by Tara Ellis
“That must have been the military. Because we sporadically had the home phones for a few days, and then after the army showed up we lost that too. I tried to call you probably more than a hundred times,” I recall. “It wouldn’t go through. I think everyone in the country was trying at the same time.”
“It’s been so hard, Alex. Natalie almost died, but she made the best recovery of all of us. You know how Dad had a drinking problem?” I nod in confirmation. He hadn’t been a drunk or anything, but he had always liked his beer on the weekends. He worked incredibly long hours at his job in construction and he believed in enjoying himself during his time off.
“Well, it got a lot worse once we moved here. Going from his other job to working in an office was a huge shock to him. He’s good at it though, and he loves engineering, but I think the stress of the responsibility is what did it. He started drinking every day and eventually was getting drunk almost every night. Mom and Dad were talking about a divorce just a week before The Shining outbreak.”
I’m shocked by her story. Her parents had always seemed so happy together that it’s hard for me to imagine them splitting up. She continues before I can ask her anything.
“He’s changed the most from all of this. I don’t know what it did to him, but he isn’t the same person. I mean, he’s still my dad and I love him but he just doesn’t act the same. Kinda like how Chris’s mom is. Not very emotional. Dad was always so loud and outgoing, but now he is quiet and thoughtful.”
“The Holocene Virus actually re-wired the brains of people with addictions,” I explain. “It seems like it corrects whatever connections contributed to the addictive behavior, but at the same time eliminated or decreased all their emotions. Lisa used to be really bad though, Missy, and she’s been getting better. I think that the brain has the ability to re-grow the pathways that were damaged by the virus. In the same way a person who has had a stroke can slowly improve.”
“You really think so?” she asks, her face lighting up. “I’ll have to tell Mom. She’ll be so happy! You know, that would make sense though, because she’s been getting better too. Her memory lapse goes back a lot further than any of us. I can remember all the way to the third day I was sick. I recall talking to you about Natalie being in the hospital, but Mom’s last memory was about three months before the outbreak. The only good thing about that was that she had no idea she and Dad had discussed getting divorced. She doesn’t even remember when his drinking got really bad. He’s told her of course, but to her it doesn’t matter. It’s as if it never happened.”
We both laugh lightly at the irony of it. At least there’s something positive buried beneath it all. “How about you?” I ask her. “Have you had any problems?”
“I’ve got some neurological damage,” she explains. “At least, that’s what the doc told me. They call it paresthesia. It’s this numbness and tingling sensation in my hands and feet. It used to be partway up my legs and arms too, but that’s gone away. Sometimes it feels like my feet have fallen asleep and that’s a pain, but it could be worse.”
There were quite a few people in Omak with similar symptoms. It all goes back to how the virus attacked the sheathing on the nerves in the brain. Some of them had severe disabilities from it, so I’m glad that Missy’s appears to be so mild.
“So tell me all about you and Chris,” she says eagerly, actually rubbing her hands together. The change in subject catches me off guard and I have to laugh at the eager expression on her face.
“Missy, I’m so glad that you haven’t changed!”
TWENTY
Once Missy was done grilling me for information about Chris and her need for social drama was fulfilled, she left me to finally sleep. As I settle into her bed, I pull my backpack over to find the Advil I know is in there somewhere. A headache has been threatening for the past couple of hours.
As I reach inside, I notice the manila folder I crammed into it earlier. It feels like a lifetime ago, but in reality it’s been less than twelve hours. How could I have forgotten about it? Rubbing at my temples, I realize that I am getting to the point of exhaustion where it is hard to even think. Sighing, I pull the folder out and then the pills. There’s no way now that I can sleep without seeing what is in here first.
The lights suddenly turn off, and I guess that means it’s one o’clock. Missy said that the power plant turns the power on from seven to nine in the morning, eleven to one in the afternoon and then five to eight at night. Pulling the papers out, I learn that the afternoon sun working its way around the blinds is plenty of ambient light for me to read it with my special vision.
At the top left corner is a simple heading “Genesis Protocol”. Well, that’s not dramatic or anything. Under that is Subject: Canis Lupus (Baxter) Age: 2 months at start of testing Breed: Golden Retriever
To the right is a 4x6 snapshot of Baxter as an adorable 8 wk old puppy. He’s sitting on a purple doggie bed, surrounded by various silly dog toys. He looks completely normal.
That’s as normal as this document gets, however. Under this picture is a whole lot of scientific jargon that means pretty much nothing to me. It starts out with what I assume is a description of the experiment. There are a couple of formulas that my newly developed math brain at least recognizes as sequencing, but that’s as far as I get.
Mixed in are words such as: embryo, in-vitro, DNA, RNA, genome, nuclease, homologous recombination and mutagenesis. I may not be a scientist, or even a very good science student, but I figure this all means that Baxter was genetically engineered or modified before he was even conceived in a lab.
The hairs once again start to rise on the back of my neck, something I’m coming to associate with my equivalent of the light bulb turning on. It all makes sense. The professor gave Baxter to us as a gift two years ago at Dad’s funeral. Since then, he has played a key role in numerous things, including my finding the pyramid. Baxter knew what he was doing all along.
I flip the page and discover images of Baxter completing various difficult tasks, including advanced dog tricks and organizing blocks into particular arrangements based on shape, size or number. The last picture is a black and white shot of Baxter, with the heading ‘one-year-old’. In it, he’s blowing out the candle on a cake. No, seriously. He’s literally blowing it out, his eyes squeezed shut.
While I’m chuckling at this, my headache fading, the door to the bedroom is nudged open and Baxter quietly saunters in. He sits on the floor in front of me and calmly regards me with those dark, intelligent eyes.
“Gigs up bud,” I say, shaking the file for emphasis. “You’ve been holding out on me. I knew you could do that dog-biscuit-on-the-nose trick if you really wanted to!”
Titling his head to one side, he actually grins and chuffs at me. Turning, he sniffs around the floor for a minute, before coming back with a sock draped across the bridge of his nose. Sitting back down at attention, he holds very still, staring at me. After a good ten seconds pass, he tosses his head, sending the sock into the air and catching it in his mouth. Walking up to me, he then very carefully and meticulously sets the damp sock on top of my head.
Laughing, I scoot back on the bed and pat at the empty spot in front of me. He eagerly jumps up and snuggles up against me, obviously relieved to have his secret out. Draping my arm over him, I kiss the top of his smart, doggy head. “I’m not sure how intelligent you really are, Baxter,” I whisper, already feeling the pull of sleep. “But I want you to know that I’ve always considered you a part of the family. I love you.” As the tendrils of sleep drag me down, I hear his answering whine.
A lush, wet forest surrounds me, the cries of unknown creatures beckoning. While I’m curious as to what’s making the sounds, I’m also a little scared. This is the first planet we have ever found such advanced life forms on.
Although I comprehend at once that I’m dreaming again and in my alien, Nephilim form, my thoughts and memories seem to merge. Am I dreaming? Or is this my reality and the other world a d
ream?
The past three thousand years are just as vivid as anything else I’ve experienced. The journey through space, hundreds of planets explored and mined for resources. The births, deaths, and relationships on board our ship. I am a scientist. The complicated piece of equipment I’m holding reminds me of this and my current mission.
The level of gasses recorded in the air confirms what the ships instruments had reported. I remove my re-breather and tentatively inhale my first breath. The explosion of scents and tastes almost overwhelms me and I’m tempted to put the mask back on. As I gulp in more air though, and grasp that it isn’t harming me, I calm down and begin to enjoy the new experience. This is incredible!
Looking around at my other comrades, I laugh at the wide range of expressions. This is by far the most complex world we have ever found and I’m excited at the prospect of studying if for the next couple thousand years. I might even end up buried here.
The core readings alone indicate the rich ore and mineral deposits. It will take that long to harvest it all, so I will have plenty of time to collect and analyze my samples. I feel a small pang of regret as I realize that the vegetation and life around me will be destroyed. It can’t be avoided, however, as this is the only way our space-faring lifestyle can be supported.
Perhaps after I’ve done an adequate study and profile, I can petition the elders to allow me to create a biosphere. I might even be able to duplicate it on Nibiru, our ship. We have been known to re-create some of the more pleasant landscapes we have encountered for recreational purposes. Surely, this planet would be the most impressive candidate of all.
Encouraged by this prospect, I lead the small exploration party towards a reading that looks like water. This is the one commonality we have found among all life-bearing planets. It’s also the best place to find other life forms.
I’m holding my small palm-sized device out in front of me as I walk, so I can fully appreciate the holographic image projected above it. Because of this, I don’t see the attack coming until it’s too late.
The trees surrounding us seem to explode out as dark skinned creatures leap from the trees. I turn and duck just before one lands on me. I get a glimpse of a face similar in features to my own, but covered in what looks like a white paste. Nostrils flared, teeth bared, his rage is primal and my reaction is instinctive.
Rolling away, I kick out, sweeping at his legs. He is too quick for me and lunges forward. Grabbing his arms, I stop the spear mere inches from my face. Fortunately, I’m nearly twice his size, and where he has the element of surprise and speed, I have strength. Standing, I bring him with me. After twisting the weapon out of his small hands, I toss him away.
Crouching, he starts circling me, making strange guttural and clicking noises. I find my three other friends in similar situations, although one is bleeding heavily from his arm. Moving slowly towards each other, we eventually end up back to back, forming a protective circle.
As the six attackers continue to cautiously observe us, the jungle starts to come alive with answering calls. It dawns on me that these must be intelligent beings, capable of communication. This discovery is perhaps the most important in our long history, but it’s also alarming. Their reinforcements are on the way. We have weapons of course, but they are rudimentary and are a last resort. This is the first time we’ve ever needed them. Time to leave.
Activating my communication band by swiping my left hand over my right wrist, I wait for command to acknowledge me. As the image is forming, I’m abruptly wrapped up from behind by strong arms. At first, I’m confused rather than alarmed. I am the largest man in our group, and it certainly isn’t a native. Who’s grabbing me?
“Alex!” A familiar, deep voice shouts in my right ear. My confusion deepens as both the voice and name triggers other, more distant memories of another time and place.
I must contact command. Thrusting my upper body forward, I fling my opponent over my head. My arms freed, I again swipe at my wrist to call for an evacuation. Nothing happens. I see that the transponder is suddenly gone, my uniform replaced by some strange material. Staggering back, I spin around, now seemingly alone in the jungle.
Panic sets in and I call out, yelling for my friends. I start to run back the way we came, hoping that they have fallen back to our point of origin. I only make it a few steps before I’m stopped by something unseen, holding me firmly by the shoulders.
“Alex, wake up!” The trees fade to grays, another scene trying to break through. Chris is yelling at me. Why is he yelling? Where am I?
I hear the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked. “Daddy! No!” Missy yells as the rest of the dimly lit family room comes into focus. My own memories rapidly replace those of the Nephilim and I wonder how I got out here.
Chris is still restraining me, staring anxiously, unsure if it’s okay to let go. His bottom lip is swollen and bleeding, a rug burn across his right cheek. Oh my gosh, did I do that? “Chris, I’m so sorry!” I gasp, not sure who I should address first.
Missy is behind him, her back to me, holding her hands up in the air towards her father. Ken is standing in the doorway that leads to the garage, having just walked inside. He’s holding a shotgun and it’s directed at me.
“Missy! Get out of the way. She’s a Shiner!” He begins to walk towards me, planning to go around his daughter. I’m not sure if he’ll shoot Chris too, but since he doesn’t even know who he is, it’s possible.
I realize that my eyes must be glowing dramatically in this shadowy room, and that my fighting with Chris is more than enough proof that I’m not friendly. It likely appears that his family is being attacked and infected. What a mess.
“No, Ken! It’s just Alex,” Cindy declares, coming in from the backyard. She’s backlit in the open French doors that lead into the room, the lowering sun behind her.
I feel something pushing up against my leg and look down to see Baxter there. He gives me what can only be explained as a “what did you do now” expression, and I shrug my shoulders at him. Chris, convinced I’m awake now, turns to face Ken.
“I understand what it must look like, sir. But Alex isn’t a Shiner,” he explains. I don’t know how Chris can be so calm, staring down that double-barrel. Wiping discreetly at the blood on his face, he does his best to convince Ken. “She isn’t a threat to anyone. I realize it doesn’t appear that way right now, but she was just sleepwalking. Please. If you would put the gun down, I promise that we can explain everything.”
Slowly, at the added encouragement of both his wife and daughter, Ken lowers the weapon. At that moment, the lights come back on and I notice that Cindy is holding a platter of barbequed fish. She must have been cooking it on the back patio. So that’s what that smell was.
Doing her best to smile at us, she turns to acknowledge the rest of our group now gathered at the end of the hallway, mouths open. The tense atmosphere is heavy, and she says the only thing she can think of to lighten the mood. “So…who’s hungry?”
TWENTY ONE
Even with the shortened version, the story is only halfway told by the time we finish eating dinner. Cindy was right. There are plenty of fish and some canned corn to go with it. We have all eaten our fill and Jake is carefully pulling meat away from the small bones of the last one and feeding it to Baxter.
“Why don’t you adults stay here and finish talking while I take them to see Mr. Harris?” Missy suggests. Cindy and Ken consider it, Ken looking concerned as he still hasn’t been totally filled in on my ‘condition’. “It’ll be okay Dad. Trust me, Alex is the best person to have with us.”
“Is it safe out there?” Mom asks. “Spokane certainly wasn’t.”
“Oh, it’s safe enough, Katie,” Ken answers. “So long as they’re back before dark. You all agree that Alex isn’t dangerous?” he asks, looking pointedly at Chris, who is holding an icepack to his mouth. “Sorry, Alex, no offense meant. But I think I aged a good five years when I came in and saw you with your Shiner eyes.”
“None taken,” I say lightly. “I wouldn’t trust me either if I were you.”
“I promise that there’s an explanation for all of it.” Lisa assures him. “I think it’s a good idea for them to try and get the gas while we tell you the rest. We don’t have time to do both. We need to leave in a couple of hours.”
“I want to hear about your last dream when you get back,” Mom says quietly to me.
“Can I go?” Jake pleads, wiping his greasy fingers on his already filthy pants. I finally changed out of my dirty hospital clothes before my nap, but we should have all taken showers.
Just then, Natalie makes her way over to the entertainment system and points out the Xbox. “I want to play!” she demands. “Before they turn out the lights.”
Recognizing the gaming system, Jake’s eyes get big. Forgetting the outing, he jumps from the table and quickly goes to inspect the games stacked next to it. Selecting one, he turns to the little girl. “Hey, can I play this first, if I teach you how? I’m really good at it.”
“I’m really good too!” she counters. “I can beat you.” I have to smile at the seriousness on her sweet dimpled face, blond curls bouncing against her cheeks.
Mom and I grin knowingly at each other. This is just what Jacob needs to take his mind off of things for a while. A small, tiny piece of normal.
“Go ahead and play, kids,” Cindy tells them. “You have two hours until the power’s cut.” They eagerly turn everything on and jump onto the big couch with the cordless remotes. Soon, the bubbly, musical notes of the game erupt into the room, and it has a strange calming effect on me. I suppose it reminds me of home and easier times.
“Can we walk, or do we need to take the Tahoe?” Chris asks Ken. “I would like to conserve the gas if possible and we have gas cans.”
“No, you need to drive. While it’s relatively civil out there, even the best of us would be challenged if we saw someone carrying gas cans around. It’s one of the most desired commodities right now. Everyone feels like being able to get someplace quick is a necessity. I just used up the rest of my gas today hunting and I was better off than most. I’m afraid that you would find yourself in a fight.”
