Bloodline (The Forgotten Origins Trilogy)

by Tara Ellis

  Setting it down carefully on the soft ground, I go back to the box and look inside, seriously hoping to find some sort of an explanation or directions. In the bottom of the box is a single piece of folded parchment paper. In the center, holding the sides closed is a very formal looking glob of red wax, the impression of the medallion carving clearly in the middle of it.

  Lifting it out, I wave it towards Chris. “Looks like you were right,” I tell him as he comes to sit next to me. “It must have been my dad’s personal seal or something.” A sense of urgency is pushing at me and I almost rip the paper as I try to open it faster than the wax will allow.

  Inside I find my dad’s unique script and my hopes rise as I start to read it out loud:

  Alexis;

  I knew you would find it! I’m sure at this point you’ll have more questions than I’m able to answer, but in case this is found by anyone other than you, I have to limit what I say. I know by now you’ll appreciate that. If the anti-virus were to fall into the hands of our adversaries, the damage they would unleash is almost as bad as the virus itself.

  It’s critical that you find Professor Alim Hassan. He would have been sent to replace me after my death and would have been in contact with you. You should know where he is.

  Go to him. Take the skull. He will be able to answer all your questions and explain what it is you need to do. Then you must go to the cabin and let its warmth guide you. Do not trust anyone else.

  You are now part of the ‘khufu bast’, or the ‘Pyramid Protectors’. It is your heritage, your bloodline. The medallion is the Mubarak family seal, passed on for 5,000 years to the first-born son, but now to my first-born daughter. The knowledge is sacred and protected Alexis. Show this seal to Professor Hassan and he will know that you can now be entrusted with the information necessary to stop the spreading evil.

  It is a plague from an unknown world, maybe even the devil himself, sent to steal our free will and prepare us for servitude. We have risen against it before and with God’s help will do it again. Do not lose faith Alex. I love you-

  Dad

  Silence hangs between us for a couple of minutes. Finally, I re-fold the paper and put in the pocket of my backpack. I look at Chris then, and am encouraged to see him gathering all our things with purpose, the despair so obvious before now replaced by hope.

  Setting the safe back under the floorboards, he slides the skull into its bag and places it in his backpack. Lifting it up onto his shoulders, he then reaches out a hand to me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

  “We have to get back to Jacob as fast as possible,” I say to him, already headed back the way we came. “We’re leaving. Tonight.”

  “You know where this Professor is?” he asks as we trot along the edge of the murky water, sensing that I’m not ready to talk about the note.

  “Yes. He’s the one that called the other day; I remember now where I’ve heard that voice. He’s the same man that was at Dads funeral and gave us Baxter as a gift. He came over a few more times afterwards and had dinner with us once. I thought he was weird though and caught him snooping in Dads office. He said he and Dad were childhood friends and taught at the University together. After Dad moved here the Professor went on to get his PHD in Biology; genetics I think. Says he doesn’t like to be called doctor because he will always be a teacher. I’ve never been to his house, but I know where it is.” Almost falling over a stump, I catch myself and then run to catch up with Chris.

  As we turn onto the game trail, I see that the sun is almost below the tree line now and my newfound hope gives way to fear. Mom will be home soon and I know with certainty that my little brother is in danger. I should have never left him alone. I begin to run and pass Chris, my legs carried by desperation.

  NINETEEN

  The ride home is torture. An overwhelming need to get to Jacob has grabbed me and won’t let go. I’m already driving ten over the speed limit and it takes all my will to keep from going faster. We can’t take the risk of being pulled over…not now. It’s safe to assume that most, if not all of the police force are Shiners. I still plan on calling them, but after I have Jake and know that he’s safe.

  Chris is sitting silently beside me. We left his car back at the parking lot. We would be coming back this way to go to the professors and I have more gas than he does. No sense taking both vehicles.

  We haven’t said much since leaving the woods. In a way, I’m grateful; this is taking me awhile to make sense of. I am thinking of the other people in my life that I love, in addition to my mom and brother. I’m actually relieved now that Missy and my Grandparents were sick. At least I don’t have to worry about them being killed. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I speed up just a bit more.

  “He used the word ‘anti-virus’,” Chris says next to me, making me jump.

  Thinking back over the message, I try to remember what it said. “Something about it falling into the hands of our adversaries, that it would almost do as much damage as the virus?” I ask.

  “Yes, pretty much. When I read up on the viruses, they talked about reverse-engineering. If you can isolate the genetic material, you can use it; manipulate it. Can you imagine what someone could do with this virus?” He looks at me from the passenger seat, and I marvel at his ability to see the bigger picture. All I can focus on right now is getting around the next curve, and he’s thinking about reverse engineering a virus. Amazing.

  “I don’t know Chris. Honestly, I’m not looking that far ahead right now. I guess that might explain though why this is all so secretive. Obviously the Khufu Bast is a secret society, and there is at least one other group trying to find whatever it is they have. Why didn’t he just tell me though? Or at least leave something a bit more obvious behind that I would find sooner so we could have prevented all of this?”

  “It wouldn’t have been safe to do it before the meteor shower,” Chris suggests.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, still not getting it.

  “They killed your dad Alex. They obviously knew about the virus, and that your dad had access to this anti-virus. I’m thinking that whatever he’s leading us to is a critical link in stopping the infection, and whoever killed him did so to keep that knowledge from getting out. They would have been watching you. Waiting for you to lead them to it.” That thought creeps me out a bit, and I wonder if he might be right.

  “I’ll bet you that they were well prepared to escape before the Holocene shower,” he continues. “I think they want to use it, not be controlled by it. They’ll probably lay low until the initial phase is over. Once all the symptoms of this ‘flu’ are gone, the carriers won’t be contagious by the air-borne method anymore. It’ll only be blood borne.”

  “What if they aren’t in hiding, and are still watching me?” I ask, looking in the mirror again. To my relief, I don’t see any headlights behind us.

  “They would have done something by now Alex. Probably would have right away.”

  Not liking the idea of my Fathers killers stalking me, I have to accept the fact that I can’t do anything about it right now. My anxiety amplified, we turn the corner onto our block and as I push the garage door opener, I know immediately that something is wrong.

  Just ahead, sitting in our driveway are two strange cars. Chris and I exchange a knowing look and I hit the accelerator. My truck jumps the curb and I come to a screeching halt halfway in the garage, the door still slowly rising.

  Leaping down, I’m met by frantic barking coming from in front of the truck. As I run for the door leading into the kitchen, I pass Baxter. He’s tied up to a work bench, foaming at the mouth. I don’t have time to set him free because coming from inside the house is a sound I’ve prayed to never hear.

  My little brother, the one I promised to protect, is screaming. Not the kind that means he is hurt or mad, but the blood curdling kind born from the terror of death.

  My vision again narrowing, I am vaguely aware that I am inside the house and flying down the hallway.
Time slows down and my hearing actually recedes as I get closer to his room. His door is slightly ajar, the light spilling out.

  As I come up on my dad’s office, I veer inside and without even thinking, grab the loaded service revolver from the duty belt hanging next to the desk. Dad had taught me how to work the double release on the holster and I press the levers with ease. Holding it at the ready, I brush past Chris on my way back out the door, not even acknowledging him.

  Quickly crossing the hallway, I hit Jakes door with my shoulder as I slam a bullet into the chamber. Raising the weapon, I take in the nightmarish seen before me. Two men that I have never seen before are on either side of Jacobs’s bed, holding down his arms and legs. Mom is standing at his side, her back to me, holding a syringe over his bared arm.

  My head is filled with my brother’s screams. His body is writhing on the bed, the covers kicked off and scattered on the floor. “Stop it!” I yell, my voice sounding far away. “Stop it Mom!”

  I have the gun pointed at her back only a few feet away…but I can’t pull the trigger. I can’t shoot her. Before I can determine if he’s been injected or not, she turns on me. With a speed that isn’t human, the gun is knocked from my hand. I’m propelled through the air and slammed into the wall behind me, her fingers at my throat.

  Her face is inches from my own as I begin to black out; the pressure against my carotid arteries cutting off the blood to my brain. Frantically pulling at her wrist, I see the syringe raised above me in her other hand and look in her eyes one last time. Shimmering slightly, there is only a casual curiosity at my anguish.

  As the edges of my vision fade away, she suddenly begins to contort violently. My neck is released and her face pulls into a hideous grimace as she falls backwards onto the floor. Standing behind her is Chris, my dad’s taser in one hand, the fallen gun picked up and in the other. Two copper wires lead from the taser and into my mom’s back.

  Turning from me, he confronts the guys advancing on him and unlike me, shoots without hesitation. Several shots explode in the room and the percussion breaks through my paralysis.

  I fall to my knees, rubbing at my throat, struggling to regain control over my body. “Alex!” Chris is in my face, yelling at me. “Alex, did she expose you!” Concentrating on his eyes…his nice, normal eyes, I swim to the surface of my consciousness and my surroundings start to come back into focus.

  “Alex!” he shouts again, and I slowly stand back up with his help.

  “I’m okay,” I gasp, trying to push past him. “I’m okay; she didn’t inject me with anything. Jacob!” He finally releases me and I stumble over Moms writhing body and towards the bed. Jake is curled into a ball, moaning.

  One of the men is lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, holding his stomach and making strange, gurgling sounds. The other one is sprawled across the top of the partially exposed mattress, face down and not moving. Blood is rapidly spreading out into the foam from under him.

  Chris hands me the taser and scoops Jacob up in one swooping motion. As we reach the door, the electricity stops flowing and Moms body becomes still, her breathing loud and rapid. Pressing the trigger again, I wince slightly as she begins seizing again. I can’t take a chance that she’ll recover faster than normal. I drop the device and step out of the room.

  Chris is already disappearing outside through the kitchen door. Breathing hoarsely, I run back to Dads office and grab my rifle off the gun rack. Pulling out the top drawer of his desk, I take a set of keys and open the only locked cabinet. Quickly selecting two boxes of ammo, I race back down the hallway, the sound of the crackling taser following me.

  Once in the garage, I pause long enough to untie Baxter from his leash and we both scramble into the backseat of the running truck, where Jake is. Before I even have the door closed, Chris is backing out of the driveway recklessly, taking out our mailbox and clipping the bumper of one of the other cars.

  “I’m sorry Jacob,” I whisper, pulling him into my lap. “I’m so sorry I left you. I should have never left you.”

  Tears fall from me uncontrollably and I sob out the last words. Struggling to wipe the damp hair from his face, I cup his cheeks with both of my hands. Forcing him to look at me, I search his face for answers.

  Tires screeching, we fly around a corner and then back onto the road that leads out of town. Chris turns on the headlights to push back the night and we accelerate up the country road.

  “Are you okay Jake?” I beg, desperately wanting him to smile and just be my silly little brother again. To go back in time to the day we were sitting around our fishing hole, unaware of anything so evil and terrifying.

  But he just stares at me, eyes wide and full of knowledge a boy his age shouldn’t have. In answer, he simply holds his left arm out in front of me. Looking down, my breath catches. Panic claws at my throat and robs me of any encouraging words

  A small line of blood trickles out from a puncture wound in the crook of his arm. Baxter whines softly and pushes his way onto both our laps, sniffing at it. I pull the sleeve down on his Batman pajamas, covering the small wound, trying to hide the reality. I can’t help but think of a word used by my dad in his letter…it’s our bloodline. I close my eyes against the image and gather him close.

  TWENTY

  The Professor’s house is a large estate several miles outside of town. I call out a direction to Chris every once in awhile, but it only involves a few turns. Most of my energy is spent trying to keep my composure for Jacob’s sake. I’m glad that he is at least talking now, but I’m having a hard time answering his questions.

  “Why did she do that?” Is the first thing out of his mouth, and probably the most difficult to address. “Who were those guys? Why was she with them?”

  “Shhh,” I tell him, when he begins to cry. “I’m not sure Jake. Mom isn’t herself right now, you know. This virus is making people do really weird things. It’s okay though, they can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.” My guilt is almost too much to cope with, but I push back the rising black tide and focus on what is important. We have to make it through this and then we’ll deal with everything else.

  “What was in the shot?” he demands, rubbing at his arm. “Was it medicine? Why wouldn’t she tell me what they were doing? She hurt me Alex!”

  I’m pretty sure that there was blood in the syringe, probably her own. I didn’t stop to examine it, but that’s what it looked like and it would make sense based on Chris’s theory about secondary infections. But I can’t tell Jacob that.

  “I don’t know Jake,” I lie. Well, it’s a half-truth, because I can’t be sure, and he’s had enough trauma for one night. There’s no way I’m telling him what it most likely was. In fact, I don’t think I’m ready to accept it either…that my little brother could be lost to me too.

  “Hey! Were those guys dead?” he says abruptly, sitting up straight. “Did Chris kill them? Won’t he get in trouble?”

  “No, he isn’t in trouble,” I say calmly. “He was protecting us Jake. We’re going to go see Professor Hasson now. You know the guy that gave you Baxter? Dad left me a note that he wrote before he died, that said the Professor would know what to do to help make people get better. He used to be Dads friend.” I’m hoping he won’t notice I didn’t answer the first part of his question.

  When I look back down at him however, I see that he has a dazed look and his eyelids are growing heavy. The shock of it all is taking its toll. Sleep might be the best thing that could happen to him right now anyways, so I pull him in a bit closer and try to keep him warm. By the time we reach the estate ten minutes later, he is sound asleep. I envy his ability to escape this living nightmare.

  Before Chris turns off the main road, I check out the back window to make sure there’s no sign of headlights behind us. We drive up a long, winding, driveway that’s lined on either side by tall oak trees. Pulling into a large parking area, I look up at a beautiful, A-frame log house. Green lawn spreads away from it, ending at t
he darkening woods in the distance.

  Chris comes around and opens the back door. Silently, he reaches inside and effortlessly picks up Jake. As he takes him from me, I stop him with a hand on his wrist. “You didn’t have a choice.” Is all I say. Pausing, he finally looks at me and I can see the turmoil he’s feeling inside.

  “Can you carry the backpack?” he asks, clearly not wanting to discuss the shooting.

  I pick up the heavy bag in response and drop down off the seat and onto the ground behind them. The sun is well below the horizon now, and night is setting in. The windows in the house glow warmly, confirming the impression I’ve built up about it as a place of refuge and protection. Now that we are finally here, I hope that we can get some answers and maybe even a few hours of sleep.

  As we walk across the wide front porch and I ring the bell, I can imagine how we must look; the three of us huddled there with Baxter sitting at our feet. The door is opened almost immediately and I recognize the pudgy, middle-aged man as the same one that came the day of Dads funeral. He had introduced himself as an old family friend from Egypt and we had never even thought to question it. When he moved into town later that year, he invited me out here for a visit but I never took him up on it. He’s barely taller than me, with short salt and pepper hair and a pointed beard. The graying hair on his face stands out in stark contrast to his bronze Egyptian skin. He stares at us down his hooked nose, over his glasses and looks as if he isn’t that happy to see us.

  To my surprise, instead of inviting us inside or asking why we were there, he simply kneels down in front of Baxter. Grabbing him behind the ears, he holds his face close to his own and looks intensely into his eyes. “Baxter old friend! It is a pleasure to see you again.” Baxter chuffs at him politely, but rather than licking him like I would expect, he gently pulls his head away and sits back on his haunches, watching the Professor.