“What is this power?” chirped a voice from within the crowd.
“An ancient power. Older than even our own lineage.” The Shan Chu’s eyes flared with excitement. “Knowledge, my brothers, knowledge. It is the ultimate power. The ability to know your enemy, to be inside his head, and control him.”
“If the Americans wish to destroy it, then perhaps it is not a power we want. Our lives are good. We have all we need—power, money, women. What is the point of this? The Americans and our government have waged wars for years, yet we remain.”
Jia-nghù Tsai circled the desk, exposing himself to the men and to a possible attack—a show of trust.
“Is this all you wish for?” His eyes narrowed, and his gaze scanned the room. “Taking scraps from the table of other nations? Your Chinese brothers are more than a billion in number, yet they live in squalor, confined to a single country in the world. Those of you who have escaped bow to the laws of the westerners. We should create our own laws. Our ancestors developed medicine and technology while the westerners groveled in their own filth. Now we must rise again. And with this power, we can.”
A large muscular man dressed in an all-black suit, his head shaved, stepped forward. He wielded a large knife more than twelve inches long. “You say the Americans have this weapon. How are we few men meant to take it from their army, their military?”
The Shan Chu stepped forward to meet the man. While not as wide, he was taller and could still command a fearsome presence. “The Americans are stupid. They are covertly dealing with their issue. There is no army, merely a handful of men. Besides ...” He circled back around, pushed the dead Dragon Head from the chair and sat in his place. “I have an employee in their ranks. I know what they know. I move when they move.”
The man sneered at the Shan Chu. “You come into our house, kill our Dragon Head, wave a plastic bag with a glowing bauble in our faces, and expect us to march on American soldiers to regain a power that was held centuries ago. You are crazy, Jap. You cannot even prove such power exists.”
“Can I not?” the Shan Chu replied, one eyebrow raised. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Wei Xın,” the man snapped back.
“So, Wei Xın, you are not afraid to experience the power?”
The man shuffled on the spot. “You said the Americans have it.”
“Oh, indeed, they have part of it—a creature, a being of immense strength and capability. But I have the other half, which will allow true bonding with it.”
“The Americans reported on this a year ago,” said another. “It was a hoax.”
“Oh, no, I assure you it was not. Let me demonstrate.”
He retrieved the bag from his coat and placed it on the desk. Then he pulled it open, its zip-lock-like seal peeling back. “Place your hand inside, Wei Xın. Or are you afraid?”
The soldier glanced around the room at his Triad brothers, their expectant faces spurring him on to show no fear. He grunted and stepped quickly forward, thrusting his hand into the bag to clutch the gelatinous orb.
As quick as lightning, the Shan Chu shot his arm out and grabbed the soldier by the throat, completing the circuit between the orb and the two men. “Feel me penetrate your mind, Wei Xın. You cannot escape me.”
The soldier whimpered as the stabbing pain of another person piercing his consciousness overwhelmed him. Fear consumed his very being as he failed to defend against the mental onslaught, his memories being forced from his synapses and torn from his mind. His eyes widened and tears streamed down his cheeks as the Shan Chu ripped open his psyche.
Flashes of the Shan Chu’s mind popped and crackled in the Chinese soldier’s visual cortex—images of death, torture, scorching deserts littered with corpses, withered and burned human figures crawling on their hands and knees, and disease-ridden children running feral through garbage. There was a river of blood flowing through the center of a crippled city of broken high rise buildings. It was truly a dystopian vision that would have disturbed Dante himself.
“True discipline,” the Shan Chu began, “means having a strong mind. Complete control.” His snarl became a menacing grin and he released his grip on the soldier, who slumped to the floor. “Only I have the strength to bond with their biological weapon.”
The men stared in absolute fear and awe.
He scanned their scared faces. “Our victory was already written centuries ago, brothers. And now it comes to pass. Their own god has decreed it.”
“God?” replied one of the Triads sheepishly.
“Yes, my feeble-minded brethren. The westerners’ own prophet, Ezekiel, described a great war between two global power blocs that will occur in the end time.” He jumped back onto the table for theatrical presence and held his arms aloft. “Son of man, set your face against Gog, of the land of Magog, the prince of Rosh, Meshech, and Tubal, and prophesy against him, and say, ‘Behold, I am against you!’” His eyes flashed wildly. “Persia, Ethiopia, and Libya are with them. Gomer and all its troops. And the house of Togarmah from the far north and all its troops.”
The men stared blankly at the raving lunatic.
“My simple friends. The prince of Meshech and Tubal is the leader of our neighbors to the north—the Russians.” A huge, creepy smile broke across his face. “And you must know Persia is now Iran. And of course, the African nations need no introduction. But most importantly, Gomer and the house of Togarmah. Gomer, my friends, is Asia itself. It is us. A coalition of the oppressed was foreseen to destroy the westerners.”
Again there was low murmuring among the men.
The Shan Chu sprang back down to the floor and walked among the bemused Triad members. “The coalition is already formed. We are already strong. And soon, we will have what we need to destroy them all—starting with the Americans.”
“The creature?” offered one man.
“Yes, the creature. But first, I have another surprise for our American hosts. I am going to reset the world, starting with the U.S.”
He broke into maniacal laughter that convulsed his whole body. The Triads laughed nervously with him.
The phone buzzed in his pocket. The Shan Chu ceased laughing abruptly and withdrew it. He clicked it open and read the short note:
Wait. Situation changed. It will be gift wrapped. Come to Dulce Base ASAP.
The Triad leader put the device away and smiled a cruel smile. “Fortune favors the bold, my friends.”
Location: Dulce Base, New Mexico, USA
He sat motionless on the floor, his back pressed uncomfortably against the frame of the bunk. Even with the bright phosphorescent lights switched off, patterns and strange swirls formed in the darkness. And with them, morbid sounds emerged from the walls to fill the awkward silence. Clear your head. Think straight.
Kelly sipped the hot tea again, swallowing what he could, and then braced his empty stomach for the scorching liquid and ensuing feeling of nausea. He concentrated on his plan. He hadn’t been completely honest with the Secretary or, for that matter, Freya. But they would never agree to it, so there was no point in telling them. No, instead, he would just do it. He’d switch the bond from Vicky to himself. The Doc had said it. Vicky wasn’t the strongest of the pair. She couldn’t deal with it—but he could. If he could get the crazy ass thing to switch its bond to him, they’d have a much easier time of transporting it to wherever the hell it wanted to go.
Getting it to switch—that was going to be the tricky part. He had no idea how to do that. Physical contact like he’d had with K’in seemed the most logical way. He’d have to wait until he could get close enough to it and then would grab it and hold on till it surrendered—well, something along those lines. It would all become clear when the time came—hopefully.
The familiar mixture of fever-like symptoms washed over him as the tea took hold. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, so he decided it wasn’t worth fighting it. He crossed his arms over his aching stomach and tilted his head back.
A ca
cophony of colors swept over his retinas, zooming out of the nothingness behind his eyelids. The strange shapes and lines pulsated and weaved. It reminded Kelly of being a child when, lying in bed, he would rub his eyes extra hard to generate such vivid imagery. From within, the dancing light and shapes hummed softly. Kelly focused on it, screwing his eyes shut, willing his hearing to improve or the sound to grow louder. It was a voice—a woman’s voice. She was calling his name, gently at first but then with more urgency and annoyance.
Freya shook Kelly by the shoulders. “Kelly,” she yelled impatiently.
He dropped the metal cup from his hand. It clanged and pinged about the floor, spilling hot tea everywhere.
“Wh ... what?” Kelly dragged his mind lost in some far-off place. Thankfully, the lights were still off, saving him from the searing pain of white-hot light stabbing through his dilated pupils.
“It’s Vicky. She’s awake.”
“Oh, shit, yeah, of course.” Kelly groaned and hoisted himself from the floor, swaying unsteadily.
“Hold on there, cowboy.” She grabbed him by the arm and helped him take a seat on the bunk.
“Thanks.”
“What’s going on, Kelly? Hmm? What’s with the tea?”
He met her gaze, her eyes full of genuine concern. “Just helps me relax, ya know?” He winced, cradling his stomach, fighting back the nausea.
“I know you better than that, Kelly Graham.”
He sighed. “You know what this is?”
“No.”
“It’s Ayahuasca tea. The various peoples of South America used it, use it, to ...” He paused, embarrassed.
Freya raised her eyebrows. “To ...?”
“To induce spiritual revelations. To work out their purpose on Earth, how to be the best person they can possibly be. They call it a rebirth.”
“Feeling lost?” She placed a hand on his knee.
“Maybe. I dunno.” He rubbed his short hair again. “After Siberia, after K’in died, it was like I was left with a hole in my chest. I figured that maybe I needed to do something for someone else—something altruistic. I helped build schools and wells and worked with the locals. I even answered the old goat’s letters. Nothing really helped.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about Alejandro.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Kelly skipped past it.
“Anyway, you started using the tea? Because you thought it would show you the way?”
“I guess. But it didn’t worked like I expected. I mean, it does feel like an escape, like the hole is filled briefly. But I haven’t received a revelation. I just keep having weird dreams—often with K’in in them.”
“You see K’in?”
He nodded. “Yep. The shaman told me people who drink the tea can also make contact with various spiritual or extra-dimensional beings who act as guides. He thinks K’in is still with me.”
There was a lasting silence.
“Do you?” Freya asked softly.
Kelly scoffed. “No, of course not. Our link was biological from being physically in contact. You know I don’t believe in all that crap.” He jumped up from the bed.
Freya eyed him. He didn’t seem as sure as he pretended to be. “Kelly—”
A hollow metallic knocking cut Freya short.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Victoria is awake and asking for Mr. Graham.” Lucy stood half in the room, half out.
“Sure. We should go.” Kelly marched out and down the corridor, quickly followed by the Secretary.
Freya picked up the small metal cup and sniffed the contents. The foul smell filled her nostrils and the back of her throat. Ugh, it’s disgusting. She placed it back on the small bunk side table and started after the other two.
Victoria sat in the uncomfortable, square chair. Its lack of padding and the thin material of her medical gown combined to make the experience of sitting there even worse. She absentmindedly twisted and fiddled with her hair, forming yet another braid to accompany the mass already adorning her head. Behind her, Wak swirled and glided in its tank, never removing its fixed stare from the woman in the dry world.
The hiss of the door snapped Victoria from her fugue state and halted Wak from its constant swimming. The animal placed all four limbs on the glass and peered out. Its head twitched violently to the left, its eyes squeezed shut. When the seizure ended, Wak returned its focus to the outside.
Kelly bowled into the room. “Hey, Vicky. Okay, we got a plan. You up for listening to me for a few minutes?”
She squirmed in the chair and eyed the doorway, waiting for another scientist to come through to poke and prod her.
“I’m on my own,” Kelly said. “Just you and me.” He perched on the edge of the nearby bed.
Victoria smiled weakly, though her crimson eyes were unable to convey any real emotion. “You have a plan?”
“Yep. Came up with it myself.” Sell it to her, Kelly. “You told me that thing in there wants to escape, wants to go somewhere—somewhere specific.”
“Uh-huh,” Victoria replied in a hushed voice before bowing her head and turning her shoulder to hide her face from the animal.
“Well, we’re gonna let it.”
“What?” Her head shot up, and she stared Kelly directly in the eyes.
He steadied himself and consciously kept her blood-red gaze. “Look, when I was attached to K’in, the other clone, distance really made a difference. The bond became much weaker. Maybe if we put some distance between you and it, we can free you from it.”
Victoria frowned. “You’ll just let it go? But it’s crazy. Look at it.”
“We want to escort it. Give it room to move but be by its side. See where it wants to go, but—”
“But?”
“But we need you to tell it.”
“No. I’m not going near that thing.” Victoria violently shook her head.
“Listen to me.” Kelly jumped up from the bed and grabbed her shoulders. Then, he got down on his haunches to meet her at eye level. “Listen, you’re the only one the psycho salamander will listen to. With the other animal, K’in, he—it—understood me. Not necessarily through language, but he knew what I meant. I need you to tell it we are going to let it go where it wants—escorted—on our terms. If it farts and my nostrils are offended, it’s back in the fish pond.”
She stared at him. Her sclera-less eyes made him nervous. He couldn’t tell whether she was trying to figure him out or was deep in her own thoughts.
Victoria turned her head to look at Wak. It was very still, pressed firmly against the glass as if listening to their conversation. Clumsily, she rose, her bare feet on the floor, and shuffled with her head down toward the tank.
Kelly watched her intently. She reached the glass and stopped, her head still slung low. Kelly watched as her shoulders rose and fell quickly with nervous breathing. Victoria took a final deep breath and exhaled before facing the animal. She clutched at the space where her crucifix used to be. Remembering it wasn’t there, she grabbed one of her hair braids instead.
Wak lowered itself to meet her, eye to eye.
There was a lasting silence.
Kelly sat again on the edge of the bed, careful not to make the mattress springs groan.
“You understand me, don’t you?” Victoria wasn’t asking.
Wak didn’t move.
“I know you do. I can feel you do. That must mean you know I despise you, too. I hate that you’re in my head, in my body. You make me feel sick. And I want rid of you. Do you hear me? I want my life back.”
Kelly strained to listen. She was speaking too quietly—like she didn’t want him to hear.
“You want out of here. I can feel you’re trapped. You want to escape. So we both want something. These people will let you go where you want. They will take you. And I will be rid of you. We both win. If you fight, it will be back in the tank for you. Do you understand me?”
Wak stared at her through the glass. She breathed away her fear. It understood. She cou
ldn’t say how she knew that, but she did.
Victoria turned slowly to face Kelly and nodded sheepishly. “Okay.”
Kelly nodded back. “That was very brave, Vicky.”
“Can we get out of here? I don’t want to be in the same room as it anymore.”
“Of course.”
She shuffled to him. Kelly placed his arms around her shoulder and walked her toward the door. Upon opening it, they were met by a guard and Freya standing in the corridor.
“Sir, the woman cannot leave. Doctor’s orders.”
“Pal, you best get the fuck outta my way. I ain’t gonna ask twice.” Kelly clenched his jaw and shot Freya a look she knew well.
“It’s alright, she can’t run anywhere. Let them go.” Freya stepped aside.
Kelly walked Victoria through the gap and gave Freya a nod of both gratitude and confirmation that Victoria had done as asked.
Freya watched as the pair trundled away down the dark passageway.
“Something wrong?” Minya asked.
The Russian’s silky accent didn’t startle Freya, but she had been so intently watching Kelly that the woman’s presence was unexpected—unwelcome.
“No, I just don’t trust him. Something’s not right. I know Kelly.” Suddenly aware she was voicing inner thoughts to someone she wasn’t really acquainted with, Freya snapped back to give full attention to the Russian woman.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Da. I was just wondering when you intend to move creature.”
“Tomorrow, first thing. We’re prepping a team. We’ll move at first light.” Freya eyed her. “Why?”
“I wonder if you really need me. Until now, I have not been much help.”
“Actually, we’ll probably need you more than ever. You are an expert on languages and, if I remember, some of the more adventurous scientific theories. Wherever the creature wants to go, I imagine it will be quite specific. Your skills will be needed, Dr. Yermalova.”
Children of the Fifth Sun Page 34