Necropolis: Book 4: Hybrids
Page 2
He has such a big heart, she thought to herself. He genuinely cares. So few people do today. We need more people like Dante in the world. Veronica followed Dante's eyes to the boy who had returned to his parents in the audience. He openly wept in his mother's arms.
Veronica returned her eyes to Dante on the stage, hoping to catch his attention. She could see the tear in his eye. The audience applauded and as Dante took a bow he looked at her.
“He's alright,” she signed to him. “I'm so proud of you! You mean the world to me!”
“I love you too, Mama Ver,” he quickly signed back to her across the room, a shy smile flushed the sorrow away.
* * *
Perth, Australia, June 2nd, 2005
(Now)
The ambulance's sirens were little more than background noise to Amber now. Static in the background. She was slipping in and out of consciousness. In and out. In and out. Then suddenly a brutal contraction would force her into the harsh world of lucidity and reality.
The paramedic was speaking to someone over the radio. Constantly reporting and updating what she could only hope would be the Emergency Room.
She couldn't breath. Her chest was tight. Far too tight.
Another contraction gripped her. She cried out in pain. The paramedic was talking to her now. She had difficulty focusing. Was he telling her to push? No! He couldn't be telling her to do that! The baby was dead. She knew it was dead. She wouldn't have to give birth to a corpse, would she?
She began hyperventilating. Sobbing and holding her breath with the contraction. Then she felt it. The dead thing was in her birth canal. She managed to look down to catch a glimpse if its gray flesh – of its vacant dead blue eyes staring at nothing. It repulsed her. It horrified her. She couldn't believe she was connected to this... this... dead thing!
Her heart began racing – skipping! Amber grabbing the paramedic’s hand in panic. Her chest felt like it was going to explode. She openly wept in fear. “Please! Please don't let... me... die....” her voice faded into less than a whisper as her heart stopped.
* * *
June 2nd, 2005, Montreal, Canada
Olympic Stadium
International Junior Music Competition
(Now)
“Next, can we have Dante Francois of Montreal, and Tamara Takahara of Tokyo come forward, please?” called one of the Judges.
The panel of judges reorganized and shuffled their papers as they waited on the two children to make their way to the stage. “Dante Francois will play first. He has selected Chopin's Scherzo No. 2 Op. 31, quite a bold choice, I must say!” finished the judge with a raised eyebrow.
The audience applauded as the two children found their way to the front.
* * *
Perth, Australia, June 2nd, 2005,
(Now)
The paramedic sat back, the defibrillator pads in hands. He was sweating. His hands were shaking. He exhaled a deep long breath, hoping to calm his nerves.
Amber's body lay still. Her blue eyes in sharp contrast to the bloodshot whites, staring blankly at the ambulance ceiling. One side of her mouth hung open and limp.
He reached over and closed her eyes. The blanket on the floor was soaked with blood, but the baby was still lodged in the birth canal. She hadn't managed to birth the stillborn before she died.
He said something to the driver. His own voice sounding distant and unrecognizable. He couldn't remember if the driver answered or not, then the sirens were turned off.
* * *
June 2nd, 2005, Montreal, Canada
Olympic Stadium
International Junior Music Competition
(Now)
Tamara sat at her piano bench and patiently awaited her turn. She sat still and quiet and listened to the blond boy play. He was good. He was very good. She concentrated on listening to what he played. She focused intently on it.
Then she heard his thoughts. His thoughts sang and echoed inside her head. Strangely, so natural and comfortable was her ability to read his thoughts that nothing struck Tamara as odd or peculiar. They felt as natural and comfortable as her own. There was no reason for this to strike her as out of place. Tamara never knew a time when she couldn't pick up the thoughts of those around her. She had never questioned it. She had always assumed it was normal; never thought of it as any sort of special ability.
He wasn't thinking of anything in particular: He was focused on the musical piece he was playing because it was a difficult piece. There were a few random and scattered thoughts in the background. He was getting thirsty and looked forward to his blue Gatorade. He wondered what his Mama Ver brought for snacks. He felt bad and heartbroken for the first boy who lost in the competition, and a few other less coherent thoughts. Tamara instinctively recognized the undisciplined mind.
None of this struck her as odd or out of place. It felt so normal, so natural to share his mind. Tamara very gently and subtly reached out and slowly and carefully began introducing Clear Mind. There were some peculiar errors in how his mind was wired. Areas that were mysteriously dormant, locked-up. Stuck, like a rusty bicycle chain, was the image that struck Tamara. She undid them – removed the locks; oiled the chain. She began organizing and quieting the rogue thoughts, and as she did so the blond boy's playing became ever more accurate and precise. She knew she was helping herself lose, but she felt some sort of affinity towards the boy. Of all the minds she had encountered, there was something uniquely different yet familiar about his.
As his mind came to rest with his focus only on the musical piece he played, she heard it. A secondary musical piece ever so quietly playing in the background; quietly echoing and repeating in the corridor of his subconscious. It seemed to have always been there; always playing. It was hauntingly familiar. It also echoed through her mind now. Tamara couldn't tell if she listened to it from his mind or just became aware and discovered it in her's as well.
She was mesmerized by it. The more she listened to it the more enveloped by it she became. It wasn't just music. It was The Music. It was above and beyond music. It was the underlying source of all sound. It could accent and accompany any sound. Although the ten-year old Japanese girl didn't possess the scientific know-how or vocabulary to identify it, she instinctively knew it for what it was. It wasn't really music or sound, it was the genesis of vibrations; it was the phasing of reality; it was the song of the vibrating multiverse!
The moment she heard and saw it in her mind's eye, its limitless potential unfurled itself like a cosmic web before her. Infinite possibilities of doorways, portals, gateways, pathways, and windows were laid naked and bare before her.
As she marveled at its wonders, she became so entranced with its plethora of potentiality that she hadn't immediately noticed a second piano playing. It took Tamara a moment to realize that the second piano player was herself accompanying the blond boy.
The judges and audience of parents murmured and mumbled and gasped at this breach of etiquette. It was unheard of and worthy of disqualification to play while your competitor played! But the blond boy wasn't put off or distracted. He continued playing but his rehearsed piece changed and morphed, closely mimicking and following Tamara's music.
One judge stood up and called out to her. “Tamara. Tamara Takahara. Please! Ms. Takahara!”
Neither heard the judge. The two children were lost in the music now, both playing a singularly strange and alien musical piece.
* * *
Perth, Australia, June 2nd, 2005,
(Now)
Amber gasped! The sudden and violent intake of air startled the paramedic. He jumped as her eyes abruptly sprang open!
Her body jerked with a spasm. A disjointed and incoherent sound bellowed from her lungs. It was a long and painful lamentation. The paramedic was doubly shocked when the howl was joined by a baby's cry! The half-born fetus' skin began shifting from blue-gray to pink as oxygen entered its bloodstream.
Lorne's mind was overwhelmed! Pain. It was all he
could see – feel – experience. It was his entire world. Unparallelled suffering!
“Pain!” Screamed the Amber-facet of the multimind. “Pain, not suffering! Never suffering!”
Lorne couldn't concentrate; couldn't focus. Couldn't find any escape or reprieve from this overwhelming pain! His mind, his psyche, was never built to experience or endure this kind of pain!
He felt his consciousness, his very essence, dividing, dispersing. His very thoughts diminishing. His metempsychosis dividing himself into both mother and child.
Although some aspect of Lorne was still aware of the Whisperer, he could no longer hold a coherent thought. He was engulfed by the pain. Debilitated by it. And this leeching, dividing draining was overtaking him.
* * *
June 2nd, 2005, Montreal, Canada
Olympic Stadium
International Junior Music Competition
(Now)
Veronica stood up, dread etched into her expression, “...no...” she gasped. She recognized the music. She hoped this could never happen again. “Please, you must stop them,” she said to no one. She began to move towards the judges' table but realized it was futile. There was nothing the judges could possibly do. She looked about the filled auditorium, lost and near panic.
The two children's music became accompanied by another sound – a sound akin to idiot flute players and accented by a deep bass drone. The very air in the auditorium became charged and static, bristling with energy! Strange green and gold lights and energy seemed to spark in Dante and Tamara's eyes.
Veronica violently pushed her way out of the aisle in her attempt to reach Dante when the sharp light of a Gateway opened. Both children stopped playing in unison, but the haunting otherworldly music droned on.
Fear and panic rushed through Veronica, but as she watched she noticed this Gateway was different.
* * *
Perth, Australia,
June 2nd, 2005,
(Now)
It was Amber who answered its call. It was the Amber-facet who took control – took the reigns – and allowed the Whisperer in.
The sudden intake of energy was enough! With a final grunt she pushed!
The baby was a boy and it cried and screamed. But as mother and child saw one another, there was no maternal bonding. Something perfused the moment. Some deeply rooted instinct in both of them recognized the unnaturalness; the wrongness of the event.
The baby boy's blue eyes were open. Green and gold flecks sparkled in his eyes as an emotion akin to fear and flight permeated them. His cries became a wailing colic.
The psychic ether in the ambulance was palatable as the baby's eyes glowed briefly. And then he disappeared! Snapped out of existence; teleported away; jumped out of Time!
Amber's mind was confused from the trauma. Feeling threatened, instinctively, her multimind released a concussion wave. It blew the top and side of the ambulance open. The vehicle swerved and skidded across the road. It clipped a street lamp as its driver wrestled for control, finally slamming into another vehicle.
The back of the ambulance was split open like a tin can. The paramedic lay stunned on his back, lucky to not have fallen out. He couldn't believe his eyes! The blonde girl stood up and disintegrated into a mist and vanished!
* * *
Montreal, Canada,
June 2nd, 2005,
(Now)
The heavy loaded cargo ships went about their daily business up and down the St. Lawrence Seaway. Like behemoths they barely appeared to be moving. It was a gray and overcast day. The sky and waters of Montreal's port were monochrome – dull, lifeless, gray.
When the first water surge happened one massive freighter entering the port slowly began listing to one side. By the second water surge all the ships were drifting, and by the third, the swell was monstrous! It took only moments.
In the shipping port two Leviathan-sized cargo ships hammered into each other, their hulls buckling and tearing open, multicoloured metal shipping crates booming like thunder as they fell domino-like into the rising waters.
The ships – interlocked like a metal pretzel – were carried directly into the flooding streets of Montreal's industrial shipping yards, older brick buildings disintegrating under the massive twin ship's impact. But still the swelling floodwaters raced down the St. Lawrence.
The Old Port of Montreal's tourist area of the three Quays were overrun and swamped without warning. The Jacque-Cartier, King Edward, and Alexandra Quai's were simply gone in seconds.
Across the river, although the patrons of the Casino de Montreal could see the water surge coming, there was no time to react or do anything before the Île Notre-Dame became submerged.
The flooding St. Lawrence over-poured the rue Port de Montreal and blasted through its restaurant and cultural strip in the next instant.
The waters kept rising and rushing west towards the Olympic Stadium.
* * *
June 2nd, 2005, Montreal, Canada
Olympic Stadium
International Junior Music Competition
(Now)
He could sense it in the air. The panic was on a low boil. Hiromitsu remained calm in spite of the slowly rising levels of panic in the auditorium. Gone was the silence of a spectating crowd. Murmuring and hushed conversations ran amok and spread like wildfire.
Hiromitsu controlled his breathing, kept his mind calm and at peace, and assessed the situation. The closest exit was within ten feet of him. His niece – effectively his adopted daughter, Tamara – was nowhere near him.
He buttoned his suit jacket as he stood up and casually checked his phone. He did a double-take. If panic hadn't erupted here yet, it was only a matter of time. News reports and social media was abuzz with severe flooding in Montreal. There were unconfirmed reports of Emergency Canada having given the order to evacuate. There was no real news, just hearsay. Everything was happening too quickly.
Hiromitsu immediately realized that he wouldn't be the only one here to break the no cell phone policy. Others must know. Tamara's weird behaviour and break of etiquette would only be the briefest of distractions from what was coming. He needed to get to Tamara now.
* * *
June 2nd, 2005, Montreal, Canada
Olympic Stadium
International Junior Music Competition
(Now)
Fear and panic rushed through Veronica, but as she watched she noticed this Gateway was different. It wasn't purple and it wasn't a sphere. It was flat, upright, and circular, like a mirror; more like a window. Exactly like a window – it was no gateway at all!
In the blackness beyond, a person stood. A feminine silhouette wrapped in and caressed by shadows – darker than the surrounding blackness and in constant flux. Jumping in and out of focus. Like it couldn't quite remember.
Tamara's eyes were wide as she inched towards the portal. The green and gold flecks in her eyes slowly igniting with energy and light; with awe and wonder.
As she slowly, hesitantly reached her tiny hand towards the portal's surface, the shadowy figure on its other side did the same. Like a darkened mirrored reflection, both reached their hand towards one another.
On either side of the inter-dimensional surface their fingertips met and splayed out, their palms ever so slowly pushing against one another. As close as they could come to holding hands.
A beautiful voice harmonized within her mind. “I remember,” it sang slowly, like it was relishing the memory, “I remember how beautiful you were when I held you in my arms... I remember... I never dreamed you'd grow more beautiful still!”
The shadows on the darkened silhouette shimmered and stirred; then parted to reveal a beautiful Asian woman, her face an incarnation of joy and pride.