Atlantis Quadrilogy - Box Set

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Atlantis Quadrilogy - Box Set Page 78

by Brandon Ellis


  “I don’t see anything, Abdu.”

  Abdu pulled out another boulder at the top of the rock pile. “Climb up me and go through the opening I’ve created.”

  “I can’t see a damn thing.”

  “Just climb and when you get over me, I’ll guide your hand to the opening.”

  The footsteps came closer.

  She pressed her foot onto his belt and reached up his long torso, grabbing the chain just below one of his shoulders. She pulled herself up and over Abdu, landing her knees on an uneven boulder. She leaned forward, her hand going unhindered through Abdu’s make-shift hole.

  She scooted inside, not being able to see much but her shadowed arms and hands. She bumped her head on the cave ceiling and ducked, sliding through the opening. “Abdu, how are you going to get through?”

  “I’ll get through, but right now, climb down and concentrate on changing your energy signature.”

  She made her way down the rocks. When her feet hit the ground, she stood, not moving more than ten feet before she ran into another rock wall. She held her hands out, touching the walls, moving left and right, searching for another vein to run through. There was none.

  They were trapped.

  She dropped to the floor, leaning her back up against the boulders. She’d failed again. And all she just wanted to do was save children and couldn’t even do that. “We’re dead, Abdu. No way out of here except toward the Kelhoon and Slade.”

  Abdu placed his paw on her back. She stiffened. She hadn’t realized he had already made it on this side of the boulder pile. “One thing at a time,” he said. “Close your eyes and cloak your energy.”

  The Kelhoon footsteps echoed louder through the cavern.

  “Fuck, they’re coming closer,” said Rivkah, under her breath. She sighed. “Here goes.” She closed her eyes, seeing Slade’s energy. He was closer than she expected. In fact, he was crouched at a group of tunnel veins, closing his eyes himself, searching for her energy. He glanced up, pointing at a tunnel. “That way.”

  She shifted her mind’s eye and saw herself leaning against the boulders. She floated, like a ghost above her body. Her body glowed with bright whites and yellows that danced around her, blazing outward like sun flares. It was beautiful. She’d never seen herself before. She was beautiful. She glanced at Abdu’s energy. It swirled around him in a rainbow of violets and purples, but just as bright – perhaps even brighter.

  She hovered over herself and willed her energy to cloak, only to be seen by those who meant her well. She deemed and programmed her energy so that, from this day forward, those who would do her harm would not be able to find her by tracking her energy signature.

  An oval light descended from the cave’s roof and surrounded her physical being. She gasped and popped back into her body, twitching.

  “What the fuck?” She glanced at her hands. They weren’t shining, weren’t full of light, but were again shadowed in the dim cave.

  “You did it,” said Abdu. “Excellent work, Miss Rivkah.”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Slade found us and he’s on his way. I’ve failed again.”

  Abdu rested his warm body closer to hers, pulling her in for a hug. The guy was as big as a sasquatch, or bigger, yet his hug was sweet like a puppy dog resting in someone’s arms. “I sense a lot, Rivkah. My race is telepathic. I not only hear your thoughts, I see your thoughts, but I do not judge your thoughts, which is something unusual to your species. Your dad ingrained, or rather, brainwashed you into thinking you were a failure. He did so in many forms and in many ways, using different techniques that he wasn’t even aware of. You’ve carried this sense of thought throughout your life. It is your journey to understand that it is not your fault, but it is your responsibility to heal. No one else can do so but you. And the beauty about you, Rivkah, is that you have the power and ability to overcome that obstacle.”

  Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

  The sound of boots entered the cavern. They were Slade’s. He was just on the other side of the wall of boulders.

  “In truth,” whispered Abdu, his lips next to Rivkah’s ears. “There is no failure. In truth, you have overcome more than most people, and in that way, you have overcome your dad’s torture by continuing on in your life’s journey. You’re a survivor. You have much to teach this galaxy, and I’ll make sure you’ll stay alive to teach those in need.”

  Rivkah nodded, not entirely believing what he was saying. Survivor? Yes, she was. There was no mistaking that. Failure? Of course, it existed. Maybe his race was blind to that word. She’d known her entire life that she was a failure and did a damn good job of hiding it. She sat straighter. They were trapped. They were about to die. “If the time comes, let me die.”

  “It’s not your time.”

  The sounds of more boots entered the cave. “Where are you, Rivkah?” Slade sounded like a bad guy in a horror flick. “I can practically smell you. And I have my Kelhoon buddies here wanting to do some pretty nasty things to you. But I ain’t going to give them the pleasure.”

  A beam of light flashed through the opening in the rock wall and held still on the ceiling for several seconds above them.

  “You went through there? Clever,” said Slade.

  Abdu moved and aimed his bamboo rifle at the opening.

  Rivkah went for her gun, but felt nothing on her holster. She bit her tongue, wanting to say every curse word in every language she knew. It was a short list, but Klothanktch garaaa skoptanka was easily the best curse in the Universe. Roughly translated from Ancient Feiarni it meant, “May you choke on your nads as I look on smiling.”

  Someone was climbing up the boulders.

  Abdu put his finger on the trigger. He popped off a shot, zipping through a Kelhoon’s head. The Kelhoon lost all control of its limbs as death ripped through its skull. It dropped from view.

  “One down, Slade,” said Rivkah. “Who’s next?”

  “You,” he responded. “Here you go.”

  There was a fizz, as if Slade had opened a pop can, then a trail of smoke flew through the rock’s opening and onto the cave floor in front of her. A blinking light flashed just under the smoke. It was a small canister of some type. A bomb? It beeped, then beeped again.

  Yes, a bomb. Her stomach sank. In seconds, she’d be a splattered mess of blood and guts.

  Abdu rushed the explosive device and kicked it to the side. It careened off a wall and twirled behind him. He jumped in front of Rivkah, using his body as a shield.

  The bomb beeped again.

  The cavern flashed like a strobe light.

  Wapooomb!

  The bomb went off and Abdu pressed against her. He let out a long breath, and his body shook along with the cave. Rocks and debris fell from the ceiling, riddling Abdu’s back.

  A second bomb flew through the opening, accompanied by a beep and a flash.

  Wapoomb!

  Rivkah went to move, to escape somehow, to get Abdu and her out of here alive. She pushed Abdu, but he didn’t budge.

  “Abdu,” she whispered. “You have to move. We have to get out of here.”

  More rocks fell and Abdu didn’t respond.

  20

  E-Quadrant, Solar System - Whitefish, Montana

  Another knock. “Drew Avera?” The woman cleared her throat. “My name is Dr. Andrea Cross. I was once friends with your mother and father.”

  Mother and father? His mother was dead and his father was an asshole. This woman being friends with either one of his parents wasn’t going to get Drew to move a muscle. Besides, Carl’s ganja had allowed his mind to mellow and his mellow to melt. If the world was coming to an end and purple-blooded aliens had become shape-shifters, whatever. Perhaps that was the way it was meant to be. He’d done his bit; saving the kid, Mya, escaping from that maniac, Michael Anderle, and busting the story wide open about the politicians leaving the planet for Callisto. He deserved to kick back and get higher than high. He’d denied himself for too long
. Let someone else be the hero for a change. He needed to go back to being plain old Drew: stoner and sometime investigative reporter, with more emphasis on the former skill set. He took a long, hard, sweet drag on Carl’s blunt and held the breath for as long as he could. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet surrender.

  “Your father is on Callisto, the Jupiter moon you wrote about, the Jupiter moon that you were investigating.” Dr. Cross paused, waiting for a response.

  Drew wasn’t going to oblige her.

  “I’ve read all your work, Drew. You were right. Your father and his cronies were a pack of dirty liars, who had no intention of evacuating the human population to Callisto. If only we’d listened, Drew. Your work was ground-breaking. Brilliant. Worst of all, true.”

  Drew leaned back against the wall. She could praise his work as long as she liked. He knew he’d been right about his father, but it was good to hear someone else admit it.

  “I’m with what’s left of the American government. We’re the ones who didn’t go AWOL. We’re on your side, Drew.”

  Drew fought himself not to say, “You mean, you were the low-ranking cabinet members who weren’t offered a ride?” He snickered. She was a nobody. He could chill.

  “We’re trying to piece some things together and need your help.” Her desperation seeped under the door.

  Drew shifted on the cement floor. It was hard being a hard ass.

  “And, we have a problem. A major cataclysm is coming our way. We are about to exit the holocene age, also known as the interglacial age, and we need to get you and several prominent geniuses to safety.”

  Drew snorted, grinning at Carl. “She means me,” he whispered.

  “You’re our future – if our race can survive. I think you know about the earth cycles, correct? We’re moving from a warm climate to a colder climate, or in other words, we’re moving closer and closer to another ice age.”

  Carl and Megan each shot Drew a look. He knew what they must be thinking: who the hell are you, Drew Avera, and how did your father find himself on a Jupiter moon? Well, I am a fucking grade-A genius and my father is a grade-A traitor who had my mother murdered before fleeing the planet. He couldn’t think about it. If he did, he’d be forced to do something. And Drew didn’t want to do anything. He wanted to sit on the basement floor and forget the world. He rolled his eyes and circled his ear with his index finger, suggesting the woman behind the door was a little cuckoo.

  Carl and Megan weren’t buying it.

  Drew felt his buzz threatening to buzz off. Damn.

  “Okay,” said Andrea. “When you’re ready, my team and I will be waiting upstairs.” Dr. Cross took a step up a stair. She stopped. “I almost forgot. We are also here to protect you and everyone else in this city. And, I don’t know if you know this, but when you come upstairs, don’t be startled. There is a dead purple creature at the top of these stairs here. It’s disgusting.”

  She made her way up to the bar. They heard a chair squeak and slide across the floor. Dr. Andrea Cross was taking a seat.

  “Who the hell are you, Drew?” asked Megan in a whisper.

  Drew didn’t answer. He thought of his mom. Why she wasn’t perking up with any suggestions. She’d been mouthy enough before. And Mya. Where was the little girl? He hoped she was okay and that her father was keeping her safe and alive. Drew hadn’t talked to Mya or even seen much of his little buddy in a while.

  A blast shook the building. It was close. The basement lights flickered off and on. Carl jumped, then settled back down. The marijuana kept him in a happier place.

  “I have a bad feeling about that woman up there.” Megan eyed the ceiling. “That bitch better not be taking any of my alcohol.”

  Drew stood, his hand out toward Carl. “Another hit?”

  Carl shook his head, squinting his eyes, giving his best Clint Eastwood impression. “I don’t trust you.” He reached for his rifle, but it was too far away and he shrugged. He brought the joint to his lips, took a deep puff, held it in, then slowly blew out.

  Drew slumped against the wall, eyes closed. It was only then that he saw his mother, her arms folded, her mouth a straight line, her eyes boring into him. She’d been talking to him all along, albeit without actual language. She had been giving him her trademark silent treatment. She had faked dementia to keep Drew’s father from interrogating her to find Drew and ruin his life; and finally taken a bullet when Dear Old Dad worked out she and Drew were in contact. No wonder she didn’t approve of him sitting on his butt with a faux-buddy and a wet blunt.

  “Message receive, Ma. Loud and clear.” Drew stood. “I’m going.” If this Andrea woman was telling the truth, then he was needed in some way. If she was full of shit, then no harm no foul. If she wanted to kill him and was part of some government group who wanted to obliterate him from existence, then she could have ended him already, but hadn’t.

  Megan pointed her rifle at Drew. “You’re staying.”

  Drew walked over to the door and picked up a bag. “Put these bags back when I’m gone. Don’t worry about me.” He dropped a bag to the side, then picked up another, dropping it to the floor.

  Megan puffed up her chest. “Don’t remove even one more, Drew.”

  Drew hesitated and thought for a moment. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He threw another bag aside. “You shoot me, then you’re a dick.” He gave Megan a wink and a smile. “And I know you’re not a dick.”

  Megan remained quiet until Drew removed all the bags. She held the gun steady. Drew touched the door knob.

  “Don’t do it, Drew.”

  He slowly turned the knob. “Like I said, cover the door back up when I leave.”

  Megan took a step toward him. “I’m coming with you.”

  Drew glanced at Carl. The big guy’s eyes were closed and his head was resting against the wall. The guy was asleep. “Alright, but put down your rifle. I don’t want any trouble up there.”

  Megan raised her brows. “Fuck no.”

  “Shit. Suit yourself.” Drew stepped on the first stair. It creaked, the old boards whining loudly. He eyed the staircase. “I’m coming on up.”

  The chair slid. Andrea had stood up. Then a second and a third chair slid a few inches across the floor. A male voice mumbled something Drew couldn’t hear. There were several people waiting, not just the doctor. Drew halted and put his hand up. He pointed his finger at the basement door, adamantly whispering, “Go back down there.” Andrea had invited Drew up, and no one else. He wanted to hear the woman out, wanted to know what she had to say. And he didn’t know if that would happen with Megan in tow.

  Megan patted her rifle, shaking her head. “Move.”

  Drew put his hands on his hips. “No.”

  Megan sighed. “Two of us are coming up.” She gave Drew a long stare, daring him to contradict her.

  “Two?” inquired Andrea.

  “Yes, two,” responded Drew, wanting to kick Megan in the shin.

  “How old is the woman you’re with, Drew?” asked Andrea.

  What an odd question.

  “I’m in my early twenties,” responded Megan.

  “Okay, thank you,” replied Andrea. There was an air of disappointment in the doctor’s voice.

  They stepped over the dead, purple creature from who-knows-where, its blood dripping down the staircase, and made it up the steps and to the bar. Two bulky men in sun glasses stood next to a woman who looked to be in her forties, long brown hair, and a white coat on over her clothes, as if that’s all the doctor ever wore. The men had odd-looking guns hooked to their belts and acted more like body guards than anything else.

  “Wow, you don’t look like your father at all,” said Andrea, her lips downturned. She gestured to a chair that was pulled back from a table. “Take a seat.” She flashed a smile.

  “She was my apprentice, Drew,” came Drew’s mother. Oh, good! Back to talking! Drew hated getting the silent treatment from his mother. Even dead, she ruled his heart. “Be –”

&nbs
p; Gun fire rumbled outside, drowning out Drew’s mom.

  She was what, mom?

  No reply.

  Should I trust this woman?

  Again, no response.

  Fuck. So, his mom knew this Andrea woman. A good omen, a bad one? He sighed loudly and took a seat, cautiously eyeing Andrea. Megan took a seat next to Drew.

  Drew crossed his arms. If Andrea Cross was going to spill anything that she knew about Drew and his dad, the last thing Drew wanted was for anyone in Whitefish to know, especially Megan. She was the bar owner, bar tender, and server in this joint. And who knew, maybe she had a gift for gab and gossip. His dad, Slade, wasn’t a nice guy, and everyone who had witnessed Slade’s hightail off this planet, along with the rest of the politicians, might not care one iota if he, Drew, was a good guy. The sins of the father could definitely be visited on the head of the son. His high had almost evaporated. Sad how thoughts of sin would do that to a guy. He fell to Earth with nasty realization. His Father was Public Enemy Number…well, not One…but in the top 10 for sure. Murder by association might not be off the cards. Drew was certainly associated by blood to Slade.

  Andrea gestured for one of the guards to move over by the door. He did, taking a peak outside, then nodding to Andrea.

  Andrea rubbed her eyes. They were tired, a little swollen and bloodshot. Whatever she’d been up to, it sure as heck wasn’t sleep. “Sorry. We’ve been trying to locate you for weeks, Drew, per your mother’s orders. If she were to die, we were authorized to find you and implement the plan. We’ve been looking for you, so we can take you to safety.

  Drew frowned. What in the actual fuck was she on about?

  “We are to take you to safety, if and only if, your mother gave you pertinent details before she passed. And, according to our sources deep inside her assisted living center, we have confirmation that she did relay the relevant data to you.”

  “Something my mother told me has kept me safe?” Drew looked around, confused.

  “Close. Something your mother told you will keep you safe. We are to take you to safety.”

 

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