by S. S. Segran
Kody looked down at his reddened palm, then through a watery, despondent smile, said, “Well, that’s all, folks.”
48
He worries me, Mariah thought. He acts like it’s nothing, like someone didn’t infect him just hours ago.
Jag’s words rang with mild exasperation in her head. Sounds like Kody, alright. Let me guess, he’s also cracked jokes about his situation?
Not jokes. Puns. Awful ones, too.
That’s the only way he knows how to cope with anything, which makes it harder to tell how he’s really feeling. And you guys don’t have the personal test kit anymore…
He’s terrified out of his mind, Jag. It’s in his eyes. It’s like he’s barely able to keep himself together but he doesn’t want us to worry. He keeps saying ‘At least I can’t infect you guys!’ It’s insane.
I wish I could be there. Maybe—
I doubt you could’ve done anything. Really. Don’t feel guilty. Marshall and Domi are already beating themselves up. Marshall cleaned out Kody’s wounds and put a dressing on his neck with some of the Dema-Ki powder and he just looks miserable, as if he’s failed us. And Tegan’s on a major guilt trip.
Tegan? Why?
Mariah glanced at Tegan, who, with the Sentries, had led the march south of Khartoum through the fields and dirt roads toward a fenced seventeen-acre estate surrounded by empty farmland. They approached the black, padlocked gate, which was surrounded by wood and barbed wire fencing with a sign that read ‘Sigmund’s Air Adventures’. Dominque hit the buzzer.
Mariah? Jag prodded. Why does Tegan feel guilty?
Because she made the call for us to go into the city instead of camping out at the field last night. She hasn’t spoken much since the attack. If you could talk to her—
I will.
Thanks, Jag. So, how’s your leg?
It’s mending pretty fast, but Danny took a look at it and said it’ll still take some time.
At least you’re on track to recovery. And you’re positive no one’s on your trail?
As far as we can tell, we’re good. The safe house is in the middle of a desert so it would be hard to sneak up on us. Plus, Danny patrols the perimeter often. He’s not a Sentry, but man, he’s got a heart like one. We’ve been playing card games and sharing stories. You wouldn’t believe some of the things he and Marshall used to do. They kind of remind me of us when we were younger.
I’d love to hear those stories sometime. Sure sounds like you’re with good company.
Yeah. Danny’s really cool. Still… I know it’s just been three, four days since you left but I miss you knuckleheads.
Mariah smiled despite herself. We miss you too, you macadamia nut.
And you guys are sure you’re not being followed?
We shook them before we got to the airport. There’s no way Reyor’s dogs know where we are.
Dominique hit the buzzer a few more times but got no response. Frowning, she snaked her arm through one of the gaps in the gate, pinched the sturdy padlock loose as easily as if she were snapping a pea, then led the group up the sandy pathway toward the red-brick bungalow.
Something’s been bugging me, ’Riah, Jag said.
Mariah tilted her head up to feel the sun on her face. Hm?
The seeds.
What about them?
It’s been on my mind for ages but I didn’t really get to delve into it. Since you left, I’ve had time to mull it over and… well, the whole story bothers me.
Go on…
Think about it. So the siblings, Carmel and her brother, possess the seeds to the Tree of Life, a tree that’s supposedly able to cure virtually every disease. And yet they guarded it with their lives and with so much secrecy instead of making this amazing gift available to the world. I mean, when they thought they were going to die in Masada, they buried the box! Why was there a need to keep those seeds hidden away?
Maybe it was part of their mission? They were descendants of the Keepers of the Seeds, weren’t they? The ones who were under the charge of the Custodians of the Temple on the Island?
Even so, it still doesn’t make sense to me.
There’s so much that even the people of Dema Ki don’t know about the seeds, and the little we do know came from Magèo’s discovery of the ancient journal. Maybe it was just a safekeeping ritual or something.
I don’t know. Something’s not adding up.
Why don’t you keep digging, see what you can find? Reach out to Elder Nageau, he might have some insights. Look, we’re about to enter the house, so we’ll catch up later, okay?
Yeah. You guys stay safe. And keep a close eye on Kody.
Of course. Mariah severed the connection as the group walked up the small concrete patio. Dominique knocked on the door of the single-story residence. They waited for a few minutes but no one appeared to welcome them.
“That’s odd,” Dominique said. “His truck is still here.”
She tried turning the knob and to everyone’s surprise, the door swung inward. They surreptitiously filed into the sparsely decorated house. The open floor plan gave the home a spacious feel with the kitchen and dining area to the left and the living room on the right.
“Sigmund?” Dominique called. “Siggy? It’s Domi Mboya!”
Her words were met with silence.
“Domi,” Marshall murmured.
The group turned to see him in the living room, looking uneasily at an old leather chair facing away from them. They approached hesitantly, Mariah trailing behind the rest. When Dominique reached Marshall, the other Sentry had to hold her up with both arms to keep her knees from buckling.
A Caucasian man, tanned from years of living in the desert, sat in the chair. His eyes were closed but sunken, and he was bony and frail with a few wisps of hair still on his liver-spotted head. The skin around his cheeks and jowls sagged. A faint, foul odor forced Mariah to breathe through the sleeve of her t-shirt. Oh, my God…
“Looks like he’s been here for a couple of days,” Marshall said, still holding Dominique steady. “Domi? Here, let’s get you seated.”
She pulled away from him and knelt beside the old man. Kody rested a hand on her shoulder; Mariah noticed the gentleness on his face. “I’m sorry.”
Dominique squeezed his hand, then lightly touched the deceased man’s knee. She took a shaky breath. “He was… he was a good friend of my father’s. I’ve known him since I was a child. He left Germany decades ago and has lived here ever since. He loved Africa and her people so much. I…” Her voice quavered and she trailed off.
They stood in silence for a time until Tegan said, “I really don’t want to be the one to bring this up, but—”
“The plane,” Dominique finished. She dried her eyes with the back of her wrist.
“Do you know what kind it is?” Kody asked, unconsciously tracing the edges of the square dressing on his neck. “Single or twin engine?”
“I have no clue, but we should find out.” Dominique took a few more breaths, then led them outside. They found a barn-style steel aircraft hangar north of the house beside a grass landing strip. As Kody studied the airstrip, Mariah heard him say to himself, “That’s about twelve hundred feet. Which means… yeah, probably. Need to check out the plane first, though.”
Dominique snapped off the chains and easily pushed the two hangar doors apart. They slid with a screech, revealing a small maroon-and-white plane. Kody circled the pristine aircraft appreciatively. “Cessna 206. Single-engine, stretch version with six seats, large cabin. Built tough. Nice. I can work with this.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” Aari asked.
Kody gave him a sore look. “Dude, I’m fine. Besides, does anyone else here know how to fly one of these?”
“Point taken.”
Kody picked up a thick binder from an office desk on the right side of the hanger. “Ah, maintenance records.” He flipped through the pages. “Wow. Sigmund was super organized.”
The hangar was stocked w
ith tools, spare parts, and six fifty-five-gallon fuel drums sitting on wooden pallets. Poking around a dead man’s property didn’t sit well with Mariah, especially since, if Kody could fly the aircraft, they’d be taking his plane.
Kody moved to a separate chart table filled with maps, taking measurements and doing some calculations on a piece of scrap paper. Aari wove between Tegan and Mariah and whispered, “How does he do that, take everything in stride after what happened last night?”
“I wish I knew,” Mariah said. “I’m worried sick about him. How long does it take for the symptoms—”
“Shh, later.”
“We should be able to get to Kilimanjaro in eight or nine hours, but we can’t make it without refueling.” Kody tapped a spot on one of the maps with the eraser on his pencil. “Best shot would be somewhere in Ethiopia. Their airspace seems to be open, unlike Tanzania where we’ll have to literally fly in under the radar. This means we’ll need to factor an hour’s delay into the trip. I’ll have to make a call to see if they’re still up and running before inspecting the plane.”
“But it can be flown?” Marshall checked.
“It looks like it’s in great shape, so I’m thinking yes. Give me about forty minutes.”
“How can we help?” Tegan asked.
“By leaving. I’ll just need Marshall’s help topping up the fuel, but after that I need to be on my own.”
Once Marshall had given his assistance, he and Dominique left with Aari. Tegan watched Kody as he worked, plainly remorseful, before following the others to the house. Mariah hung back, scuffing her shoes against the ground. “You sure you don’t need any help?” she asked.
Kody, standing underneath the plane’s starboard wing with a clipboard in hand, shot her a lopsided smile. “You know, it’s amazing how aware you become of other people’s anxiousness when they’re worried about you. It feels like at least one of you has eyes on me at all times.”
“Can you blame us?”
“No, I guess not. But honestly, I should’ve been continuously scanned our surroundings for any infected. I was tired and didn’t think straight.”
“You can’t be constantly accessing your abilities, Kody.”
“But I should have checked Atif’s and his uncle’s heat signatures. Listen, I appreciate the concern, but it doesn’t help. What happened, happened. All we can do now is hope we find the seeds soon.”
“You’re not scared?”
The joviality dissipated from his smile. “Does it really matter?”
Mariah stomped her foot. “You’re unbelievable! It does matter to us, you jack—”
“Okay, fine, I hear you. You want the truth?” He dropped the clipboard, the metal casing clanging loudly, and strode over to her, all semblance of liveliness gone. “I am scared. I’m petrified. I think I might have even crapped my pants at some point. But what good does any of it do? I’m just trying to get myself into a space that lets me think ‘Alright, if it comes down to it, I’m ready to die’.”
Mariah glared at him until tears formed in her eyes and he blurred in her vision. Kody reached out to her, alarmed. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry, ’Riah. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He put his arms around her. “See? This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Why in the world are you comforting me when I should be the one comforting you?” Mariah spluttered.
He pretended to gnaw on her head like a zombie. “Because you have no braaaain.”
She pushed him away, sniffling. “You’re dumb.”
“Maybe so, but do I detect a smile on your face?”
“Shut up.”
“Never. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a plane to get acquainted with.”
She gave him a tight hug then left him to his work, mopping at her eyes with her t-shirt as she slunk back into the house. I feel like such a wuss, she thought. Look at how he handles all of this, like some kind of superhero.
Marshall, Tegan and Aari stood together by the front door, conversing urgently; they seemed on edge, ready to burst.
“… how long do the symptoms take to show?” Tegan was asking.
“Anywhere between two to seven days,” Aari said. “I’m keeping track of everything to the minute. So far it’s been fifteen hours since the, um, incident.”
Tegan rubbed her forehead. “Even if we find the seeds within the next day, it’s not going to help. The trees take four weeks to grow to maturity. No one’s lasted that long with either the Alpha or the Omega strain as far as we know. And with the way Carmel and Lucius had been trying to escape the Empire, the seeds could be on the other side of the continent for all we know. What if we’re chasing a ghost? What if the seeds are gone, lost for good? We’re literally pursuing a memory, and in all this we sacrifice Kody?”
“That’s a lot of what ifs,” Marshall said. “It’d be better to not go down that line of thought. But if we do find the seeds, there may be a way to slow the symptoms until a tree’s fully grown. I can check with the Elders. Maybe harvesting a bit of the sap when it sprouts will buy Kody time.”
“That’s really wishful thinking.”
“What else do you want me to say, Tegan?” the Sentry snapped.
Tegan threw her arms up. “I don’t know!”
Mariah cleared her throat, making them jump. “Where’s Domi?”
Marshall answered, visibly trying to calm his temper. “Domi wanted to do one last service to Sigmund. His wife’s grave is nearby, so she’s laying him to rest beside her.”
“He must have known he was dying. Why did he just stay in his chair?”
“What else could he have done?” Aari asked. “Get help? Who could help him?”
Mariah slumped her shoulders and headed into the living room. She sat on a sofa across from Sigmund’s now-empty chair. How many people all over the world see this? Spaces that were once occupied, now a blunt reminder of lost family and friends.
Dominique returned a while later and busied herself with organizing the house even though it was already excruciatingly tidy. Mariah caught her breaking into quiet tears again and turned away to give the Sentry some privacy.
Kody finally joined them. “So here’s the deal. We’ll be stopping to refuel in Jimma, Ethiopia, some four hours after takeoff. There was dead air when I tried to call the people at the airport, so let’s cross our fingers that they’re still functional. From there, it’s another four, maybe five hours to Kilimanjaro. We’ll land after sunset and in radio-silence to avoid detection. I’m gonna turn off the transponder for extra measure and we’ll be flying real low into Tanzania.”
Mariah took in the haggard faces of the group. Since landing in Africa, they’d been shot at, nearly eaten, and one of their own had been attacked. They’d hardly gotten any rest except for a couple of hours here and there, and after what happened the night before, none of them had been able to sleep. But they were ready to push through, now more than ever.
Kody held the front door open. “All aboard the twelve o’clock flight to Kilimanjaro.”
49
Victor sat up, holding his head in one hand and slapping the ground beside his mattress with the other until he found a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. Bad-temperedly, he thought, That’s what you get for abusing your body for years.
The view out of the wide, triangular window of his loft room at the Lodge boasted a view of mountain scenery. Fresh snowfall that morning had carpeted the peaks. As the afternoon came around, flurries had settled and a light gray sky covered the region. Chief, curled up by the window with his tail covering his nose, was fast asleep.
Victor absently felt his stubble up to his ear, finding the stitches on the partially-torn helix. At least it wasn’t completely shot off… guess there’s that to be grateful for.
The Sentry grabbed a t-shirt and slipped it on as he headed downstairs to the airy common room. He found Deverell brooding on a sofa, mangled arm in a cast, looking toward the kitchen with the corners of his mouth turned
down. Victor followed his gaze and saw Anya on the kitchen counter where Gareth tried to entertain her with origami cranes.
Poor kid, Victor thought. He’s trying so hard to take care of her. He glanced at Deverell. And he’s worried about his brother.
Anya took one of the paper cranes, stared at it, then hurled it away with a sob. She slid off the countertop before Gareth could catch her and ran toward the living room. Gareth fell back against the island behind him and hung his head.
As the girl darted past Victor, he swept her into his arms and sat her down on one of the sofas. She ripped out her hearing aids and chucked them to the floor. Victor held her cheeks, wiping the tears away and making her look at him, then signed at her to ask what was wrong.
She placed her thumb to her chin, the rest of her fingers extended. ‘Mommy.’
Victor settled on the ground. How are we supposed to tell her why her mother won’t ever come back? he wondered, holding out a hand. Anya hesitantly grasped his pinkie through her blubbering, her fingers tiny compared to his. It’s okay, sweetheart. Being an orphan sucks—I know. But we won’t let you go through this alone.
Anya’s sobs eventually quieted as exhaustion took hold. She curled against a throw pillow, her eyes drooping. Victor waited until she was asleep before joining Gareth in the kitchen, who looked up as he approached.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Vic,” the younger Sentry whispered. “I want to take care of her but she hates me now. Which is fair. I may as well have killed Ina with my own two—”
“First of all,” Victor said curtly, “she doesn’t hate you. She’s hurting. Kids are pretty perceptive so she can probably sense that something’s happened to her mother. Second, you can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“But I am to blame. I asked Ina for help and I waited too long to get her. You can’t tell me my fingerprints aren’t on this.”
Victor leaned against the island counter beside Gareth. “That’s not what I meant. I understand guilt. I understand regret. I’m not going to dispute what you’re feeling. But if you let the guilt and the regret fester…” He looked down, jaws clenched. “It’ll eat at you from the inside and you’ll find yourself running down a road you never wanted just to make the pain go away.”