by Alan Baxter
Mike pointed to a nearby image on the floor. It depicted a mine cart with the letters Au Ag inscribed on it.
“I thought those were the chemical symbols for gold and silver,” Rose said. “Not some kind of gas.”
Mike cocked his head, and then smiled. “They are, yes. But there’s a double meaning, which is why this particular symbol is located in front of this particular mural.”
“And what’s that?” Crowley asked.
Mike lowered his voice. “They say the Au Ag stands for, um…” He paused, took off his cap, and scratched his head. His brow furrowed for a moment, and then his face brightened. “Yeah, the Australian Antigen Virus.”
Chapter 25
Denver International Airport
Crowley frowned, unsure if the man’s interpretation could be right. He’d never heard of the virus Mike referred to.
“What’s the Australian Antigen virus?” Rose asked, echoing his thoughts.
“I don’t know the science,” Mike said. “Just that it’s a biological agent for mass deployment. The conspiracy theorists say it’ll bring the earth’s population down to a manageable level. I hope they start with the Raiders fans.” He grinned, but neither Crowley nor Rose had any idea what a Raider was.
“A human mass extinction virus?” Crowley asked. He had trouble believing so blunt an instrument would ever be deployed.
Mike nodded. “The virus is… I don’t know, programmed for people with certain gene types.”
“Targeted for what? Race?” Crowley asked, horrified.
Mike shrugged. “Plenty of people would like to see a whole lot less of me and mine, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s a bit far-fetched,” Rose said, shaking her head slightly. Crowley saw her eyes and a fear was reflected there, a paranoia that such a thing was maybe possible. He shared her concern, though he was loathe to admit it.
Mike didn’t argue. He pointed to the next mural. “Like I said, these murals are all painted by the same artist. They seem to be telling the story of the world suffering a big disaster, and a remnant little bit of humanity surviving. Look here.” He led them to another painting, this one depicting children, along with extinct and endangered animals, gathered around three open caskets. In the background, a forest burned furiously, and in the far distance loomed a city lost in a poisonous-looking haze, as if the entire place were being gassed. The three coffins each held a different body. On the left, an African woman in native garb, interred with drums and flowers. On the right, a blonde girl child holding a bible. On her dress was a yellow star.
Crowley pointed to the design. “That’s a ‘Juden’ star. Used by the Nazi to identify Jews.”
In the center coffin lay a Native American woman, also garbed in traditional dress.
“What’s that doll she’s holding?” Rose asked. “Seems significant.”
Mike tapped his nose, smiling like she was a particularly astute student in his class. “That’s a Kachina. It’s a totem that represents a Hopi spirit and a connection to the Fifth World.”
Crowley felt discomforting connections to their current predicament beginning to drop into place. “Fifth World?”
Mike nodded. “The world that’s to come after this one.”
Rose glanced at Crowley and raised an eyebrow. She was thinking the same things as him. “Does this Kachina represent a particular spirit?” Rose asked.
“That one is Masuwa, also known as ‘Skeleton Man’.”
“What’s his significance?”
Mike paused for dramatic effect. “He’s the Lord of the Dead.”
A shiver ran through Crowley at the mention of the Lord of the Dead. He couldn’t be sure if it was simply the general weirdness of these murals, in an airport of all places, but he was becoming ever more disturbed. Considering their own search so far had been leading toward another lord of the dead, these similarities seemed too unlikely to ignore.
“Would you believe,” Mike said, “this mural is called ‘In Peace and Harmony with Nature’?”
Crowley huffed a humorless laugh. “Nothing like a bit of irony.”
Mike chuckled. “It’s technically only half of the mural. Check this out.”
He led them to another section, pointed to the next huge painting along. This one depicted happy children gathered around a brightly colored plant. All the endangered or extinct animals from before were alive and well again. A white dove seemed to be appearing from within the plant itself.
“Well, this is more positive,” Rose said, smiling nervously.
“Is it?” Mike asked. “Even if you ignore the fact that the plant is totally alien, look beneath the surface, literally.”
Crowley let his gaze drift down the glowing plant, shining in all the colors of the rainbow, to the roots. They were inky black with sinister-looking tendrils spreading in every direction.
Mike pointed to some tigers in the painting. “Look there. See they have human faces? The other animals are happy. Everything about this seems modified. Synthesized.”
“Genetically modified?” Crowley mused.
“Maybe. This is like an artificial world. A new, created world perhaps.”
“Well, that certainly puts a damper on things,” Rose said, brow creased.
“What about the other two murals?” Crowley asked. “Are all of these a single work of art?”
Mike nodded. “They’re called ‘Children of the World Dream of Peace.’ It begins with the one you already looked at.”
Crowley couldn’t help glancing again at the disturbing soldier standing amidst death and destruction. Mike beckoned and they moved along again.
“When you first look at this,” Mike said, as they reached the next painting, “it seems like everything worked out okay.”
The painting they stood before this time depicted the children of the world carrying bundled swords, all wrapped up in their national flags. A boy was joyfully pounding those swords into plowshares. The sweeping rainbow design was in evidence again, framing the entire mural. Beneath the boy’s anvil, the Nazi soldier in the gas mask lay dead.
Rose sighed, clearly expecting the initial impression to hide something deeper and less pleasant. “So, what’s the problem with this one?”
“I think I get it,” Crowley said. “They’re not just bringing him weapons. See how they’re wrapped? They’re all surrendering the flags of their countries.”
Mike smiled. “Bingo. They’re giving up weapons, giving up fighting for their country and culture. One world. A New World Order, maybe?”
“Seems a stretch,” Rose said, frowning. She clearly didn’t like what she saw.
“I think there’s more,” Crowley said. “They’re bringing everything to that one boy. See what he’s wearing?”
Rose leaned forward to look. “Lederhosen. He’s German. Is that relevant?”
Crowley laughed. “I tell you, I’m way beyond even guessing now. I’m seeing relevance in every detail and I have no idea if that’s what it means or if I’m just making stuff up.”
Rose smiled. “Yeah. And is a one world order really that bad? I mean, think about Star Trek? They went to the stars after the Earth put aside its differences and worked together, right? Humanity, as a whole, not individual nations at war.”
“Well, sure,” Crowley said. “But it depends who’s in control of that new world order, right?”
“Remember what the dead looked like in the other murals?” Mike said. “Eyes either closed or rolled back in their heads, yes? Look at the supposedly dead Nazi under the anvil here.”
Crowley did as Mike suggested. The gas mask worn by the soldier was empty, black, hollow sockets peered back at him. “He’s not there. That isn’t a dead body, just an empty uniform.”
“So, the painting depicts what? A ruse perpetrated on the earth?” Rose asked.
“That’s it,” Mike said. “The people of all the nations don’t even know they’re surrendering to the enemy they thought they beat long ago. And
to top it all off, check out the rainbow.”
Crowley looked up at the multi-colored band that framed the picture. At its beginning, it was comprised of several colors, but it grew darker as it wrapped around and under the image. And then, one by one, colors were torn from it as the nations surrendered their flags, until only one color remained. Blood red.
“I just noticed something else,” Rose said. “Almost everyone is focused on the German boy, but look over there.” She pointed to the far right, where a young man faced in the opposite direction, eyes wide, crying out. “He sees something. And so does that dove.” She pointed to two white doves of peace perched on the hollow shell of the Nazi uniform. One looked up at the young German boy working the anvil, but the other’s attention was diverted. It stared off to the right in the same direction as the young man on the far right of the painting.
“Something is coming,” Crowley said quietly. “And no one else sees it.”
“Maybe,” Mike said. “But notice that this is the left half of the mural.”
Rose stepped back, looked left and right at the spread of huge paintings. “What do you mean?”
“Take a few steps further back and try to see them as one.”
Crowley and Rose did as the man suggested. They stared for a moment, trying to read the artwork as a single statement. Then shock rippled through Crowley’s core. “Oh my God.”
Chapter 26
Denver International Airport
Looking at the two main halves of the mural as one, Crowley saw immediately how the they worked, connected by the rainbow, into a single narrative.
“The illusion of peace is the beginning,” he said.
Rose had seen it too. She nodded subtly as she spoke. “The swords into plowshares, empty Nazi uniform… The world believes the threat is ended. But from the blood of the Second World War comes something that appears beautiful, but is actually deadly.”
Crowley’s eyes followed the rainbow as it wrapped around the happy, distracted children, to the scene of horror, where it faded into a huge blade, honed for slaughter. “The boy and the dove are seeing the future no one else yet sees,” Crowley said.
“A future where the dove of peace is dead and the Nazis rise again,” Mike said in a low voice.
Crowley couldn’t tear his gaze away from the Nazi’s sword stabbing the white dove mid-flight. That single portion, among all the other weirdness of the paintings, made his gut tighten. Eventually he looked at Mike. “I have to say, you are the world’s darkest art critic.”
Mike laughed. “I’m just telling you what smarter people than me have said. Or at least, people who are a whole lot more paranoid than me.”
Rose narrowed her eyes, swept her hair back with one hand. “So what part was Lily interested in? Remember in the CCTV clip she was focused on one particular area. If we read the mural this way, the final image contains the bit that Lily…” She cut off in mid-sentence and hurried over to the corner of the mural.
Crowley had reached the same conclusion, remembered the letter painted into the lower corner. Lost in their contemplations, they hadn’t considered which part had so fascinated Lily. But he remembered, the letter from the child who died at Auschwitz. Sorrow tugged at him once more as he recalled reading it earlier.
Rose crouched before the metal railing that prevented people getting close enough to touch the artwork. She read aloud. “I was once a little child who longed for other worlds. But I am no more a child for I have known fear. I have learned to hate…” Her voice caught, grew husky with emotion, but she pressed on. “How tragic, then, is youth which lives with enemies, with gallows ropes. Yet, I still believe I only sleep today, that I’ll wake up, a child again, and start to laugh and play.”
“You know the history of that letter?” Mike asked.
“We do,” Crowley said.
“So, yes, if you interpret the painting from left to right, that’s what we’re left with. Tragedy, hate, and death.” He sighed. “Word is, the airport is planning on painting over the darker halves of these murals, but who knows?”
“What the hell are things like this even doing in an international airport?” Rose asked, her face twisted in a kind of grief. “I mean, this stuff, the demon in a suitcase, the giant hell horse out front? What’s going on here?”
Neither Crowley or Mike had any real answer for her, but the question seemed largely rhetorical anyway. She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned back to the mural and snapped a photo of the letter. She stood, drew a hand back over her hair again, visibly shaken.
Crowley wanted to comfort her, longed to gather her in a hug and try to reassure her, but he wasn’t sure she would welcome it.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked. He looked to Crowley then back to Rose, made a face of chagrin like it was his fault. Perhaps he thought his stories had frightened Rose, but it ran deeper than that.
Rose shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s not you. I’m sorry. My sister is missing, and we have reason to believe she came here and took a particular interest in this painting. This letter in fact.”
Mike smiled gently. “Sister. Last week, I had pretty much the same conversation with her that I had with you. Nice girl. I almost said something, but I didn’t want to sound like one of those ‘all Asians look the same’ kind of people.”
Rose managed a smile in return. “Did my sister say anything about where she might be going?”
Mike pursed his lips, shook his head. “The only thing I can tell you is she was really interested in the Great Hall.”
“Like the Freemasons call the room where they perform their rituals,” Crowley said. “We already looked around there.”
Mike shrugged. “This way.” He led them away from the paintings. “Around here it’s what we call the Main Concourse. I’ll show you something.”
As they walked, Rose looked at Mike. “So, we’ve got a painting depicting the rise of the Nazis and the slaughter of much of the world’s population, at an airport with swastika-shaped runways and a horse statue that symbolizes the apocalypse.” She let out a laugh, shook her head, still obviously having trouble believing what she was saying. But she went on. “Is it possible that there really is an underground city here that’s designed to protect, I don’t know, the Illuminati or whoever from what’s to come?”
Mike drew in a long breath, looked suddenly serious. “I don’t know what’s down there. Some of it really is used for running the airport. Tunnels for baggage transport and the like. There’s room for vehicles and it’s much easier and safer than driving around above, on the runways. But that’s the only part I’ve seen. It’s all that any outsiders have been allowed to see. But I know there’s more. Much more.” A shudder ran through his body. “They say…” He paused, looked at the ground.
Rose put a hand on his shoulder. “They say what?”
Mike swallowed, looked Rose directly in the eyes. “They say sometimes workers go in and they don’t come out.”
Rose recoiled slightly, eyes widening. “Seriously?”
Mike frowned. “I stay as far away from the underground as I can. No one’s going to miss a janitor.”
They reached the concourse and he pointed out a painting. It was a Native American-style work showing an alien-looking figure hovering in front of a mountain range. The figure was stylized, a horned headdress above a long neck, arms out to either side. On its diamond-shaped body was a design of a kind of plant with radial lines either side and a descending root like a constellation. On the right of the figure a bird sat on a stalk of corn. On the left, a baby floated on its back.
“This is what my sister was interested in?” Rose asked.
Mike nodded. “She took pictures, stared at it forever, did stuff on her phone. She kept looking between it and her phone, like she was trying to match something up.”
“You were watching her?” Crowley asked.
Mike looked a little sheepish. “Keeping an eye out, you know? I don’t meet many people who are that in
to the artwork. We had a good talk, like I’ve had with you two.”
Rose nodded. “You like to discuss this stuff, huh?”
“It’s pretty cool, I think.”
Rose laughed. “Bizarre is what it is. Thank you for looking out for Lily while she was here.”
“She was a nice girl, traveling all alone. Just seemed like something wasn’t right, I guess.”
“She wasn’t with a man?” Crowley asked.
Mike shook his head. “Not that I saw.”
“Can you tell us anything else that might help us find her?” Rose asked.
Mike pursed his lips in thought. “Actually, maybe. I said she ought to visit the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. They have a new Egyptian mummy exhibit there and some visiting experts. So maybe she went there and talked to someone? They might be able to tell you more.” He glanced at his watch. “I got to get back to work. I’ll be in trouble.”
They thanked him, and then Crowley thought of one more question. “Is there anything in the airport connected to Anubis, by any chance?”
Mike laughed. “Other than the big-ass statue of him?”
“You’re joking.” Crowley couldn’t help laughing himself. This was all too strange. “That would qualify, yeah.”
Chapter 27
Denver International Airport
Cruise smoothed the lapels of his gray suit, leaned back, crossed his ankles, and peered over the top of the novel he was pretending to read. He watched the airport maintenance worker talking to the two tourists. Considering the length of the conversation, and the urgency they displayed, he suspected they weren’t tourists at all. Finally, the janitor shook hands with them both, smiled, and pushed his cleaning trolley away.
Cruise watched the remaining pair as they stared up at the large mural before them. The man was Caucasian, around six feet tall, his dark hair cut short. He was lean but muscular under his jeans and jacket. The woman looked to be around five-eight or so, Asian in appearance, her black hair in a tidy bob. She had a trim, athletic figure. Cruise let his mind wander for a moment, imagining her without the jeans and sweater she wore. Then he pulled a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket.