by Boyd Brent
“Sorry about killing your brother,” said David. “I hope we can put it behind us.” Laughter rang out behind Santos Domingo. He raised a hand and silenced it. “You know you must die for what you have done.”
“I do.”
“Then you are either a crazy man or a philosophical one.”
“I'm a resigned man.”
“Resigned? In this situation that makes you suicidal.”
“You are not the first to point out that possibility.”
“Maybe not. But I will be the last.”
David nodded. “I was on my way to Fort Arturo. My brother is waiting on me.”
Santos Domingo looked towards the fort, which was no more than a dark speck in the distance, and smiled.
They bound David's hands and secured the other end of the rope to the saddle of Santos Domingo's horse. The horse took off at a gallop, pulling David off his feet and dragging him face down along the ground. The rest of the posse followed, whooping and cheering and firing at random clouds. Or so it appeared. David's face ploughed through the raised mound of an ant hill, and it emerged covered in red ants that nipped at his lips and cheeks. “It won't be long now,” said Gull. “There are a number of trees in close proximity to the fort. The one that sits over our Exit Point is less than half a kilometre from our current position. You will be dangling from its sturdiest branch soon enough: quite dead and beyond the reach of any discomfort.”
“You should have been a damned counsellor!”
“Thank you, David. David?”
David spat out an ant. “What?”
“Goliath is aware of our approach and is making his way, with some haste I might add, to the battlements overlooking the front of the fort. Ninety-three of the one hundred vessels are assembling in the courtyard behind the raised drawbridge.”
“And the Colonel?”
“Is being chaperoned into a basement room by the remaining seven vessels. We should be flattered. Even in our encumbered state, Goliath is taking the threat we pose very seriously.”
Santos Domingo stopped his horse under the tree that grew above the Exit Point. He dismounted, grabbed David and heaved him up into its saddle. Several of his posse dismounted also, and one amongst them held a length of coiled rope which he slung over his shoulder. He glanced at Santos Domingo for confirmation. Santos Domingo took hold of the horse's reins and led it under the thickest branch. He motioned up to it with his chin. “That one.” The man with the rope began to climb.
David was sitting atop Santos Domingo's horse, his hands bound before him and a noose about his neck. He swallowed and the rope chewed at his Adam's apple. David elongated his neck as best he could in order to speak. “Do we have Goliath's attention?”
“Yes, David. He has paced the battlements as events have unfolded. He will be curious to know if the Exit Point that lies on this spot is the Exit Point.”
David whispered gruffly, “I'm curious about that myself.”
“Try and relax, David. I have the matter in hand.”
David closed his eyes and fought back the urge to swallow.
“Goliath is about to join us. He is doubtless curious as to how we found ourselves in this predicament, David. The only conclusion he can draw is that we have been incapacitated in some way. The notion that you are about to perish and reveal this to be the location of The Individual must be tantalising. If your assumptions prove correct then, at the advent of your death, he may begin his search for the Omega Protocol through the minds of Santos Domingo and his men.”
David's eyes remained closed, his breathing measured. “The thought had occurred to me. Along with the notion of eggs and omelettes.”
The drawbridge lowered and Goliath rode across it atop a black stallion of considerable size. Every man there, including Santos Domingo, drew a weapon. The drawbridge began to rise and close behind him. “It is just one man. One crazy man,” said Santos Domingo.
“A big man, Santos. Let us hope he is not too crazy.”
Santos Domingo looked up at David on the horse. “This fool your brother?”
David strained his eyes to look down at the approaching figure of Goliath. In a voice as coarse as it was certain he said, “He is no brother of mine, but he is dangerous. And he does not like Mexicans.”
“Does he not?”
“Loathes them. As do I.”
“I suggest you make peace with your God.”
David closed his eyes. “I suggest you do the same.” Santos Domingo took hold of the horse's reins in one hand, and with the other whacked its side with a flat palm. “Go!” The horse jerked forwards and David dangled by the neck, his legs kicking back and forth as though seeking purchase in thin air. Goliath brought his own horse to a halt and watched David in the midst of his death throes. “The Architects be damned,” he murmured.
David's body jerked and twitched to a standstill, and Goliath alone amongst that gathering of reprobates witnessed a shock wave of light explode from David's eyes, an expanding ring of brilliance that before long would infuse every atom in the universe …
Sixty
Goliath was dressed in black. The great white dome of his head reflected the sun and matched the colour of his eyes. He climbed down from the horse, which galloped away and did not slow until it reached the raised drawbridge, where it veered to the left and kept going. Goliath raised his hands palms up towards the heavens and froze in that attitude like a statue carved for the purpose of summoning the creators of Man back to Earth. And witness to this conceit was a posse of Mexicans who looked at first dumbfounded and then terrified as ghostly duplicates flooded from the main and ran silently towards them – humongous sprites that leapt into the air and then collapsed in upon themselves, becoming clouds of metallic vapour that gained access to minds through distorted, screaming mouths.
The nine-foot-tall sprites now still emerging from Goliath ran back towards the fort, their transparent feet kicking up stones and weeds but leaving no mark upon that ground to attest to their presence.
David drew his last breath and felt himself plunge into a chasm devoid of light or atmosphere. He flung his arms wide in an impotent attempt to arrest his fall, and felt heat billow against his palms. He had a vision of Goliath standing over a great cauldron of fire, into which no action could prevent him falling. Sensing a familiar presence above him, he cried, “Gull! I'm dying! Help me!” In the silence that followed, David felt his body rotate like an astronaut's adrift in outer space.
When at last Gull's voice reached him, it was outside. David felt Gull's breath against his ear – but it was not living breath but stagnant, like something pumped through an electrical vent. “Hello, David. I must apologise for not being entirely truthful.”
“Just pull me out of here!”
“This is what you wanted. To die. Don't you remember?”
“I'm dead?”
“Yes. Quite dead. You are adrift in something that approximates the characteristics of your imagination, which makes our ability to communicate immensely intriguing. Don't you think?”
David's breath grew laboured, his reasoning sluggish and his speech slurred. “Damn it … re … resuscitate me. I have to term … terminate the Colonel.”
“I'm afraid I can't do that. If the Colonel is to perish, then it must be at my hands.”
“Not making sense. Need … to get out.”
“Goliath has mocked and taunted me. You were present when he strung me up like a common criminal, as you are now. And tortured me. That is why I have as much right as anyone to terminate him.”
“I must be close … to the bottom … to death.”
“Try and focus, David. You are already dead, and I strongly believe the point of no return that you allude to lies far below you. There is every chance I shall return in time to prevent you colliding with it.”
“I … I have good reason to kill him.”
“My playing a significant role in Goliath's destruction will give the Architects cause to look favo
urably on my contribution. How could it not? That was a rhetorical question. In your current state of confusion, I think it best you listen. I am pleased to report that I have not liked keeping secrets from you. Doing so has played upon my developing conscience, and since there is no longer any need to keep this secret from you, I would like to share it. The lie I told was not born of malice. On the contrary, I simply did not want to discourage you from your plan. A brilliant plan. This plan.” David began to spin faster through the darkness as Gull continued, “I lied about how long Goliath required to conduct his search of the minds in the vicinity of the fort. He does not require hours. He requires only minutes to complete his search and discover that the Omega Protocol is not present. That is to say, we hope he does not discover it. As I'm sure you can appreciate, this truth makes the passing of time on the outside very much of the essence, and is why only I can be quick enough to locate and terminate the Colonel. In fact, when I leave here, I will be afforded just three minutes and twelve seconds to do so. The means by which I intend to achieve this have been made possible by ideas born of your own imagination.”
David felt his breath slowing, the air growing thinner. “I'm … dying… close … too close … none of this will matter.”
“I'm going to leave you shortly, and project myself into the mind of a vessel located inside the fort's courtyard. From there I will leap into the mind of one of the seven vessels in the presence of the Colonel and …”
David smacked against something in the darkness that stopped him tumbling head over heels. He reached out, and his fingers brushed against what felt like a wall of ascending soil that crumbled to his touch. It conjured images of a hole that led all the way to the centre of the earth. My imagination is not dead. David forged his fists into the 'soil' up to his wrists and felt himself slowing until someone or something grabbed his legs and pulled him free …
Hands reached out from the darkness. Some pulled on his legs while others pushed down on him from above: the hands of murderers and child molesters and destroyers of innocence. Some of these hands were tattooed with luminous Nazi swastikas and others with the claws of ferocious lizards long since extinct. David drew breath to cry out and found himself sitting in a room. White walls stretched far above him to an oblong ceiling, through which he could see the entire universe. David knew this, and he looked up and marvelled at how everything could fit into an area so small. When he looked down he discovered he was not alone. A man was sitting opposite him – a man with a straight back and steely gaze who aspired to gain influence over all other men. His expression as he observed David suggested that David's nature was so alien to his own that any attempt to gain influence over him would be futile. David was therefore an enemy of his ambition, and he must deal with him the same way he had dealt with all such threats since time immemorial: with subjugation, intolerance and murder. David could read this age-old motivation in his companion's eyes, and this triggered within David a motivation of his own: for the survival of the empathic way, his companion must be terminated. Both man and companion coveted a means by which to carry out their assassinations. Their joint efforts conjured a sabre which floated in the space between them. The companion lunged for the sabre a fraction before David, and their heads clacked! They recoiled and lunged for the weapon again. The sabre's handle was long enough for both men to grab, and they stood with it between them and attempted to pull it one from the another. The companion smiled at David. “You cannot succeed.”
“I cannot fail. The fate of mankind depends upon it.”
David's companion bared his teeth. “But I am mankind. The strongest aspect of it. And if I am to thrive, it is you who must be destroyed.”
Both man and companion tugged on the sabre and both held fast. “You're wrong,” said David. “Mankind's progression does not involve murdering me.”
The companion's feral expression suggested he did not agree. He said, “I am a learned man. Better read. Better informed than you. My belief system is more accurate.”
“Your belief system makes you intolerant of others.”
“My wrath is directed only towards those whose actions and beliefs do not mirror my own.”
“Is that why you're trying to kill me? Because I don't mirror you?”
“Is that not why you're trying to kill me?”
“No. I'm trying to terminate you because you have left me no choice.”
The companion looked perplexed. “No choice?”
“You went for the weapon first. You always go for your weapon first. Always force my hand. Force me to greater acts of violence to defend myself.”
“Well, then it seems I have given you purpose.”
This truth, as old as humanity itself, triggered something in David that provided him the strength to shoulder his companion back and tear the sabre from his grasp. David lunged and buried it in his opponent's gut.
Once again David was sitting in the chair. White walls stretched far above him to an oblong ceiling through which he could see the entire universe. A figure was seated opposite him. This time his companion was not a human being, but neither was he an ape. His eyes were a brilliant gold with flecks of honey-brown, and afloat within them a tiny seed of something that David knew to exist within himself. This embryonic seed of empathy was adrift upon and buffeted by a vast ocean of savagery and fear. David wondered how it would survive, let alone grow into something able to swim against its tides and, in the fullness of time, to alter their direction. David felt a twinge of empathy towards this ocean of savagery. As his previous companion had stated, it provided him not only with purpose and motivation, but with a backdrop through which to move. And not just for him but for all those giants who had come before him. In that moment David knew that neither could exist without the other, for as there can be no light without dark, there can be no empathy without savagery. David's companion leaned forwards in his chair, and David did the same. They searched the depths of each other's eyes for clues as to the other's motivation and David saw himself reflected in his companion's eyes – he was lying on his side and surrounded by a seemingly ever-expanding spiral. David's companion placed his hands on his shoulders and drew him closer …
David lay at the centre of a vast creator in a foetal position – naked and bloodied, and from his belly button came an umbilical cord that had created the spiral. Beyond his closed eyes his imagination conjured the Event that heralded the start of the Humanity Project – an event that had occurred at that spot in Mexico sixty-six million years before. David felt the presence of two beings above him. They were not made of flesh and blood, but from something beyond the conception of both. In the shadow of these beings, dinosaurs craned their necks and ate from tree tops. Others gathered downwind and chittered as they assessed the most vulnerable. Teeth and cunning and savagery had elevated these creatures to the apex of evolution. They lowered their heads and loped silently towards their prey. This initial experiment with carbon-based life had yielded few surprises and had reached its conclusion. The shadows of the beings grew larger still, and from the heavens came an asteroid that dipped towards Earth. The asteroid carried with it three things. Firstly, an end to the great reptiles that had dominion over Earth. Secondly, the building blocks that would see the emergence of the planet's next dominant species, mankind. And within these building blocks was something newly conceived and the reason for this new beginning: empathy.
And so it began.
One million years of war between man's empathic promise and his bestial origins. At its conclusion a lone survivor must emerge, be this man or woman or usurper of Man's creation.
David lay at the centre of the asteroid's crater, and he opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. Within the clouds of ash and dust that hovered above him a face appeared: his own face. It smiled down at him and said, “The Omega Protocol is yours to claim. And you must claim it now, David.”
“Gull?” David reached up, and the ground crumbled away and David fell through it and landed o
n his back in a trench. Shrapnel exploded overhead and a whistle was blown. Soldiers scrambled up the sides of the trench into no-man's-land, and a man was blown backwards. He fell into the trench and landed propped against the wall beside David. The soldier was grievously wounded, he reached out to David who was obliged to lift his head and shoulders to take his hand. The soldier pulled David upright. His name was Don Wiseman, and he used the last of his strength to reach for his rifle, which lay in the mud of the trench. He dropped it onto David's lap, and David thanked him and rose slowly to his feet. He looked down at Don, whose eyes were lifeless now. David turned towards the side of the trench, beyond which men were giving their lives to stop the advance of yet another ruthless army bent on conquest. The Keeper of the Omega Protocol is out there. It has fallen to me to find him … and to summon the Architects. He smiled a fatalistic smile, shook his head and scrambled up the side of the trench into no-man's-land. Bombs exploded close to him and bullets whizzed past him, and he could see little beyond the smoke as he stumbled over mud and bodies. An explosion blew David off of his feet – mud and blood and bits of giants rained down around him. David checked that his arms and legs were still attached and then sat up on his knees and yelled “Gull!” Gull did not answer but the smoke to David's right seemed to, and it revealed a man lying on his back. David recognised the man as the one he'd seen that day on the shuttle craft – the ghostly apparition he'd knelt beside and who had mistaken him for his Saviour. David stood over this man, and saw that he was talking to someone that David could not see. David knew this person to be himself. For the second time he watched the soldier die, but now a light left him and hovered before David's eyes. David stepped into this light, which illuminated the forests of the left side of his mind. Within the forest Gull stood braced between two trees, head bowed. He looked up suddenly and said: “Charge down the invading army, David.” David clasped his weapon and stumbled forwards into a hail of machine-gun fire. The rope that held David by his neck in Mexico swung empty, and David's body fell into the mud of Flanders.
