The Embers of Hope: A science-fiction thriller (Hibernation Series Book 2)

by Nick Jones

  Zitagi was in shock, her body buzzing, mind numb and confused. Things were different now; everything had changed suddenly, flipped as quickly as a coin. ‘How do you cope with it?’ she asked, working hard to keep her voice from cracking. ‘How do you process all this?’

  Reyland reached out and took her hand.

  ‘What are you –’ she began.

  ‘Listen to me,’ Reyland said firmly. ‘The only thing that matters now is the future. Do you understand?’

  She nodded, her heart pounding.

  ‘We can start again. Everything we’ve learnt, everything that is good about us. We have a chance to do it right this time.’ His face changed into that of a man she didn’t recognise. His eyes swam with intensity and she noticed his lip was trembling. ‘Zido,’ he said softly, ‘I want you to come with me.’

  ‘On the ark?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes.’ He gripped her hand tighter. ‘Each of us – the leaders of the consortium – can choose a small number of people. I have chosen you. You’ve stood by me all these years, been loyal, never once faltered.’

  Zido didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She just stared at him, her body tense, her mind cramped.

  ‘Will you?’ he asked.

  Zido stared down on the precision of it all. ‘But how will we live with ourselves knowing we abandoned them?’

  ‘I would ask you this,’ Reyland replied. ‘How could we die knowing there was a chance, even a small one, that we could have saved our species from total annihilation?’

  Chapter 41

  Pascale had cried that morning until she was empty. Three years building a home, all for nothing. The apartment had been bare when they moved in, unfurnished and soulless. She had made it theirs, chosen, collected and decorated until it had become a statement, a part of them.

  Leaving London was inevitable, she knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Also, they weren’t just leaving; they were running, disappearing. The usual drawn-out process of paperwork, phone calls, organising and boxing had been replaced by ten days of intense worry. Her stomach was a tight knot and that couldn’t be good for the baby.

  She sat on the toilet seat and felt as though she was about to cry again but shook her head and stared into the mirror. ‘Come on, Pascale,’ she sniffed angrily, ‘sort it out.’ She flushed the toilet and splashed cold water on her face before rejoining Alex in the bedroom. On the bed were two large bags. Their possessions – the ones that mattered most – were scattered around them.

  ‘Are you sure we’re only allowed two bags?’ she asked, grabbing a pile of photographs from a drawer next to the bed.

  ‘It’s what Paul said.’ Alex paused and then muttered, ‘We might not even get these through.’

  ‘Why?’ Pascale asked.

  ‘They have to travel separately. He’s taking us across as aid workers and we’re only allowed a small amount of hand luggage.’

  Pascale stopped packing and folded her arms. ‘He’s what?’

  Alex looked back at her. ‘Border controls have tightened up in the last few months. He said it’s the only way.’

  Pascale felt her throat tighten and another big ball of worry take a trip through her insides.

  ‘Are you sure it’s the only way?’ Pascale’s voice was softer and Alex seemed to respond.

  ‘It is, baby,’ he said, leafing through his own pile of belongings. ‘I don’t want to leave either.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But our life here isn’t real.’

  Pascale could feel the weight of the future. ‘I know that, but it felt good for a while.’ He nodded, and she continued, ‘I keep thinking about people at work, the place I go for coffee in the morning. Nights when we just stay in and cook, you know? Normal stuff. All of it will be gone, Alex. We are literally plucking ourselves out of this life and into the unknown. The three of us will be –’

  ‘Starting a fresh, new life,’ he interrupted, adjusting her sentence to be a more positive one, which was typical of him.

  ‘But it’s the outer zones,’ Pascale said. ‘We don’t know what it’s like out there.’

  Alex scooped up some clothes and threw them into his bag in a way that only a man could manage. ‘Paul said it’s basic but there are a lot of good things happening. He said once we get to Dubai we can talk about where we want to settle, said there’s plenty of work, too.’ He sighed and frowned a little. ‘He’s a good man.’

  Is he, though? Is he really?

  ‘I know,’ Pascale said flatly, deciding this wasn’t time to question Paul. It was too late for that now, anyway.

  The curtains danced gently in the breeze, and she looked around their bedroom at the photographs on the walls, begging to take her on a trip down memory lane. Not a good idea. Their life here was over and she needed to accept that. People had done this before. The one constant struggle for humankind was displacement, had been since the beginning of time. Theirs was strange because it was veiled, masked by smiles and reassurances. Hibernation was a prison that everyone wanted to get into, yet they were trying to escape. They were about to become refugees. After all they had achieved, they were going to be on the road with a baby on the way and two bags to their name.

  Alex was close again. ‘Pascale, I love you and I won’t let anything happen to you or our baby.’ He placed his hands tenderly on her cheeks. ‘Trust me, okay?’

  Alex loved her, she could feel it and it was a good feeling, but as many people had told her over the years, love can be blind. He seemed to have a blinkered belief that their life was somehow blessed by that love, that they were untouchable because of it. It was a naivety that she sometimes envied, but it was also dangerous.

  She imagined the three of them sat in a row, three wise monkeys. Alex covering his eyes, she with her hands over her ears, and the third little monkey – the unborn one – without the ability to speak. She wondered what her baby would say if he or she could. Perhaps they would be screaming at them to hurry, to escape this madhouse of hidden horrors. Pascale hoped so; she begged fate to help them across the border and for the outer zones to give them a fair go at a new life.

  Later that night, while Alex took a shower, Pascale decided to stop begging. She stared for while at the two cases and then knelt at the foot of their bed and prayed.

  Chapter 42

  Zido leant her head against the wet room tiles and let the flow of warm water run over her back and neck. She stayed that way for a while, her mind replaying the last few days of her life.

  Reyland had selected her.

  Children weren’t meant for people like her, but in that moment she imagined what it might be like to have a child, and what it would feel like to be told they were terminally ill. She visualised a doctor with an empathetic face, nodding sagely. Best not to tell them. They might have a year or a month; either way, try to enjoy your time with them.

  Zitagi pounded the wall. Mankind was terminally ill and Reyland had filled it full of drugs. It was euthanasia on a massive scale, and the thing that ate her up the most was that he might be right.

  Wasn’t it better to let them go with dignity?

  Zitagi dried off and stared at herself long and hard in the mirror. Jameson appeared in her mind again, his pale face cocked to the side, saliva oozing from his mouth, dry lips pulled into a sickening grin. He had known the truth; he was going to tell the world.

  Zitagi lived by the code of the samurai, a code that was often misunderstood. The samurai lived each day as if it were the last, accepting that death comes for us all in the end. Facing it was the ultimate expression of true living.

  She walked to the window and looked out over a rain-soaked London. It was early still, just after 6am, but the city was already teeming with life. They would never be given the opportunity to accept their fate, never have the chance to stare death in the face. For them, death would arrive silently and take them in their sleep.

  Reyland had requested a meeting that afternoon. Her feelings wer
e uncertain, but she couldn’t ignore him, couldn’t show weakness. She needed to mask her emotions. She had been required to do this many times before, to become a different character and complete a mission. Zitagi had no idea what she was going to choose, but for now, she needed to be someone who could at least function, and that version of her – the one who existed before the moon had given up its secrets – would have to do.

  Chapter 43

  My name is Nathan O’Brien. I was born in Montreal, Canada, spent the first twenty years of my life there. My first school was The Willows Primary School and my first kiss was Rachel Harris, we were both wearing duffel coats, our hoods up, kissing awkwardly in the playground as the bell rang. I moved, it was spring – I remember that clearly – I went to college, that’s where I met my wife. We fell in love and moved to…

  Nathan frowned. New York? Was it New York? His wife’s face became a grey, flat blur, as his memories sped away like advertising banners mounted on a passing train.

  If I forget her name then I’m truly lost.

  It still wouldn’t come. His heart was racing now and he felt panic setting in. The location of their first home, her name, all details that danced around the edges of his mind like a piece of shell in a bowl of eggs. Every time he touched the shell it moved and slid away in the silky whiteness of his fractured mind.

  He opened his eyes, sprung to his feet and began screaming obscenities. If meditation wouldn’t work then anger would have to do. He punched the wall, leaving an almost perfect print of three knuckles in the plaster, and pulled the final packet of pills from his pocket, swallowing one dry.

  Katherine.

  Kat.

  Yes, thank God.

  He remembered in a sudden rush their whirlwind romance, their move to New York and subsequent return three years later. For him, it had been coming home, for her it had felt like a step back. Not that she had ever said so, not directly. His wife had been many things, but selfish wasn’t one of them. She knew their return made him happy and had kept her mouth shut.

  He missed her; he missed Jen, too, both gone.

  Nathan pulled the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, the list Jen had asked him to write. He stared at it, thought about the night in his apartment, when she had come to him, a wonderful lie, precious moments spent with her. Splintering might be destroying him, but it had allowed him that one, beautiful fantasy. He was glad for that.

  That afternoon Paul contacted him. They were on for the replicator. Paul’s people had found the money. Of course they had, Nathan sneered and thought of the drive.

  Deal of the fucking century.

  Paul explained that the replicator was situated at a desalination plant on the coast of Oman. The location made sense; replicators were notoriously hungry, required colossal amounts of power that would need to be hidden from the spikes on the main grid.

  Nathan laughed aloud as he recalled his conversation with Jen. It was amazing to think how he had struggled for so long and then she had come back – albeit in ghost form – and shit had got done. That was just her way.

  Everything had come together and the final act was in sight. Nathan felt his heart sink. All the parts were in place except one, a critical detail missing from the finale.

  He had no clue how he was going to transfer Jen’s mind. The replicator would take her DNA, grow a new body, and then what? Someone had to bring her back; someone had to use the Histeridae.

  In his plan, that person was always George Mohanty, but Nathan had finally accepted that wasn’t going to happen. After making the list he had contacted George, using the mail address given to him in India. But George hadn’t replied – Nathan had no way of knowing if the mail had been received or if George was even still alive. Anything could have happened. Whatever the reason, whatever Nathan hoped or wished for, all that mattered now was that George wasn’t coming to the rescue.

  Death is a very relative term. The phrase arrived suddenly and without warning. Nathan smiled a little, but it was sorrowful and lost.

  Mine feels pretty fucking certain.

  He pulled in a deep breath and did his best to channel Jen. What would she do? He wondered, and knew instantly. She would be defiant in the face of the challenges ahead.

  Nathan looked around the room. He was alone; there was no one else. If Jen was going to live again then he had to bring her back. There was simply no other choice, and this time it needed to work.

  Somehow, it had to work.

  Chapter 44

  The following morning was spent travelling. Nathan arrived at the aircraft hangar just after 11am, where he was cleared and processed without incident. In the centre of the hangar was a twin rotor transport helicopter. It looked military, perhaps a decommissioned drop ship, clearly designed for combat and troop carrying. A pilot was busy inspecting its exterior, ticking things off on a list. Paul was busy checking through crates of supplies. He greeted Nathan and gave him some clothes, the light grey robes of a priest. The colour indicated that his education had only recently begun. Good thing, too. If anyone asked any religious questions, Nathan wouldn’t know what to say.

  He found a small cubicle at the rear of the hangar and changed. Before he returned, he pulled a small pillbox from his pocket and counted the remaining white lozenges – ten left – and calculated that would last him about two days.

  He walked back into the hangar and joined Paul. ‘How do I look?’ he asked.

  Paul smiled back at him. ‘Like you’ve been doing it your whole life. How are the meds working out?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Nathan said.

  ‘You look good.’

  Nathan walked over to him and handed him a box.

  ‘What’s this?’ Paul asked, taking it.

  ‘The drive from the vault,’ Nathan replied.

  Paul’s mouth dropped open. ‘I’m not complaining, but we agreed you would give it to me when we get there, that was our deal.’

  Nathan nodded. ‘I know, but if I…’ He paused for a moment. ‘You know, if something goes wrong.’ Paul nodded and smiled reluctantly, seeming to understand. ‘What’s on there will change things,’ Nathan said. ‘In the right hands, it will anyway.’

  ‘I promise you,’ Paul replied, ‘whatever it takes, we will use this for good.’

  Nathan didn’t doubt his intentions and felt a huge weight lift. It felt good to have an ally again, someone who might be able to leverage what they had started, what Jen had died for.

  ‘And how are you feeling?’ Paul asked. ‘About the replication?’

  ‘Nervous, of course. But I’m okay.’

  ‘Funding was a challenge but we did okay, huh?’

  ‘You did good, Paul.’

  The helicopter made a grinding sound, like a huge robot coughing. The engines belched into life and the rotors began to turn.

  ‘How many people are you taking?’ Nathan asked, pulling at his white collar.

  ‘Seven.’ Paul looked up at him. ‘Three of you won’t be coming back.’

  ‘Don’t they ever question it?’ Nathan wondered how long Paul could keep up the pretence. ‘How many you lose, I mean?’

  ‘I pay people off, but the Government doesn’t care. If you think about it, people who are killed or kidnapped trying to help in the outer zones? It feeds the fear. They don’t mind that.’ Paul checked the time. ‘They need to hurry, though, we’re leaving soon, with or without them.’

  Minutes later a truck arrived and dropped four people at the entrance of the hangar. Nathan nodded a hello as they walked to the chopper. He noticed their Christian Aid badges, combat-style clothes, their IDs and armbands. Paul greeted them warmly and Nathan was struck by how little he really knew the man. Paul had a gift – people seemed to brighten when they saw him. He inspired confidence - even Nathan could feel it.

  The group went to work loading crates, emergency rations of food and water, onto the transport. A second truck appeared and Paul walked out to meet the new arrivals. A man and a woman ste
pped out and shook hands with Paul. They were young and looked scared. Nathan guessed, like him they were the other ones who weren’t coming back.

  They approached and Paul introduced them. Pascale smiled but her mind was obviously elsewhere. Nathan said hello to them both. Alex reached forward and shook his hand. It was an awkward greeting, all parties knowing the risks they were about to take.

  The girl was pretty and Nathan noted how the young man fussed over her as they waited for the pilot to allow them to board.

  Alex looked Nathan up and down and managed a weak smile. He shouted over the increasing roar of the engine. ‘How long have you been studying?’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘Huh?’

  ‘The robes.’ Alex gestured at Nathan’s attire.

  ‘Oh, these,’ Nathan shouted back. ‘About an hour.’

  Alex laughed. Pascale looked over but didn’t share the joke. She was pale, her eyes busy with worry.

  The chopper’s engines went up another gear and then roared. The pilot pulled down his visor and circled his hand. Paul gestured towards the belly of the helicopter and the group ran, ducking their heads down. Nathan was amongst the first to board. He helped others in, reaching down and pulling them up. Then he found a seat around the edge and strapped in. He looked over at Alex and Pascale and nodded, managing a thin smile. Like him, they were crossing more than just the border; they were stepping over a threshold, one they wouldn’t cross again as free citizens.

  Paul strapped in opposite Nathan and the doors slid closed. The helicopter crept forwards out of the hangar. The airport was busy with huge aircraft all around them, some taking to the air. No one looked. They glanced nervously at each other. After a short wait the rotors span up and within minutes they too were airborne. The helicopter dipped forwards, gaining speed and altitude quickly. It felt good to be finally moving.

  Paul said the journey would take around an hour. Nathan glanced over at Pascale. Her eyes were closed but she wasn’t asleep. Her hands were clasped together and it appeared she was praying. Nathan clutched his bag tightly and, like Pascale, found himself praying too, negotiating with a God he didn’t believe in to help see his plans through.