by Shea Oliver
“What is it you want?” begged Garrett, “Billy’s been paid. I don’t owe anyone else, I swear.”
Dr. Tarea chuckled, “This has nothing to do with any of that. We’re here to see a magic show.”
“I don’t understand,” responded Garrett.
“Oh, I think you do. You do one every night and play it off as illusions, but I know what you really can do,” Dr. Tarea told him.
“My God, what in the bloody hell are you talking about?” asked Garrett, sounding more and more panicked.
“So this is a Transprophetic,” thought Kadamba. He seemed more of a scared stage performer than any harbinger of change. He took a step back, wondering how the doctor would prove that this pathetic man was anything more than what he claimed he was.
“You see the feather, there,” Dr. Tarea pressed him, as he picked up the knife. “All you need to do is move it, or I’ll cut you open.”
The man looked at Dr. Tarea, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. I make illusions. It’s not real.”
“You see, Kadamba,” the doctor noted, as he held the knife to the man’s cheek, “he wants to hide what he really is, but here’s the truth. The more intense the emotion, the more likely he’ll reveal his talents. And what better emotion to use than fear.”
The scream was deafening as Dr. Tarea drew the knife across the man’s cheek and then pulled it across his other cheek. “I’m going to skin you alive unless you move that feather.”
The man begged and tears began to roll down his face. “I’m just an illusionist. No one can do what you’re asking. It’s not possible.”
The blade dug into the man’s shoulder, and he cried out in pain, again.
“One last chance, or it gets personal,” chuckled Dr. Tarea, as he ran the blade up the inside of the man’s thigh.
The man’s face was red, and veins popped out on his temples and forehead as he strained to move the feather, using only his mind. The feather remained exactly where it was on the table. The doctor pushed the knife hard into the man’s groin, and the man began to shake. “I can’t do it. It can’t be done.”
“Oh yes, it can, you just have to try harder.” The doctor raised the knife, stabbing it into the man’s leg, narrowly missing that which made him a man. Garret, screaming out in pain, started blowing in the direction of the feather. It wobbled a little on the table.
“Nice try, you damn fraud,” Dr. Tarea said, as he pulled the knife out and handed it to Kadamba. “I guess this one is nothing but a fake. A fake who knows your odd name, Kadamba. I’ll leave the honors to you. You haven’t had a chance to kill since we left Koranth. Enjoy yourself.”
Kadamba stood on the stage looking at the bloody knife while Dr. Tarea began to whistle, walking off the stage, through the seats, and out the door. He didn’t know what to do. This was terrible. He looked at Garret Greyson. There were tears in the man’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out of Kadamba’s mouth before he knew it. He stepped over to the man and began to cut through the tape.
“So, it’s all come to this?” Garret questioned Ka.
“What?” asked Kadamba.
“I’m killed as a freak, all because I wanted to entertain and do magic. I wish I could have moved the feather for your friend. I’ve always wished I could do real magic.”
“I’ll get you out of here.”
“It’s too late,” Garret uttered softly, his head dropping to his chest.
Kadamba looked down and realized the stage was a pool of blood around the chair. Dr. Tarea had severed the man’s femoral artery in his leg. He’d bled out before Kadamba could do anything. Kadamba stood and looked at the man, as a tear ran down his cheek. So this was it? This was how they would find if this world held any Transprophetics. His stomach knotted and emptied its contents onto stage and the table. He stood there for a few moments, looking at the body of Garret Grayson, wishing that all of this had been an illusion.
“Nice job, killer,” yelled Dr. Tarea, as he walked back into the theater and strolled quickly down the aisle, through the seats to the stage, “but it’s time to leave.”
A rolling wave of smoke hit the stage as Dr. Tarea tossed his Zippo lighter to Kadamba. “The lobby is already blazing. Light that curtain on fire, and let’s get out of here.”
A few blocks away, they turned and looked up. The low clouds reflected the orange and yellow of the roaring fire that destroyed the theater, covering their tracks.
Chapter 34
A Flower from Heaven
The smog was thick as Kadamba walked the back streets, late in the evening in Bangkok. The streets were crowded with foreigners from many different countries, who had come to this city, well-known for being a destination for sex tourism. Everywhere you turned was another hawker of some sleazy establishment trying to persuade visitors to come inside and see what the place had to offer. Drugs and sex were on display everywhere, and Dr. Tarea was like a kid in a candy store.
Maliya was her name. She was only nine years old. The monks at the Tao Wong Wa shrine declared that she was the incarnate rebirth of some long lost deity—one who could move objects using her thoughts alone. Apparently, these monks followed some long-lost mix of Buddhism and Hindu traditions. Kadamba didn’t really understand that much about the history or the belief system, but it seemed like something that should pique the interest of a man with an advanced degree in religions and truth. However, Dr. Tarea seemed only barely interested in anything other than spending his evenings getting strung out, watching bizarre sex shows, and hiring underage prostitutes.
After a week of indulging, Dr. Tarea decided that it was time to get serious about their mission. In an abandoned warehouse they set it up with the few items that would be required to confirm whether Maliya was a Transprophetic or not.
While the monks of the Tao Wong Wa shrine certainly wanted to protect the young girl, they were woefully unprepared for someone like Kadamba. Having slipped into their residence during the middle of the night, Ka had little trouble kidnapping the child. Within a few hours, she was taped to a chair, looking at a small table with a flower, known as a “hidden lily,” resting on it.
“Pick it up,” insisted Dr. Tarea, as he looked at the child. He made various gestures to try to get the girl to understand what he wanted, but she only stared at him. Over and over, and in multiple ways, Dr. Tarea tried to get the girl to understand what he wanted her to do. Tears ran down her face, as she replied in Thai.
Kadamba paced the room, telling himself repeatedly that he was an Elite Forces soldier and his job here was to protect Dr. Tarea. Evidence that Transprophetics existed on this planet would change everything. He tried to reassure himself that what he was doing was in the best interest of his people, in the best interest of the mission, in the best interest of Koranth.
The little girl looked at him, her eyes begging him to do something. He’d learned a few words and phrases in the last few days, and he understood that every time she said, “Ch̀wy c̄hạn d̂wy,” she was asking for help.
“I guess talking and being kind just aren’t going to work,” Dr. Tarea muttered. “It must be time for a little more fear in this child’s mind.”
Dr. Tarea unsheathed a large knife, holding it in the air in front of the girl. He pointed again at the flower, demanding, “Pick up the fucking flower before I skin you alive!” The little girl began to sob and struggle against the tape that held her to the chair.
“Wait!” Kadamba asserted, more forcefully than he expected to say it.
Dr. Tarea looked at him and laughed. “I suppose you want in on playing with this little precious thing.”
“H̄yib mạn k̄hụ̂n mā,” Kadamba spoke quietly to Maliya, pointing to the flower. “H̄yib mạn k̄hụ̂n mā pord.”
The girl’s sobbing stopped, and she looked at Kadamba. “Pick it up, please,” he repeated again in Thai. She looked at him, and he nodded his head up and down, trying to make his face smile.
Maliya,
looking at the flower, began to concentrate. Dr. Tarea stood as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the flower. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the flower began to rise, hovering in the air over the table.
“Lords of the Fourth System, this little creature is a Transprophetic!” declared Dr. Tarea. He began to laugh. He even danced around a little.
“You know what this means, don’t you boy?” asked Dr. Tarea. Kadamba stared at the doctor, trying to share in his excitement, but the acid in his stomach was boiling.
“We’ll be rich and famous!” declared the doctor. “Once a portal is open here, we’ll be heroes. We’ll be the ones who identified the best timing to develop this planet! Tomar Donovackia will shower us with wealth!”
The flower dropped back to the table, and Dr. Tarea looked at the little girl. Her face showed nothing but confusion. Dr. Tarea pointed at her, “You’ve made me very happy today, my little Thai flower!” His smile went crooked, and the girl’s expression changed from confusion to fear. He stood over the girl looking down on her soft features. “I wonder if she would have become something more than an oddity for some random monks.”
“She might,” replied Kadamba, as he walked up and stood by the doctor, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.
“It’s almost a shame that she has to die,” stated Dr. Tarea, but there wasn’t anything resembling compassion or regret in his voice.
Kadamba held out his hand, and the Doctor looked at him, snickering. “I guess this is the part you like, the killing.” Dr. Tarea placed the large blade into Kadamba’s hand.
Kadamba’s fingers slid into each of the form-fitting indentations on the handle. He spun the knife in his hand, so that the blade guard rested on the bottom of his hand, and his fingers slid once again into the indentations. His arm dropped, and he felt the point of the blade graze across his elbow, just like the blade that he had used to kill that bargabuko in Mr. Lormate’s class.
That bargabuko had died quickly from the powerful blow that Kadamba had inflicted. He hoped that the next blow that he would deliver would bring death just as quickly. He brought his arm up, across his chest, and took a deep breath. With every ounce of his strength, he drove the blade home. He felt the blade guard smash into flesh and bone, as the knife’s blade buried itself completely. He let go of the knife, knowing that everything in his world had just changed.
Dr. Tarea looked at Kadamba for a moment with shock in his eyes. Then the doctor, who supposedly knew so much about religion and truth, looked down at the handle of the knife, sticking out from his own chest. He staggered backwards, falling into a pile of tarps that had been sitting on the floor.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Kadamba apologized to the girl, as he freed her from the chair.
He held out his hand, and she put her hand into his. Within a few minutes, they were in a crowded Bangkok street. Kadamba saw the police officer in the distance and pointed to him. Maliya shook her head affirmatively and started running towards the officer.
Kadamba saw the officer step towards the child, and he knew she would be okay. When Maliya turned and pointed, trying to explain to the officer what was happening, Kadamba was long gone.
Chapter 35
No Peace in the Mountains
Kadamba looked up the long gravel drive to the cabin. He could see the yellow plastic tape across the door. The last time that he’d stood looking at that door, two blasts had taken the lives of two innocent people. He thought about Jerry and Margaret. They were just some old couple enjoying their last years in this majestic setting.
Pulling the police tape off the door, he went inside. Everything was mostly how he remembered it, except for the dull brown spatter stains on the wall. Some things had been rearranged, but he was surprised by how much hadn’t been. It would likely be a few days before his crewmates arrived, and he was happy that there was still canned food in the pantry. He could stay here in the mountains and not worry about having to go into town. No one had seen him come, and he’d prefer if no one saw him go.
The old couple had a spare bedroom, and Kadamba made himself at home there. As he sat in the bed, he realized how different his life had become. Here he was completely alone, without obligation or confinement. He’d been in prison, the military, on the spaceship, with Dr. Tarea, and even with Violet, but he’d never been free like this. He wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but he was sure what would happen in the next few days.
Even though he knew it was a dream, coming to the Landing had its benefits. For one thing, it was always the same. The grass was always green. There was never any trash. Outside the Landing, the weather might change, but inside, it was always the same.
The sun was shining brightly, and Ka began to walk around. As always, it was almost completely silent, except for a distant squeaking sound. There really only was one living thing in the Landing, and that was Ka.
Ka saw Alorus in the distance. He was swinging on a swing in the playground. Ka moved stealthily, getting closer and closer to the boy. He wanted to see the child’s face when the child didn’t know he was nearby. It was the same, nearly emotionless face that Ka had come to know all too well.
“I see you, Ka“ the boy cried out, as he stopped pumping his legs and allowed the swing to begin making smaller and smaller arches. Ka walked into the playground and leaned back on the backrest of a nearby bench and watched the swing slow itself.
When it finally stopped, Alorus looked at Ka, like he was trying to figure him out.
“You didn’t kill the little girl,“ said Alorus, stating it almost like a question, but also more like a fact.
“No, of course not,“ replied Ka.
“Why not? Aren’t you here on a mission? You’re supposed to hunt and kill these Transprophetics,” Alorus reminded him.
“If these Transprophetics had been adults and maybe been a real threat, then maybe I could have killed them, but she was just a scared little girl. I simply couldn’t kill an innocent kid.“
Alorus just looked at Ka. It wasn’t an accusing look; it was more one of confusion. Ka, expecting the boy’s usual accusation, was prepared to hear him say something like, “Well you killed me.“
But the boy didn’t say anything. He just started pumping his legs again, pushing the swing higher and higher.
The morning sun was bright, and the air was brisk. Kadamba was happy to be in the mountains. He walked to the lake again. It was peaceful here. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds while breathing in the clean mountain air. He sat on a boulder for a while, wondering if there were places like this back on Koranth.
He slipped into the small canyon and found the remote for the return vessel. The surface of the lake was absolutely clear as the return vessel broke free of the water. Kadamba swiped and tapped a few places on the screen, then looked up and watched the spaceship dissolve into ashes that fell to the surface of the lake and began to spread out. With a few more taps, the ashes of the remote drifted away in the light breeze.
He walked back over to the boulder and sat down again. A single mountain towered on the horizon. Before they had betrayed the man, Jerry had called it Wóablakela Peak, and he challenged them to find it named that on any map. He had claimed that it was the name given to the mountain by a Native American medicine man. The medicine man would climb to the peak to seek inner peace and find strength to serve his people. The mountain had a more Western-sounding name now, but Kadamba like the way Wóablakela Peak sounded.
Hearing the sound of a vehicle approaching, Ka released a loud sigh. He wished he could have just come down from Mount Wóablakela, at peace with himself and willing to serve his people. But he was not at peace, and the will of his people was not what he could serve.
She’d complained once about the blood that spattered on her from Jerry and Margaret, so it was almost like a favor. The bullet passed through her head, spattering Commander Conall Bornani, before Kadamba turned the gun on the Commander. Both lay dead a few fe
et from where they had stepped out of the car and greeted him. It was unceremonious. He didn’t say a word. He simply drew the gun and shot them both before they could react.
He looked at the bodies, as they lay on the ground, and he wanted to feel remorse. He couldn’t get a day to go by where he didn’t think of Alorus. That boy didn’t deserve what had happened to him. He thought of Garrett Greyson and how his own inaction had let the man bleed out on that stage. He wished that he could have stopped Dr. Tarea, but it had been too late. As he looked at his crewmates on the ground, he didn’t feel guilty. He wasn’t sure in that moment that he felt anything at all.
Over the rest of the day, the remaining members of his crew from Koranth returned to Fat Bottom Lake in pairs. Each of them met the same fate as Commander Conall Bornani. Kadamba wrapped each of their bodies in a tarp, a blanket, or a bedspread. He stacked them in the living room of the cabin. The pile reminded him of the stacks of firewood outside the cabin that Jerry and Margaret would never get to use on cold winter nights.
He walked through the house with the can of gasoline, emptying it on the stack of bodies. He stood outside the door, looking at Dr. Tarea’s Zippo lighter. In some ways, he wished that Dr. Tarea’s body was in that stack. It would be fitting for that cruel bastard to burn with the other crew members.
“Every religion I know on this planet and others has some words that are said for the dead. Words that are usually meant to give comfort for those left behind.” He looked closely at the stack of bodies. “I have no words for each of you. You died to your family and friends when you left Koranth. Whatever words were said there are good enough.”
The lighter seemed to float in the air as it sailed towards the stack of bodies. As it landed, it appeared like a candle in a dark church—one small flame burning in the blackness, pushing back the ominous emptiness of the dark. Then in the space of time it takes to blink, roaring flames engulfed the pile.