wheelchairs in the corridor as hordes of people crashed through narrow passages and spilled in and out of rooms.
He tried to lift himself up but fell back into the bed, exhausted and broken. His thoughts turned to Freya. He’d wet her head and brought her into the church. He’d watched her grow from a baby and vowed to look after her should the unthinkable happen. He’d never expected it would actually occur. He remembered the day she came to stay with him. Skinny and awkward, her thin hair matted to her cheeks, eyes so large and wet they seemed to fill the majority of her face—she was so small, so afraid. He had worried he wouldn’t feel any paternal instinct and only was doing his duty to protect her. But he needn’t have worried. That scrawny little girl, the daughter of his best friend, had immediately penetrated his heart. He knew he’d do anything for her—to protect her. If he was honest, she was the reason he’d done all of this. He had no children of his own. And when Freya entered his life, his perspective changed. Suddenly, collateral damage didn’t seem so collateral, and his entire life with the military seemed meaningless. He’d kept her close, and guided her from behind the scenes through the military academy, pulling various strings to ensure her position in his division. But he’d kept too much from her. Perhaps he should have trusted her—not that it mattered now.
A drunken man stumbled through the door wielding a large titanium golf club in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the other. He swayed on his feet, blinking violently as he tried to focus on the room, blood streaming from his tear ducts, making it all the more difficult. The man lurched forward, walking into the side of the General’s bed. The drunkard considered the motionless patient. He surveyed the medical equipment, the bandages, and then the General’s tunic that lay on the chair next to the gurney.
“You ... you’re a military man, huh? An army man, right?” The visitor spoke with a thick Southern drawl, made even more incomprehensible by his inebriated state. The General couldn’t answer. “You’re the reason for all this. You fuck-fuckers—think yer sooo clever, don’t yer. Well, guess what, military man? I got me a nine iron, an’ you ain’t got shit!”
The drunkard lifted the golf club above his head, swaying back and forth. Benjamin closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He pictured Freya in his mind. Unable to defend himself, Benjamin closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.
Location: Peru, South America
Poked in the ribs—that’s how Kelly was awoken. With an irritated groan, he shooed the prodder away with one hand, never opening his eyes. Poked again—this time harder.
“Will you fuck—” Kelly was cut short. He sat upright in his hammock and surveyed his surroundings. Ten to fifteen men surrounded him, each dressed in overly bright sports t-shirts and short pants. It was difficult to discern how old they were. Each one had the same leathery appearance to their skin and chin-length, black hair. Most were brandishing some kind of weapon, primarily old mining tools: spades or pickaxes. They looked more scared of Kelly than he was of them.
“Freya? Freya!”
“Mmm?” She turned over in her hammock and looked at her watch. “Kelly, it’s four in the morning. We should wait till there’s more light.”
“I don’t think they’re going to let us wait.”
Freya shot up, rolling out of her hammock onto the ground, and drew her firearm.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kelly shouted. “Calm down. If they’d wanted to hurt us, they would have by now.”
Freya swung the gun left and right, taking aim at each and every one of the men. They stared back at her, none of them saying a word.
K’in moved under his foil sheet. The startled men leapt back and chattered amongst themselves, apparently arguing over which one of them was to pull back the sheet. Eventually, one of the younger men was shoved forward despite his protest. He edged toward the foil-covered pit, a long spade stretched out in front of him. His eyes darted from Kelly to Freya and back to the hole.
“We can’t let him.” Freya said.
“Just stay calm. Relax. We’re in Peru, right?”
“Right.”
The man had stopped and was staring. Close enough now to lift the foil with his instrument, he was shaking uncontrollably.
Kelly took a deep breath. “Rimaykullayki.”
“What are you doing?” Freya demanded.
“Shhh. Let me think.” Kelly breathed in again and furrowed his brow in concentration. “Rimaykullayki. Sutiyqa Kelly. Inlista rimankichu? Intindinkichu?”
The man stopped and stared at Kelly, somewhat bewildered, then turned to his comrades. They shook their heads and gestured for the young man to continue with his mission.
“What the hell did you say to them?”
“If we are in the right part of the world, then they should speak Quechua. Damn, I wish Chris or Izel were here. They could help. I’m probably saying it all wrong. Their language is pretty complicated and precise.” He turned back to the man. “Inlista rimankichu? Intindinkichu?”
“What does that mean?”
“I think I’m asking him if he speaks English, if he even understands me. But I don’t think he does.”
Almost in confirmation, the man completely ignored Kelly and started poking at the sheet with his spade. The sheet moved, rustling as it did so. The foil slid back and onto the jungle floor as K’in stretched upward. His long, red plumes sprang from under the sheet and opened outward, a huge cerise fan. K’in’s eyes were fully formed, glassy and black. His skin was damp and shiny but had lost its transparency and was now a milkier white. He opened and closed his mouth, allowing tiny gasps of air to fill his newly forming lungs. The man froze in fear. As his heart convulsed in his chest, he looked back over his shoulder to his comrades in a silent cry for help. K’in climbed out of the pit on all fours, his limbs clearly no longer atrophied and much more adapted to land. He padded quickly over to Kelly, his body slung low to the ground like an alligator or crocodile.
“Shit, Kelly, he’s walking.”
“I can see that. Don’t panic.” Kelly jumped down from his hammock and stood between K’in and the men. “It’s okay,” soothed Kelly. “He won’t hurt you.”
“Who are you talking to? Kelly, I hope you know what you are doing.” Freya was still holding the gun, arms locked, ready to put holes in anything that moved too fast.
“Does it matter? Your General wanted us here for a reason. I’m betting these people are it. The professor said in this part of the world, Moby Dick was revered a long time ago. The South American people are one of the few groups that hold on to old beliefs. The Middle East has moved on, become more westernized. But small villages like this, they still hang on to the traditions.”
One man stepped forward. He pulled off his faded hat in order to get a better view of the creature as the dawning sun’s light spread around it. He was the only member of the group to have white hair. Kelly hadn’t seen it before due to the man’s headwear. He was much older than the rest of the group, His face full of deep crevices. The old man paused, looked at Kelly, and then stepped a few paces closer to the creature. He and allowed his finger tips to lightly touch its forehead. Apart from blinking once or twice, K’in didn’t move.
“Ke
lly?” Freya asked.
“It’s okay. K’in seems fine. I can feel him.”
The villager stayed in his fixed position for what seemed like an eternity. He swayed a little from side to side and then took his hand away, cutting the connection with the creature. Blinking slowly, he turned to Kelly and eyed him. A surprisingly broad smile spread across the man’s face. He beckoned Kelly closer, waving his hand toward his body. Kelly obeyed and took a couple of paces forward. The elderly man took Kelly’s right hand and placed it on K’in’s head before putting his own left hand on K’in too. Staring deep into Kelly’s eyes, he patted his own chest with his free hand.
“Yes,” Kelly said. “I feel it, too.”
The man nodded and turned to the other villagers. He spoke quickly, much too fast for Kelly to understand. But it at least sounded friendly. The men talked among themselves, then lowered their tools. The older man trotted back to the group. He had an almost sprightly spring in his step. He patted his colleagues on the shoulders and continued moving forward through the crowd and into the jungle. The other men followed suit as did K’in.
“Where’s K’in going?” Freya asked.
“With them, I guess.” Kelly shrugged and started after them.
“Wait, we need to pack these things up.”
“I don’t think we’re gonna need that stuff. It’ll weigh us down anyway.”
“So we’re just gonna follow them?”
“You have a better idea? The General sent us here. Let’s play it out.”
* * *
The sun rose higher in the sky as midday approached. The jungle was bright but quiet now. The emerald green leaves glistened with the last of the morning dew clinging to their surface. The raw untouched nature of the tropical forest apparently pleased K’in. He waddled behind the Peruvian men, his crocodilian gait causing his stubby tail to swing back and forth and his bushy plumes to bounce to and fro. His head was swiveling around as he absorbed every nuance of the new surroundings.
Sweat ran down Kelly’s back and across his face. He ran a hand through his wet hair for the fifteenth time and focused on the men as they marched on up ahead, the eldest at the lead, setting the excessive pace. His mind wandered to Izel. This place made him think of her. He’d met her in a village in Argentina. He had been on a photography assignment. She was teaching English to the locals. He took her picture and strode over, cocky as ever. Made some quip or other that he couldn’t even remember any more. She hadn’t been impressed. In fact, she’d positively blown him off. “All brawn and no brains.” That’s what she’d said. Made him feel about three inches tall. He’d slinked off and sulked for the rest of the day.
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