I stop speaking and look into Jesca’s olive green eyes, eyes likened to the girl in my vision.
The silence is deafening, but so much is said when Jesca asks, “Who is she?”
“I Believe she is a direct ancestor to you, ” I say then look at the rest of them, “and I think that the invaders, the warriors, the white men, the soldier protecting the tunnel, the mother, the shaman are kin to us and we are all connected to this legacy. Jesca is the root, but we are the outgrowth, the bearers of consequence for a pact our forefathers made long ago.”
Xander questions speculatively, “So, you mean to tell me that down my long family line, I’m directly linked to one of those people in your vision? All of us are?”
I can understand his skepticism and try to explain to him the best I can. “As I grew from a child into a young adult, the vision gained more importance to me. I needed to know if this was something that happened long ago or just my imagination running wild. I spent many nights unearthing records upon records of surnames, both Indian and not, events at the mounds that could prove that I wasn’t imagining this vision. Befriending the local librarian, hours upon hours reviewing tribal records. I wasn’t going to let it go. The vision was too real to let go.”
I move closer to Xander. “After what you told me about your vision.”
I look to Jesca, “Now, your vision, the more I know that a connection is there.” Each of you have a hand in this because you have an affinity to it, a direct blood link.”
Daniel agrees, “Sebastian’s fascination, the Copula, the friendships between Sebastian and your families, the forming of our fellowship, the enemies and the allies we have gained... Michael Sanderson,” Daniel looks at Sebastian, “and Jaeger Sanderson, his father. Xander and Sam, Corinna. These were all echoes resonating from our past to align us with one another right now, in the present.”
Daniel looks at Ezra now. “I do not know as much as you assume, Ezra. Sebastian told me what was necessary about the mounds so that I could keep watch over the site and intervene if there was a threat. You have to know that Sebastian has never talked openly about his vision before this very moment.”
Daniel glances at me and I nod at him, thanking him silently for telling Ezra the same truth.
Ezra runs his hand along his mouth before blowing his lower lip out. His eyes dart to Jesca for a moment, then back to me before he says, “We haven’t seen all of the pieces of the puzzle yet. What if this is all we get? Just the few pieces of the puzzle we have right now? We don’t know what is expected of...her when we get there.”
He is worried and pained for his daughter’s plight. I’m about to console Ezra, encourage him to have faith that what must be done will be revealed to us, when Daniel interrupts.
“I have seen things as well.”
Ezra and I both look from Sebastian to Daniel. I can tell that Sebastian is just as surprised as us to hear what Daniel has seen.
He begins, “The vision started once we landed in the U.S. after you left beyond the veil. The closer we got to the Etowah Mounds, the more vivid they became. I figured the same would happen to you as we got closer. It is already starting.”
My heart races as I speak eagerly. “You have been to the mounds. Have you seen what I’m to do to fulfill the legacy?”
Daniel shakes his head and immediately my heart plummets. “I only saw small pieces of what Sebastian saw; the fight in the village center,” he says.
Daniel rolls his lips together strangely. He is holding something back. “What else?” I ask.
Daniel’s eyes are trained on me, “I saw you. Unlike Sebastian’s vision, the girl...she evolved into you. The high priest, shaman, evolved too.”
He pauses again to my dismay.
“Evolved into who?” I ask urgently.
“Olivia Walker.”
My eyes dart to Luke fearing his reaction to this revelation. He looks like he has been slapped by Daniel speaking her name.
He shakes his head in denial as he says, “It can’t be her.”
As I think back to my time with her in Florida; in her book store, the healing she did for others, the strength of her life force and her spirit. I catch myself whispering, “Ms. Olivia.”
Luke’s voice quakes, startling me from my daze. “Where is she?”
Daniel moves toward him. “Weeks after arriving at the mounds, another wave of guardians found us. Your mother and a group of civilians from Florida were among them.”
“So she is safe.”
Daniel looks back at me. “Yes, she is safe.”
Visibly puzzled, Sebastian combs his hand through his hair. I’ve come to find this a trait of my great uncle when he is frustrated.
“I can’t remember the surname Walker among my research. It makes sense though since your father would have carried the Walker name, not your mother,” Sebastian analyzes before he continues, “Even still, it is becoming more and more obvious with Daniel’s vision and Olivia Walker finding haven in the Etowah Mounds all the way from Florida that we are drawn to this place and the legacy it holds.”
Daniel pulls my attention back to him. “Jesca, it is hard to see past a closed door. You have the key to open that door.” He opens his arms to all of us, “We can only see so much. I have only seen one piece of the puzzle. Until all of you are there, within the mounds and among what is your birthright, we will only know pieces of the whole.”
Briggs chimes in, “Getting to the mounds is easier said than done my friends.”
His crew makes a resounding grunt confirming his statement.
One soldier says, “Yeah, Even with the NOS we have on board.”
I’m about to ask about this NOS the soldier is talking about when Daniel continues, “Before we leave, you must know that our world has changed drastically in the past year. The Sondian fellowship crumbled soon after Gabriel Griffin took his own life. They needed us just as much as we needed them. The Dwellers as you have coined them Jesca, made it all the more important for all of us to come together and fight. We were under attack by something savage that was obliterating our race as well as any other beings that got in their way.”
I think of the other beings that had traversed into our world after the intersection; the giant Nephelim. Have they been killed off?
“The government had no idea what they were up against and shutdown immediately. All the entities that revolved around the government soon followed, leaving us literally in the dark,” says Daniel.
Briggs adds, “No manned water supplies, no manned electricity, no one to run the grids globally.”
Daniel interjects, “Resilience. While not all of the members of our race have it, those that do always surface and survive. It was a blessing that we were able to increase the Copula implantation worldwide after the intersection. When the Sondians became our allies, the implantations skyrocketed. However, when the invasions started, the greatest hit to our global population came in the form of the Dwellers.”
What about the future? What about those that haven’t been implanted yet? “How are you able to continue producing and implanting without the resources?”
Monica jumps in, “Many of the institutions that housed the Copulas are still standing and running. After the intersection and first wave of elemental changes, many of the guardians stayed in the institutions to guard the supplies and to begin taking in people that were suffering. We created our own water supplies, and did what we could in regards to the lack of electricity. There were casualties among the implanted average civilian, but at least we gave them a chance to survive. Now, thus far into the elemental shifts of our climate, the invasion of the Dwellers, those not implanted don’t stand a chance. They are most certainly casualties.”
Her candid description of our world’s transformation in a nut shell makes me realize how much can actually change in a year’s time. With guilt, I admit that we are the lucky ones. We had not helplessly witnessed the first progression of our world’s evolution. I realize that we
will see the continuing progression of the evolution though stirring the anxiety clawing at the pit of my stomach.
Daniel’s words interrupt my thoughts, “You must know that the average civilian did not respond to the Copula devices as we have.”
Concerned, Jake asks, “What? How did they respond?”
Daniel, “It did not heighten any abilities within them. No supernatural speed or strength either.”
“They could breathe, that is something,” says Siobhan.
Nick snickers, “You mean they didn’t have my hot ability?”
Elisha rolls her eyes and maintains her focus on Daniel. “He means the metaphysical stuff, like reading minds?”
Daniel shakes his head. “No Pyrokenesis, Telekinesis, Lactrosis was evident.”
Daniel looks at Sebastian and Ezra and says, “Just another reason why I Believe the unique abilities each of us possess rose from our bloodline, our link to the legacy. The Copula just amplified their strength within us.”
The more he explains to us about how the device is working within the average civilians, the more evident it is that we are unique anomalies forging through the evolving world.
Daniel carries on, “Knitted within the many facilities our fellowship had generated, among colonies spawned on their own, pockets of resourceful, revolutionaries surfaced. They knew there would be a risk, the Dwellers’ attacks, but they knew that survival was only possible with that risk. These pockets were developing everywhere, just like ours in the Etowah Mound facility. These groups of people were working together as a colony. Soon, the colonies began connecting, combining resources, working together.”
Strangely, an image of the little black beings moving along, adapting, surviving in the ant farm flashes in my mind.
We were the ants now.
“They went underground because of the Dwellers?” asks Corinna.
Daniel answers, “They had a pattern of attack. Night was when they were most active.” Daniel points upward. “Due to the intersection of our galaxy and Andromeda, days are longer up there. The colonies do most of their interaction, communicating during the daylight.”
Nick asks, “So, how do they communicate? I mean, you said that the average human hasn’t gained any special abilities like telepathy so how do they work together, colony to colony?”
Daniel explains, “In any given colony you can find all walks of life, all professions. Mechanics, newscasters, doctors, school teachers, housewives, chefs, police force, military. On top of that, a mixture of the implanted average citizen, Sondians, and Dobrians. Among them, they found a way to connect with others out there, other colonies...Resilience.”
I look at the soldiers and Briggs. They look worn, veteraned, from what this transformed world has doled out to them for the past year. I haven’t taken the time to acknowledge them, their fight in all of this for us. “How many are here in your colony?”
Briggs’ eyes lock with mine. “There were two hundred this morning.”
His words are a reminder of the lives lost during our arrival. My chest constricts remembering the feeling of loss of one of your own. “I’m sorry for your losses.”
Briggs shakes his head and shifts the weight of his rifle on his shoulder. “Don’t be. They are free. They are the lucky ones. Just a shame that they missed third Tuesday.”
I shake my head, confused, “What is that?”
Elisha, “You said that earlier when we were coming into the compound. What does that mean? The third Tuesday?”
One of the soldiers clears his throat. “Third Tuesday is burn day. We have to burn the corpses to prevent disease and illness.”
Nick gags audibly, “That was the smell when we got off the plane?”
Briggs, “Yeah. It’s about ten times better than the smell of rot and decomposition.”
I start getting images in my head of what the rot would look like. I close my eyes and swallow down the bile bubbling up in my throat. Daniel’s timing to change the subject is the perfect distraction from the images. “Due to the pattern of attacks by the Dwellers being mostly at night, we are on an obvious curfew.
Ezra asks, “Who mandates the curfew?”
Daniel replies, “We do.” He looks down briefly, then scratches his temple. “It is going to be hard for you to grasp that we don’t have government enforced laws out there anymore. The old society, the one you knew, has ceased to exist. The only thing mandating us, is surviving the evolution and the Dwellers attacks as long as we can.” Daniel glances at me and says, “Or until we are saved.”
Ezra counters him. “We may save ourselves. As evolution goes, there is death and rebirth. The end of one cycle leads to the beginning of a new one. Each rebirth is more resilient, stronger, more adaptable. Maybe the death that must happen isn’t a true death. Maybe it is a metaphorical death. Maybe we can overcome it.”
He surveys the guardians, seeking support, but no one responds. He is grasping for straws now and it makes my heart break for him. He is trying to save me, keep me from being the one burdened with the legacy, but he can’t.
- Kyoto, Japan
The sound of yelling, gunfire, and blood-curdling screams are dulled as I let my mind escape far away from this moment.
* * *
I knew things would be different when I returned. I assumed they would be in my favor, but I was wrong. As soon as I hit the tile in that Dobrian facility, death began to settle within me. The suctioning boom of the wormhole sealing behind me brought me to full attention, eyes wide and searching my surroundings for the others.
I only stopped Sam and Sebastian temporarily beyond the veil and I hoped I had finished the task I was intended by my father, ending Jesca Gershon Kahn. Her father, Ezra was a bonus kill. His bloodline was tainted long before him when his ancestors committed to guard and protect the ones that carried this legacy. A legacy created to prevent our world and the inhabitants from reaching their maximum potential. All of them were tainted, blind of what we could become if we let the evolution take hold.
Feeling my throat beginning to spasm, I see Ezra, Sebastian, Sam, Jesca, Nate, and Xander splayed out on the ground, a visible haze of dust floating in the air above them once stirred by the vortex. I watch each of the bodies for movement. They are alive, breathing, but unconscious.
I shove off from the ground expecting it to be effortless, but my arms can barely lift my chest from the ground without the support of my knees; I use them as leverage to get my body most of the way up. I pinch my eyes closed in pain from the vertigo and splitting headache.
I try swallowing to sooth the tension in the back of my throat, but I have no saliva. My mouth is drying up! I have to get up, get water and find help! All of a sudden, I see movement; it’s Sebastian. As soon as I see him, my vision begins to blur and a feeble wheeze catches in my throat. I cough softly to clear the feeling of my throat tightening, but it only leads to a fiery and excruciating assault on my esophagus upon inhale. Using my hands to push myself to stand, I wobble on my two feet and stumble, almost falling again. I clutch the open doorway ahead of me. Every breath I take results in a horrific sound; the sound of the raw chaffing substance coursing along my esophagus, within my lungs, flowing throughout my body.
The less I breathe, the longer I will last.
I slowly fill my lungs with world’s scorching ingredient, hold it within, and begin to run. At first, I stumble, but then my adrenaline kicks in and I am racing through hallways, checking doors along the way while releasing an inkling of the deadly substance every few feet.
That is one release. Don’t be wasteful, Michael.
The less I breathe, the longer I last, becomes my mantra as I search for an escape.
Every knob I turn is locked, every hallway dimly lit with yellowing lights. The farther I walk and stumble, the white tile floors become concrete.
I release another small sliver of life from my lungs before reaching for the iron doors ahead of me. I pull them expecting to be rejected, but instead th
ey open. The hallway is dark and unkempt like the others, but I feel like this is the one that is going to take me out of this place. The flat, level ground begins to rise in elevation and the urge to breathe out a little more tears at my psyche.
Internally, I scold myself, “No, don’t do it, Michael!”
My sight is in and out, blurring and distorting, but not before I see two corroded iron doors barred with a long metal pipe. This has to be out.
My legs pump as I rush toward the doors, hitting it with my body and lifting up on the long metal pipe at the same time. The metal pipe gives, but it takes every ounce of energy and I can’t hold in my breath any longer.
I release it all, then breath in new poison uncontrollably, my body needing anything to continue. My throat immediately constricts, then spasms, allowing a small amount of substance into my lungs. I hold in what little supply I receive and fall into the two doors, hoping they give way and release me.
The metal gives and I am freed into an empty alley. I slide my body against the wall, keep my eyes focused on my feet leading me along the black asphalt. Leaning my head against the brick wall, I look for life; no people, no cars passing, nothing. I am feeling my body slow, depleted of all energy. My heart is pumping hard, working on little fuel now, but I still try to yell. “Help!”
It is weak and likely no one heard it. I try again, projecting my voice. “Help!”
I stop sliding forward and stare at the alley opening, waiting for someone, anyone to come around either corner. The lids of my eyes take on a mind of their own and slowly fall closed. I let my body slide down the wall and breathe freely, glutting my body with the poison air. The once quickened sound of my heart begins to slow, leaving room for me to hear the deafening silence of this tainted world. Is this the world my father Jaeger Sanderson pictured?
“Is it father?” I hiss.
Just as the Onoch’s had a legacy to protect this meek and ordinary world, my family had a legacy driven to expand and make this ordinary world superior. Would it be? I try to open my eyes again, trying to take in a glimpse of what the world has become, but my body fails me. I think of the beings that have descended beyond the veil and into our world. They had promised me and my fellowship salvation and protection for aiding their passage. Why are they not saving me now? Among the sound of my slowing heart, my ragged, wheezing gasps, I hear a low, patterned hum.
Transcending the Legacy Page 6