by S. S. Segran
“I’m in love,” Jag heard Tegan say dreamily behind him. “The furnishing is minimalist. The carpet is so soft. And the windows are so big! Look at all that natural light coming in!”
“Forget that, just look at this kitchen!” Kody bent over a marble island counter, arms spread out to embrace it. “If this is what heaven is, I’m no longer afraid of death.”
Dominique seemed pleased. “I’m glad you like it here. The Lodge was willed to me by my father when he passed away, but it really belongs to all of us. This used to be a boutique hotel for many years before my father decided to turn it into a safe house for Sentries. Many of us have used this place over the years to meet or rest between travels. Some even took the liberty to renovate and upgrade the furnishings. Though we are quite off-the-grid, we have enough technology to power this place without a problem, and we even have high-speed internet.”
The friends were impressed. Kody raised his hand. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”
The Sentry’s lips twitched from refrained laughter. “You will get it shortly. Now come, let me show you the rooms. Pick whichever one suits your fancy.”
When she led them to the first room, Jag knew it was the one he needed and he claimed it instantly, grinning from ear to ear.
“Are you sure you don’t want to look at the others?” Dominique asked, surprised.
Jag dropped his bag to the ground and took stock of the room. “I’m good, thank you.”
“You can have it,” Kody sniffed. “An entire wall that’s just a window? No thanks. Too much light.”
The Sentry led the others around the main floor, leaving Jag to marvel at his new bedroom. The massive floor-to-ceiling window opposite him granted a view of snow-covered trees and distant mountains. A double bed with fresh linen hugged his face when he belly-flopped onto it. He groaned happily. The room was barren of anything else except a few built-in shelves but it was still elegant.
Jag allowed himself to rest for a few minutes before unpacking. Once done, he went to check on the others, first going into the smaller room beside his. Aari’s clothes were already neatly hung on a rack beside his bed and his toiletries arranged on the short dresser below. The red-headed teenager laid on the bed, checking his phone as it charged. His laptop rested on the carpet, also plugged in.
“I see you wasted no time getting all your electronics out,” Jag said, playfully poking Aari’s cheek.
“It’s the twenty-first century. Unfortunately, we kinda need it all.”
“Makes you wonder how up the creek we’d be if everything suddenly stopped working.”
Aari blanched. “Please don’t talk like that. I’m not built to take on a world devoid of tech.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Jag turned to leave.
“Where you going?”
“To check on the others.”
Aari bounced up. “Think I’ll tag along.”
They found Kody passed out on the mattress in his room. Rows of shelves built into the wall above the bed displayed comic books and bobbleheads of Boba Fett and Master Chief. A small bay window offered a similar view to the one in Jag’s room.
Aari tutted. “He couldn’t even wait until he unpacked his clothes.” He went over to Kody and shook him. Kody turned over, grumbling. “Five more minutes. Jet lag.”
“As if,” Aari retorted. “We’ve travelled with you and never once have you had jet lag.”
That earned him a pillow to the face. Jag shook his head, smiling, and left the room so his friends could squabble in peace.
He found himself in front of Mariah’s room next. The girl was carefully placing books on the single shelf in the room. He knocked on the open door. “Hey, can I come in?”
Mariah beckoned him to enter. “I already love it here,” she gushed. “I mean, it’s kinda bare, but something about this place makes me happy, you know?”
“Yeah.” Jag dug his toes into the soft round rug beneath his feet. “How are you doing, ’Riah? I know… I know leaving home was really hard for you, probably harder than it was for most of us.”
The glow in Mariah’s face faded. She sat on the edge of her bed, hair covering her eyes. “I’m okay.”
Jag took a seat beside her, saying nothing. Neither of them moved for a while until Mariah rested her head on his shoulder. Feeling her shake slightly as she held back tears, he leaned his head against hers and gently stroked her hair. “Your mom’s a strong woman,” he said. “She’ll be alright, knowing she raised a daughter as strong as her.”
Mariah let out a bark of laughter between sniffles. “I’m nowhere near as strong as she is. I freeze up when I’m all alone in a crowd of strangers, for Pete’s sake.”
“You’ve gotten a lot better the last two years,” Jag pointed out. “No one has to hold your hand when you go to the mall now.”
She punched his arm. “Har har.”
“Seriously though, you are doing better. Be patient with yourself and you’ll get there.”
“Thanks, Yoda. Really.”
“Welcome, you are.”
Mariah dried her eyes, giggling. Jag smiled, then indicated the books on the shelf. “I can’t believe you managed to fit all that and your clothes into one bag. You know you can live without books for a while, right?”
“What, that? That’s nothing. I had a dozen more I wanted to bring, but they wouldn’t fit and Tegan didn’t have room in her bag for them.”
“… Readers are crazy people.”
“We are crazy. And books are our medicine.”
“I’ll leave you to take your daily dose, then.” Jag gave her a side hug and walked out only to crash into Tegan, who was power-walking down the hall with a toothbrush in her mouth and her hair in a bun with her many earrings on display.
Jag reached out to wiggle the back of one of her studs. “You do know the bathrooms are the other way, eh, Teegs?”
She mimicked his sarcastic tone and smacked him upside the head before continuing to her room. Jag covered himself and followed her, keeping at a safe distance. She grabbed her toiletry bag and rushed back out just as toothpaste started to dribble down her chin. “You can wait there!” she yelled.
“That’s so attractive!” he called back.
“I will shove this toothbrush up your nose, Sanchez!”
Jag recoiled. “Sorry!”
Tegan returned a minute later, all cleaned up. “So, how are you liking our new digs?”
“I’m liking it a lot.”
“Me too. I don’t think we’ll be here for too long, though, which is a shame.”
“What makes you say that?”
“If we’re staying here for a while, then that’s time we could be training in Dema-Ki. We’re out here because things are going to start moving pretty quick. But don’t hold me to that.”
“Leave it to the most observant person on our team to notice that.”
“Team?” Tegan arched her eyebrows at him as she unpacked the last of her clothes. “Since when have we called ourselves that?”
“Sorry, it just… came out.”
“No, don’t apologize. You’re not wrong. We’re a team now, not just a group of friends. And the fact that you called us that means it’s starting to sink in for you too, whether you realize it or not. That’s leadership, Jag.”
Jag slouched against the wall, mouth closed tightly. Tegan noticed his posture and her expression hardened. She threw her clothes onto the bed and stormed up to him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “No. No second thoughts. We talked about this last year. You know you’re the one to lead us. We’ve been following you since we were little, and you’re the one we’ll follow as we walk toward what lies ahead.”
Jag knew that if he tried to argue with her she’d put him in his place, and his pride wasn’t ready for that. He bowed his head at her and only raised it when she went back to unpacking. Her room, like the others, was simple and elegant with only a bed, some shelves, and a window. Jag noticed she’d already started to hang up her
sketches as well as a few completed pieces of artwork.
“I’ve never seen these before,” he remarked.
“I did them while we were in Dema-Ki.”
“You managed to carve out time for art? That’s amazing.” He outlined a particular illustration of a group of superheroes, admiring it. “They’re really good, Teegs. You’ve come a long way.”
“They’re works in progress, but thanks.”
A chorus of voices further down the main floor made the pair look up.
“I think we’ve got company,” Jag said. “The other Sentries must be here.”
As they hurried along the wide hallway, the others emerged from their rooms and fell in step behind them. When they reached the front door, they found Marshall and Dominique hugging the new arrivals who, upon seeing the friends approaching, let out exclamations and greeted them with warmth—love, even. The teenagers, astonished, couldn’t help but reciprocate the genuine enthusiasm as they introduced themselves.
The two men with cheeky grins were the Vaughn twins, who Marshall was particularly fond off. Beside them stood a Sentry from India, Benny Kumar. He was younger than the other Sentries at twenty-six with a full head of wavy black hair and a dark mocha complexion. Lei Shao, a tall and slender Chinese woman, had a razor-sharp look that could strike a serpent down.
Wouldn’t want to get on her bad side, Jag thought.
Coolly observing the gathering from behind the other newcomers stood Zoe King, the Australian Sentry with a well-toned surfer’s body, beach-blond hair and the darkest pupils Jag had ever seen. She seemed amiable but had an air about her that warned off casual conversation.
Behind him, he heard Mariah whisper to Tegan, “I don’t know what it is with Dema-Ki people being tall and graceful. If they had pointy ears and long hair, they’d be elves.”
Tegan giggled, and even Jag failed to suppress a grin.
Benny rubbed his hands together and cheerfully asked, “Should we get on with the meeting?”
Marshall led the way to the top floor where they convened around the conference table, none of them opting to sit. Deverell and Gareth used the cork board to display papers they took from a folder.
Marshall made a call and put it on speaker. When a man picked up, the Sentry said, “Hey, Colback, is this a good time? We’re starting the meeting.”
“Yeah. I’m en route to the New Mexico Sanctuary as we speak. Should be there in an hour.”
“Awesome. By the way, guys, this is Victor Colback on the phone. Some of us know him, some don’t. He’s in charge of locating Reyor.”
“Hey, everyone.”
The other Sentries stirred. They seemed surprised about who was on the other end of the call; Jag caught a couple of them sharing awed glances and heard Benny mutter, “The Knight of the North? That’s him?”
Marshall placed his hands on the table, his tone changing from casual to businesslike. “Okay, this is what we know. Six months ago, crop failures started to spread in America and, a month or two later, around the world. We traced this blight to Phoenix Corporation’s REAPR project—nanomite pods strategically located to decimate major crops across the planet. In June, we managed to completely shut down the pods in North America but the struggle still continues globally. Other Sentries are working on destroying the pods and the last I checked, it’s estimated that eighty percent have been dealt with. Of course, the fallout from this has been famine, riots, and pillaging around the world, not to mention a full-fledged war launched by China and India against Russia. News is, because the Russians were for some reason largely spared by the REAPRs, the Chinese and Indian governments are convinced they’re the culprits behind the systematic crop failures.
“Then between August and September of this year, Dominique was serving at a remote village in the Democratic Republic of Congo when the villagers began succumbing to a highly virulent disease that caused rapid aging. She was, and remains, unaffected but the fatality rate was one hundred percent and sadly, the entire village has since perished.” Marshall reached out to Dominique, placing a hand on hers. She looked down, faintly motioning for him to continue.
“Cut to Wales, early October. Gareth and Dev happened to be in a hospital where a man and a baby had both shown symptoms of the disease. They spent the next two days monitoring every media outlet and saw that the disease was starting to work its way eastward through Europe.
“Now it looks like there’s another type of disease that’s originated in Australia—with Sydney being the epicenter—and it’s a whole different beast. Those affected turn into noxious wind-up toys. When the key’s turning, they seem fine, but when it comes to a stop, they explode in a burst of violence for a brief period before succumbing to death. It isn’t pretty.”
As Marshall spoke, the Vaughn twins worked behind him, Deverell putting up printed articles and photos while Gareth stuck pins in the map on the places Marshall mentioned.
“I assume we’re all aware of the Dubai plane crash that’s been all over the news?” Marshall asked.
“Worst in aviation history,” the Australian Sentry, Zoe, said solemnly. “Over a thousand dead. Five hundred passengers and crew members, as well as those in the mall and Burj Khalifa.”
“Yes. And what we’re now learning is that there’s evidence in the recordings between the pilot and air traffic control to indicate that the copilot was affected by the Australia disease and attacked the flight crew at a critical moment as the plane was landing.”
Jag’s brows knitted. “Obviously we’re looking at it from the angle that this is Reyor’s doing, but apart from dots that seem to connect, how do we know for sure that this is actually the case and not just two random diseases running wild?”
“We do have more evidence,” Marshall said. “Colback, you there?”
“Yeah,” the Sentry on the phone replied. “I was hot on a trail a couple of days ago and listened in on a conversation between Tony Cross and Dr. Nate. The short rat made a reference to something called the Arcane Ventures and spoke about a second project that had been launched globally after successfully conducting initial tests in Africa. What are the chances, right? I’m also willing to go out on a limb and say that their first project was the REAPR pods.”
The Chinese Sentry tapped her sock-clad foot in a rapid, anxious beat. “So this is really happening, then? Reyor’s actually kicking things up a few notches?”
“Great,” Aari muttered. “Go unleash two vicious diseases in the midst of a global chaos, why don’t you.”
“Speaking of the chaos,” Tegan said, “we were kind of under a rock in Dema-Ki. What’s actually happening on the Russian front?”
The Sentries looked uncomfortable. Benny, the Indian Sentry, rested his elbows on the table and chewed his lip. “The invasion has been awfully bloody. The Chinese and Indian forces combined have a massive numerical advantage over the Russians, but it hasn’t been anywhere as easy as they imagined. We just don’t learn from history. Russia’s not exactly known for rolling out the welcome mat to invaders. I’ll give it to the Indo-Sino forces, though; their troops have managed to secure large tracts of agricultural land and a fair number of grain silos. But many of them have been cut off by Russia’s scorched earth policy, not unlike what they did in World War Two with the Nazis. Plus, the Russians are isolating enemy troops and strangling supplies. Oh, and they’re threatening the use of tactical nukes. So far it’s been a conventional war, thank goodness, but the situation is still explosive and I wouldn’t put it past the Russians to lob a nuke into the mix.”
Jag was appalled. “What’s the U.N. doing?”
Lei snorted. “The ever-so-effective Security Council called for cessation of hostilities that, as expected, fell on deaf ears, and they’d now be content if they could broker a ‘de-escalation and containment’.”
“And it’s not just Russia, China and India that’re fighting,” Zoe added. “Roving military units are going after grain supplies in Africa and Southeast Asia, ’spe
cially Indonesia and the Philippines. It’s a free-for-all.”
“What’s America doing?”
“There’s a lot on their plate, dealing with the consequences of the crop loss,” Marshall said. “With riots, social unrest and high food prices, they’ve got enough to contend with. No one’s in the mood for military intervention.”
Jag rolled a chair to the table so he could collapse onto it, and rested his head heavily in one hand. Ugh…
“So do we have any information about the disease?” Tegan asked, leaning against the chair’s high backrest. “Like how it spreads, what the early symptoms are and how infectious it is?”
“We don’t know much, except that it’s extremely contagious,” Marshall answered. “We haven’t got a clue as to how it spreads or how it’s carried.”
“Actually,” Dominique interjected, “I think I do know the symptoms, or at least for the disease that causes aging.”
The gathering gave her their full attention.
“It starts with a cough,” she said, “and then blurred vision that comes and goes. After that, there is weakness and pain in the joints that grow until people who have it can’t move because of the extreme agony and exhaustion. Visual signs of accelerated aging like hair loss, tooth decay, cataracts and failing memory begin appearing between the last two symptoms.”
Jag suddenly saw an image of himself, nearly eighteen, with his skin sagging and his whole body aching, a tooth popping out each time he tried to speak and hair graying before falling out in clumps. He swallowed hard, goosebumps popping all over his skin.
“I’m assuming the CDC’s all over this?” Aari asked.
“They’ve been asked by other countries to aid local efforts, yes,” Marshall said. “Authorities in parts of Europe, Australia and Southeast Asia are scrambling to get to the bottom of this.”
“So where do we go from here?”
Marshall raised his index and middle fingers. “Our job is two-fold. One, contain the outbreak, whatever it takes. Two, stop the scourge at its source.”