Callsign: King ctm-1

by Sean Ellis

  She gazed past him, unresponsive. He decided to try a different tack.

  “Felice. That’s who you are; Felice Carter. Where did you say you’re from? Somewhere in Washington state?”

  “Kirkland,” she murmured.

  “That’s near Seattle, right? Have you been to the Space Needle.”

  A laugh escaped her lips, cracking the mask of despair. “That’s for tourists.”

  King smiled. “Well, I’ll tell you what. When you’re back home in Kirkland, I’ll come visit you and you can take me to the Space Needle.”

  “Elvis,” she said, unexpectedly. “Your shirt.”

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  “I’ll take you to the Experience Music Project. You might like that.”

  “It’s a date.” He grinned. It was working; he’d broken through whatever spell she was under. “Right now, though, we need to figure out what happened to you in there. Can you do that?”

  Her face clouded again, but she nodded.

  “Something happened when you found that skull, right? You were exposed to something?”

  “Maybe. But what I saw…that wasn’t from any virus.”

  “What did you see?”

  He listened as she struggled to find words to express what she had seen and experienced-a vision of a proto-human woman and her evolution of consciousness, and how that had led to the mass death of thousands of elephants, more than four hundred millennia previously. “Those memories didn’t come from exposure to a pathogen,” she concluded. “Don’t you see? I was… possessed, somehow. And it spread to the others; I was controlling them, just like she controlled those elephants.”

  “What if there’s another explanation?” King was desperate to find that alterative, but he was out of his depth. Sara would have known. “Isn’t there such a thing as genetic memory? Animals are born knowing how to do some things, right? Birds follow migration patterns to places they’ve never been before.

  “When you first told me about the elephant graveyard, you mentioned collective behavior. What if this is a manifestation of that?”

  Her brows knit together in contemplation, but he could tell that she was finally thinking rationally again. “I suppose it could be something like that.”

  “Now, tell me what Manifold would want with something like that.”

  She pondered this for a moment, and then her eyes grew wide. “Control. Turn people into robots, or mindless zombies like…” She gestured back down the passage.

  “Good girl. Figuring out what they’re after is the first step toward fighting it.” He gently turned her so that she was facing the mouth of the cave. “Now, let’s get out-”

  The words died along with his brief elation as he saw the barrel of an AK-47 aimed at his chest.

  17.

  The Russian-designed Kalashnikov rifle was the first thing King saw. The weapon attracted his gaze like a magnet, but he forced himself to look up, into the eyes of the man that held it.

  It was one of the Ethiopian workers they had hired in Addis Ababa. A second man, also from that group and likewise armed, advanced and quickly relieved King of his MP5, then shoved King toward the exit, barking an order-presumably in Amharic-that required no translation. King raised his hands in a show of compliance, and moved out of the cave, with a wide-eyed Felice right next to him.

  The other two Ethiopian hired men were waiting outside with Moses, and while the men were armed, King noted that Moses did not appear to be under guard. “What’s going on here, Moses?”

  Night had descended over the valley and it was hard to see the young man’s expression, when he spoke, there was a hint of regret in his voice. “I have been in the cave. I have seen the treasure of ivory; a treasure that belongs to the people of Ethiopia, to all Africans.”

  “Ivory?” Felice asked, incredulous. “You’re doing this for the ivory?”

  “The ivory is a means to an end. But it is also emblematic of the very reason that such action is necessary. Ivory, like gold, diamonds, and oil, is one of Africa’s great natural resources that has been plundered for centuries to enrich the coffers of foreign kings, while leaving the indigenous people to wallow in poverty, or worse, be enslaved by those foreigners.”

  King thought the speech sounded rehearsed, but he did not interrupt.

  “This must change,” Moses continued. “The wealth of Africa must be used to enrich the people of Africa, starting with the ivory in the cave.

  “Did you know that, despite an international ban on the sale of ivory, the wholesale slaughter of elephants continues. The elephants are on the verge of extinction, and yet foreigners continue to buy ivory. My kinsmen, desperate for money, facilitate the slaughter, but it is the foreign ivory brokers who reap the reward. When news of this discovery reaches the world, those foreigners will act swiftly to take control of this place in order to secure their own prosperity-just as the cartel has done with diamonds-and nothing will change. That cannot be allowed to happen.”

  “So you want to ensure control of the ivory for your own people,” King said. “I get that. It’s a noble endeavor. But this isn’t the way to go about it.”

  “You misunderstand. We will use this treasure to buy back our freedom, to break the chains of foreign oppression.”

  King’s eyes widened in comprehension. “You’re going to use it to finance a revolution.”

  “These men,” Moses gestured to the armed Ethiopians, “are soldiers in the Pan-African Army of Freedom. Yes, they are revolutionaries, but they do not seek merely to topple on corrupt government and replace it with another. They desire, as do I, an end to the control of Africa’s wealth and people, by foreign interests. The era of colonial Africa will end. We will see it done.”

  “Let me guess. They’ll make you president for life.”

  Moses chuckled. “I have no such ambition. Besides, the struggle will be long, but in time, it will be up to the people of Africa to elect a capable leader. Someone untainted by corruption and the influence of foreign corporations.”

  “Do you really believe you could ever get them all to agree to that? Get all the different tribes and ethnic groups to put aside centuries of conflict?”

  Moses’ voice suddenly took on a harsh edge. “Who do you really believe is responsible for tribal violence and ethnic cleansing? Foreign powers have continued to set brother against brother, playing on superstitious fears in order to keep their control, and when tragedy occurs, they stand back and say: ‘Look, the Africans are savages who cannot rule themselves.’ Do not presume to lecture me on the matter of African history.”

  Felice spoke up. “Moses, I agree with you. I think what’s been happening here is terrible. And you’re right. The wealth of Africa should be used to help Africans first. But there’s more going on here than you realize.”

  Moses made a cutting gesture with his hand. “Do not think that because you have black skin, you are any different. I know who you are, who you work for. Your company sent you here to find this place; to pillage yet another of our natural resources.”

  “No,” she pleaded. “I mean, maybe that’s why we came here in the first place. But there’s something dangerous in that cave. Something evil.”

  “You will not sway me with superstition.” He snorted derisively, but King thought there had also been a note of hesitation in the young man’s response.

  He knows. King realized. He went in the cave to rescue Felice; he had to have seen what it did to the others. “It’s not superstition. You know what she’s talking about. You saw what it did to her. They found something in there; some kind of pathogen.”

  Moses turned to one of the gunmen and said something in their shared language. Then he addressed King and Felice again. “My friends would like to see what you have discovered. Perhaps you can show us this evil you speak of.”

  # # #

  King’s hands were bound behind his back. He realized as the knots were cinched tight that he’d probably missed several opportunitie
s to overpower his captors. Moses’ betrayal had caught him completely off guard, but rather than berate himself for his failures, he instead determined to be ready when the next chance presented itself. The four gunmen were not professional soldiers-he could tell that much just by watching their behavior-and while that didn’t necessarily make them any less dangerous, it would give him an advantage when he made his move. Lacking military discipline and reflexes sharpened by training and combat, they would hesitate, perhaps only for a fraction of a second, and that would be all the time he needed. For the moment, however, he did not resist. He needed them to believe that their control was absolute.

  Using the powerful electric lanterns from their supplies, the party moved back into the cave. Moses and the four gunmen exchanged a few words in their common tongue, and King used the opportunity to reassure Felice. “Everything is going to be all right,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. “If something happens, just get down and cover up.”

  She looked back at him, her eyes full of fear and not as much hope as he would have liked, and nodded slowly.

  In the diffuse light from the lanterns, everything looked different. King was awed by the number of elephant skeletons stacked up in the cavern. All African elephants, male and female alike, grew tusks, so the amount of ivory contained in the chamber was beyond comprehension; probably more than the sum total of all that had been harvested from hunting in recorded history. King didn’t know much about the current state of the ivory market; was there even a demand for it anymore?

  That might be something to use as leverage against Moses, but King suspected the young idealist was beyond reason. As long as there were guns pointed at him, reasoning with Moses and the others wasn’t high on King’s list of priorities.

  After about half an hour of marveling over the sheer scope of the ivory trove, during which time King and Felice were constantly guarded by two gunmen, the group moved back up the passage to the surface. The Ethiopians had not ventured beyond the outer perimeter, and King got the distinct impression that Moses was purposely avoiding the path that led to the shrine of tusks.

  King noticed a change in the demeanor of the four armed revolutionaries. They seemed emboldened by their newfound wealth, louder and more aggressive. King also saw a growing look of dismay on Moses's face.

  “Problem with your new friends?”

  Moses glared back at him angrily. “They are trying to decide whether to hold you and Felice for ransom, or simply execute you.”

  “Yeah? What’s your vote?”

  “This isn’t what I wanted. There wasn’t supposed to be any violence.”

  King laughed humorlessly. “You thought maybe you could free Africa from foreign domination by asking politely?”

  Moses winced as if the comment had been a physical blow. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You need to get control of this situation,” King pressed. “Senseless violence is no way to launch your dream of a free Africa. It just confirms what everyone already says; that you are savages.”

  The young Ethiopian’s eyes were like daggers. King knew his harsh words had struck the right nerve, but he also knew that they were probably already past the point where Moses might be able to reason with his confederates.

  As if to underscore King’s suspicion, one of the men abruptly grabbed Felice’s arm and dragged her away like chattel. King’s muscles bunched, reflexively struggling against his bonds, but as he started after Felice’s abductor, another of the rebels rammed the wooden stock of an AK into his gut. King saw the blow coming and managed to turn his body just enough to avoid serious injury, but the assault doubled him over and put him on his knees.

  Moses seemed paralyzed by the sudden violence, but as Felice began struggling in her captor’s grip, he overcame his shock and leapt to her rescue. He got a hand on the man’s shoulder before the rebel who had clubbed King went after him, thrusting him aside disdainfully. The other two rebels cheered their comrade on, covering both Moses and King with their rifles.

  As he tried to get his feet back under him, King saw the look of despair in Moses’ eyes; the realization that his carefully laid plans had gone up in a blaze of lust and violence. He had delivered the prize to the freedom fighters, expecting to be embraced as their visionary leader, but now he was simply in their way.

  King knew he had only a few seconds in which to act, to do something, anything, to prevent the men from gang raping Felice, and probably killing him as well. Moses, willing though he now appeared to be, probably wasn’t going to be much use in a fight. Nevertheless, the young man’s ill-conceived attempt at chivalry had diverted the attention of the rebels, if only for a moment, and King wasn’t going to let that moment go to waste.

  He lowered his head and somersaulted toward the rebel guarding him. The AK cracked loudly as a bullet split the air where he had been an instant before, but before the man could adjust his aim, King, with his back flat against the ground, drove both feet up into the man’s gut.

  As the man staggered backward, King was moving again, using his bound hands to push off the ground and spring to his feet. But even as he moved, he saw the other rebels’ guns tracking him, and knew that he’d lost whatever advantage he’d had.

  Then Felice screamed, and he realized that getting shot by the rebels just might be the least of his worries.

  18.

  King could see, in his mind’s eye, the seven zombie-like members of the original research team, rushing from the depths of the cave, responding to the threat to Felice. They were like warrior bees, instantaneously mobilizing to defend the queen.

  But before that could happen, the man assaulting Felice abruptly fell back, as if he had received an electrical shock. He then got to his feet, and turned woodenly toward his comrades. Although the latter were poised to shoot King, their eyes were drawn to the would-be rapist. There was no fear in their eyes; instead, they seemed amused, as if they thought their friend was playing a joke. King knew better; in the icy white glow of the electric lantern, he could see that Felice’s assailant now wore the same blank expression as the zombies in the cave.

  Moses must have noticed it as well, for he scrambled back as if the approaching man was a venomous serpent. The man ignored him and advanced toward his comrades- former comrades, King thought-his face and body language betraying nothing of his intent. One of the rebel fighters said something in Amharic, perhaps asking for an explanation for the odd behavior, but none of the three Ethiopians seemed to sense that something had gone very wrong.

  The only answer came in the form of an attack. The changed man approached the closest rebel and started raining blows with closed fists.

  The rebels stumbled back, gripped by confusion, and for a moment did nothing to intervene. The punches were brutal, filled with primal energy, and the target of the attack was rendered senseless before he could so much as raise a hand in his own defense. The two remaining rebels, still unable to process what was happening, leapt forward to restrain the man, but he wrestled free of their hold and began directing his fury at them.

  At last, the two rebels seemed to understand that their friend now meant to kill them, and as one of them also went down under a rain of fists, the remaining man brought his Kalashnikov rifle to bear. He took a couple steps back, and then took aim.

  Before he could pull the trigger however, reinforcements arrived. The seven zombies emerged from the cave and descended on the gunman like warrior ants. The rifle discharged with a thunderous crack, but the bullet zipped away into the night sky as the man went down under the combined weight of his assailants. From the midst of the tangle of bodies came the sickening crunch of bones breaking.

  All of this happened in a matter of seconds, time in which King sorted through his options like a bad hand in a poker game. Moses had fled the scene, running flat out toward the parked SUVs. He would be no help, but despite his betrayal, King wasn’t ready to count the young idealist as an enemy. Felice was probably safe; the zom
bies had come in response to a threat to her safety. Their sole purpose seemed to be protecting her from harm, but King got the impression that they no longer possessed any ability to discriminate friend from foe.

  But in the cave, they had responded to her commands; would that work again? Or would approaching Felice make him the primary target of the zombies’ wrath?

  As he pondered this, he contorted his body and threaded his legs through the circle formed by his bound wrists. There was no time to wrestle with the knots, but with his hands now in front of him, he would be able to use them in his own defense. It wouldn’t count for much if all seven-make that eight-of the zombies attacked en masse.

  He jogged over to where Felice lay. She was sobbing, but did not appear to be in the grip of another episode of catatonia. He knelt beside her. “Felice. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wild in the grip of an adrenaline fugue, but after a moment she began looking around to verify what he was telling her.

  “You’re safe now,” he repeated. The sound of footsteps scrabbling on the hard lava rock signaled that his actions had not gone unnoticed. “No one is going to hurt you. But you need to call them off.”

  “Call them…?”

  “The zombies.” He winced at his use of the term, but didn’t know what else to call them. “Tell them to stop. Send them back to the cave.”

  Comprehension dawned. She glanced over his shoulder at the approaching horde and raised a hand.

  The crunch of footsteps stopped immediately and an eerie silence descended over the plain. King looked back cautiously and saw the group arrayed around him, only a few feet away. He breathed a tentative sigh of relief, but when he looked back at Felice, all he saw was horror. Her eyes were riveted on the form of the man who had, only a few moments earlier, been trying to rape her.

  “What have I done?” she whispered, hoarsely. “I did that to him. I made him that way.”