Children of the Fifth Sun

by Gareth Worthington

  The door opened without as much as a creak. No one inside. The bathroom was almost as fancy as the bar itself, with toilet stall doors fashioned to look like paper-thin Chinese walls. Not very safe, thought Jerry as he quickly made his way inside a stall and closed the door behind him. He sat on the toilet and exhaled, his heart thumping in his chest. He looked at the letter and slowly started picking at the wax heart. A waft of perfume filled his nostrils as the envelope popped open. Inside was a small USB key, millimeters thin, and a white piece of paper. Jerry eyed the key. Too small to have much memory capacity. No, it was a web uplink key, something to direct him somewhere else. Shit, more cat and mouse stuff.

  He held the paper up to read the tiny scrawl: answer your phone. Answer his phone? Jerry’s phone sprang into life, once again sending him into near cardiac arrest. “Hello?”

  “You have the key?”

  “Y ... yes.”

  “Good. There is an Internet café about six blocks down the road; head south. Go inside and wait for further instructions. Do not leave the café under any circumstances. It may be a few hours.”

  “Why, what do you people want? Wha—”

  Click. The phone went dead.

  Jerry sighed. He put the key in his pocket and headed back out into the main room. It was heaving with people, each one squashed against the next. He repeatedly apologized as he pushed through and past groups of men and women, feeling their keys and phone edges prodding into him. Each time he tried to squeeze through, he received a look of disgust. He didn’t care. He wasn’t in the mood. He wondered if they were really guests or actors paid to make all of this look real—spies watching his every move. When he peered out the front door, it was a relief to see that at least the rain had stopped. He sucked in a deep breath, nodded to the doorman to open up, and stepped outside.

  Location: Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

  The whir of the massive rotors droned through the hull of the immense Chinook. Victoria had been in a few of these choppers in her time but had not seen one like this before. Usually, they were slow and sluggish—not something in which she would have chosen to be rescued. This one was different somehow—larger and faster. She’d asked the pilot what model it was and if it was capable of getting them the hell out of there.

  “This is a MH-47G,” the pilot had replied, “upgraded with the latest digital Common Avionics Architecture System. And, well, the rest is classified, ma’am. We’ll get you home.”

  But they weren’t going home, she’d thought.

  Victoria leaned back on her seat, a red piece of material stretched over metal framework, and fiddled with the silver crucifix that rested on her chest. Behind her, a lattice-work of red cloth was suspended from a metallic pole that ran the length of the cargo hold. It formed a poor back support. She peered out through one of the small porthole windows and admired the calm, black-purple water. A light breeze rippled the moonlit surface. The chopper was screaming along at an extraordinary pace, very close to the water’s surface.

  She turned her attention back to her traveling companions. The Shadow Man and Ms. Nilsson were sitting side by side, almost bolt upright, hands in their laps, with their eyes closed. It was as if they slept but could at any moment regain consciousness and perfect agility should the need arise. Chris was on his haunches, his back against the cushioned lining of the interior. Victoria followed Chris’s gaze to the large Kelly-shaped lump underneath an army-issue blanket. He was squeezing his eyes tightly together as if in pain and making the occasional grunt.

  “He’s having a nightmare.” Chris spoke quietly, his gaze never leaving Kelly. “He has them a lot.”

  “Is it the same dream each time?” Victoria asked.

  “No, but usually the same theme.”

  “You know what it’s about? Perhaps losing his hair or getting a really big spot?”

  “No, it’s about his wife and daughter.”

  Victoria’s attention was more focused now. “I didn’t know he’s married.”

  Chris sighed. “He was married before we met you.”

  Victoria furrowed her brow.

  Chris turned to face her and took a deep breath. “About seven years ago, Kelly was in South Africa to take pictures of sharks, near Seal Island in False Bay, south-east of Cape Town. He was part of a scientific exploration team. It was a year-long project, and the company was paying him a lot to do the underwater photography. Freediving photography, you know? He didn’t want to go for that long, but the pay would have set his family up for a good few years. Izel, his wife, had supported him and said he should go; it was only a year and would have been worth it. Carmen, his daughter, was only three, so it was better to be away at that time than when she would be older and would remember.”

  Victoria stared and nodded slowly, unable to think what she really wanted to say.

  “About nine months into the trip, he got a phone call. Izel had slit her wrists and had been found dead in their family home in California. Kelly dropped everything and got the next flight home. When he got to San Francisco airport, the police collected him and took him to the station.”

  Victoria’s gaze fell on Kelly’s frame. He was still twitching and grunting. “Oh, my ... Why? Why did she do that? Was she that lonely?”

  Chris coughed lightly and rubbed his face. He sighed again and started speaking slowly, his eyes fixed on the cabin floor. “About three months after Kelly had left for South Africa, Carmen had an accident. She had fallen down the stairs. She was so little, and her neck wasn’t strong enough. She died instantly.” Chris’s eyes filled with tears. “Izel was distraught. She didn’t know how to tell Kelly and wouldn’t let anyone else tell him. She became increasingly depressed. Until one day ...”

  Victoria couldn’t look away from Kelly. “And you’ve been looking after him ever since? Watching his back, as it were?”

  “Actually, it’s the other way around. Kelly was determined to look after me. I guess ‘cause I was her little brother. And I had no family.”

  Victoria cast a pained look over to Chris, who was hunched over like a small boy, afraid and alone in a playground of older children. “You never said you had a sister.”

  He ran his forearm across his nose and sniffed hard. “Well, you met us about a year after she died. We didn’t like to talk of her much back then. Anyway, it’s been him and me ever since. But it changed him. Silly bastard doesn’t have any fear any more. Says if it’s his time to go, then it’s time, and he’ll just see them again all the sooner. To be honest, I know he doesn’t believe in all that. I think he just says it to make me feel better.”

  Kelly awoke with a start, his body viciously jerking. His eyes were wide as they searched the dark cabin.

  “Decided to join us, did you?” Chris forced a laugh from his throat.

  “Yeah.” Kelly paused, placed both hands on his face and wiped the sweat off, pulling at his skin. “Can’t let you have all the fun, now can I? Where the fuck are we? Last thing I remember, I was ascending, but I couldn’t find Victoria, and the crane, the crane came past my head, and then I blacked out.”

  Victoria sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “We’re not sure ourselves. It all happened very quickly. There were a lot of flashes above the surface. I couldn’t hear anything, but it looked like chaos. The next thing I knew, Tremaine was in the water with me, dragging me by the arm. When I broke the surface, everything was going crazy. There were explosions and gunfire; it was hectic. Tremaine yanked me to this helicopter and threw me inside. Chris was screaming and fighting to get into the water to find you, but Ms. Nilsson had already gone in and was pulling you out. She’s stronger than she looks. I thought she might have broken a nail.” Victoria glanced over to the still sleeping woman.

  Kelly rubbed his head, still feeling a little groggy. “Okay, but you still don’t know what happened?”

  Victoria shook her head. “No, Ms. Nilsson said we’d drifted into someone else’s territory. Pissed someone off, so we had to get the
hell out of there.”

  “Now, we’ve been flying for hours. I wonder where we are going.” Chris’s voice trailed off.

  Kelly stood and stumbled across to the window next to Victoria, placing a hand each side of the porthole. He could only see a black sky and black water—no stars, nothing. Clouds must have been covering the moon. Kelly scanned what he thought was the horizon, a faint, barely discernible horizontal line halfway through his line of sight. In the far distance, he could see an even darker shape dotted with yellow and blue pinpricks, something long, something huge—a ship. “I think we’re heading to that; it must be an aircraft carrier or something. It’s the only thing out there.” He twisted his body back around and plonked down wearily next to Victoria.

  “It’s to refuel. We’re heading back to land. It will be a short stopover. No need to leave the chopper.” Ms. Nilsson’s voice was quiet but purposeful, delivering only the most important information—no more, no less. Her eyes looked bright and alert as if she had never been asleep.

  The three friends sat silently, too tired to speak any more. A light spattering of raindrops against the hull and windows filled the stillness. The night sky appeared to draw darker as a massive cloud of fog enveloped the helicopter. It was going to be a rough landing.

  * * *

  His stomach lurched in his abdomen, abruptly startling Kelly awake. Where were they? He could hear the constant whirring sound, droning through his skull. The chopper. They were still in the chopper. It dropped ten feet in a sudden jerking movement—they were descending.

  Kelly threw a glance over to Victoria; she was curled up in a ball with her head in Chris’s lap. Chris sat upright, head tilted backward, mouth open, snoring. Kelly continued surveying the cabin until his eyes fell upon Ms. Nilsson and the Shadow Man, who were very much awake and still dressed immaculately, their hands resting in their laps.

  “Where the fuck are we?”

  “At our destination,” the Shadow Man replied.

  “Destination? What destination?”

  “You and your friends were tired, so we let you sleep through refueling on the carrier. We are back over land. The General would like to speak with you.” Ms. Nilsson’s voice was again without emotion.

  “General? What general? Look, I’ve had about enough of you people and your secrecy.”

  “Jesus, what’s all the fuss about?” Chris yawned and stretched. “Are we there yet?”

  Ms. Nilsson nodded. “Yes.”

  “There yet? Where yet? You know where we are going?” Kelly threw an irritated glare at Chris.

  “Chill, esé.” Chris patted his friend on the shoulder. “They said they were taking us to a safe place following the attack.”

  “Attack?” Now Kelly was good and pissed.

  “Yeah, while you were playing mermaids down there with Victoria, we got attacked by some kind of special ops guys in black wetsuits. Came outta nowhere. Our new friends here say we drifted into someone else’s territory. Before I knew it, André over there had grabbed me and stuffed Victoria into this chopper. Ms. Nilsson had gone in for you. All happened very quickly.”

  Kelly frowned, unconvinced. “And you guys just had the ability to get us out of there? Sure thing. And I suppose you got what you wanted?” He directed his question to Ms. Nilsson, who still sat serenely.

  “We did,” she cooed, pointing at the metal box sitting at Tremaine’s feet.

  “Right, then no need for—”

  The chopper landed with a jarring thud, waking Victoria. Before she could speak the side doors were flung open, clunking to a hard stop. Several men in flight suits and pilots’ helmets that obscured their faces scrambled inside, grabbed the three friends and dragged them from their seats through the opening into the cold night air.

  Kelly stumbled, his legs still a little rubbery. “Jesus, you guys don’t think much about manners or being a good host, huh?”

  “Welcome to Paradise Ranch,” bellowed Tremaine, his voice almost drowned out by the noise of the Chinook rotors.

  “We at some kind of resort? Are you shitting me?” Kelly’s eyes rolled around in his head.

  “Just follow us, please.” Ms. Nilsson marched on ahead.

  The landscape was bleak and monochromatic. The moon shone overhead, a bright white eye judging the three friends and their hosts as they trudged toward a small gray building.

  Chris searched the horizon for some clue as to their whereabouts—a landmark, a tree, anything that might help with orientation—but he didn’t recognize anything. He glanced at Victoria, who was walking head down, pulling at her crucifix again, and lost in thought. Kelly was a few paces behind, still unable to pick up his feet properly.

  The troop approached the gray building. There were no windows, no signs, no markings, just a heavy, metallic door. Ms. Nilsson strode toward it. Chris watched her touch a panel and type something quickly. The door clunked open, and a guard appeared. Ms. Nilsson showed her ID and nodded to the group. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but clearly she was talking about them. The guard looked over her shoulder and then nodded.

  Kelly and the group were frog-marched through the narrow door. The three friends glanced around. The inside of the building was even bleaker than the landscape outside—no wall markings, no windows, nothing except an elevator.

  Kelly fidgeted on the spot, uncomfortable in the cramped space. “You still haven’t told us who this general is and why he wants to see us.”

  “General Lloyd heads up this facility. And given the current circumstances, he felt it was safer for you here.” Ms. Nilsson spoke without even looking at Kelly.

  The elevator door slid open and the group sauntered in. It was equally as bleak as the building and somewhat cramped. They stood inside, uncomfortably close to one another with shoulders pressed together. The lift dropped, whooshing as they descended. It seemed to take forever to stop, but soon enough the door glided open again. Ms. Nilsson strode out and without stopping marched down the only corridor that led off into the darkness. Kelly and Chris shrugged and started after her, Victoria in tow.

  The slender woman weaved left and right through the maze of corridors. Kelly followed her lead, all the while musing on the military’s preoccupation with rabbit warren-like structures. He glanced over his shoulder. His best friend was muttering, trying to memorize the course they were taking, probably to later have an escape route. Victoria was staring at the floor and following the herd, holding her crucifix between her finger and thumb.

  Kelly shook his head and turned his attention back to Ms. Nilsson. She had now stopped at large double doors. Ms. Nilsson showed her ID to the guard, who stepped aside and triggered the door mechanism. The huge doors slid silently apart, allowing the group to meander in.

  Inside, the room stretched far beyond them. Everything appeared hermetically sealed—no joints between stark white walls or between wall and ceiling, as if it were meant to be air- or water-tight. At one end of the room, a huge wall stood with a single, black, glass plate set into the right-hand side about five feet above the floor. At the other end, a collection of desks was bolted to the ground with various monitors and notebooks strewn all over them.

  Standing at one of the desks was a tall, broad man in a crisp, dark military suit. The thick, blue material looked heavy and regal. His black boots were adorned with glass-like toe caps, clearly the result of many hours of polishing and smoothing with a hot spoon—the proper military way to shine boots. The medals on his uniform appeared to vibrate in the hum of the fluorescent light, a mosaic homage commemorating a lifetime commitment to the U.S. forces and a testament to the blood he had shed in the name of freedom and the American way. Kelly looked the man in the face. He was leathery and craggy with crew-cut silver hair and a beard adorning his square head.

  “This is General Benjamin Lloyd,” announced Ms. Nilsson.

  “Is this the bit where I’m impressed?” quipped Kelly.

  The General eyed him. “In fact, Mr. Graham
, it is.” He walked toward the group and then directly through them, silently commanding them to move aside but strangely slowed to rest a hand on Ms. Nilsson’s shoulder before continuing to storm to the opposite wall. The General pressed his open palm against the black glass panel for a few seconds, then pulled it away. A fluorescent white imprint of his hand remained on the screen—every fingerprint, every whorl, every line in perfect detail. A metallic voice sounded overhead.

  “Verifying identity.”

  Kelly looked back at the black monitor. Small, red circles had appeared at different points on the handprint of light, marking key identifying areas—a scar, a whorl with six grooves, the length of the index finger.

  “Identity found. General Lloyd, awaiting voice command.”

  “Lloyd. Benjamin. Access code: FEMA, dash, 751, slash omega. Password: Viracocha.” The General spoke loudly, enunciating every syllable.

  “Access code and password confirmed.”

  There was a dull clunking sound as a lock released. The huge white wall in front of them parted, forming into sliding doors that glided effortlessly and without a sound. Behind the separating wall stood an enormous aquarium. The water was black—cold. At least, Kelly assumed it was cold. It looked it—uninviting, empty, soulless, and nothing like the ocean he loved so much.

  Something jerked inside the tank. A brief second of movement, a white flash, and then it was gone. Kelly, Chris, and Victoria ran over and rested their palms on the glass. Their eyes were wide, flicking from place to place, trying to penetrate the darkness.

  It slapped its body violently against the glass, its webbed hands landing in almost the same position as Kelly’s. The group reeled backward, tripping over their own feet.

  “This, ladies and gentlemen, is Ambystoma Sapiens.”

  Kelly stepped closer again. “That’s quite a mouthful to say.”

  “Indeed,” the General agreed. “We just call it K’in. It’s Mayan for—”

  “Sun, yes, I know,” finished Kelly without looking away.

  The creature was the size of a large Nile crocodile. Its trunk was cylindrical, uniformly thick, and segmented with regularly spaced furrows. Its whole body was covered by a thin layer of translucent, white-pink skin. Internal organs shone through its abdomen—the intestine and a beating purple mass that must have been its heart. It had a short, laterally flattened tail surrounded by a thin fin. Its arms, if that was what they were, only had three digits, while the feet only had two toes. Its pear-shaped head ended abruptly with a short, flattened snout. The mouth was small with tiny teeth that formed a sort of sieve. It had nostrils near the end of the snout, though they were so small they could well be vestigial. Six external stalks, each almost three feet in length, lined with bright red filaments protruded flamboyantly from the back of its head—three from the left side and three from the right like the feathers on the headdress of a Vegas showgirl. Curiously, the creature appeared to have eyes, but they were regressed and covered by the same thin skin as the rest of the head and body. It was blind.