The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  Dressed, but with her hair still dripping wet, she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. She examined the solid wood cabinets and polished beech worktops, tiled flooring and a neat little breakfast table. This is nice. She scanned around the ceiling, searched in between the decorative plates on the dresser and peered under wall cabinets. She could find no cameras, nor listening devices anywhere. Okay, what’s the catch?

  Mary opened the massive fridge and lifted out a large glass container of milk. There was no fancy seal, just a lid to keep out the dust. She stuck her nose inside the container and sniffed. Smells just fine. Could be drugged, can’t risk it. She returned it to the shelf inside the door.

  There was something weird about all the produce stacked inside the fridge. Lush carrots, the green tops still attached, eggs of all different shades and sizes, irregularly shaped butter stored in a glass dish. She opened the salad drawer. More fresh produce nestled inside; whole heads of lettuce, a mixture of tomato varieties, and paper cartons of mushrooms. Not a single supermarket label, plastic bag or tie anywhere.

  She opened the cupboards. Inside, glass containers, displaying the dried products within; rice, lentils, flour and much more besides. Her stomach growled. A bread crock harboured some English muffins and a loaf of granary. Fortified with toasted buttered muffins, and a pot of black tea, Mary explored the rest of the lodge.

  The ground floor of the building was largely open plan, with a downstairs cloak room and utility area to the rear of the kitchen. The lounge and dining area, terminated with bi-fold French doors and a balcony suspended above the hillside. Mary drank the last of the black tea and stood out on the wooden platform, taking in the view.

  From the vantage point, she could see the extent of the compound, right to the tree-lined boundaries in the distance. Chalets, villas and more permanent structures dotted the clearing on one side of the communal building. On the opposite side, large tracts of land devoted to arable and dairy farming, polytunnels and reed beds that seemed to stretch for miles.

  Men worked teams with shire horses ploughing fields, alongside more modern machinery. Groups of workers harvested crops inside the polythene tunnels, while others dipped sheep outside the farm buildings. Every acre of land had a purpose. Beyond the vast area of arable land were rows of wind turbines, and solar arrays, biomass shredders and methane digesters. Despite the mild breeze, the turbines were still.

  Outside the communal building, a group of people wearing sports gear trained in unarmed combat, throwing each other down on crash mats and throttling their opponents into submission. Other’s sat at tables in the sunshine, labelling pickle jars. What the hell is this place?

  Mary watched, transfixed as a tiny electric vehicle appeared from nowhere, the slope of the ramp hidden behind shrubs and trees. Two more vehicles surfaced from what Mary assumed was some sort of underground garage. This time, they were large haulage trucks. The car stopped a few hundred metres from the entrance, and a slight figure got out. He walked to the driver’s window of the first stationary truck, spoke to the men inside, and then returned to the little car.

  The trucks veered off towards the gated entrance, while the electric car headed in Mary’s direction. As it drew closer, she could see Alexi waving to her through the windscreen. He parked close to her lodge stairs, and then stepped out of the driver’s seat. Yelling up to her, Alexi said, “you sleep okay? Everything good, yes?”

  Mary nodded, but could not quell the deep-seated suspicion festering in the back of her mind.

  “You want to come down and look around? I give you tour.” He waited for some indication of acceptance. Mary paused. Her curiosity was piqued. She did not feel threatened, particularly since Alexi knew of her capabilities. One false move and she could send a jolt of electromagnetic energy right through his skull, cooking his brain inside.

  “A quick look, and then I must leave. I’ll be down in a minute.” She yelled. I’ll take my stuff with me. She mused, returning to the bedroom to stash a few essentials into her bag.

  They began on foot, walking the short distance to the communal centre. Alexi donned a baseball cap and tinted glasses, shielding himself from the early autumn sun.

  “You like cabin? It has all you need?” Alexi held open the heavy door, ushering her inside.

  “Yes, thank you. It is very nice.” Mary noticed that even out of the sun, Alexi did not remove his sunglasses. The communal centre was packed with people. Most wore the same sweat pants and t-shirts that Mary found packed into her suitcase. It unsettled her. They shuffled their way past the crowds queueing at the canteen for lunch. “Are you hungry? They have nice goulash here. Or maybe you like pizza? All fresh made.”

  Mary declined, but found herself lingering to view the cheerful faces of people sharing their meals together in what looked to be family units. Other tables supported groups of friends, discussing their work, scribbling on napkins, in animated discourse. The entire dining hall had an uplifting aura about it that made her smile.

  “Come, I show you rest of place.” Alexi tapped Mary’s arm, urging her towards the west side of the building. “Here is medical wing…” They peeked in through the doorway. A medic was stitching a fresh wound in a man’s shin. “He very clumsy. Seen him here before.” Alexi added, striding off towards the rear of the building. “Here is food storage and over there, food waste um… recycled. Correct word, yes?”

  Nodding, she followed the excited chap to the east side of the building. Pointing through an external window towards an adjacent structure, Alexi said, “over there, school rooms, centre for to look after babies…” He clicked his thumb and fingers together, tapping them against his forehead.

  “Creche.” Mary offered.

  “Yes, that is it. Creche.” He smiled at her, and then returned his attention to the large empty rooms in the east wing. “This for group activities, but is sunny today. They all outside instead.” He wandered off through a side exit, loitering in the doorway for Mary to catch up. “Ah, I must show you orchard, and my bees. Come, come…”

  She trailed after him. It was difficult for her to maintain her suspicion in the face of such enterprise. Everywhere she looked, people laughed and smiled in their endeavours. It was almost idyllic. A short walk took them closer to the great open spaces reserved for crops. They passed a few cages protecting soft fruit canes and vines from wildlife, before nearing a large mature orchard. Long grass interspersed with wild flowers, cherry and apple trees, pears and plums, providing a home for Alexi’s beehives. The view was stunning.

  “This is where the flowers in my lodge came from.” Mary said, launching herself through the grasses to lean against a low cherry tree. “It’s beautiful.”

  Encouraged by her response, Alexi drew closer to her. “Modern world very bad for my bees.”

  “You mean all the chemicals? Pesticides and herbicides sprayed onto the land?”

  “Yes, but not only. Modern frequencies disturb bees. Cannot find their way home. Mobile phones and cell towers, broadband, wireless Internet, all mess with wildlife, birds, bees. Colonies fly away, queens die, crops fail, we all die.” Alexi’s perky mood ebbed. “I have proof. Will show you later. Science studies.”

  Mary patted his shoulder. “But not here though, surely? Come to think of it, your little car is the only electric thing, other than a fridge, that I have seen since I arrived.” Her own words, puzzled her. All those people at lunch, and none were using mobile phones. There were no monitors, televisions or computers. “Why is that, Alexi? How do people around here keep in touch with what is going on in the world?”

  “There are some electric things. Most are stored underground, packed away or um…disabled.” Alexi saw the look of suspicion reappear across her features. He bent low and picked a pink meadow flower and handed it to Mary. It did not deflect her attention.

  “Why are they stored underground, Alexi? What are you up to?”

  “I not up to things, Mary. We build a nice place here, eh? You k
now, you should make use of facility. You learn self-defence. We have teacher. Come, we find him.”

  Mary persisted with her interrogation all the way back to the open grassland in front of the communal centre, but Alexi would not divulge any more. They watched the groups of people engrossed in Tai chi, some made natural soap on portable gas hobs, while others learned martial arts in the shade of a large American beech tree. Each of the areas were connected by small service roads and cycle paths.

  “You meet nice teacher. He help you defend yourself, yes?”

  “No. I really must leave now, Alexi. Please can you ask your driver to take me to that town? I can make my own way from there.”

  Alexi made a hang-dog face at her, pouting his lips in a down turned smile. “You want to go already? You don’t like this place?”

  “It’s lovely, really, but I need to leave now.”

  “If you want, but you must eat before you go. Will tell driver to take you.” Alexi sauntered towards the communal centre entrance. Mary trailed after him. She thought about refusing his offer of food, but her stomach, like the rest of her, was still working on Greenwich Mean Time. It would be about time for an evening meal back in England.

  The canteen had thinned of crowds on their return; people drifted off to their duties or studies for the afternoon. Only a few of the animated groups of friends remained.

  “Does this canteen stay open all the time?” The delicious aromas stimulated her salivary glands. It had been some time since Mary had eaten a proper meal. The choices listed on the chalk board were varied and enticing.

  “All day yes. Close at ten pm.” Alexi collected a tray from a neat stack and balanced it on a metal shelf next to the hotplates. “What would you like? Italian, Indian, French, or maybe from my homeland? Some very tasty pirozhki? They do an okay lapsha…”

  “All these different cuisines in one canteen?”

  “Da, people from all over world here. Food make everyone happy. Come.” He gestured for Mary to take a tray and join him at the counter. She observed as Alexi ordered something called Koulibiaca. The man serving took a huge knife to a giant, sized free-standing pie, and sawed a couple of inches from its end. As it toppled onto the plate, Mary could see the colourful layers of sticky wild rice, dark spinach, hard boiled eggs, black mushrooms, sun-blushed tomatoes and slab of rare beef inside.

  “They do a veggie kind too… you like?”

  Mary thought for a moment. Everything looked appetising.

  Alexi saw her indecision. “I think you would like pirozhki, soft and tasty, with mushroom sauerkraut and potatoes. The man serving handed Alexi a small bread-like roll with a pair of tongs. Alexi ripped it apart revealing a steamy mushroom and egg filling. “See, very tasty.”

  Warm dill and pepper tingled her nasal linings. Alexi handed half to her and munched on the other. Mary took a bite. The herbs, piquant flavours and soft textures danced on her tongue. “Wow, that is amazing.”

  The server gave her a wide grin, stacking a plate high with the filled rolls and adding portions of the accompanying dishes. She thanked the man and shuffled along to where Alexi was helping himself to fresh juice.

  “Can have tea instead, if you want?” Alexi said, pointing back at the man serving another resident. “I can ask them to make you some.”

  Mary shook her head. “Thanks, but I will just eat this, and head off to that town.” She took a glass of orange juice and followed Alexi to a long table. They sat next to a group of people, whose vibrant discussions had caught her attention earlier in the tour. As she sat down, their conversation halted, and their postures changed to a more formal and upright stiffness.

  “Gentlemen, ladies…” Alexi said, his voice dipping low and gravelly.

  “General.” The group replied, with varying intonation and timing.

  Mary felt a painful memory stab her brain. Alexi was not her friend. He was former Soviet military, and a ruthless extremist. No amount of delicious food would alter that fact. She looked at the expressions on the young people’s faces. They were watching her. There was a growing expectation for her to say something to them, but what?

  She cleared her throat. “Um, hello everyone. I am Mary.”

  “We know who you are Mrs Arora.” The voice came from a large man sitting closest to her. The accent distinctly Scottish. His t-shirt stretched taught over his biceps. “We are all very glad that you have joined us.”

  “Oh no, I haven’t joined anything. I am just having a quick bite to eat before I leave.” She picked up a fork and stabbed a buttery potato, directing it to her mouth.

  The group looked first at each other, and then at Alexi, who shrugged his response. Mary peered up at them, their attention trained on her. In that instance, all their hopes and fears transmitted across the space and lodged in her mind.

  “That is distressing news, Mrs Arora.” The voice was low and husky, but fainter than before.

  Wait… Mary stopped eating. Her thoughts expanding into a multi-directional wave. I heard that inside my mind. No one actually spoke. These people are like me. She twisted in her seat to face the large man at her side. “Are you able to hear my thoughts?”

  “Indeed, Mrs Arora. We all can.” The man replied. Mary looked at all the other faces around her. Each of them smiling and nodding in her direction.

  “Are you Alexi’s new Hive Operatives?” She asked, keeping the conversation internal and shielded from their general’s ears.

  Again, the group exchanged glances. This time the look was of puzzlement. “What is a Hive Operative, Mrs Arora?”

  Mary was stunned. How could they not know of Alexi’s former missions? How could they be unaware of the hundreds of military personnel, trained in extra-sensory perception and kept in a constant state of collective consciousness, via coma inducing and hallucinatory drugs? How had Alexi gathered up these English speaking people who exhibited extraordinary mental abilities without the use of medication? And for what purpose? Was this entire complex devoted to gifted people? All at once, it hit her. This was no spa retreat. This was a military command centre.

  Chapter Three

  They were waiting for her answer. Seven young, earnest and innocent victims of Alexi’s latest plot. Could they hear her inner turmoil as she wrestled with her conscience? How much should she tell them? How much did they already know?

  “Do you know why Alexi has brought you here?” Mary launched the question into the airwaves, trying to keep her features in a neutral expression, so as not to alert her host. She watched the group struggle with their internal lines of communication. Hand gestures overtook their telepathic discourse. The larger man nodded towards a woman on the opposite side of the table.

  She replied in a weak transmission. “The general is training us to use our gifts. In return, he is taking care of my mother’s medical fees.”

  Mary squinted at the blond, who scratched her dry forearms and then picked at her nails. She appeared timid, but Mary detected something defiant about her. An obstinacy of sorts, apparent in the way she sat slightly apart from the rest of the group. The provided sweat pants were cut off way above the knee to reveal her long, tanned legs. Trouble simmered beneath the veneer of compliance. Mary turned her attention to the rest of the group.

  “Is this the case for all of you?” Mary enquired of them. Their responses were instantaneous and deafening. Mary received all their answers at once, in a neural cacophony.

  “Nah, I just needed a job… my sister volunteered us, stupid cow… the money was too good an offer…” And so on, drowning out Mary’s cry to stop. These were not the experienced military Hive minds that she was expecting. They were barely able to control their own abilities, let alone infiltrate anyone else.

  Alexi sat at the end of the table, eating his Koulibiaca and watching their faces.

  “So, this is your little game, is it? Show me some Arcadian orchard and a luxury cabin and you think I will fall in line with your cadets? What were you expecting… that I
would become queen bee of this new hive, and train them for you?” Mary snapped at him.

  Alexi placed his cutlery down on his plate. “You not happy I find more like you? I found you new friends, people who understand. They part of our family now.”

  “I don’t need a new family.” The sentiment caught in her throat. She drew breath and composed herself. “Whatever you are planning, Alexi, forget it. I’m outta here.” Mary untangled her limbs from the bench seating and grabbed her bag from the floor.

  Alexi scuttled after her. “You don’t have to be friend to them, only stay. I get you whatever you want.” He stopped at the front entrance to the communal building and watched her storm off towards her cabin.

  At full stride, Mary hurried to Alexi’s electric car and jumped in. Whatever his latest devious plan was, someone else could stop him. It was not her problem. There was no ignition key, just a starter button on the dash. With a foot on the accelerator pedal, she zoomed past a sulking Soviet general, and out of the open compound gates.

  Mary turned right onto the tree-lined road, and followed the signs to little township. The sense of freedom was exhilarating. With the windows fully lowered, she breathed in the refreshing forest air. About five miles into her journey, she realised that the blond wig was still in the lodge house bedroom. She would need to buy another, or some hair dye if she was to use her fake passport again. Which, easily reached country, has no extradition treaty with Britain? Somewhere in South America perhaps. Before she could settle on a destination, a red warning light flashed on the console.

  Mary peeped at the power gauge next to the LED. Shit. Just my luck. Taking another right turn, Mary cruised towards the main street of the little town. There seemed to be more churches than houses; mostly of wooden construction from the colonial era. The Stars and Stripes hung motionless in the humid air from every porch and veranda. These were proud Americans.