The Red Phoenix

by Alex Carter

  “Before you go to bed, we need to have a wee talk” Arty says as she takes two small logs from the log basket and puts them onto the fire. She sits forward in her armchair and takes hold of both of my hands.

  “I want to show you something Angel” she says as she gets up and walks over to the cupboard on the far side of the room. She pulls out a photo frame and hands it to me as she sits back in her armchair. It’s a photo that I am very familiar with as it has been hanging on the wall of this house for the whole of my life. The photo is in black and white and is of Arty and my grandad outside a church on their wedding day. Arty looks absolutely stunning in a classic white wedding gown with long flowing blonde hair. It’s funny to see her this way as I have never seen her wear a dress in real life. My grandfather has a regulation army crew cut hairstyle and looks dashing in his stylish suit. I have looked at this image hundreds of times before.

  “I know this photo like the back of my hand, Arty. Why are you showing me it?” I ask.

  “Have a look at this one now dear” Arty says as she hands me another photo. This image is a modern, colour photo of a young man submersed up to his waist in a lake. I don’t recognize the man.

  “Who’s this?” I ask with a shrug.

  “Take a close look at his face” Arty replies.

  There is only one small lamp in the room, so the light is emanating mainly from the fire. I lean in towards the flames to get a better look at the figure standing in the water. The man is topless and has the lean, muscular physique of an Olympic swimmer. He is standing with both arms behind his back and is facing to the right. As a result, only one half of his face is visible. He has a large, trendy beard and shoulder length black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He looks cool and attractive.

  “Is this somebody that I’m meant to recognise?” I ask.

  “Yes” Arty replies without offering any further clue.

  I look hard at the figure in the photo, but no spark of recognition comes to my mind.

  “I’ve never seen this man before” I say with a shake of my head as I offer the photo back to Arty.

  “It’s your grandfather Angel” Arty says with a definitive nod.

  I know realise why Arty handed me the photo of her and my grandfather. I take another look at the photo and then at the black and white wedding photo. It’s difficult to make out the exact features of the man’s face due to the beard and long hair. I’m not convinced that she is right but I’m happy to humour Arty.

  “I suppose it does look a bit like him” I say with a shrug.

  “It doesn’t look a bit like him. It is him” Arty replies abruptly.

  “OK” I say tentatively. “We used to spend hours going through all of your old photos whenever I stayed here but I’ve never seen this one. Why have you never shown me this photo before?”

  “I didn’t show it to you as I only received it recently” Arty says as she takes the photo from me.

  “Where from?”

  “Somebody posted it to me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. It arrived in an anonymous envelope.”

  “What? Who sends photos in anonymous envelopes?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, dear but they did” Arty replies.

  “Are you sure it’s him?” I ask. “I’ve never seen granddad with a beard and long hair in any other photos.”

  “It is him, although I never, ever saw him with a beard either” Arty replies. “He always shaved every morning, even when we went on climbing trips.”

  “Weird” I reply. “So, when do you think this photo was taken then? It must have been before you were married.”

  “As far as I am aware Lux didn’t ever have a beard or long hair at any time before he met me. He used to laugh and joke about men with facial hair.”

  “So then, this can’t be a photo of him then if he has never had a beard” I say.

  There is a moment of silence between us as Arty thinks about what to say next.

  “That photo was taken within the last few months Angel” Arty says looking totally serious.

  “What? That’s impossible Arty” I reply. “Grandad died five years ago.”

  “Not according to this photo” Arty says as she waves it in front of her.

  “Arty, I would absolutely love this to be a photo of granddad but it’s just not possible.”

  “It is possible Angel. They never found his body on that mountain, so we don’t know for sure that he died. This photograph is living proof that your grandfather is still alive. I don’t care what you say Angel, I’m convinced of it.” Arty says firmly.

  My heart sinks.

  Arty has lived on her own for a long time now. Loneliness can do strange things to people and I am aware that there are days and even weeks when she has no contact with any other people. We studied the effects of dementia at school earlier this year and this is the moment that I have been dreading. One of the first signs of early stage dementia is the denial of the fact that a spouse has died. I compose myself and consider my words carefully before speaking again.

  “I know that you really loved grandad” I say as I reach forward and grab Arty’s hands. “I really loved him too, but do you remember the climbing trip that he organised with mum?”

  “Of course, I remember it Angel. I’m not losing my marbles!” Arty replies sharply. She pulls her hands away from mine and looks really annoyed.

  ‘She’s still got her fighting spirit, even if her mind is going’ I think to myself.

  “He never came back Arty. They may not have found his body but that’s often the case with mountaineering accidents.” I continue. “You have to accept that grandad died in Russia five years ago.”

  “Look what’s written on the back of the photo” Arty replies as she hands the photo of the man in the lake back to me.

  I flip the photo over. There is date written in pencil. The date is just over 3 months ago. I turn the photo back over and look at the man again. There is a definite resemblance to grandad but it’s just not possible.

  “I agree that the man in this photo does look a little like grandad Arty, but it can’t be him. If he was still alive, he would be in his sixties now. This guy is in his twenties or thirties so it can’t be a recent picture of grandad. Either somebody has written the wrong date on the back of this photo or the man in this photograph is not grandad. It’s impossible.”

  A feeling of genuine sadness sweeps over me for both Arty and my late grandfather.

  “I didn’t believe it at first either, Angel. I know it sounds crazy, but I am positive that the man in that photograph is your grandfather. He’s alive Angel and I think that he is living in Columbia.”

  My blood runs cold at the mention of Columbia.

  My mum died there just over a year ago.

  Chapter 5

  Virtually all our species died on the day the light came. Those above ground were killed instantly by the murderous light. Their bodies were scorched. They withered and died where they stood. My small team of soldiers were underground at the time and we were the only ones to survive.

  We were not built to live in light. The conditions on the surface after the light came were unbearable for us. The blinding light and the searing heat inflicted dreadful pain on our bodies.

  Initially we all wanted to die.

  But we didn’t die.

  We survived.

  The subterranean world became our domain. We hid underground where it was dark and cool. We were able to recuperate and recover without any interference from the humans.

  It took a long, long time but our bodies slowly started to adapt. We gradually became resistant to the light and higher temperature. We grew resilient and strong. We were eventually able to venture outside.

  At first, we went out at night, when it was darker and colder. Later we became able to survive during daylight. In short bursts at first but slowly we increased our tolerance to the light and heat. Only then did we discover the full extent of what the
humans had done.

  We didn’t like what we saw.

  It was unrecognisable. The humans were everywhere. They had seized our world and populated our entire planet. They had dug the earth, introduced plants and animals and erected buildings and structures everywhere. The only part of the planet that they had not commandeered was underground.

  We are the indigenous population of this planet. Our world as we know is has been blighted by light and heat. We lost all our loved ones on the day the light came. The humans are to blame for all of this.

  We will make these human invaders suffer for what they have done to us and our planet.

  We will rid our world of these evil parasites and return to a state of permanently darkness.

  We will regain control.

  Chapter 6

  My grandfather had always been fanatical about climbing. He met Arty when he was working as a mountain climbing guide and assisted on one of her first mountaineering trips. They instantly hit it off and from that day forwards they became inseparable. He was younger than her, which was unusual in those days, and climbing was their shared passion. They climbed together whenever they could and spent every holiday finding new mountains to climb.

  They continued the lifestyle after my mum was born and she was introduced to climbing at an early age. She joined her parents on their weekly climbs as soon as she was old enough and the three of them referred to themselves as ‘The Champions of Climbing.’ By the time she was my age she had well and truly caught the climbing bug. After leaving university my mum was offered a job in London which limited her opportunities for climbing. My dad was not a climber when they met but my mum soon converted him. My mum was fiercely proud of her ‘Champion’ surname, so much so that she never changed her name after she married. My dad has a long surname that is difficult to spell so they both agreed that I should be called Angel Champion. As I got older the three of us went on climbing holidays together and my mum called us the ‘New Champions of Climbing,’ which I loved.

  When I was around ten years old my grandfather announced that he had decided to fulfil his lifelong ambition to climb The Seven Summits. The Seven Summits are the highest mountains of each of the seven continents and climbing all seven is regarded as the Holy Grail for all mountaineers. It made sense for the first expedition to be the closest Summit, the highest mountain in Europe. Mount Blanc in France had originally been regarded as the highest mountain in Europe however, following the fall of the Iron Curtain, Mount Elbrus in Russia was deemed to be the highest peak. My grandfather started planning for his expedition and this resulted in frenzy of excitement in my house. My mum was highly delighted (and a bit jealous) about this news and talked about very little else for weeks. I remember looking at lots of maps with her and plotting the route up the mountain that grandad was going to take. My dad had always known that climbing was my mum’s greatest passion and after hearing my mum talk of very little else for weeks, he suggested that she should join my grandfather on the trip to Russia. She jumped at the chance. Over the next few weeks the plans were put in place for the two of them to undertake the climb together. That winter we spent every weekend travelling to various mountains all over the UK to help my mum refresh her climbing skills. My dad and I joined her on those climbing trips. By the time of the trip my mum was super fit and back to her climbing best. She was ready for whatever the mountain could throw at her.

  I was both excited and sad at the same time as I waived my mum and grandad off at Heathrow airport on the day after my 11th birthday.

  Less than a week after flying to Moscow my mum and grandad successfully made their way to Base Camp. They acclimatised to the altitude well and as neither of them were showing any signs of altitude sickness they set off from Base Camp at 3am on ‘Summit Day’. They decided to take the more difficult North Side approach. The ascent all went to plan and after four or five hours of hard climbing they successfully summitted. My mum said that the euphoric feeling they shared at the summit was like nothing else she has ever experienced in her life. They both cried.

  A snowstorm hit as they made their way back down to Base Camp. The snow reduced the visibility to only a few feet, but as they did not have any overnight equipment, they had no choice other than to carry on. Their route back involved crossing a glacier which was the most treacherous part of the journey due to the possibility of crevasses. We still do not know exactly what happened next but as my grandad lead the way across the glacier he suddenly disappeared. We believe that he must have lost his footing and fell into a deep crevasse that appeared in the ice. My mum searched frantically for him but eventually had to give up as the snowstorm got worse and she was in danger of freezing to death. She raised the alarm as soon as she arrived at Base Camp, but the terrible conditions meant that they had to wait until the following day before a rescue team could be dispatched. Two rescue teams and a helicopter searched for three days but no trace of my grandad was found. My mum stayed in Russia for a further three weeks. The Search and Rescue teams scoured the entire mountain, but his body was never recovered. My mum eventually returned from Mount Elbrus alone.

  Mum refused to believe that my grandad had died. She said that she could feel that he was still alive. She waited constantly for news that he had been found. My grandad was a very experienced climber and she was convinced that he would have been able to survive any fall. She spent all her spare time looking for stories of people being found that could be possibly him.

  We never did receive any good news about my grandad. As the years passed by, we talked about the trip to Russia less, but my mum never gave up hope. She was always searching for unusual stories and tales about climbers and expeditions from around the world. Around 4 years after my grandad disappeared, she became excited about a story of a climber in Columbia. The climber was climbing Pico Cristobal and claimed to have seen a Phoenix appear in the sky just after his Guide has fallen down a giant crevasse. It wasn’t the story about the Phoenix that my mum was interested in but rather the Guide himself. The article did not carry a photograph, but the climber said that the Guide had been a reclusive British climber who lived alone on the mountain in Columbia. Mum wasn’t sure how, or why, but said she had a gut feel that the Guide could be grandad.

  The story of the Phoenix sighting was picked up by the press across the world and for a short while the climber became famous. He was interviewed in lots of newspapers and magazines and appeared on numerous TV shows. However, no evidence was ever found to support his story and no further sightings of the mythical bird were reported. After the initial positive reaction, the press turned on the climber and portrayed him as a crazy idiot. He was accused of inventing the story and all the press and TV shows started releasing rude and insulting stories about his private life. The internet was full of cartoons and jokes about him and some of these went viral. The climber remained adamant about what he had seen and the global ridicule he received ultimately led to him having a breakdown. My mum tried to contact him for to ask him about the Guide but by that stage the climber had become a recluse himself and refused to return her emails and calls.

  After failing to find any information about the Guide my mum decided that she wanted to fly to Columbia to try to track the Guide down. Her gut continued to tell her that the Guide was my grandad and she was adamant that she had to go and look for him. My dad and Arty tried to persuade her that it was impossible for the Guide to be my grandad. Arty desperately wanted it to believe it could be him but refused to be drawn into the madness. She reminded my mum that it was unlikely that anyone could have survived the fall into the crevasse. She also said that if he was still alive, he would have contacted her by now. My dad and I pleaded with my mum not to go. I told her that I was scared she wouldn’t come back and I didn’t want her to go anywhere without me.

  My mum didn’t want to leave me, but she had been racked with guilt and grief ever since the trip to Russia. She was desperate to find my grandad alive and refused to listen to any of our ar
guments, no matter how convincing we made them seem. She kept referring to her gut feel and said that she just knew that this had something to do with her father.

  She flew out to Columbia in search of my grandad just after my 15th birthday and I never saw her again.

  Chapter 7

  Before the light came there was no concept of daytime or night-time. There was no concept of summer or winter. We did not measure our time by the movements of other celestial bodies. We had no seasons or months or years. Time for us was not something that we measured.

  I have no concept of how long it has been since the humans came and stole our world.

  It feels like a very long time.

  The survivors amongst us have adapted and changed. We hate the light and the heat, but we are now able to withstand it. We are all getting stronger.

  I am the strongest.

  I hate all these humans and have spent my time since they arrived plotting revenge.

  A river runs close to the mouth of our cave. One of the humans has been coming to the water every day to wash himself.

  It is time to test myself.

  I wait for him to enter the water. I stare at the wretched being and feel anger welling up inside me.

  I want to kill him.

  I leave the safety of the cave and walk out into the open. The sunlight feels uncomfortable on my body. The unpleasant feeling serves to strengthen my hatred for the human.

  I expect him to run but he doesn’t. He looks at me and waves. He shouts and gestures towards me. He looks pleased to see me.

  As I move towards him, I catch my reflection in the water. My body has morphed into human form. I look just like him. He isn’t scared of me because I look like one of his kind. He thinks I have also come to wash in the water.