The Hunt: Symbiosys

by Michel Weatherall

  Cherninski broke the silence. “Tamara could be a new life-form. A new species. It's possible that her, what?” the Russian struggled with his English, “her alien-facet? Yes. Her alien-facet was not a clone of the original. That her racial qualities - her species' qualities - have evolved and improved. There is no reason to believe she is a threat in the same manner Lorne and Marie are. For all we know, she might simply be human.”

  “This is what we are here to make a decision upon,” Velazquez stated.

  “I will not sanction the execution of a child,” immediately cut in Dr. Ramakrishna. “We take her captive. Safe and secure.”

  Chapter 11: The Bright Light of Day

  Montreal, Canada,

  November 4th, 1994

  Genevieve was surprised. She sat with her laptop on the cafe table in the bright light of day. She was convinced late last night the city would have been evacuated and she could only imagine where she might have found herself. She couldn't have been more surprised to have found herself sitting in a cafe this next morning.

  The results were just as Genevieve expected. A storm swell off the south-west coast of Australia. Minor flooding reported in Perth; Montreal's antipodes. Two diametrically opposite points on the planet. And just as sudden as these flash floods occurred, they were gone.

  She was to meet a contact here within the hour. This individual claimed to have important information for her Global Elliptical Ocean Phenomena (GEOP) theory. It both piqued her interest and made her wary.

  True, there were holes in her theory. Holes she desperately wanted to fill. But very few people knew of her research, let alone the GEOP theory itself.

  She would meet this contact person in a public place, during the bright light of day. Her cameraman, Andre, would keep his eye out for her from a distance. She wasn't worried about her safety. Just curious.

  * * *

  Lorne was only semi-conscious when he teleported. Once again, he maintained little control over the teleportation – the 'trip' feeling more like a half-blind journey down a dark corridor. It was only his instincts that drove the alien-facet.

  He appeared in the Tokyo penthouse. It was dark – nighttime. He dropped to his knees, his breath ragged. He could feel his energy returning. Whatever it was that was leeching off him from La Bellefeuille Maison was gone now.

  He stood up and touched his ear. Although the side of his face and cuff of his shirt were soaked with dried blood, his ear had healed.

  He looked at the digital clock. 8:02 pm. “Marie?” he called out quietly.

  She came around the corned, wide-eyed. “You're back?” she whispered. “Shhh. Tamara's asleep. I just put – Oh my God!” she exclaimed as she saw his face. “You're hurt! What happened?”

  “We need to leave. We need to leave now,” Lorne whispered. “They were waiting for me. They knew. I don't know how, but they knew!”

  Marie was confused. Her eyes scanning Lorne's face, searching for any glimmer of information. “What are you talking about? Who? What happened?”

  He took her hands. Held her close and stopped talking. He reached out with his mind telepathically, simply let the memories and images flow. They spoke more than words ever could.

  Marie's eyes went wide. Her mouth slowly dropped open and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “Tamara?!” her voice was a whispered cry as she went to the baby's room.

  “Don't speak out loud,” Lorne spoke in her head, “They may be listening.”

  Marie came into the room with the baby in her arms. “Why do they want to kill you? To kill us?” her voice quivered. “I don't understand. You saved them. You saved all of them? What about Tamara?”

  Lorne wrapped his arms around both Marie and the baby, kissing the sleeping Tamara on her head. His voice wavered and cracked when he spoke. “Don't worry about Tamara. They won't lay a finger on her.

  “We need to get to the Chiba cottage. We'll be safe there.”

  * * *

  Surveillance HQ Barn,

  Rural Montreal,

  November 4th, 1994

  Nesbitt stood outside. The sun had been up for hours now. The sky was clear, blue, crisp, refreshing, and without a cloud. She held a cup of hot coffee warming her hands as she looked across the fields. The water was gone. All gone. The flood had dissipated just as quickly as it had come.

  Most of the equipment was disassembled now. The barn a few miles down the road from La Bellefeuille Maison had been mostly dismantled now.

  Nesbitt had received her orders. She would be traveling to Japan. Veronica Francois and the mysterious baby boy were just picked up. They weren't her problem anymore.

  Leaman had already left. He had some reports or business to finish up in Ottawa before he'd catch his flight to Tokyo as well.

  The radio news reported that the Heron Island had resurfaced and water damages to the Herons Migratory Bird Sanctuary would run into the millions.

  What the hell was at play here? Nesbitt wondered to herself. She rubbed her temples. She could feel a headache coming on.

  * * *

  The sun was warm on Veronica's face. She held the baby boy and made gurgling sounds. The blond boy held one of her fingers. His hands were so tiny. She had forgotten how small newborns could be.

  She had the baby wrapped up tight and warm as she awaited the vehicle. A police officer stood with her.

  She continued making baby sounds and gently rocking back and forth. An unmarked car arrived.

  As the officer opened the door for her she thought she recognized the driver. He wore sunglasses, looked at her, subtly shook his head, no, as if he wanted her to be quiet.

  As she entered the back seat, she looked around confused. There was no baby seat. The officer shut the door. The driver turned and faced her from the front seat.

  It was Professor Howard Neilson! He whispered quietly to her. “You'll have to excuse the lack of a proper baby seat. I had to improvise rather quickly.”

  He turned around, put the car in gear, and began slowing exiting the barn's lane-way. “I have reason to believe you may be in danger... as well as this mysterious baby.”

  As he got onto the main rural road he adjusted the sun visor. The morning sun was bright and clear. He continued talking. “It won't take them long to figure out what's just happened. We'll need to move quickly.”

  “The baby needs food. Formula,” she responded. Everything else was secondary to Veronica.

  “We need to pick up Genevieve Cadeaux, then we're leaving Montreal. We'll pick up supplies on the way. Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.

  She sat quietly and silently, looking at Neilson's eyes in the mirror. “Who is this baby?” she asked. “Baby's don't just appear from nowhere.”

  * * *

  Montreal, Canada,

  November 4th, 1994

  Professor Howard Neilson walked up to the cafe. He carried a large accordion file folder under his arm. He knew Genevieve Cadeaux from TV news, but he also knew her from his files on her.

  There she sat, outside at the cafe. She seemed to be typing on her laptop, a cup of tea steaming in the cooling air.

  She looked up at him as he approached and smiled. “You must be my contact?” she asked knowingly.

  Neilson didn't have the luxury of time. It wouldn't take long for the authorities to get their act together.

  He smiled, then placed the massive file folder on the cafe table.

  “We have been monitoring your thesis and research on GEOP. I believe your theory is correct. I also believe your hypothesis of it being an unnatural event is also correct. I can provide you with further information on your theory of the GEOP of 1925 which you do not have access to. I have a student who shares your idea of a significantly older, and original Zero-Event, and can point you in the correct direction to link the 1925 event with this Zero-Event.”

  Genevieve was fanning through the file folder while he talked, half listening, half trying to digest the contents
of the folder.

  “How... how did you get this information?!” she asked, her voice revealing her ire, pointing to the folder. “This is my PH. D. thesis? This is my research!”

  “Nobody's trying to steal your work. As I've said, we have been monitoring you. I need to work closer with you on this, but I don't have time to sit and chat with you. I need you to come with me. I have a car and I can -”

  She cut him off cold. “-Non! I am not getting in a car with a stranger.” She looked over Neilson's shoulder and nodded, signaling her 'back-up', Andre.

  “I work for an agency that monitors larger events. Your work is of great interest. That's how we know of your work and research. You are close to something we will need help with. We have the missing pieces you're looking for. We can help each other. But not here. Not now. I cannot stay.”

  Professor Neilson held the car keys up. “I trust you. You can have the keys and you can drive if that makes you feel safer. But we have to leave. The car's parked just there across the street, in plain sight.”

  Genevieve looked at the car. Andre was at the table by this point. “Who's in the car?” she asked.

  “I can explain more details as you drive. It's a woman and a baby.”

  “Is there a problem here?” Andre asked, attempting to sound formidable, but falling short of the mark.

  “Where are we going?” Genevieve asked.

  “We need to leave immediately.”

  Genevieve looked at Andre, then back to Neilson. Last night she fully expect to evacuate Montreal. Why not leave now?

  “D'accord,” she answered and took the keys from Neilson. The pair walked to the car leaving Andre alone by the cafe table. Genevieve looked back before getting into the driver seat, “Thank you, Andre!” and gave him a wink.

  He shook his head, “Crisse!” as he jogged to their van. He would tail her.

  Chapter 12: Shadows of Tomorrow

  When Leaman and Nesbitt boarded their first plane in Montreal, Nesbitt was looking forward to getting some sleep. It had been awhile since she slept and the beginning of her headache earlier in the morning had blossomed into a full-blown one.

  She needed sleep. She knew she needed sleep. Once the plane was airborne she quickly fell into a nightmare plagued slumber.

  She was running through the blackened confines of the shadowy Gatesphere. She ran away from the only light, the purple gateway. Its neon-blue plasma pulses quickly receding behind her.

  Her flight into darkness was both exhilarating and sheer horror. She sprinted full-out; as fast as she could, yet she couldn't see anything in front of her. She had no clue what lay before her! The sense of freedom and being uninhibited was wonderful! But every second she cringed inside, anticipating the collision with a wall, a hole, an unseen obstacle!

  As she ran, purple spheres began opening around her. Not one Gateway, but numerous ones!

  As she ran past them, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement in them!

  A purple gateway snapped open right in front of her. She had no time to dodge around it so she jumped!

  As she soared over the open portal, vertigo overtook her for a moment. She had glimpsed into it. An alien panoramic vista passed beneath her feet. Her heart raced! Something reached out and brushed her foot as she passed over.

  As she landed on the other side another portal snapped open directly in front of her. There was nothing she could do. She had no choice, her momentum carried her through!

  She was blinded for a second by the light. She reached out her hand and caught a hold of something, stopping her momentum.

  She stood at the edge of a great precipitous. She was in the ruins of a building – a high-rise or skyscraper. Half its side was missing, torn off. She overlooked a strange alien city.

  Its other buildings were.... they weren't buildings. They were giant monstrous stone monoliths. Great stained stone citadels pierced the sky. Massive tomb-like objects. Sarcophagi. Somehow – they were all these things.

  Then she heard her name whispered. It was a thunderous whisper. There was no other sound. Only the whisperer.

  And then, in the distance, she saw it. She couldn't make out much of its details. It was too far. No, it wasn't too far. It was out of focus. No. It was far away. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand and looked again. Her eyes couldn't decide what she was seeing. A two-dimensional picture or a distant three-dimensional object.

  As bloated as its body was, its head was simply too large; out of proportion with its body. Its head was a great empty sea conch, its opening an empty cowl's hood. Glowing red eyes – far too many eyes any sane creature ought to have – hovered and floated and moved within the hood's darkness.

  It hissed her name again. No. It made no sound. It didn't say her name. It didn't hiss her name. It was inside her mind. She was violated. Its thoughts were cold, gelatinous, condescending, hateful, and so very, very alien.

  Suddenly something erupted, vomited from its hooded cowl!

  Nesbitt jerked awake with a startle. The other passengers on the plane were mostly sleeping – or trying to sleep, or reading with small lights. The plane's cabin was quiet. She could hear the every so quiet background sound of... what? Whispering?

  Her headache had only gotten worse. She pushed the button for the stewardess. She could see the stewardess coming down the aisle with a smile on her face.

  “Can I help you?” she whispered.

  “Advil. I need some Advil. Tylenol. I don't care. I've got a splitting headache.”

  * * *

  Veronica had gone into the grocery store to get some baby formula, diapers and other assorted supplies. She took the baby with her. Professor Neilson and Genevieve stood outside their car waiting.

  “You have no catalyst for your latest finds,” Neilson began. “The Tokyo-Porto Algre floods. I think I may be able to help-”

  “-That's not the latest event,” Genevieve cut him off. “I have reason to believe what just happened here in Montreal, and down the St. Laurence yesterday, was the latest.”

  “Eh?” It broke Neilson's train of thought. “Montreal? You believe yesterday was another GEOP? Man-made?”

  “Let's not get carried away. Unnatural, artificial. I'm not convinced man-made.”

  Professor Neilson looked confused. His beady eyes blinking rapidly. His mind desperately trying to piece things together and failing miserably.

  “We'll come back to Montreal momentarily,” he began, “In regards to the Tokyo-Brazil GEOP; we have access to certain information you do not. The birth of Tamara Takahara is central to this event. She was born in the early morning of October 17th. 5:14 am to be exact.”

  Genevieve held her hand up. “Whoa. Please do not tell me this is your information. That a baby was the cause of this?”

  Veronica came out of the store. She had the blond baby boy in a car seat with a shopping cart full of supplies. Neilson turned to her as she approached. He knew how incredible this was going to sound to Genevieve and hoped Veronica could help out.

  “Veronica,” he began, “We are going to have to fill in Genevieve on-”

  It almost happened in slow motion. Veronica stopped, making sure the shopping card had come to a complete standstill. She arched her arm nearly behind her back and swung. Her slap across Professor Neilson's face hit so hard his glasses skittered across the car's hood and landed somewhere on the other side. The smack sound echoed across the parking lot and off the groceries store's wall.