Earth Sentinels Collection

by Elizabeth M Herrera

  “Seriously!?” Haruto scoffed. “It’s been five years, and you show up to tell us this old, old story? We don’t have time for this! Billy and I need to get back to the temple.”

  Ignoring her outburst, Bechard explained, “The moral of the story is: That which seems bad, isn’t always so. We don’t always see the big picture or realize sometimes a misfortune can lead us to our greatness.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You were not chosen to be an Earth Sentinel by accident. All of these events were always spinning through the cosmos as a possibility.”

  Haruto’s face became red with rage. “You knew!”

  “Before you get upset, keep in mind, I couldn’t have stopped this, even if—”

  Mad beyond reason, Haruto charged at the fallen angel. Billy grabbed her, holding her back, preventing her kicks and punches from reaching Bechard, despite wanting to do the same thing himself.

  Haruto screamed, “My baby died! You’re evil! Evil!” She broke down crying, sinking to the ground.

  Billy wished he could protect his lover from her agony, but he couldn’t, so instead he focused his fierce brown eyes on the fallen angel and, in a restrained voice, declared, “You’d better have a damn good reason, Bechard.”

  “I do, but it’s going to take more time than we have right now. When the two of you are ready, you know where to find me.”

  Bechard disappeared just before Konomi came around the cherry tree.

  The young woman was startled to see her fellow Miko on the ground with tears running down her face. “Is everything okay?”

  Haruto wiped away her tears, embarrassed to be seen crying. “Everything’s fine.”

  Konomi didn’t press her for an answer, mostly because the small army occupying the temple was distracting her thoughts. “I came to tell you the soldiers need to speak with the two of you.”

  “What do they want?” Haruto asked as Billy lent her his hand, helping her to her feet.

  “I’m not sure. They said something about a census. Can we go? I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  Haruto brushed the dirt from her pants, then the three of them walked through the garden not saying a word. When they arrived at the rear entrance, Konomi briskly climbed up the stairs, but Haruto and Billy hesitated.

  A warning blared through Haruto’s mind, Run away…run away… She wanted to do just that—run away and hide with Billy, but a sense of duty propelled her to go inside.

  The couple entered the common area where the Japanese soldiers and Mikos stood in separate groups. The military men wore camouflaged fatigues and helmets, and carried automatic weapons strapped over their shoulders. The women appeared outwardly calm, but Haruto perceived their fears.

  Billy’s presence caused the soldiers to grip their guns a little tighter.

  The military leader looked and dressed differently than the others. He was Caucasian with blond hair and blue eyes, and wore a black dress uniform. The bright-blue patch sewn on his sleeve affirmed his commanding position within the United Nations organization. It had white olive branches stitched on each side of an iconic globe. Arched at the top were the words “New World Order”, and the large letters “UN” were embroidered underneath. The UN leader didn’t carry a gun, instead he held a sleek silver tablet as he moved forward, saying, “Haruto?” His cold demeanor detracted from his handsome face.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll need to scan you for our records. Okay?”

  He had posed it as a question, but Haruto knew her compliance was mandatory.

  The UN leader held the tablet in front of her face. A shutter sound was heard. On the screen, her photo appeared next to her name. Then he used the tablet to scan her body from head to toe. Two beeps rang out. He read the screen with concern. “One more time, please.” Haruto’s body was scanned once more. And again, the tablet beeped twice, however, this time a black message box appeared in the center of the screen with the words “Detain—Virus Mutation Detected”. The UN leader said, “We’re picking up some irregularities. You may be carrying the virus. We’ll need to quarantine you.”

  “Quarantine? But I’m not hurting anyone here. Everyone’s already been exposed.”

  “Visitors may not be so lucky. You’ll need to come with us.”

  “I don’t think driving me around the countryside is safer for anyone.”

  “It’s an order,” he stated, then instructed two of his soldiers to escort her to the military wagon at the bottom of the foothill.

  Without thinking, Billy stepped between Haruto and the soldiers. His action caused the tension in the room to skyrocket. The soldiers raised their guns while a lone soldier stealthily snuck up behind Billy, who spun around, but not before a handheld device was jabbed into his back, injecting him with a short-acting sedative. He lost consciousness, falling to the floor. His face hit the stone slab, knocking off his black hat, which rocked back and forth next to his head.

  The Mikos gasped. One screamed.

  Haruto cried out, “Billy!” She knelt beside him, feeling his pulse to make sure he was alive. She didn’t notice the same soldier coming at her until it was too late.

  The mobile prison journeyed throughout the night. Haruto lay on a metal bench shivering. The vehicle slowed down, coming to a standstill. The engine idled. She heard the muffled voices of men, then the vehicle inched forward. A metal grate clanked as the tires drove over it.

  Both curious and concerned, Haruto got up and went to the back door, pressing her face against the barred window, peering outside. She saw a military base enclosed by a chain-link fence with barbed wire strung across the top. Japanese soldiers patrolled the area. Rows of military trucks were parked in the lot. High in the tower, a spotlight flashed overhead.

  The vehicle abruptly stopped. Haruto heard soldiers approaching, so she sat back down.

  The door swung open. A handful of Japanese soldiers stood on the pavement. One shouted, “Get out!”

  Haruto refused to show her contempt or fear, instead she stood up and made her way to the door, jumping down, landing squarely on her feet.

  “This way,” said a soldier who motioned with his gun.

  Two military men flanked each side of Haruto, escorting her across the parking lot while two more guarded her from the rear. It was an excessive number of soldiers for just one woman. Haruto was led toward a black, prisoner transport vehicle with UN emblems affixed to its sides. Once there, her Japanese guards saluted the fair-haired, blue-eyed UN soldiers dressed in black uniforms, but they did not receive the same courtesy in return.

  The UN leader, who looked almost identical to the one at the temple, spoke to the men in stilted Japanese, “We’ll take her from here,” effectively dismissing the native soldiers.

  A UN soldier opened the rear door of the vehicle, motioning for Haruto to get inside.

  She hesitated. “Where are you taking me?”

  He remained silent.

  The UN leader turned toward Haruto, curtly answering, “I’m sure you were told. To be quarantined.”

  “But where are you taking me?”

  “Get in.”

  Realizing it was futile and potentially dangerous to continue questioning him, Haruto climbed inside. Nearly hidden in the shadows, two fear-struck women sat side by side on a metal bench. They avoided Haruto’s gaze as she sat on the opposite side. The vehicle’s interior became dark when the windowless door slammed shut. The only openings were the vents on the sides that had been constructed to obscure the vision line, letting only a minimal amount of light seep through the slits.

  The engine revved and the vehicle moved forward. Haruto thought with bitter amusement that all of her martial arts training—a lifetime of devotion—had proven to be fruitless when a gun was pointed at her head. Now she was a prisoner, and all she could do was sit and wait.

  The vehicle drove up a steep winding road just as the sun peeked over the horizon. The deserted two lanes eventually entered a tunne
l carved out of a mountainside. Electrical conduits ran along the walls. The overhead lights created a strobe-like effect as the mobile prison sped along. Light. Dark. Light. Dark. The echoes of the turbocharged engine woke up Haruto and the two women, who had fallen asleep during the long journey.

  The older woman’s voice came out of the darkness, prophesying, “We’re never going home.” A streak of light flashed briefly through the vents, highlighting the despair on her face.

  Hours later, the vehicle ground to a halt. The three women sat up, tired and afraid, staring at the back door as it opened, revealing three UN soldiers and their leader. At first glance, the men appeared to be floating heads because their fair hair and pale skin contrasted sharply against their black uniforms and the dimly lit tunnel. The UN leader motioned for the women to exit the vehicle. One by one, each prisoner apprehensively stepped down.

  “This way,” the UN leader said, steering the women up the concrete stairs to a set of metal doors, built into the wall. The other soldiers followed from behind. The doors slid apart as they approached.

  On the other side was a subway station. Unlike normal stations, there were no people, no benches on which to rest, no vending machines, and no advertisements or graffiti lining the walls.

  The women were escorted across the terminal, their footsteps reverberating until they reached the platform’s edge near the rails.

  Haruto stood under the gloomy lights feeling vulnerable in this barren borderland—like a calf that had been separated from its herd. She could only wait helplessly for the encroaching predator, running through the tunnel, to come and devour her.

  The subway train appeared out of the shaft, slowing down at the sight of fresh meat, stopping in front of the women, using magnetic levitation to hover over the rails. Its three cars were painted white and brightly lit. After the doors automatically opened, the UN leader motioned for the women to enter the nearest car.

  Haruto’s heart pounded as she moved inside the train’s guts where black plastic benches ran its length. Leather straps hung like nooses from the ceiling, swinging back and forth. Metal poles were its bones. Hypnotizing black-and-white linoleum tiles covered its belly.

  A buzzer rang out.

  The doors closed.

  With its hunger satisfied, the subway train crept away, gaining momentum, carrying Haruto and the other captives back to its lair.

  Outcasts

  WITH EVA BY his side, Zachary limped along a path through the jungle, wincing with each step. His snakebite was swelling. And even though the anaconda was a nonpoisonous snake, its rows of thin-pointed teeth had cut through his skin and into the underlying tissue, inflicting more germs than he cared to think about. He wished Pahtia was still alive so the shaman could mend his leg, but perhaps Conchita would be able to help him. She had learned well from her father.

  Zachary’s concern took a different turn when they entered the village.

  The tribe members stood outside their huts. Since the men wielded spears, Zachary thought they were planning a hunting expedition without him, again. But then he noticed the women and teenagers held a fierce glare in their eyes, which was disconcerting, especially when it became obvious their aggression was directed at him and Eva.

  Zachary was accustomed to feeling like an outsider, but for the first time in five years, he felt like the enemy. His heart beat faster as he scanned the angry horde, searching for his wife. He didn’t see her, so he called out, “Conchita!”

  There was no answer.

  Takwa, the same man who had tried to steal his fish, stepped forward, seeming to enjoy the moment, standing arrogantly as the new self-appointed chief. His brown eyes stared menacingly at Zachary, and his words were deliberate and dangerous, “Conchita cannot help you now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Takwa looked with disdain at Eva. “Your child has a bad spirit.”

  Adrenaline pumped through Zachary’s veins as the seriousness of the situation became evident. He defended Eva. “She does not!”

  The hunter repeated, “She has a bad spirit!” setting the courtroom for her judgment.

  Anyone who might have defended Zachary or his daughter, or offered guidance, such as Pahtia or the elders, had all succumbed to the virus. Takwa was taking advantage of the situation to get rid of the man who had stolen Conchita’s heart, and it appeared he would use Eva as the pawn to do it.

  Zachary tried to reason with him to calm the situation, “The sickness was hard on all of us. My wife…” he briefly faltered when he noticed Takwa bristled at the word “wife”, but then he persevered, “Conchita lost her baby and her heart is broken. She is not thinking right.”

  “Her mind is good. Conchita knows you are bad. And the child is bad. She is no longer your wife.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Conchita is in the hut of her father.”

  Zachary knew of the tribe’s custom that allowed a woman to divorce her husband by simply moving out of their hut. But up until three weeks ago—before the outbreak—they were in love. This made no sense. He stepped toward his hut to see for himself if Conchita had removed her things, but the others blocked his way. Frustrated and fearful, he declared to his accuser, “There is no way Conchita would send Eva away! This is your doing! Why would you do this to a little girl?”

  “Girl?” Takwa said contemptuously. “Your daughter is a bruja! The young ones saw her talking to the great snake. The fact you are alive is proof enough. Nobody survives the attack of the great snake.”

  Zachary racked his brain trying to recall the events that had taken place down by the river. He remembered dipping the bucket, an anaconda biting his leg, and then… The next thing he remembered was waking up on the ground with blood seeping from the snakebite. What did happen? Why am I alive? Hoping to clear things up, he asked Eva, “Can you tell us what happened?”

  The little girl was all too happy to explain. “Uh-huh. I asked the snake…she is nice…to let Daddy live. So, um…she let him go.”

  Zachary immediately realized it had been a mistake to let Eva speak. He pleaded with the tribe members, “She sees things with the eyes of a child. She doesn’t understand what she’s saying.”

  Takwa was fed up with his competitor’s excuses. “You do not know the great snake. It fears nothing. Your child has strange powers. A bad spirit is in her. You brought the sickness to us.” The other tribe members nodded in agreement. “You must go! Now!”

  Eva frowned. She was confused. Why would her family send her away? She cried out, “Mommy! Mommy!”

  It broke Zachary’s heart to hear his daughter call for her mother. He tried to reason with Takwa one more time. “I do not understand. Everyone here talks with the animals and nature. Why do you say it’s bad when Eva does it?”

  A flame of sensibility flickered in Takwa’s eyes, but then it blew out. “Eva has a dark power over the animals. It is not talk. It is control. It is not right.”

  “She is just a little girl…” Zachary tried to appease Takwa by saying, “Look, I’ll leave, just let her stay with her mother. You’ll never see me again.”

  The hunter examined Eva, disliking the aspects that made her different from the other tribe members. The golden streaks in her hair. Her hazel eyes. She looked too much like Zachary. Takwa coldly stated, “She is a bad omen. You both must leave.”

  “Conchita would never agree to this! She would not send Eva away!”

  “But she has!”

  “I want to hear this from her. To know it’s true.”

  “You are calling me a liar?” Takwa seethed with anger, wanting to murder his adversary. For too long, the hunter had endured the agony of watching Zachary and Conchita create a life together. That all ended today. “Go before I kill you both.”

  Zachary knew being cast out of the tribe was a death sentence for him and Eva, especially with his leg injury. The two of them were no match for the rainforest on their own. Plus, he found it hard to beli
eve Conchita had agreed to this—somehow Takwa had twisted her words.

  The warriors stomped their feet and brandished their weapons. The women and teenagers chanted threateningly, becoming louder.

  Zachary could not comprehend the extreme turnabout in the tribe’s sentiments toward him and Eva, but he did realize the two of them needed to flee before the situation escalated into violence. He grabbed his daughter’s hand, lamely stepping away, the tribe’s threatening cries pushing them out.

  As they walked, the outcast man contemplated their future, knowing they would be lucky to survive the night. But if they did make it, and followed the river downstream, Zachary speculated they might stumble upon an outpost or missionary campsite.

  Eva asked, “Are we going to see Mommy?”

  Under his breath, Zachary answered, “Maybe.”

  They followed the path that led to the river until the village was no longer in sight. Feeling it was safe, Zachary stopped to rest, leaning against a tree, standing on his good leg.

  The little girl, anxious to see her mother, didn’t understand why they had stopped. “Come on, Daddy.”

  “Just give me a minute. My leg hurts.” He pointed to the snake bite.

  The little girl squatted to look at it more closely. “Oh…that is bad.” She noticed the dark energy hovering around the wound, and blew on the shadowy mist, watching it swirl, beginning to dissipate.