Children of the Fifth Sun

by Gareth Worthington

  For the next week, he’d watched her—how she worked with the children, how she loved them as if they were her own, and how they loved her in return. He photographed her endlessly. Each night, he’d develop the film and stare at her face—a beautiful face like that of an angel and unlike anyone he’d ever seen before. She had a halo, a glow around her.

  It had taken her nearly drowning for him to get that first date. She had been swimming in the river, but the current had been too fast at the center. She’d been hauled downstream and pulled under. Kelly had been in the jungle nearby, setting up equipment for an extended capture session—time-lapse photography. Then, he had heard her gurgled cry. Kelly knew instantly it was her. He dropped his beloved camera, ran as fast as he could to the river, and dove in without thinking. He fought the current and grabbed her flailing body, dragging her to the riverbank. They had lain there, panting and out of breath. When he could speak again, he opened his mouth and said, “I just broke my camera—my favorite camera. I think that means you owe me a date.” Izel lay there for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Her beautiful face lit up. He loved her right then and there. It was weeks later that Kelly discovered he already knew her little brother, Chris, from college. That just made things all the more romantic and serendipitous to him. They were his first family.

  * * *

  Freya walked quietly beside him, her gaze fixed on the forest floor. She was lost in her own thoughts. Kelly glanced at her from the side, analyzing her. She seemed so different. The bolshie, headstrong woman had been replaced with a quiet, perhaps even sensitive person. Her features seemed less angular than before. In fact, she seemed almost vulnerable.

  “Are you alright?”

  She glanced up, her eyes wide and unsure. “I guess. I’m just questioning everything, you know? I’ve spent my whole life in the service of the government and never really thought about it. Now, I’m not sure of anything anymore.” She released a quiet sigh and shook her head.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the same boat. Spent the last few years wishing I was dead and took every crazy assignment I could on the off-chance it might kill me but never had the guts to do anything about it. Now, in the face of all this, I feel really stupid.” He looked at his feet and kicked his own heels as he walked like a reprimanded toddler.

  “You think K’in is okay? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I bet he is, too.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Kelly picked up speed and jogged to catch the group. He passed K’in, who turned to watch him pass. Once at the head of the caravan, he slowed to match the pace of the elderly man. Freya saw Kelly talking and gesturing to indicate eating. The man nodded and pointed in front of them. The village was close. Kelly strolled back to Freya. “We’re close. We can eat in the village.”

  “Okay, great. I’m famished.”

  “Me too.”

  “Strange, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that?”

  “All that has happened, and yet here we are thinking about food. The human ability to move on, to do what is necessary to survive.”

  “I guess. We just keep on trucking. Look at Moby over there. He hasn’t got a clue what’s happening. But he’s happy to come along anyway. And these villagers have just taken the whole situation on board. So it’s a man-sized salamander that may have telepathic powers? Okay, got it. It’s crazy.”

  * * *

  The group crested the last green hill that signaled a break in the tree line. In front of them lay a flattened area of rich, reddish brown mud speckled with pot holes and filled with discolored water. Various shanty-style cabins were dotted around, each with a corrugated metal roof. Children danced about in nothing but shorts or a t-shirt but never both as an ensemble. They chased each other in and out of the large puddles, occasionally being reprimanded by their mothers or an older girl for unnecessary splashing.

  The elderly leader of the returning troop marched into the center of this strange, little hamlet and stood on a large rock. He opened his arms as wide as he could and then loudly and purposefully cleared his throat. The people hushed. The children stopped running. He had commanded their attention. He spoke vociferously, and gesticulated wildly. Kelly strained to listen, to interpret, but the man spoke far too quickly. Until, that was, the man uttered his last word. A word Kelly did understand—Quetzalcoatl.

  The elder swung his arms backward. The troop of Peruvian miners behind him parted like a human curtain, revealing the creature. The sharp intake of breath was unmistakable as the villagers recoiled at the site of K’in. Some of the children cried, running to their mothers and older sisters.

  K’in appeared uneasy, his feet shuffling nervously. Kelly drifted toward him and placed his left hand on the creature’s head. K’in ceased moving and looked at Kelly. The creature blinked slowly, calming at his touch. Kelly smiled at him, never speaking a word but communicating all the while. Everything was going to be okay.

  The elder stepped down from his rock and waltzed happily over to K’in. He looked the animal straight in its glassy black eyes, searching for an answer to his unspoken question. The elder bowed his head and closed his eyes before kneeling in front of K’in. He stretched out one hand and touched the animal’s forehead as he had done previously. Kelly felt the warmth and contentment course through the creature. It soothed him, too.

  In a corner of the dirty courtyard, a small girl, no more than four-years old, took a single step away from her older sister. The toddler wore an ill-fitting, yellow t-shirt and nothing else. Her shoulder-length, black hair was braided into two pigtails, which stuck out horizontally as if fixed by bent wire. She took another uneasy step forward, childish inquisitiveness forcing her legs to move. With a rubbery gait, she had reached the creature within ten paces.

  K’in looked at the miniature human. He was intrigued, cocking his head to one side and staring. The tot reached forward, her tiny fingers waving like branches in a breeze. Her touch reached the skin on the tip of K’in’s face, on what could only be described as his nose. His skin was warm and wet, not cold and clammy as it appeared. The creature’s giant plumes billowed outward in apparent joy. The little girl giggled and allowed her whole palm to rest on K’in’s head.

  That was the trigger. The other villagers edged closer, each one placing a hand on K’in as they reached him. The creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, with each additional person, K’in appeared to grow happier.

  Freya slid across to Kelly from the spot where she had been transfixed. “What’s going on?”

  “Look at them. So happy, so content. And look at K’in. He seems so comfortable.”

  “K’in? Him?”

  “I guess he’s grown on me. To be more accurate, he’s grown in me.”

  “In you?”

  “Yeah, here.” Kelly lifted Freya’s right hand and moved it toward K’in. She resisted, trying to recoil.

  “It’s okay. Trust me.”

  Freya looked into his eyes, trying to decide whether to trust him or not. “Okay.”

  Kelly pulled her hand again and placed it on a free space in the middle of the creature’s back, keeping his hand on top of hers in reassurance. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

  “Understand?”

  Freya just nodded. She could feel the kindness and tranquility pervading her, not just from K’in but from Kelly, from each of the villagers. They were all connected. She closed her eyes and absorbed the feeling, being part of a greater whole. Perfection.

  A strange, low-frequency warble emanated from deep within the creature’s throat. The entourage of villagers stepped back quickly, unsure if they had angered him. The creature arched his back and moved to rest almost all of his weight on his hind legs. Slowly, his head lifted upward toward the sky, the red plumes forcefully outstretched. The bright sunlight shone through the crimson, feather-like fans, projecting a halo of fire around the creature’s head as he stood as tall as he could on two legs, his tail used to form a supp
ortive tripod. K’in was upright, elevated and god-like, commanding reverence.

  The elder nodded as if in agreement with K’in. He turned to his villagers and rapidly muttered a few words. Several women ran off and returned with dishes containing various fruits and vegetables. Others brought things they had obviously created in their shacks using what was available in the forest. It was time to eat.

  K’in dropped back to the floor on all fours, the halo of fire dissipated. He padded over to one of the bowls held by an old woman. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the strange scent. A small child stepped beside him, dipped his hand in the bowl, and scooped out a large handful of the brown, semi-solid mush before placing it in his mouth. An obnoxious grin spread across his round face as he attempted to chew the oversized mouthful. K’in stared at him and then the bowl. Message received. K’in shoved his head into the bowl, almost knocking the old woman off her feet. Squelching noises and loud gulps could be heard from inside the pot. The villagers laughed.

  “See, told you he was hungry,” Freya said.

  Kelly nodded. “Yeah. Well, so am I. Let’s eat and then get some rest. This heat is killing me.”

  Location: A remote village, Peru, South America

  The warm water swirled around Kelly’s toes as he stood in the sand and stared out into the bottle-green ocean. There in the swash, they played. Two silhouettes set against the dusk red sun and orange sky. No faces or details could be made out, but he knew it was them.

  Izel picked up the little one and swung her through the air. There was giggling—lots of giggling. Kelly smiled. He wanted to cry out to them, run to them. But he knew it was not the time—not now but one day. She turned to him waved.

  The little one copied. “Bye, daddy.”

  * * *

  Kelly opened his eyes and lay there for a few minutes, facing the rusted ceiling of the shack. It was the first time he could remember feeling no pain in his heart as he woke. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes and streaked down his temples. “Bye, sweetheart.”

  He swung his legs out of bed and slipped back into a shabby, black t-shirt. His shoulder ached from the gunshot wound but, surprisingly, wasn’t too stiff. He was already wearing pants and boots; he hadn’t bothered to remove them when he had fallen into bed, exhausted. He ambled over to the doorway and out into the morning air. The dawn sun peeked over the luscious, green hills in the distance, and the sky was painted a gray-pink. Kelly admired the view from the little mud hill on which he stood, his arms folded across his chest. He loved it here.

  The faint sound of laughter behind him drew his attention away from the picturesque setting. He twisted his torso to see behind him. Freya was kneeling in the dirt with five or six children bouncing around her. She caught Kelly’s gaze. A fleeting smile graced her face before disappearing in embarrassment and more than a little guilt for smiling at all. She turned back to the children. Kelly stared at her. This scene was all too familiar.

  He looked away and focused on the villagers. They were shuffling around K’in, bathing him in a ditch they had dug. They appeared calmed by his presence—comforted. But K’in was watching Kelly. Those black eyes fixated on him. He felt anxiety in K’in—fear and apprehension. Kelly didn’t know if the creature understood what was going on. Perhaps the animal sensed Kelly’s own emotional state.

  Raindrops speckled his face, breaking his train of thought. The children tittered and danced around, invigorated by the drizzle. Kelly and Freya looked up to the now graying sky; a thick covering of cloud obscured the heavens and the sun. Kelly closed his eyes and allowed the falling water to wash over his dirty skin. It was cool, refreshing.

  He screwed his eyes shut. Then he heard a noise, familiar and unwelcome. Kelly jerked into life and shot his gaze at Freya. She was staring wide-eyed at him, the color from her already pale skin drained. It was a plane. Someone was looking for them. Kelly knew they couldn’t stay there forever. Once the cloud cleared, it would be easier to find them.

  Freya nodded at him, knowing his thoughts—a silent agreement. She squelched through the mud toward Kelly.

  “Time to go?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Tremaine is out there in a stealth sub somewhere, so we have transportation. Actually, trapped in a long tube a mile underwater sounds like the safest place on Earth right now. Do you know where you want to go?”

  “The world is in chaos. Every major religion is up in arms. The U.S. Government is not only trying to placate the people but to avoid World War Three with the Chinese. And some kind of horrible disease is spreading over the western seaboard. Everything’s fucked. Thousands of years ago, K’in’s kind saved us from our own savagery. Perhaps we can help him do it again.”

  “Are you starting to believe all of this now?”

  “At this point, I’ll believe anything. We just need to get our hands on one of those devices.”

  “We lost ours and destroyed the Chinese’s.”

  “I think I know where I can get another one.”

  “Oh?”

  “I worked a lot in the Middle East. There were always nut jobs looking for various treasure—gold and whatever from Babylon and ancient places like that. Anyway, I often heard people talk about the book of Thoth. Figured it was a load of crap, you know? But what if it wasn’t? What if it’s another device like the professor thinks?”

  “So we go to Egypt?” Freya asked.

  Kelly nodded. “Egypt.”

  Location: A hospital, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

  Benjamin opened his eyes. He was alive. He glanced around the room, searching for an explanation of what had just happened. On the floor lay the drunken man who had been wielding the golf club moments earlier. The body was spread awkwardly, face-down in a pool of blood—an open wound in the back of a broken skull. Above the man stood a soldier in a dark green flight suit, clutching a smoking Glock 19 in his hands. It was Wiezorek.

  “We need to get you out of here, sir.” The soldier was out of breath, his chest heaving. His face was blackened and smeared with blood. It was unclear if the blood was his or someone else’s. “I was waiting for the surgeon to return and tried to contact HQ. A mob invaded the hospital. The whole town has gone berserk! I managed to fight off three of them and came straight here for you.”

  The General nodded weakly and attempted to lift himself from the hospital bed, but his arms were too feeble. He collapsed backward, his face screwed up in pain.

  “Shit.” Benjamin’s voice was muffled by the oxygen mask still sitting over his nose and mouth.

  “I’ve got you. C’mon, sir.”

  Wiezorek holstered his weapon and stepped over the dead man. He pulled the mask from the General’s face and heaved him from the bed. Benjamin groaned in agony. A drip bag and its metal support crashed to the floor as the intravenous line protruding from the General’s right hand pulled on the poorly balanced structure. He winced.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll have to take that out.”

  The General nodded.

  Wiezorek released his grip on the General’s left arm, leaving him to weakly hang on, one arm draped over the pilot’s neck. He then reached across and grasped the needle protruding from the back of his commander’s hand. He tugged at it sharply, releasing it from the skin. Benjamin took in a short breath and breathed out the pain.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  The General shook his head. Wiezorek knew what this meant: it doesn’t matter. Carry on. Re-gripping the General’s left arm, Wiezorek braced and lifted. The man was a dead weight. The pilot grunted in effort. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here, sir.”

  Benjamin glanced over his shoulder as they exited into the corridor. His eyes fell on the broken form of Professor Alexander—his friend, his partner in all this mess. Damn, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. The professor was meant to be the link, the one who could make the connection. Benjamin shook his head.

  Taking strides as strongly as he could, the young pilot dragged
the General along with him. He swung left and then right, unsure which way he was meant to go. The corridors were full of smoke and small fires burned everywhere. The acrid particles seared his eyes and stifled his lungs. He trudged on until he came to a fire-exit. Wiezorek kicked on the horizontal lock-releasing bar that lay across the door, flinging it open. Before it could swing closed, he stepped through and used his left foot to halt it on its return path. He peered down the stairwell. It seemed empty.

  “C’mon, sir. Keep going. We’ll make it outside and try to commandeer a vehicle.”

  The two men stumbled down the spiral staircase, each step labored and uneasy. As they passed each floor, the same sound of chaos grew louder and then quieted. The General’s instincts took over, the hair on the back of his neck standing. Without thinking, he used his free hand to reach across and unholster the pilot’s Glock. It was heavy, making it difficult for the General to do anything other than let his arm hang at his side, the weapon pointing at the floor. Still, he felt safer holding it.

  Wiezorek tripped and fell into a wall. “Shit! Sorry, sir.”

  “You’re doing fine, soldier. I’m okay. Keep going.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairwell and staggered through the double doors into the open emergency waiting room. Random fires littered the floor and windows were smashed, but it was devoid of activity and eerily quiet.

  Wiezorek hauled the General outside through the automatic doors and searched his surroundings for the vehicle in which he had arrived. It wasn’t there. At least, if it was, he couldn’t see it through the night air masked in smoke and flames. It was probably burnt out.