“Yes,” Rotiart says while breaking down, cleaning, and oiling his weapon. “There is an anti-catalyst that our scientists have been diligently working on for years. It should be the antidote to the Trident and cleanse everyone on the planet within months. It is derived from the serum that we drink to keep ourselves cleansed of the Trident’s pestilence. However, something much more powerful would be needed, like the injections that Keebo gave you and your comrades when you first got here.” Reassembling his gun, he slams the pieces together and rechecks their function. His voice lightens to that of a trusting inflection. “But just that small amount took three months to make. And, of course, we cannot inject seven billion people. Different, more intrusive methods must be taken. The serum only works when you are very young and is taken for years. The delivery system has already been developed for our anti-catalyst. Aerosol rockets will launch into the upper atmosphere and release the anti-catalyst. It will cause a chain reaction that will saturate the air and the fresh water reservoirs around the planet. Total saturation is calculated to be three months after the launch. However, the anti-catalyst is so potent that we expect that many of the very old, the very young, and the sickly will not survive once it is introduced into their bodies.”
“Very clever,” Kim says in an insisting voice. “So now that Dwight is gone, how will we stop the Chariot? Your father had high praises for my friend and his gifts.”
“Well, that’s the tricky part. Only my father knows that. He told me that soon he will implement the plan, and all of our worries shall be solved. My father, not Dwight, was always the key to the Chariot’s destruction.”
Suddenly a yellow light flashes in the room, followed by the wail of a siren.
“Not again,” Rotiart says, walking over to the intercom. “Dammit, I thought I told you to fix the wiring on the alarm system. Hello, Keebo, do you copy? Piece of crap,” he says through his teeth, slamming his fist repeatedly into the talk button.
The bunker shakes and loud bangs reverberate through the door.
“What’s going on?” Kim says with concern.
“It might be that dammed Keebo with his shenanigans again,” Rotiart says.
Static comes through the intercom and then a panicking scream. “We are under attack! Chimera are in the bunker! All hands to the main corridor, now!”
“Father?” Rotiart shouts as he runs out of the door with his rifle in hand. Kim follows behind Rotiart, and they make their way to the main corridor.
Explosions, gunfire, and screams are coming from down the hall. “Kim! We have to get out of here!” Steve yells.
“Where is my father?” yells Rotiart.
“I don’t know,” says Steve. “Neiala and Rokie went to go find him.”
An intense light blinds the group. The light shrinks to an orb, and the orb elongates into a crescent, and then it waxes into a gibbon-like figure that crackles and pops. Arms of electricity reach out from the edges. Then out steps a young man through the light.
“Hello, everyone,” the man says. “I’m here to retrieve something that belongs to us.”
“What in the hell is this?” Rotiart says. “Take him down!”
Bullets rain down on the unknown intruder, yet he stands looking on as the bullets bend around his body, hitting the wall behind him.
“My turn,” the stranger says. He snaps his fingers and sends a pulse of energy through the room, knocking everyone off of their feet.
“Who are you?” asks Rotiart as he climbs back to his feet.
The stranger snaps his fingers again, and the portal closes behind him. His young face is clean-shaven and smug. He’s about six foot tall, with a thin frame, yet well put together. His ghostly eyes, one blue and one amber, are set into his almond skin. He scans the room as the light glistens off of his sculpted haircut, shaved on the sides, with swept spikes on the top. He wears green and brown fatigue pants, a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black tie with a polished silver clip holding it still, and a combat vest. A device around his neck protrudes up behind his head and forms a halo shape.
“Pardon me,” he says with chivalry and a grin, “I’m sort of a specialist. I get orders, and I carry them out. It’s a shame that we just met. But you’ve already met someone who is close to me. I’m Aairyk’s brother. You know him as Dwight.”
“Liar!” Ron says, firing at him multiple times as his bullets ricochet off of the intruder. The intruder snaps his fingers again, thrusts his hand out in front of him, and the gun flies out of Ron’s hand. Ron slides to the floor and slams against the wall.
“Well, it’s true,” says the intruder. “We are from the same father. Let me introduce myself. I am Viktohr, but you can call me the Viper.”
“We must stop him!” shouts Rotiart, who commands two soldiers to charge the Viper, but they are quickly incapacitated with a snap of the Viper’s fingers. The device around his neck glows, pulsing from top to bottom with a neon red aura.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your way once I get what I came for—her.” The Viper points to Lara.
He snaps his fingers, opens a portal, steps inside, and then reappears behind the group.
“Lara, run,” Ron says as he dives at the Viper, yet he grabs nothing but air as he hits the floor. “A hologram? Lara, watch out!”
A portal opens in front of Lara as she tries to stop, yet she slides right into it, disappearing into the void. “See you later,” the Viper says in a sinister tone from inside the void, laughing as it closes.
Dozens of Chimera pour from the elevator entrance, repelling from ropes, firing assault rifles, and killing the inhabitants of the bunker. Women, children, and the elderly claw over each other trying to escape the onslaught from the invaders, but to no avail. Mangled bodies begin to litter the bunker corridors. Steve, Ron, Kim, and Pairon head for the secret entrance of stairs that lead away from the elevator entrance, while Rotiart looks for his father.
Keebo escaped as soon as the assault happened.
“Rokie!” Shundai shouts, ducking behind a wall. “Get the survivors to the escape vehicles.”
“Yes, sir!” answers Rokie.
“There you are,” Neiala says as she sees Rotiart and Shundai opening the entrance. “We thought you were dead,” she says.
“No, this old man is still crafty,” says Shundai. “Ahhhh!” Shundai screams, holding his chest after a gunshot fires directly behind the group inside the room.
“Father?” Rotiart says.
Shundai grunts and pulls his hand away from his chest and sees that his hand is drenched in blood.
“My son,” Shundai utters.
“Father, no!” Rotiart shouts. Everyone looks back from where the gunshot came, and they see Kim holding a smoking handgun.
“Kim! What are you doing? No, Kim. Not you!” Steve shouts.
Kim starts to laugh. “Long, live, Atlantis!” Chimera start to flood into the room. Kim then turns the gun on another team member and shoots Pairon dead as everyone else takes cover behind large machines.
“Pairon, no!” Steve shouts reaching out to Pairon. “My love. Kim, you’re dead meat!”
Rotiart pulls Shundai’s bloody body behind cargo boxes.
“Son,” Shundai utters, coughing up blood. “Here, take this and continue our mission. Guard it with your life. Nothing matters, not my life, not yours, only the agenda. Now go.”
Shundai falls limp and Rotiart shouts, “No, Father!”
“We must go, now!” Neiala shouts. They all head for the door that leads to where a helicopter sits in a large underground hangar.
“Rokie, seal the door,” Rotiart says as Rokie welds the hinges shut.
Everyone runs toward the helicopter and boards it, with Neiala in the pilot seat. The ceiling opens up and they fly out just as the Chimera, with Kim leading them, break through the sealed door.
“You cannot run forever!” Kim shouts in an unfamiliar tone to the escaping helicopter.
“Well,” Black Hor
se says, hanging up the phone back at the Chariots’ headquarters. “It seems that our mole and the Viper have done well. The Second Son is in our possession. The Tempest infidel is dead, and we have them on the run.”
“Excellent,” says Pale Horse. “Still no word from Manhattan?”
“No,” Black Horse answers, his hands locked in concern in from of him. “They have been looking for days, and we have nothing.”
“Well,” says Pale Horse, “since the body cannot be found, other arrangements will be made.” He looks about the room to the Spiders and to Black Horse. “I’ve spoken with our contacts in Malaysia, and they have said that they may have located one of the Missing.”
“The Missing?” Black Horse answers in shock. “Will we use it for White Horse’s resurrection?”
“If the scientist’s calculations are true, then yes, it should work. However, he will not be complete until the First Son’s body is recovered, but the Second Son will be sufficient as well.”
“I have four of our teams and local authority in New York sweeping the docks in a five-mile radius around the clock. The body will be found,” insists Black Horse.
“Good. The infidels have played right into our hands. Their desperation led them to attack our decoy antenna, and now our plan can take the next step. With America wounded, the people will want their leader to take action against this attack. Whatever we tell the mindless masses of a violated America, they will believe it. I believe it’s time to notify Recluse to start the plan so that she can have our friend the President attack known bases of the infidels in the Middle East. Then we can seize control of those lands for the launch of the last piece of the Trident, then Cerberus, and the Orion will be unleashed as well.”
“When will the Missing be in our possession?” asks Black Horse.
“Soon, my friend, very soon. The Viper and our mole will be back with our gift, and once we awaken White Horse, we will be at full strength again, and our leader will be very much pleased with our development of Atlantis. It shall be a glorious day.”
“A glorious days, indeed,” a smirking Black Horse says.
Meanwhile, Ron, Rokie, and Rotiart are traveling to a top-secret satellite location.
“Where are we going?” asks Ron aboard a helicopter with Rokie and Rotiart.
“To another one of our secure locations,” answers Rokie.
“Secure?” barks Ron. “I think you and I have a different meaning of secure. We just got our asses kicked where we were supposed to be secure. Eight years ago I was with two exotic babes, drinking fifty-year-old Scotch out of their navels, and now, now my friend is dead. I’m being hunted by things that are almost as ugly as you two, a guy that is a wizard called the Viper, my other friend is a traitor, and I haven’t showered in over a week. Some great transition this has been.”
“You’re in the best place that you can possibly be right now, once the war begins, my friend,” says Rokie. “Without our protection you’d be dead in less than twenty-four hours.”
“I can think of a lot better places than this,” says Ron. “What war? The only thing I know is that you chaps have a beef with some mutants, and that’s it. Who are we fighting actually, and why is there a war in the first place?”
Rokie looks at Rotiart, who gives him a nod.
Rokie sits up and lays down his rifle. “Long ago, before recorded time, there was a civilization just as advanced as the one we live in right now. We all were at peace with one another. The land was bountiful and the cities were grand and glorious. There were leaders of our civilization called the Enlightened Ones who were like the aristocracy of our society, just as you have leaders today. Until one day, we, the people, were double-crossed by seven of the twelve top leaders. They named themselves the Chariot Gods, and the five that were against their new movement were stripped of their power and excommunicated. Two of the five were killed, while the other three started a rebellion with the unselected people, who were deemed too weak to carry on in society and were purged in an attempt of genocide. The hundred or so survivors formed a coalition called the Tempests. After twenty years of hiding, our leaders divulged a plan to uproot the tyranny of the Chariots once and for all and to free the oppressed. Many innocents died while the oppressed protected their oppressors, but the key to the Chariots’ power sank beneath the waves from a powerful weapon that was constructed by the Tempests. The great city of Atlantis was destroyed in the process, and, once presumed dead, a few of the Original Seven survived. They have tried to rebuild Atlantis many times throughout the thousands of years after their destruction. They have taken on many forms: Sumerians, Egyptians, Mayans, Romans, and so on. But, we have toppled their plans each time.”
“What about Hitler?” asks Ron. “That psycho SOB had to be one of them.”
“Hitler was actually one of ours,” replies Rokie. “Evil is just a matter of perception, and sacrifices must be made for the greater good of the world. We were on the cusp of truly becoming more powerful than them during the 1940s, but once again our calculations proved wrong. They had operatives embedded in our plans for centuries, and they defeated us from the inside, stole our scientists in the operation called Paper Clip, and then discovered something remarkable—immortality.”
Ron’s eyebrows dive into his nose. “Wait, you mean to tell me that these guys can’t die? They literally live forever? What in the hell? Dwight, if you were here right now, I’d punch you in the balls. Okay, so how can we defeat something that can’t die?”
“They are still human, yet they have the ability to transmute their energy from one body to another, just like downloading software from one computer hard drive to another. They can be killed, but it is extremely hard to do so because of the technology they have, as you’ve witnessed firsthand. We are here,” Rokie says, looking out of the helicopter window.
Ron looks out of the window, and he sees a large ship. “Great, a perfect time to party. A cruise liner? Are you kidding me?”
“It’s mobile, lots of ports, supply ships, and docks that it visits, a lot of communication equipment. It has food and supplies, and we can stay hidden among the crew and passengers. Some of our other leaders have been aboard the ship for a while, and we haven’t seen them in years. Come, let’s meet them, my friend.”
Ron, Rotiart, and Rokie leave the helicopter after it docks on the helipad of the huge cruise liner, where two middle-aged men dressed in white service uniforms meet them.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” says one of the servicemen.
“It’s good to see you again. It’s been such a long time,” says Rotiart as he and Rokie hug both men.
“There is much to discuss. We have some situations developing that need to be addressed right away. The Chariots have found something that we were afraid of them finding.”
“The Missing?” Rotiart asks with concern.
“Yes,” answers a serviceman. “We have just received word from our spies in Asia that one was found a few days ago. Who is this that you have with you?”
“This is one of the friends of the Lamb,” says Rotiart.
The servicemen look Ron up and down. “What is your name?” one of them asks.
“Ron.”
“Sorry about your friend,” says the serviceman, extending his hand.
“No,” Ron says, not honoring the serviceman’s gesture, “You’re not sorry. You didn’t even know him.” Ron quickly turns his back and walks off, following Rotiart and Rokie into the ship.
“Back there, on the top of the deck,” Ron says to Rotiart as they walk through the hoard of passengers enjoying their vacation, “you called Dwight the Lamb. What did you mean by that? And if it’s what I think you meant, I should kill you where you stand.”
“You people will never learn,” Rotiart says. “If you plan to survive and save humanity, you must know that one life is not the beginning or the end. Those two men who greeted us when we landed, they were the number two and three in command. My father was the fourth, and a
ll of them would die at the drop of a dime for our cause. Before my father died in that bunker, he gave me something.” Rotiart reaches into his pocket and pulls out half of an amulet. “This, my friend, is the key to saving humanity, and I’ve been chosen to be responsible for it. Sorry it has to be this way, but this isn’t about feelings. His life was valuable, but, just like us, we’re mere pawns to the grand scheme of things.
“There’s still much to be discussed. Rest well, for tomorrow you will meet the other leaders of the last hope for humanity.”
Chapter 31: The Tempests and the Lamb
Waking up to the knock on his cabin door, Ron sits up and climbs over a woman he had just met the night before aboard the cruise liner. His feet hit the floor and he stumbles. “Yes, what is it?” he says to the visitor outside the door as he clumsily navigates the room stark naked, squinting from the morning sunlight pouring through the portholes.
“Sir, you are wanted for a meeting in thirty minutes,” the man behind the door says.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ron replies. “I’ll be at your bloody meeting. Now, if I can find my damned knickers. Ummm, Susan? Do you know where my briefs are?”
“No,” she says, yawning and stretching as she crawls from beneath the covers. “And my name is Stephanie. What time is it?”
“Six thirty,” Ron says, rubbing his head. “Ah, my head. What did I drink last night?”
“Oh no,” she yells, “I’m supposed to meet my husband in fifteen minutes for breakfast.”
“Husband?” Ron says.
She quickly puts on her clothes, gathers her things, and leaves the room, running past Rokie as he stands in the doorway.
“I see you’ve adjusted well already,” says Rokie. “And put some damned clothes on. We’re almost late.”
“Rokie, if you wanted to look at my pecker, you should have just asked, man,” jokes Ron.
Chess Players: Atlantis and the Mockingbird Page 23
