The Hunt: Symbiosys

by Michel Weatherall

  Neilson was stunned. He held his hand to the side of his red face.

  “You fucking bastard!” Veronica screamed at him. “He said they knew! He said they knew!! You knew! You knew they were coming for him! My daughter's with him! And my granddaughter, Tamara! Why didn't you stop them?”

  “I – I – I couldn't – I mean – I didn't -” Neilson stammered.

  Veronica was attracting attention in the parking lot. Genevieve stood between the two. “Now, please. Calm down -” she tried to reason.

  “Mon deux! There were soldiers! With guns! Machine guns! They were trying to kill Lorne! Don't you dare - don't you dare try to calm me down!” Genevieve backed away. Veronica seemed nearly out of control. “In my house! Dans ma maison!”

  Professor Neilson had recovered mostly from his shock. His cheek was beet red still, Veronica's hand print clearly visible. “That's why I'm here.”

  Both Genevieve and Veronica turned their attention on Neilson and echoed one another, “Quoi?”

  “I never agreed with the Conclave's decision. I abandoned them. They'll be looking for me soon. I was trying to get to you sooner. The flood, everything – nothing worked right – I mean – please, Veronica! I was trying to get to you, to help Lorne. The UNCGSC decided to terminate both Lorne and Marie. They see them as a potential Global threat. I was called to Japan, but I didn't go. They were to make a decision regarding their baby, Tamara. Your granddaughter, Veronica. Whether she too was a threat or not.”

  “My granddaughter?” exclaimed Veronica. “She's a baby!”

  “That's why I didn't attend. I don't care what their final solution was. They're wrong. They have to be!”

  Genevieve was confused. “Are you saying this is your granddaughter?” she asked motioning towards the sleeping baby in the seat.

  Veronica turned to look at Genevieve with a sour expression of her face. “No. This is a baby boy. No, he's not my granddaughter! He just appeared... after the soldiers with the guns... after the flood.... I don't know!”

  It was Genevieve’s turn to look confused. “Je ne comprends pas.”

  Neilson had circled 'round the car to find his glasses. “None of us do. This blond baby boy is a mystery.”

  Then he slowly stood up. “Wait a minute. Did you say Montreal's flood – last night – was the latest GEOP event? Are you sure yesterday was one of your Global Elliptical Ocean Phenomena?”

  “Bein... oui. The first thing I did was check international news. I confirmed an oceanic storm swell just south-west of Perth, Australia. The two floods coincided, and Perth and Montreal are each other's antipodes.”

  Professor Neilson was quiet. He rubbed his hand across this chin. “Who the hell is this child?”

  “I don't follow,” Genevieve stated.

  “Neither do I,” joined in Veronica.

  “The October 17th floods in Tokyo, and its antipodes, in Brazil. We believe the birth of Lorne and Marie's daughter is linked to this event. This baby boy, suddenly appears from nowhere at your home, Veronica – at the same time Montreal floods and its antipodes, Perth floods.”

  “Je comprends pas,” Veronica stated. “What is this antipodes?”

  “It's a spot on the world's opposite side,” Genevieve commented quickly to Veronica, then turned to Neilson. “But I don't understand what these two babies could possible have to do with this?”

  “I can't explain right now,” Neilson continued. “We need to get going.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Neilson was looking across the parking lot.” We should abandon this car. We can take your van. I know your friend has been following us. Can we trust him?”

  “Andre? Yes. But where are we going? Are you on the run?!”

  “Not yet. I'm sure the local authorities have their hands full with the aftermath of the flood yesterday and most of the police are dealing with the looting that has been happening.”

  “Great! So where are we running to?”

  “McGill University,” Professor Neilson said. “I have a colleague I want you to meet. Also a Junior student of mine is traveling from Miskatonic University to meet us. He seems to share your beliefs in a Zero-Event.”

  “Mon deux! How many people know of my thesis?” Genevieve asked. Neilson just smiled awkwardly while rubbing the side of his face. It still stung.

  “McGill?” Veronica asked. “I thought we needed to leave Montreal?”

  “I am hoping they will assume the same thing. Hopefully they won't look for us right under their noses.”

  Chapter 13: This Rising Darkness

  The Japanese warship, the Yamayuki, sat 20 km off the coast, mainland Japan just over its western horizon.

  James Leaman stood on deck, leaning on the rail with a cigarette in his hand, only its red ember visible in the darkness. The door behind him was left ajar to the centre control. He listened to the three Japanese officers quietly chatting among themselves. He tried to tune them out. It wasn't difficult. He didn't understand Japanese.

  He flicked his cigarette overboard and took in a deep breath. The air was chill. He could just manage to pick out the horizon in the darkness. Black on black. He couldn't see the ocean beneath him. Couldn't even hear it. Dead calm. Even the wind didn't dare disturb the stillness.

  It was the waiting that always bothered him. It made his mind wander. Worry. Second guess. Overanalyze. He tried to keep his imagination in check. He couldn't afford to allow it to run amok. But try as he might, he couldn't help but feel the pregnant potential in the still night air. He couldn't help but think this was the calm before the storm.

  He turned his back to the ocean, leaned his back against the cold metal rail and surveyed the ship. As destroyers went, the Yamayuki was small; only 430 feet long. But it carried a formidable arsenal of firepower. The little boy in Leaman hoped he might see it in action. The special agent prayed to God it would never come to that.

  They were so sorely unprepared for the Montreal encounter. It would be different this time. The assault team would be nine men led by ERT Chief Superintendent Michelle Nesbitt. They had a heavily armed Seahawk helicopter for back-up and the extraction of the child Tamara Takahara once she had been secured.... and the Yamayuki. He cringed at that thought. If the mission went south, the UNCGSC had authorized the warship to engage and fire. Leaman had a foreboding feeling he'd never see Canada again.

  Static broke over the radio in the com centre. The message broke the silence. Information was passed on in Japanese. Leaman waited. The officer called for his attention.

  “Keibu Akira Fujioka's team has secured the Takahara penthouse in Tokyo. Targets have vacated. Targets have fled.”

  Leaman quickly walked into the command centre, took a chair and put his headphone and mic on, pushing several buttons and activating a com link.

  “Nesbitt? Copy.”

  “Copy,” she replied over the headset, her voice sounding tiny and tinny.

  “Operation Foxhunt is go. I repeat, operation Foxhunt is go.”

  * * *

  Perth, Australia,

  June 2nd, 2005

  (10 years in the future)

  Amber Miller sat on her calves. The cramps in her abdomen were unbearable, her arms wrapped around her sides. The bleeding hadn't stopped. The ambulance was on its way. My God, there was a lot of blood! She was terrified. She had no one. Nobody helped her.

  Oh my God, why did I wait? She knew the baby was dead. Who was she kidding? It hadn't moved in weeks. She was such a fool. She should have seen a doctor. Why was this happening? Where was the ambulance?

  Another burst of pain surged through her. This time she cried out loud.

  She began weeping, but this time not from the seizing pain. She wept for the baby she would never know. It was the first time she actually realized it was a person. It was her person. She wept because she realized this was her one chance to be important, to matter... and she failed.

  Oh, please God! She cried. Don't let me die
.

  * * *

  Nesbitt didn't think it were possible for her headache to get any worse, but it had. The commotion of the teams boarding the Rigid-hulled Inflatable Boats only made matters worse. She'd have to see the ship's doctor or medic once she had returned. It was near unbearable.

  It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. There was this constant ringing in her ears, a buzzing in her head – infuriating! Like listening to a TV show that just wasn't loud enough. Like somebody whispering to you from a distance. Like a half-known secret.

  She didn't realize it at the time, but it was there on her flight to Japan as well. It just wasn't as noticeable before. It just wasn't as loud. Now the whispering was nearly audible! She was surprised the others couldn't hear it. She had tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away. She had caved in during some moments and entertained listening to it, trying to decipher the maddening whisper; letting her imagination run in some futile and desperate hope to understand its madness. It didn't matter. It just wouldn't stop.

  She boarded the first of the two boats with the other four men. The pilot started the engine. Just as she sat she heard someone behind her – on the Yamayuki, call her name.

  “Nesbitt.”

  She snapped her head around, looking for the speaker. There were people, soldiers, sailors, the second assault team boarding the other boat... but nobody looking for her; nobody speaking to her.

  “Leaman?” she called into her mic. “Did you call me?”

  His voice came over her earpiece. “Negative.”

  Her boat pulled away from the warship and into darkness, only the sound of its motor and the water's wake greeted her. Then she heard it again. This time it came from everywhere and nowhere. It permeated her entire mind.

  “...nnnnNessbittt.....” it hissed within her head.

  Chapter 14: The Cricket Song

  Marie sat with a cup of tea in her hands, allowing its warmth to seep through her fingers.

  Her husband sat with their two week old daughter laying on her back in his lap. The two were just looking into each other's eyes, Lorne making hushed and quiet baby noises.

  Tamara was not only awake but wide-eyed; taking in the world around her. Her beautiful eyes tranquilized and hypnotized Lorne. Tamara was a beautiful Asian baby girl with skin like porcelain. Her eyes were a deep rich chocolate brown, but it was the first time Lorne noticed they had flecks of green and gold in them.

  Sometimes when she moved and the light caught her eyes just right, the green and gold flecks seemed to sparkle with a light all their own.

  “Creeek!” A lone cricket in the cottage sang to its kin in the wilderness outside. Baby Tamara, startled, looked around for the sound, her eyes going wide.

  “Oh!” Lorne mouthed the word to Tamara.

  “Creeek!” Marie smiled warmly as she watched the two interact. The Shantigra-facet of her multimind reminded her that in Japanese culture, a cricket was considered good luck.

  The folklore and mythology surrounding crickets were many things. In parts of Brazil the cricket announced death. Elsewhere it's taken to be a sign of impending rain or a storm.

  She looked out the window. The ocean was still. The wind was still. Dead calm surrounded the Chiba cottage. Like a hush had fallen across the wilderness. Only the crickets dared intrude upon this natural silence. The three sat quietly and listened to the cricket song. Lorne had never really paid attention to the cricket song before. But he did now. It was an orchestra. There were layers of songs.

  The different crickets species sang different songs. Variances in temperature changed their tempo, and there were four types of cricket chirping depending on their purposes. The song was ubiquitous. It seemed to completely fill the night sky up and touch the stars themselves! The song was ethereal and embraced you; surrounded you and inundated you.

  As Lorne looked into his daughter's magical eyes his imagination began to wander. He marvelled at the cricket song and wondered if it could be written as music, for it was definitely music!

  “Creeek!” their solo house mate sang. Then... the entire orchestra of millions fell silent. The sudden silence was oppressive. Both Lorne and Marie's eyes met with concern. Lorne gently handed Tamara to his wife.

  “Stay inside,” he whispered as he headed out the door.

  To the east the ocean was so black Lorne couldn't tell where the horizon ended and the sky began. Then, in the temple ruins to the north he saw movement. Silhouettes. Men. Soldiers!

  * * *

  Nesbitt squatted in the reeds south of the Chiba cottage. Her team of four men were spread out in a semi-circle. Good, she thought. The second north assault team's distracted Lorne.

  Nesbitt squinted her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was trying to remember protocol, jog her memory. What was the mission?

  She motioned to the SAT officer to her right. He ran forward, crouching, carrying the speaker and portable battery. He crept right up to the stone cottage's external wall and set up.

  Nesbitt whispered into her mic, called her secondary team. “Do not draw him beyond the -” She lost her train of thought. It felt like the whisperer in her mind was moving, squeezing, shuffling, reorganizing her brain.

  “- keep him within the... the... - Jesus! - Hundred foot perimeter.”

  Nesbitt was beginning to sweat. She wiped her forehead with her arm, then gave the signal to play the recording.

  * * *

  Perth, Australia,

  June 2nd, 2005,

  (10 years in the future)

  By the time the ambulance arrived Amber's water had broken and she was in labour, writhing in pain, her contractions sporadic.

  Her eyes were bloodshot as she desperately pleaded with the paramedic. “Oh my God! Please! Please help me! Make it go away! Make it stop!” She was near hysterical.

  The pain in her lower back was incredible, and she had a pounding headache so bad she couldn't even think straight anymore. Sometimes she could do nothing but hold her breath because even breathing hurt!

  Her frantic pleading stopped as another contraction gripped her. She just held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “No, no! Honey, you need to breath. You need to keep breathing,” the paramedic tried to speak calmly. “What's your name? What's your name?”

  “Guuu... am..Amber...” she grunted out, her blue eyes a shining contrast to the pink bloodshot whites of her eyes.

  “Good! Good, Amber!” He held her hand. “I'm with you, okay honey? You're not alone.”

  Oh my God, oh my God! She thought. Another one was coming. “The baby's.... guhhh.... the baby's dead....” she tried to blurt out before the next contraction took her. Get it out – get it out – get it out!

  Chapter 15: Assault on Chiba Cottage

  The million strong orchestra sang their cricket song. They sang the Music of Lorne S. Gibbons. Their song accented the deep drone bass that was felt in your bowels and groin as much as heard in your ears. It grumbled and growled behind your mind. The music of the Gatesphere.