“He wants us to come back to Santorini. I don’t know what he has planned, but we’ve got to be in the air as soon as we can.”
“I will pack.”
Evan paused to think. “Not tonight. Let me have the jet fueled and waiting for us after lunch. I have to be here tomorrow morning to sign off on the sale of my company. After that, we’re off. I can’t believe we’ve found the bastard!”
Running full speed into the compound, Ni-Cio summoned everyone. “Travlor has been found! Come to the courtyard as soon as you can!”
People scrambled from every direction. Excited faces appraised him as he waited for the others. It had been a long day scrubbing Atlantis, but the preparations were nearing an end. With all of the men helping, the work had moved along rapidly. If need be, they could now move back to their home without fear of sickness or contamination.
Ni-Cio signaled Aris and Rogert. They disengaged themselves from the crowd and quickly joined him. He lowered his voice so that only they could hear. “Travlor is in Columbia, South America. We need to come up with a plan and we do not have time to waste. I need you to help me think of ways to get to that country and how we can rescue Daria.” The men nodded curtly.
Ni-Cio moved to address the others. Looking over the tightknit group of survivors, he felt an immense sense of pride. Against all odds, his family had flourished. New life was coming into the world, the compound looked more robust, and everyone was finding ways to laugh again.
He dreaded what was to come. He had no idea what Travlor was up to, but he couldn’t afford to lose any more of his people. As willing and ready as he was to sacrifice his own life to get Daria back, he wasn’t ready to sacrifice any more Atlantean lives. “The search for Travlor has ended in Columbia, South America.”
Clapping and cheers resounded throughout the courtyard. Ni-Cio held his arms up. “I do not know where in Columbia he is, but that is what I am determined to find out. Our home is nearly ready to inhabit. However, the topside equipment is not strong enough to sustain air and water for all of us.
“That means that some of us must stay in the compound. As council leader, I would offer a vote. Who would be willing to stay topside?”
He counted the show of hands. “Thank you.” He looked back out over the assembled friends and continued, “Who needs to be home again?”
He could tell that people were reluctant to respond. “It is all right. I do not need to know now. Please, go to your families and talk it over. I will take the count again tonight. Just know that you will be well protected with either decision you make.”
The assembled throng sought their families. Leaving in tight groups, Ni-Cio watched his people drift away. Aris and Rogert stayed behind. Aris spoke first. “When do you expect to leave?”
Shrugging, Ni-Cio motioned for his friends to follow him. He led them to the kitchen, and grabbing a pad and pen, took a seat at one of the tables. Flanked by Rogert and Aris, he tried to sketch a plan of rescue, but he had to admit he hadn’t a clue what he was doing. He looked at the two men helplessly. “I have no plan. I have no idea how to proceed.”
Rogert placed a hand on Ni-Cio’s shoulder. “Do not worry yourself. Let us begin with the first step. Let us wait for Evan as he contemplates his father’s plans in depth and at length. We will seek his guidance, but in the meantime, we will research South America and this Columbia.”
Aris declared, “We will find her Ni-Cio, but Rogert is right. We must remain calm, plan accordingly, and act only when we are ready. Otherwise, if we somehow alert Travlor to the knowledge we have, we may lose her again.”
Grabbing the hands of both his friends, Ni-Cio tried to infuse himself with their calm. “I would not be able to do this without your guidance and your friendship.”
He loosened his grip and was so quiet that Aris asked, “Ni-Cio, what else bothers you?”
Ni-Cio glanced at both men and then rubbed his eyes. “Rogert has previously addressed an issue that looms over us like a black cloud. We have worked so hard just to survive that I have refused to let myself think about it.”
He placed his hands, palms up, on the table. “The machines Evan brought into Atlantis are only a temporary measure. They give us the ability to visit our home, but they are noisy and certainly cannot sustain us long-term. I am at a loss; I have no idea how we make the transition back to our normal way of life.”
Neither Rogert nor Aris said anything and the looks on their faces told Ni-Cio how alarmed they were. Their bronze glow dulled and thin strips of black swirled over their faces and up into their hair.
A deep rumble came from Rogert. “Ni-Cio, have you thought that we may never recover our home? The energy source handed down from Poseidon works only when enough people continue to reach the age of transcendence. That gift has been taken from us. It is as I explained to Evan—unless a miracle occurs, we will never be able to inhabit our home again.”
Aris’s voice was heavy with sadness. “Let us not dwell on this now. We have no way of knowing the future. We still have much work ahead of us. For now, let us finish the tasks at hand. It will help keep our minds occupied.”
The men filed out of the kitchen and into the bright morning sun. Aris faced his friends. “I know it seems hopeless, but it was not long ago that we felt hopeless about finding Daria.” Aris nodded at Rogert. “Our friend tells us to put one foot in front of the other. While we wait for Evan’s return, we keep working and we keep our spirits up. When Evan arrives, everything will fall into place.”
A ghost of a smile flitted over Ni-Cio’s lips. Eyeing Rogert, he asked, “How about that garden?”
Rogert shook his head. “I will leave you two to the gardens and I will gather my men. We will continue our efforts in Atlantis.”
Ni-Cio nodded and Rogert took off toward the cabins.
“Come Ni-Cio, you and I need to get our hands dirty.” Aris pushed his sorrowful friend in the direction of the gardens.
Evan wrapped up the sale of his company faster than he had thought possible. His company, his most important asset, was what he had needed to turn quickly. The other investments could wait.
The big step forward had been somewhat bittersweet, and he alternated between nostalgia and excitement as he cleaned out his office. His secretary would see to the furnishings and he had given her detailed instructions on what he wanted done with the Van Gogh. He went to the painting to admire it, as his, one last time. Gazing at it in awe, it was hard to believe how old the painting was; the colors were exquisite, so vibrant. With gentle reverence, Evan touched the thick splashes of oil, marveling at the texture of the brushstrokes.
He had hoped that one day he would have the time to take up painting. “Well, it’s not the time now.” He stood back and took in the whole. The museum would be very grateful for this donation. He was pleased that he had found an excellent home for this particular piece.
He sighed and lifted his box of mementos, then readied himself to face the poor woman outside his door. She had been with him from the beginning and never seemed ruffled by his brusque manner, which if he were to be honest, most times bordered on rude. Feeling guilty now, he was sorry that he had never taken the time to fully appreciate all she had done to keep his affairs in order.
He thought maybe the check he was going to give her would go a long way toward glossing over any past offences. He closed his office door and strolled over to the aging, grandmotherly figure.
The woman held herself as if she stood at attention. “Mary, I don’t know what to say or how to thank you.” He stumbled over words that he should have said long ago.
Kyla had opened his heart and he was a much better man because of her. He was grateful for the change, but he still felt awkward voicing his feelings to anyone else. He reached in his suit pocket and retrieved the envelope. He handed it to his steadfast assistant. “I think this will suffice. The new owner is a good man. I think you�
�ll like working for him, but if not … well, let’s just say you won’t have to worry about retirement.”
Awkwardly, he walked around her desk and gave her a hug. Her response was hesitant. Evan stepped away, nodding. “Take care of yourself.”
Making his way through the rest of the offices, he said his goodbyes to the other employees, assuring them that they had been well taken care of and that they would retain their jobs. As he entered the elevator and the doors started to close, he heard Mary’s delighted scream. A wide grin spread over his face.
Downstairs, Kyla waited for him in the limousine. He slid in beside her and the driver closed the door. Evan felt Kyla’s thought as they reached for each other.
“I feel your sadness. I am sorry . . .”
He hugged her even tighter. As the car slipped seamlessly into traffic, Evan looked into her gleaming topaz eyes. “It was the stepping stone for everything else. I’m fine. I have you and you’re all I ever need.” He released her and they sat back. “The jet is ready. While we’re in the air, I’ll do some research and see what else I can find. If I know Ni-Cio, he’s standing at a biosphere ready to leave for South America right now.
“Do you have an idea what you will do when you find your father?”
“That’s the problem. We’ve got to come up with some kind of workable plan. If he’s got a big enough following to depose the present government, then there’s no way we can fight openly against that. Our approach will need to be stealthier. That’s about the only thing I’m sure of.”
“Well, between you and Ni-Cio, I have no doubt you will come up with a plan that will not only be workable, but will succeed marvelously.”
Trying to share her faith, Evan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. They would be at the airport soon enough. His mind had churned last night, keeping him awake. If he could catch forty winks before takeoff, it would help. He drifted down into sleep.
Cars arrived in droves and people scurried about the headquarters. Travlor was locked in his office, phone attached to his ear, emails flying. Men exited his quarters with terrified looks. His orders were being executed quickly and to the letter, and the only people allowed into his inner sanctum were his generals, the lady bearing food, and Daria. Even she was only allowed entrance at certain times.
Daria reluctantly attended his health while trying to keep her spirits up for the sake of her baby and for her own state of health. She was bigger than ever and grew more uncomfortable with each passing day. The stomach pains had increased in intensity, but at least she had learned how to mask the worst of the cramping.
Sitting idly by the pool, her swirling feet creating little eddies in the water, Daria thought about Travlor’s first service. It had to be seen to be believed. The congregation had overflowed out onto the lawn and down the road, and the road had been blocked for hours before the pomp began and had remained so until well after the Travlor show had ended.
The initial kickoff of his mega-church was such a spectacle that it made a three-ring circus look tame. But his oratory was possibly the most heinous bit of sacrilegious brainwashing Daria had ever heard. The virtual spin of religious ideals spewed out of his mouth like lava from a volcano. She watched people listen, spellbound by honeyed words that covered his lies and his spiritual corruption. He made a mockery of all that was good and right about religion. But what sickened her most were the decent people in attendance. Most of them tried to live their lives by tenets that included love, joy, compassion, and peace. But they had absorbed his lies as easily as a mosquito sucks blood.
She hadn’t wanted to be there, but he’d given her no choice. He had secreted her behind the curtain that was the backdrop to his “throne,” and she had suffered through every pause, every indrawn breath, and every audience gasp as he disgorged his pious doctrine.
It literally made her sick to her stomach and she had thrown up in the nearest trash receptacle. She was not surprised that even her body rejected the air of unctuousness that poured off Travlor like week-old sweat.
Afterward, his flock had mobbed him just to touch the hem of his robe, catch a glimpse of him, or simply revel in being in the vicinity of the New Messiah. When he finally extricated himself from the noisy throng of supplicants, he had joined Daria in the car. All the way back to the estate, he had gloated about how gullible people were and how readily his plans continued to roll forward. Daria had exited the car without a word; she couldn’t escape his vile presence fast enough.
She sneered at the offensive memory and then eased into the pool. She walked slowly around the shallow end, hands trailing behind. The easing of the baby weight was a godsend and she was glad that at least her prison had a pool.
Travlor had opened satellite offices in other key cities to handle the number of pleas that flooded in daily. The local post offices were inundated and screaming for more help, and emails clogged the Internet by the thousands. Everyone hired to handle correspondence worked at full speed and still needed more help. It was pandemonium—fervid, religious chaos.
Churches were jam-packed with a melding of the old faithful congregations and the newly-minted fanatics. Priests, ministers and pastors were spreading Travlor’s doctrine faster than he could send out sermons.
While she swam a few lethargic laps, cars continued to enter the gate like flocks of birds and men in military uniforms swiftly entered the foyer for their meetings with Travlor.
The new theocratic rule had spurred further religious hysteria and, like dominoes, other countries fell before Travlor’s religious onslaught.
Thousands of followers soon burgeoned to millions and his goal of global domination leapt toward fruition in bounds. Nothing stopped his forward momentum throughout the rest of South America. Governments, dictators, presidents, premiers, worshippers all, fell to their knees without as much as a sniffle of discontent.
Daria tried to pick up bits and pieces of Spanish to better understand the conversations she was able to overhear, but Travlor had forbidden any newspapers, radio, or TV to come near her.
The available books in the library were all in English and all fiction. She slapped lazily at the water. She was frustrated to be so helpless. If there was any way short of murder to stop the man, she would do it, as long as it didn’t endanger the safety of her baby.
One thought kept niggling at the back of her mind and when she stopped swimming and let herself delve further, she was astonished. Travlor is able to compel people with his thoughts. What if it’s an ability I have, too?
She chewed on that idea for a while then decided to try an experiment. She sent out a request to one of the kitchen staff for more juice with a bucket of ice and a pear.
The only way she could exit the water now was to use the stairs, so she waddled out of the pool and dried off. The sun was warm on her skin and she settled on a lounger to wait and see what would come of her first attempt to control someone.
The sun crept higher in the sky and she waited. Clouds drifted by and still she waited. Feeling sleepy, she berated herself for even trying something so foolish. However, as she started to close her eyes, one of the kitchen staff hurried toward her across the wide expanse of lawn. The woman wasn’t carrying a tray, so Daria had no idea why she was coming.
When the woman stepped into the pool area, she approached with an air of deference, eyes cast down, hands clasped. She didn’t speak; she only waited patiently for Daria’s orders.
Although the woman spoke English, Travlor had her under a strong compulsion. She never said a word to Daria or even conveyed that she understood any of her requests. Daria imagined that even if an extreme emergency regarding her pregnancy occurred within the woman’s presence, she still wouldn’t break her gag order. Daria sighed. “If you could please bring some of that juice I like with a bucket of ice and a pear, I would appreciate it.”
The woman nodded and rushed off to do her bidding. D
aria lay back and closed her eyes against the glare of sunlight. Probably just coincidence, but I’ll keep experimenting.
She relaxed again and as the first wisps of a dream started to color her mind, the gates creaked open and three cars entered the grounds in rapid succession. Tires scraped against the brick drive as they halted at the front entrance. Doors flew open and men ran up the stairs, yelling and gesticulating wildly.
Daria lurched up and grabbed her towel. She waddled to the house with as much haste as her size would allow. Upon entering the great room, she found people running in all directions. Phones rang all over the house and the stairs were crowded with men elbowing their way up the stairs to see Travlor.
Daria couldn’t make sense of anything. With the smattering of Spanish she had acquired, everyone’s speech was far too rapid-fire for her to follow. She thought she heard ‘Brazil’ but she couldn’t be sure, so she headed toward her rooms.
People swarmed past her like bees on their way to a new hive. Of one thing she was certain: Travlor had orchestrated another horror on the trusting South American population.
She reached her rooms and closed and locked the door. She was so tired that she felt like falling asleep on her feet. Swaying with dizziness, she eased her way to the bed. Gently lowering herself to the mattress, she adjusted the pile of pillows for the most comfort and lay back with a groan. She stroked her stomach and sang a children’s song that had surfaced in her memory. The baby kicked and she smiled to feel the strength of her child. “Ni-Cio would love to feel you . . .”
A soft knock at the door interrupted her reverie. “Come in.”
The attendant that had come to the pool carefully walked in with a tray of her recent requests. She set the contents on the desk and turned as if to inquire if there would be anything else. She did not open her mouth to speak.
“Thank you, that’s all.”
The woman crossed the room and started to close the door behind her.
Currents of Will Page 15
