The Present

by Kenneth Thomas

  Her skin still red, her mycelium clothing and shoes charred, she hurries to the other side of the Transportation Center, to John F Kennedy Boulevard. The damage here is much worse, most of the Jerseyans dead or dying. Rulez Haah’s dancers rush to give those still breathing mushroom water to rehydrate and calm their wounds. Method A reaches Method Bee’s last known position. Looking left and right desperately, she soon finds Method Bee, recognising a tattoo on his shoulder; that of a king scorpion - its once-mighty stinger with two large front claws has faded, partly melted along with his skin.

  Method A kneels down beside, his body too hot to touch, his eyes white and milky he is barely able to speak.

  ‘That you, A’?

  ‘Yeah, Bee. I gonna get you out of here’.

  ‘The jig is up, cousin’.

  ‘Nah, nah, you good’, Method A cannot bear to say otherwise.

  ‘A-A. We gonna feast together in the great hall’, Method Bee replies.

  ‘We are, you the bravest warlord there ever was’, Method A consoles, tears rolling down her wrinkled face.

  ‘You gotta become the one and only warlord. A, kill-kill that Gang-s’, Method Bee urges with his last words. He is dead

  Method A replies softly, ‘Aye’. She holds up a shaka sign in respect. A number of fighters come to help, to alleviate the suffering of the dying. She instructs a couple to lift up her cousin’s body and take it to the roof, to reunite him with his wife, Rulez Haah. As per tradition, Jerseyans must be cremated after they die, so that their spirit can transcend to the Chamber of Warriors, they cannot feast in the Great hall otherwise. With so many dead, there will not be the usual elaborate funeral today, just the burning.

  They walk together quietly to the roof, where Rulez Haah’s dead body still lies. Instructing to lay Method Bee besides, Method A rips a strip from her purple blouse and walks over to wrapping it across her torn torso. The scene around them is one of utter devastation, many of the hollowed buildings now fully collapsed, the air even more rancid and full of dust. The ground pockmarked with deep holes; Journal is no longer a functioning dwelling.

  More Jerseyans have come to the rooftop of the Transportation Center. Many exhausted and badly burnt, their resolve is greater than ever. Method Bee removes two gold medallions and places one on each chest, taking a moment to reflect in silence. A great many gather with her to mourn and pay their respects, with dead body after dead body laid out.

  In memory of Rulez Haah, a ‘fair, kind boss’, her servants come to sing a Jerseyan song and eulogise her, repeating the same chorus, ‘Our mighty warlord, slayer of great evil, rise to the feast. She parties in the great hall forever and ever, our fallen peeps celebrating with her’.

  With Houston flying overhead, Pretoria transports down, immediately offering a shaka sign to Method A. Very much shocked by all the destruction, by appearance even worse than that of Queen Elizabeth. The king scorpions, including Ken, brave the hazy light to come outside too. Fortunate to be much more resistant to extreme heat, few have been killed by the red-light of the MLS-Arts ship.

  Clenching her fists, Method A’s finishes paying her respects to all, remembering Bee’s final words ‘to become the one and only warlord’. As the servants pour flasks of enoki wine over the bodies and set them alight, Pretoria stands beside Method A. The chorus rises, and the dead bodies burn, their ashes scattering upwards into the acidic clouds. This will go down as one of the darkest days in the history of the Jerseyans.

  Pretoria now invites her to join him for discussions. Dr VonHelmann keen to speak to her about officially joining as a member of the EaR. Method A agrees to talk with a nod, thinking of her own aims first - needing support to kill Gangs Hater and fulfil her promise to her cousin to become the one and only warlord.

  Before she leaves, she turns to the Jerseyans who have gathered, ‘My peeps, pick up your arms, go to Manhattan. We gonna get some revenge! I soon join’. The battle still continues underground with Gangs Hater’s Jerseyans at Hoboken station and Exchange Place station.

  The Jerseyans throw up a shaka sign, shouting, ‘Aye! Revenge, kill Gangs Hater’!

  Albeit battle-weary, they all recognise the fight is far from over. Prepared to strike a deal with the EaRA, Method A transports up into Houston’s battleship with several of her guards. As the rest of the Jerseyans and king scorpions, including Ken, leave to support the fight in the subway system. Gangs Hater left abandoned, like Colonel Mason, alone to face those he betrayed.

  Chapter 12 Schuurman’s Lab

  VanWest does not let the group rest for long. Eager to press on and find the doctors, Schuurman and King, he leads them back down and over to where the water drained. Hoping to find an exit from the chamber and a path to the Universal Council’s hidden base. A voice in his head reassures him that this is the right way.

  A thirsty Iris stops briefly to collect some water from a small puddle, before following LeSouris and VanWest into a dim and narrow tunnel. With each step, her emerald ring fades as a cold chill returns. The tunnel reminds VanWest of Stage 2 of the Universal Games, navigating through Pytheas’s Labyrinth. Here, he too remains alert for any signs of trouble but this tunnel is not manmade, rather a natural passageway under the Alba Mons mountain range. LeSouris trusts in him to lead the way and spends his time rubbing at his fishlike gills in the hope it will somehow go away.

  After their successful infiltration of Ward B on the moon base, coming to meet VanWest disguised as Nurse Rose, Iris wants to know if LeSouris can hack the security network of this base too, ‘Are you able to hack this Universal base’?

  LeSouris nods, ‘If same as on moon, rest assured I find the solution’!

  Too focused to comment, VanWest does not envision such security on this route. This ancient tunnel predates the Council and its base. Rounding another corner, they stumble upon a strange sight that stops them still, ‘Whoa’! Not quite sure what it is and why it is there, they find a spacesuit stuck under some rubble.

  It’s a design that VanWest has only ever seen in the Enforcer’s moon base archives, that belonging to an early third millennia space explorer. The size of an adult male, its helmet sports a dark blue visor and its uniform is white, except for black stripes on its shoulder pads. The spacesuit is very similar to that of an early SpaceX uniform, Earth’s first private space exploration company. Curiously, this edition bears no logo, no characteristic X, nor does it have a national flag.

  LeSouris kneels down to carefully open its visor, only to jump away, ‘Yikes’! Inside is a skeleton. Whoever it was, this explorer was likely caught and trapped by a cave-in. The disappearance of the ice having released him or her from their resting place. This could be good news though, a confirmation that this tunnel is, or at least was, connected to the surface; that there is an exit!

  Not able to stay and rebury, LeSouris gives a short Utopian prayer, ending with ‘may you rest in peace, in Utopia and beyond’.

  They must press on. VanWest can sense that they are going in the right direction; the voice in his head growing louder with each step, it keeps calling him - come. There is a junction ahead, one leading further down to where the water has drained and the other upwards, on a near-vertical climb. The air above is warmer, unlike in Arcadia Plains, there are no lava flows here, Alba Mons a dormant volcano. Could it be the base?

  Colonel Cornelius’s coordinates confirm it is close. VanWest signals Iris and LeSouris to follow him up. Already breathing heavily, not quite in his Enforcer shape, they recognise his determination and do not question. As they climb, the path narrows considerably, at its end, there is a piercing light. But, it takes an hour until they reach another junction: one path cutting across, the other continuing vertically.

  The light brighter, LeSouris enthusiastically points at symbols and art etched into the jagged, rocky walls around. Most are faded, childlike drawings of flowers and trees, in some places there is still colour - green lines under the sun.

  In a jovial voice, LeSouris dec
lares, ‘My friends, look more proof of Utopia, yes’? As if having discovered Utopia itself and not just drawings.

  ‘Could be’! Iris replies, taking this moment to take a deep breath. Albeit a Utopian, she is not quite as zealous as LeSouris and her father.

  VanWest nods and signals for them to keep going, on the vertical path to where the light originates - the voice still calling. As he proceeds, the passage becomes so narrow that VanWest is forced to crawl. But partway through, he stops still. Like switching from a static to a noisy radio channel, tens of voices call to him at once, VanWest!

  Overwhelmed, he grabs his head, shaking it wildly. LeSouris and Iris look at each other - a little frightened.

  ‘My love, are you ok’? Iris asks.

  He’s not. VanWest not only hears multiple voices but can feel their presence: pain and unhappiness. He doesn’t answer her and presses on. Even though the path brightens, it also continues to narrow. VanWest, with his broad shoulders, is barely able to fit through and is forced to pull himself up by his elbows.

  LeSouris calls over to VanWest, ‘My friend, is this the right way’?

  Once again, VanWest does not answer. Panting heavily, LeSouris shakes his head and continues to follow. The light comes shining through a small crack ahead, it appears to be the end of the narrow passageway. Worryingly, the gap is only large enough to fit his hand and lower arm through. As he does so, he can feel the warm air circulating in a large space behind. Possibly a ventilation shaft. VanWest realises that this rock’s texture is different to the rest, smoother it seems to have been placed here on purpose, perhaps to conceal the passage.

  LeSouris and Iris wait, hoping that he can figure a way out. VanWest tries to dislodge the rock with a hard push, but it is firmly stuck in place. Changing tact, he grips the outer edge with his left hand and pulls it inwards. This time it shifts a little. Gathering more strength, he continues to pull, and after several strenuous seconds, the rock finally comes loose. Dislodged, VanWest now pushes it up and out. Falling into the darkness, it strangely does not hit anything, there’s no noise at all! The emptiness behind must extend for a mile or more.

  LeSouris and Iris are relieved to finally get out this claustrophobic passage. But they are apprehensive at what they might encounter next, deducing by VanWest’s manner, not all is well.

  ‘I trust your “love” knows where he’s going’? LeSouris whispers to Iris, who answers with a small kick of dirt into his face.

  Crawling out, VanWest grips the rocks around to steady himself, such is the steep drop. As suspected, it is a ventilation shaft, designed quite similarly to that on the Universal Council’s moon base; the side opposite is cladded with reinforced aluminium sheets. He has found the base!

  Following the light, he spots a horizontal shaft above. Gauging the distance to be about 2 meters, VanWest deduces that he should be able to jump across and then pull himself inside. Jump! Without notifying the others, he throws himself over the drop, his fingertips just reaching the shaft.

  Whoa! A startled Iris calls out, ‘VanWest be careful’! Her voice echoing across.

  VanWest manages to pull himself up, sliding onto the smooth aluminium panels. The voices rising, he nearly forgets the others until he hears LeSouris whisper.

  ‘Praise be, my friend… Help us next’?

  LeSouris offers Iris to go first, advising her to ‘not look down’!

  VanWest stretches out his arm and hand, ‘You ready’?

  Another warm breeze passes as Iris grabs hold of his hand, VanWest muscular arms pulling her across and into the shaft. More spacious than the tunnel, its ceiling is still quite low. VanWest does the same for LeSouris, who grimaces as he crosses the pitch-black darkness, again in one motion and without issue.

  LeSouris tries once more to ask about the plan, but VanWest moves away too fast, crawling on all fours. Though they know they must proceed, all dread what they might encounter. For VanWest, the painful feelings grow even more intense. A vision returns, the semi-naked man in a medical bib, this time he is looks at him straight in the eyes, he mouths come.

  Not knowing what happened in New Jersey and the Enforcers joining the EaRA to counter Commissioner Ming, they can only remain hopeful and focus on fulfilling their part. They are so close. A low buzzing noise rises as they continue crawling towards the light’s source, which they soon locate comes through a mesh net, a brightly lit room below.

  Tall shelves pack the room, the closet filled with beakers and petri dishes. They realise that the buzzing comes from an alarm, a red light is flashing. It’s Schuurman’s lab all right, and it’s on high alert! VanWest wonders what this means, have they been discovered? Or, is this a general level of alert, with the Space Army preparing to go to Earth?

  VanWest whispers to Iris and LeSouris, ‘I must go inside. Let me check the room is clear of hostiles first’.

  LeSouris nods, ‘Good idea’.

  Iris responds strongly, in a low voice, ‘No, we are going together’!

  ‘Ok… We send update to your father first. Yes’? LeSouris answers.

  Iris agrees. It upsets her slightly, a reminder that there have been no messages from the EaRA since landing in Arcadia Plains, she hopes this not to be a bad sign. But chooses to keep her worries to herself, VanWest looks burdened enough.

  VanWest takes out his Quantum Communicator, entering Dr VonHelmann’s code 01034589X, noting their current situation and confirming that the Base Is Found. Space Army On Alert. Pilot Of Method A - Gs Dead. Dr King Not Yet Located. Opting though to not mention the icy chamber and mural, unable to explain.

  The voices in his head grow louder, excited by his approach - come, they call. He looks to lift open the mesh barrier, not realising that his hands are shaking. None of them are armed, having only just escaped from Arcadia Plains with their lives. The choice is stark, the pressure is on them to fulfil their part in this ‘New Beginning’.

  ‘My friend, you tell us finally your plan’? He adds half-jokingly, ‘I worry my charm not enough to disarm Space Soldier’!

  VanWest still cannot articulate his plan, he feels that these voices are key to their success and that all will be revealed inside. He replies, reminding him of his faith, ‘You trust’?

  LeSouris sighs before nodding, ‘I trust, of course’.

  A skilled infiltrator, LeSouris offers to help remove the mesh, ‘Let me’. He gently taps the screws with his long fingernails, slowly loosening them as he does so, and then lifts the mesh up, quietly placing it to one side, ‘My friend, easy’! Having come from under the mountain, they have thus far evaded the security network, VanWest now enters the lab. He hangs from the vent and swings his legs to the top of the nearest metal shelf, the highest point in the room, careful to not knock any beakers.

  Skilfully, he makes it across - the beakers only clattering slightly. He next helps LeSouris and Iris over, as quietly and carefully as possible and they climb down the shelf to the floor. This place stores a whole range of laboratory items: syringes, glass jars and boxes of latex gloves. However, there too are items that seem out of place, in fact, some altogether bizarre and not quite of this world.

  On one shelf, VanWest is surprised to find the blue and green featured headdress he saw when the ghost of the little girl touched his hand, there too a dagger made of flint with a wooden handle, snakelike symbols intricately carved into it. These very same items he saw on Dr Schuurman. It must be a sign that whatever is fated draws closer.

  Further, in the centre of the room and partly concealed under a white plastic cover is a large disc shape stone. It’s the stone sermon! Repeatedly carved all around with a mysterious face: rounds eyes, fangs and a crown. Removing the cover, VanWest finds more intricate designs. Its symbols near undecipherable, he assumes it to be a calendar of sorts.

  As VanWest touches it, there’s a new vision. Dr Schuurman’s holds a still-beating heart in the palm of his hand, his eyes stare straight at his eyes, menaced and crazed, as if right in front of
him. His snarly teeth and face now too covered in its blood. A lone voice breaks him from his vision - come. It directs him to a small door at the end of the room, controlling his mind it forces VanWest to walk towards it.

  Crash! The shattering of glass jolts him back. He turns to find LeSouris gasping, having half-fainted and fallen backwards onto the white stone floor - his saggy fishlike gills covering his face.

  Iris comes to his aid. Crouching down, she asks him, ‘Are you ok’?

  Shaking his head, he looks up at VanWest with horror in his eyes as if he were something strange and inhuman. Bending down to pick up the broken petri dish, VanWest finally understands, the voices, the Colonel’s last words of ‘beware yourself’, and the victory parade after the Universal Games. All the petri dishes on this shelf are labelled with the prefix V-A-N-W-E-S-T.

  Iris is quick to understand, embracing him she whispers, ‘VanWest, I’m sorry’.

  She had suspected something awful like this, remembering too the parade after the Universal Games, where a lookalike of VanWest stood beside Dr King, while he lay in Ward B linked up to a Schuurman Reporting Monitor (SRM). Iris shakes her head, she wonders what else her father has kept from her. This is not the only revelation on this trip, her father having never discussed her emerald ring, its origins.

  ‘My word, my word, I cannot believe it’! LeSouris mutters, a tinge of colour returning to his cheeks.

  Looking at Iris and LeSouris, VanWest reveals yet another chilling detail, ‘I hear them’!

  ‘What’? Iris says.

  ‘Please, not scare me more’! LeSouris replies.

  VanWest doesn’t just hear the voices, he feels them, their pain so very intense. Iris holds him tightly as more dark images flash through his mind. Like a bad forgotten memory suddenly recalled, he relives his beginning, watching as a ginger-haired Dr Schuurman stand beside a nurse who surveys a line of incubators, each labelled Van der Westhuizen, followed by a number. Schuurman suddenly stops in front of one, labelled A1, and grabs hold of the nurse’s arm. He smiles widely at the sound of crying coming from within.