Forgotten Origins Trilogy - Box Set: Infected, Heritage, Descent

by Tara Ellis

  “‘Complicated’ is actually quite accurate,” he continues, unfazed. “The last communication I had from Professor Hassan was that the antiviral med formula was complete. How did he put it? That he had ‘cracked the code’, and that you, Alex, were in possession of the prototype and on your way to me.

  “When you failed to arrive, we did some careful snooping and found that not only was the professor and his wife gone but you were also missing. Rumor had it that you disappeared from your bed, and the going theory was that you suffered the same fate as the others taken by the ‘Men in Black’.

  “I presume they infected you with their mutated creation. That would explain your new, unique eye color. My only question for you is whether you are here on behalf of the Mudameere, or the professor. If it’s the former, I would appreciate suspending any games and simply getting to the point.”

  That explains why these men were so quick with their weapons. They think I’ve led the Mudameere to them. In response, I do the one thing that will go further in convincing them of my loyalty than anything I could possibly say.

  Kneeling down next to Baxter, I remove his collar. I had replaced the old one broken that night at the pyramids, with a nice wide leather band I found at the market. Baxter lifts his head in cooperation, eyeing the gelding standing restlessly near him. “Good boy,” I murmur out of habit, and am rewarded with a look of annoyance.

  Turning the collar over in my hands, I reveal a strip of silver duct tape on the back of it. Peeling it off, I then pry the small thumb drive from the adhesive and stand to face the senator.

  “I think this is what you want,” I tell him, holding it out in the palm of my hand.

  THIRTY ONE

  Senator Adel is definitely a take-charge kind of guy. After checking the thumb drive for authentication, things happen quickly. My blood is drawn and added to the package, which is immediately flown out on his personal plane to an undisclosed location.

  I’m surprised to see a small aircraft sitting in the middle of a large, cleared field back behind his log ranch. He explained how they were waiting for me, hoping that I would get there in time. All the gas for their vehicles is used up, but enough fuel for the plane has been set aside for several flights; this being the first.

  “There’s another lab, much like what you saw in the professor’s basement, only bigger,” he explains as we walk back towards his home. The plane is rising into the air behind us, and I feel like the weight that has been resting on me is leaving with it.

  “None of the scientists working there are quite as brilliant as Professor Alim Hassan, but with the information you provided, they will be able to produce the antiviral meds. Alim made sure they would have the needed supplies in place in order to go into production once he had succeeded with the formula. Having your blood may actually make it easier to take it all a bit further. I’m hopeful that eventually we will be able to help those that are sure to become infected before we’re done.”

  I look at him sharply, and Chris puts out a hand to stop him. “There are people infected already, sir,” he says solemnly. “Alex saw close to fifty of them in Omak that they had injected like her, and we just came from a lab in Hamilton where they’ve started testing a new airborne version of it.”

  There’s a slight break in our host’s composure as he runs his hands over his face and through his hair. Fists balled at his sides, he takes a deep breath. “Well then. Phase one has already begun.”

  He starts again for the back porch, his stride so fast that I have to jog to keep up. He seems to have made up his mind about something.

  “I’ll need to radio the pilot ASAP,” he explains, heading inside and signaling for us to follow. “He can be back by this afternoon for the two of you. It seats up to six, but I’m afraid it was already full today. The rest of my family and staff flew out with him.”

  I had been wondering who the other passengers were. It dawns on me that he doesn’t even know about the rest of our group. “Oh, there are more of us!” I say quickly, not sure how much time has passed since we got here.

  We’ve been following him through a maze of wood, marble and granite enriched rooms. Any other time, I would be looking around in awe but my mind is on other things right now. Baxter’s nails are clicking out a beat on the polished floors behind us.

  The senator pauses with his hand on a doorknob. I assume it’s a radio room, based on the squawking I can hear. “How many more?” he asks.

  “Eight,” I reply. “Two of them are kids. They’re our family and close friends. They’ve helped us get here, and sacrificed a lot.”

  “We’ll make sure they’re safe, don’t worry about that,” he says, waiving off any concerns. “It’ll just take a couple of more flights. We should have enough fuel. Worst case, my men will have to find another means of travel. They’re prepared for that, however. Where are these people now?”

  “A few miles from here, walking,” Chris answers. “Is there any way we can take them horses or something? I know you said you’re out of gas for your trucks.”

  “By the time we get the horses saddled, they’ll be here,” he says, shaking his head and opening the door.

  Zane goes into the room, which is indeed a small radio command center. In addition to the traditional equipment, I am surprised to see what looks like something out of a museum. It has a wooden base, with a brass arm and contact pad. As we’re watching, the man seated presses his earphones tightly to his head and starts to write out one letter at a time on a pad in front of him. When it’s complete, he taps out a response on the ancient wooden piece. Morse code. I realize then it’s an old telegraph system.

  Putting a hand on the shoulder of the man at the controls, Zane tells him to inform the pilot to return home as soon as he’s done. Walking back out past us, he’s already on another mission.

  “Why don’t you go out and meet your friends, make sure they get here okay,” he suggests. We’ve stopped in a huge, gourmet country kitchen. To my surprise, he begins pulling out pans. “We’ve had a pretty early start to our day, thanks to your visit.” He explains, cracking eggs into a bowl. “I imagine you’re all as hungry as my men are. We can just plan on catching up over breakfast?”

  “I like the way you think, Sir,” Chris says happily. I swear that his mouth is watering.

  “You really need to stop calling me sir. I’m not your commander, or your Grandpa. I appreciate you being respectful son, but you can call me Zane. All my friends do.”

  The two smile at each other and I relax even more. Things almost feel normal, standing here in this beautiful kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs starting to fill the air. I notice that the stove is natural gas, and figure the generator I saw out back must be, too. I remember they had one at Costco once. Dad wanted to buy it, but Mom insisted it was too expensive.

  Chris and I walk out to the end of the road, Baxter following after having to be called away from the bacon several times. We aren’t left waiting for long. A very tired, hungry group finally rounds the bend and I run to meet them.

  I quickly fill them in on everything that happened, thankful that they weren’t with us for the tense introductions. Natalie and Jacob have been traumatized enough already. They don’t ever need guns pointed at them again.

  The guard’s greetings are much warmer when we pass through the entrance this time, the rifles kept out of view on their backs. They seem as relieved as I am to be on better terms. I can’t imagine what it must be like for them, to be here protecting the senator, instead of with their families. They’re obviously dedicated to the cause and I admire their commitment, even the one who gave me such a hard time.

  We let ourselves back in through the big, double front doors and make our way to the kitchen. We find Zane busy setting food out on the large table in the adjoining, open dining room. He’s obviously used to feeding a crowd. Introductions are made all around and, to my surprise, there are enough chairs for everyone.

  A clock on the wall reveals
that it is nearly nine in the morning. We’ve been up all night and passed through two states, fought the Mudameere and finally reached the senator. It seems surreal to be sitting down to a meal like nothing has happened. My thoughts are interrupted by two bags of flying, frozen peas. Zane has thrown them across the table to Chris and Nate on the far end.

  “You two have some nice shiners coming on; no pun intended. You best get some ice on ‘em before you can’t see out of those eyes.” I hadn’t really paid too much attention to it, but he’s right. Chris looks better than he did last night, but his right eye is getting very colorful. I wince, thinking back to the sight of Seth pummeling him, and subconsciously put a hand over my own wound. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about how close I came to dying. Now that we’re safe, those emotions are dangerously near the surface. Not yet, I tell myself. Food, information and sleep first.

  Nate makes a big deal over the bump on his forehead that has indeed spread down to his left eye. Lisa is sitting next to him and goes out of her way to examine it, wrapping the peas in a napkin for him. She appears genuinely concerned and it gives me more hope for her.

  Kyle and Jacob are all over the food, while Mom and Cindy take time to talk with our host. “How about the men out front?” Cindy asks, helping Natalie fill her plate. “Can we bring some out to them?”

  “Thank you, but no. They’ll come through in shifts to eat.” I’m amazed at the amount of meat and feel a bit guilty, after seeing so many other people that were struggling.

  “Where did all of this come from?” I don’t want to offend him, but my conscious is weighing on me.

  “This is a working farm, Alex,” Zane answers, gesturing out the back window towards acres of land. “All the food we’re eating came from here. In addition to horses I also raise cattle, pigs, chickens, and goats. There’s an acre of vegetables and a fruit orchard. I can’t do all the work myself, of course. I don’t spend nearly as much time here as I would like. My duties as a Senator demand most of my attention.

  “Before the last of my men leave here, I’ll make sure that the locals are informed and have access to everything. I know some good families around here, and they should be able to maintain things so that they can all keep fed.”

  My guilt evaporating, I dig in just as vigorously as Jake beside me. It’s amazing what some food and water can do for your morale. There’s even coffee. The exchange of information doesn’t happen over breakfast as planned, because all of our mouths are too full.

  As we’re finishing up, the door to the radio room down the hall slams open and a small, terrified looking man runs into the kitchen. He’s holding a slip of paper in his hand, a new message written across it.

  “There’s been a sighting!” he gasps, clearly panicked. “Phase two of the Nephi virus infection has started.”

  THIRTY TWO

  “Thank you, Jim,” The senator says somberly. “There’s nothing that any of us can do about it right now though. What was reported?”

  “Resident in Hamilton made their way to the next town, Stevensville I believe, and reported seeing several Shiners leaving the lab there this morning.”

  “Already?” Cindy asks, looking to me for an answer. “What if Ken tells them where we are?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Ken won’t be to the point where he’ll be saying anything for another day or two. It’s been over two days since I escaped. The nurses I overheard were talking as if they’d already started testing at the lab, so it’s possible. Or, even more likely is that it’s the Shiners they infected in Omak. We know that some were working there.”

  “Either way,” Zane states, “they’re showing their hand. If they don’t care that they’re causing a panic, then they must be at the point where they are ready to release it. I’m assuming this means their trials with the airborne version were successful.

  “Go back and continue monitoring,” he says, turning to Jim. “Let me know if you hear anything further.”

  Standing, Zane walks away from the table full of dirty dishes. “Come on,” he directs, ushering us into the big family room through an archway. “Time to talk.”

  Mom and Cindy try to clear the plates, but he won’t let them. “There’s time for that later,” he says and they finally give in and join us. The room is full of overstuffed, leather furniture. A fireplace made of river rock takes up all of one wall, wooden bookshelves another. Furry throw rugs scattered around the hardwood floor completes the cozy atmosphere.

  Chris and Missy sit on either side of me and I’m glad to have my friends close. I had really been hoping to have a couple of day’s advantage on the Mudameere, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve failed in some respect.

  “How long do you think we have?” Mom asks. “Will you be able to get the medication made quickly enough?”

  Zane leans against the wooden mantle, a pose I’m sure he’s held many times before. “Well, I imagine they should be able to get the first batch out in 24 to 36 hrs, if we’re lucky. You all should be safely tucked away by then, and will be some of the first to get it if needed. As to the rest of the nation … well, we’ll just have to see. Depends on how fast the Mudameere disperse their virus.”

  “My dad was taken to that lab,” Missy says quietly. “What about him, and the others who are infected? Do you think we’ll be able to help them?”

  “It’s possible, in time, Missy. I was telling Alex earlier that having her blood is going to help with that. A lot of it is going to depend on what happens with the Nephilim.”

  “So they are returning?” Chris asks.

  The senator stares at him for a moment before shifting his gaze to me. Instead of answering, he asks me his own question. “How much do you know, Alex?”

  I struggle to find a starting point. I give up and begin back when I first discovered that the virus was changing people, and had learned about my family’s bloodline. I touch lightly on the details, because that really doesn’t matter right now. I elaborate more when it comes to the conversations I had with the professor, my encounter with Mr. Jones, Nossor and Seth. By the time I move on to my recurring dreams and blackouts, Zane has taken a seat on the edge of the table nearest me, engrossed.

  “What I don’t understand, is how I’m experiencing these memories. If it’s because of the genetic material in the virus, then how could Seth be having them too?”

  “What have you been told about where you came from?” he asks, once again ignoring the question.

  Glancing at my mom, I start having that bad feeling again. “Well, Mom recently told me that I was adopted. My Grandpa arranged it and brought me over from Egypt. My biological mom was Dad’s cousin.”

  Zane gives my mom such a grilling look that I feel bad for her. She stands up to the scrutiny however, and he squints at her, pursing his lips. “You really didn’t know, Katie?”

  “Know what?” she demands, leaning forward. “What did he do? I was assured that the adoption was legal!”

  Hanging his head, the senator runs his hands through his hair again in what I am coming to recognize as his expression of frustration. Standing abruptly, he goes to stand back by the fireplace.

  “Those memories you’ve been having are incredible, Alex. Over the last several thousand years, the history of the Nephilim has been greatly scattered, to the point now that we aren’t even sure what is the truth anymore. It’s clear that they came here more than five thousand years ago and somehow integrated themselves with the Egyptians. You’ve filled in that gap in history, so thank you.

  “This Nator fellow must have been the leader of the uprising among them. We know that after the conflict, a small group of Elders and Nephume broke off and stayed behind. For whatever reason, RA left, but he seeded a nearby asteroid belt with the virus, knowing that it was on a collision course with earth several thousand years into the future.

  “According to the surviving texts, he promised to return to sit in judgment on mankind. He’s supposed to determine whether or
not to destroy the planet in order to get what he wants. Our gold.”

  “Gold?” Lisa asks, sounding incredulous.

  “Not because it holds any monetary value to them,” Zane explains. “But because it works as a fuel for their ship. There have been studies hypothesizing the almost limitless source of energy in gold, when a method of fission is applied. We believe the Nephilim mastered a similar process long ago. That is why gold was so revered by the Egyptians.”

  I guess it makes sense and explains why they were mining, but he still hasn’t gotten around to answering my question. I decide to be patient and let him finish. I understand now that there is never a simple answer when it comes to the Nephilim.

  “The Elders who stayed behind went into hiding,” he continues. “But not until after they established the Khufu Bast and refurbished the pyramids to release the antivirus. It’s from that point that our history gets really sketchy. Best we can determine, some of the Nephilim got a bit bored after a couple thousand years. They decided they wanted to rejoin RA and the rest of their civilization, but they would have a long wait. Meanwhile, they set out to make sure they were ready when he returned. This was, of course, in conflict with the leader we now know was Nator, and there was a falling out.

  “Eventually, it led to the formation of the Mudameere. They have been waiting and preparing for the Nephilim to return ever since. Their leader is one of the last remaining elders, and he’s very dangerous. He’s carefully organized his group just as meticulously as we have the Khufu Bast. Although he wasn’t a scientist, he is still incredibly smart and has used that to further his position. Numerous Nephume have been placed in key positions of government, to give them an advantage during the invasion. Even HAARP was designed by them so they would be able to communicate with the returning ship once it got close enough.”

  I groan at the mention of yet another conspiracy theory topic. Once again, fact is stranger than fiction. HAARP, or the High Frequency Active Auroral Research Project is a government funded communications array. It’s basically a huge field of antennas up in Alaska. It’s always drawn a lot of suspicion, but the military has held firm that it is nothing more than a means of using the Ionosphere to send signals over a long distance. In a way, I guess they were telling the truth. They might not have even known what it’s really capable of.