* * *
A group of children were gathered at Kelly’s feet, each one waving a rough-hewn carving in his face. All of them were chattering away in broken English, vying for their wares to be purchased. One of the children was too close and accidentally tapped his knee with a statuette of Anubis—a man with the head of a jackal. “Imshee, imshee!” Kelly shouted.
The children scattered.
“You know they don’t mean any harm, Kelly.” Freya stood ten paces away, resting her weight on one hip.
Kelly looked up. “I know that. I just have to figure out what to do next. Plus I’m not feeling too hot. Kinda sick.”
“It’ll be the sun. You need to get in the shade. And as for our next move, he’s agreed to help us.”
“I don’t want his fucking help.”
“Stop being a child. You brought me here because you said he could help us. You have to put your differences aside.” Freya thought carefully about her next words. “What would your wife want?” As she finished the last word, she held her breath for the response.
“I guess.”
Freya exhaled as Kelly shuffled off the wall and dropped the few inches to the ground. All of this was draining for him, he couldn’t even be bothered to argue with her.
Dusting his pants down, Kelly picked up his backpack and trudged over to her. “Okay, where is the miserable old fuck?”
“He’s still in that building, I guess. I gave him the Twitter version of what’s happened. It was a lot to take in. He told me to wait outside.”
“Twitter version? You know what, don’t tell me.” Kelly stomped past her toward the building, muttering under his breath, “Here we go.”
Location: U.S. submarine, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
Wiezorek focused his attention on the General. Even though the creature was no more than ten feet away, asleep in its tub, the young officer could not take his eyes from his superior officer. He had observed that the General was a man of few words, but something told him this leader was also a man of deep feeling. The man’s face was often pained as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Over the last few days, the General had let several things slip—the odd word, the occasional facial expression or body movement. Each time it had been in relation to Agent Nilsson.
He rose from his seat and walked over to the General, who was standing, arms across his chest, near the creature.
“Sir, if I may, perhaps you should rest. I can watch the creature.”
The General turned his head to face the young man. A few moments passed without a word, but eventually, he decided to speak. “How old are you, son?”
“Twenty-six, sir.”
“Twenty-six. So young. I don’t even think I remember being that age. It all blurs into one long war for me. But Freya, I remember her being even younger—twenty-one. It wasn’t so long ago.”
“Freya, sir?”
He heaved a sigh. “Ms. Nilsson.”
“Oh.”
“She’s my goddaughter, you know. Raised her myself when her parents died.”
Wiezorek remained silent.
“When she was your age, she looked at me just like you do—with respect, with perhaps even a little pride. But now ...” He hesitated. “Now, she sees me for what I am—a foolish old man.”
Again, the pilot did not reply.
“Young man, she may not understand. But this being, this creature, could be the answer to all our prayers—to everything, to ultimate peace.”
“Peace, sir?”
“Peace. The world is in chaos, but out of chaos, comes reason. Sometimes you have to disrupt everything to change how people think. And we are trying to change how entire nations think.”
“And the creature will help us do that?”
“Yes.” The General nodded. “Once the major powers have fought amongst themselves and the world is on its knees, desperate, people will be much more willing to listen—to understand.”
Wiezorek mused on the General’s words. Perhaps he was right. There had been many smaller wars, none of which had really changed anything. Iraq. Afghanistan. But World War II, when everything was pretty much destroyed, had changed the way people behaved. “I think I understand, sir.”
Benjamin gave a weak smile. “Then perhaps all I’m doing will not be in vain.” He placed a hand on the pilot’s shoulder. “I will need your support. There are few people I can trust. Can I count on you?”
The young man nodded. “Of course, sir.”
“I knew I could. You are a good soldier, young Ethan.” The General took a final glance at the sleeping animal, its breathing rapid and irregular. “Watch the creature. It doesn’t seem well. You let me know if anything strange happens, understood?”
Wiezorek stood straight and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Benjamin returned the salute and exited the room. K’in opened his eyes slightly and watched the pilot walk back to his seat. Wiezorek caught a glimpse of the creature observing him. He turned to face it and stared into the animal’s eyes. For a second, he thought it looked sad.
Location: A small village, Egypt
Freya sat watching the two men. Each of them was plonked cross-legged on the ground, a small fire separating them. The orange flames lit their faces from beneath, exaggerating their already sour expressions. Her gaze fell on Kelly for a few seconds longer than she would have liked to be noticed. In one way, she found him so attractive and masculine. The way she had when she met him on the ship in the South China Sea. He was so brave and adventurous. And then there was the other side of him—the giant, defiant, toddler who threw tantrums when he didn’t get his own way. She tried to give him some leeway. After all, he was dragged into this. But sometimes, she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to kiss him or slap him. She smiled. Perhaps she’d do both.
Kelly sensed her staring at him and threw a glance over the fire in her direction.
Freya quickly turned to Alejandro. “Where are we going to start? We don’t have much time.”
“I’ve been thinking on that myself, Ms. Nilsson. My knowledge is restricted to linguistic issues, translations and re-translations from Greek to Egyptian and vice versa. However, your account fits with a very well-known story regarding Egypt and an advanced race that lived in or near water, as told by Plato.”
Kelly grunted. “Atlantis.”
Alejandro glared at him. “Highly intelligent noise, Kelly.”
Freya shot Kelly a look reminiscent of a scolding mother. “Continue, Professor D’Souza.”
“Where was I? Oh yes, Atlantis. According to Plato, Atlantis was a naval power, lying in front of the Pillars of Hercules that conquered many parts of Europe and Africa in approximately 9600 BC. After a poor attempt to invade Athens, Atlantis apparently sank into the ocean within twenty-four hours. Most scholars have decided that Plato was merely telling a story, using it as an educational tool. My readings of Plato’s original work have led me to the same conclusion. Until now.”
“Are you seriously suggesting that we go hunting for Atlantis?” Kelly rolled his eyes.
“No, no, no, stupid boy. Let me finish.”
Kelly grunted again.
“I still believe Atlantis, as described by Plato, was an allegory. However, most stories are based in some truth. From what Ms. Nilsson tells me and has shown me, there was a species that predates humans or, at the very least, existed alongside us. Indeed, there are all kinds of theories about the age of the monuments here in Egypt. Several theories suggest the pyramids align with the stars of Orion’s belt, not only in their position along the Nile but also the shafts that run outward from the Great Pyramid of Khufu.” He paused for breath. “The only issue is, according to these theories, these alignments are inconsistent with when we suppose the pyramids were built. Scholars generally attribute the pyramids to a period around 2500 BC. If the alternate history theorists are to be believed, these star alignments are only possible when considering the stars in their position around 10500 BC.
Moreover, some of the texts I have read also refer to a great flood. In fact, there was a gentleman out here a few years ago examining the Sphinx. He claimed the erosion patterns on the statue were created by water, not wind, which suggests some credit to your story.” He paused again, this time for dramatic effect. “Perhaps some ancient species was building monuments well before the Egyptians. Or perhaps they were teaching others how to build them. Either way, if such a civilization existed, and were as advanced as is believed, then it makes sense that they—or we—would want to try and store this knowledge.”
“And that’s what we are looking for. An orb, an object, that can link minds and perhaps even store thoughts,” confirmed Freya.
“In the early 1930s, a man named Edgar Cayce popularized the idea of a secret chamber associated with the Sphinx, a Hall of Records, which was purported to hold a complete record of Atlantis. Perhaps a record of Atlantis was not what was stored, but something else was.”
“So there is a hall under the Sphinx?” Freya’s eyes widened in excited curiosity.
“That’s bullshit,” Kelly cut in. “It would have been found by now.” He shook his head, a look of frustration and disappointment on his face. This was a waste of time.
“Kelly, you dragged me halfway around the world because you thought this man could help. So let him help.”
“Yes, but I thought we were going to get sensible answers.”
“Will you shut up? Ms. Nilsson, while Kelly is essentially correct, there are three known passageways leading into the Sphinx. One is on the Sphinx’s back near its head, but it is only a short blind-ended shaft. Another is at ground level near one of its hips. But again, this shaft only leads to a dead end below the water table. But then ...” The old man leaned forward. “Then, there is an iron trap door fitted to the ground between the Sphinx’s paws. This isn’t a passage but a rectangular pit that was covered with a cement roof and an iron rod and sealed with a trap door during restoration efforts in the 1920s. Most people were confused as to why this pit existed. When it was originally excavated, only a few odd artifacts were found. They bore no markings and were lumped together with other artifacts, locked away in the archives of the Cairo Museum. Maybe what you’re looking for is there?” Alejandro sat back and stared over the crackling embers at Kelly.
Freya rose to her feet. “So we go to the Cairo Museum and ask to look in their archives.”
“It’s not as easy as that, I’m afraid. After the Egyptian revolution in 2011, security has been enhanced, albeit secretly, at the Museum, and they won’t be letting anyone wander around their archives. It’s not only junk down there but other artifacts of great value.”
“We’ll need another plan.” Kelly didn’t look up from the floor. “And I think I have one.”
Location: Cairo, Egypt
The convoy of three dark green trucks, each with six huge wheels and wrapped in thin olive-colored tarps, sped along the dirt road, sucking up a sandstorm in their wake. The Egyptian sun beat down on their roofs, the air above shimmering in the heat. Kelly and Freya, their heads low, watched from afar in their own clapped-out vehicle. The make was no longer discernible. Dents were evident in every panel and the paintwork all but torn away by years of sand-laden wind damage.
Kelly had not been particularly clear on the plan. He had just noted that much of the content of the original museum was being moved from the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities to the Grand Egyptian Museum, located approximately two miles from the Pyramids at Giza. The Egyptian Government had already moved more than ten thousand items under high security. Today, they were moving the bowels of the old building including some of the lesser-valued objects. According to another of Kelly’s somewhat questionable contacts, the item originally found between the paws of the sphinx was among them. His entire plan was to steal it, somehow. Alejandro wanted nothing to do with it and decided it was better if he wait in the plane at the small airfield.
“What now, Kelly? Hmmm? Do you even know which one we want?”
“Sure, the last one. It’s the one with the lowest profile, therefore the heaviest. I’m betting it’s in there.”
“How very scientific of you.”
“If you like that, then you’ll love this. I’m thinking we use you as bait.”
“What? That’s disgusting. I’m not flaunting myself in front of these dirty animals.”
Kelly choked on his laughter. “As sexy as I’m sure you think you are, that’s not what I meant there, toots.” He winked slyly. “You still have your ID on you? I doubt these guys are chatting to Interpol, so we can leverage your position with the U.S. military. We’ll say you are looking for terrorists. They’re distracted and I jump on board.”
“You want me, an American, to stop the Egyptian military and tell them I’m looking for terrorists, most likely Islamic terrorists? I think I prefer flaunting now.”
Kelly scratched his head thoughtfully. “Okay, forget that. We need a new plan.”
“Indeed. What we need to do is—”
“Okay, I got it.”
“I’m sure you do, but what we need to do is—”
“Hey, do you know Egypt?”
“No, but—”
“Get out of the car.”
“What?”
“Get. Out. Of. The. Car. Go wait over there under that tree.” Kelly waved to a solitary, crooked, withered, old tree that offered a sliver of shade from the searing sun.
She stepped out of the vehicle, slammed the door, and threw a scathing stare through the open passenger window.
“You can’t do everything on your own.”
“Sure. Now give me one of your guns. Sorry, Berettas.” He reached out his hand, palm open.
Freya sighed, reluctantly unholstered one of the firearms and, through the window, slapped it into his open hand. “Don’t kill yourself.”
“I haven’t died yet. Oh, and pass me that stick, will you? That big one, there.” He pointed vaguely behind her.
She spun around and searched the sandy ground. A large, bleached branch protruded from a small dune. She pulled it from the sand and passed it through the window.
“Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Nope, I’m good. Okay, now go hide.”
Freya watched the truck drive approximately half a mile, then stop. She frowned and shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand. The vehicle moved back and forth, turning to the right incrementally. Further beyond the convoy surged on, directly across the imaginary path of the little truck. The engine suddenly roared to life, and the wheels span against the fine sand beneath, spitting it backward. Traction took hold, and the truck accelerated. Freya strained to follow its trajectory. Judging by its velocity and direction, it would—before she could finish her thought, Kelly’s truck slammed into the side of the convoy’s lead vehicle, forcing it over onto its side.
The two trucks melded together, the metal warping and twisting until each one was no longer individually identifiable. The remaining two vehicles skidded to an abrupt halt. Freya hung onto the tree, half wanting to run, half knowing not to be so stupid. Thick black smoke billowed from the wreck. She could make out the tiny silhouettes of men jumping out of their trucks and running to the rescue of their comrade. Amongst the chaos, a lone figure scurried, crouching down about the last truck. The figure climbed in. The wagon jerked back awkwardly as if the driver had no idea how to operate it. It jolted forward a few feet, then stopped, and then a few more feet. Then, it exploded into life and gunned straight toward her. Freya froze. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Within seconds it was upon her. It slammed on its brakes, stopping inches from the spot where she stood. The smell of diesel and oil filled her nostrils as she stared at the huge front grill.
Kelly poked his head through the driver’s window. “C’mon! Fuckin’, move it!”
Freya launched into action and sprinted to the passenger side. She flung the door open, leapt inside, and slammed it behind her.
Kelly jammed down
the accelerator and yanked on the gearstick. The truck lurched. “C’mon, you son of a bitch! Move!”
It finally obeyed and powered forward, sliding and skidding as it struggled to grip the lose particles beneath its tires.
“I thought you’d ploughed into that other truck.”
“Nah, I fixed the gas with that stick and jumped before impact. You didn’t see me?”
“No. I was worried.”
Kelly turned his head to look at her but changed his mind as the distraction impaired his already poor driving skills, causing the vehicle to veer off course. “Worried?” he asked, his eyes now fixed ahead. “About lil o’ me? I’m indestructible. You know that.” He grinned.
“Just drive.” Freya rolled her eyes.
“Are they behind us?”
Freya leaned to peer into the side mirror. “Yes, coming up fast, and I would bet they will be radioing for help soon.”
“Probably. We need to make it to the hangar,” he shouted over the roar of the engine as he forced it to rev beyond its limits.
Sand flew behind the vehicle as it sped along. Kelly kept his foot pressed firmly on the accelerator, never letting up and never pressing the brake. Freya clung to the seat with both hands as he made yet another sharp swerve, the truck lifting onto two wheels before crashing back to all four. They were almost at Cairo’s city limits. It was chaos. Thousands of people had poured onto the streets, many carrying makeshift flags with Arabic scrawled across the material. One flag in particular caught Kelly’s eye. It had a sketch of a creature, not unlike K’in, encircled in red, a stripe through the middle.
“Shit.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a fucking protest.”
“We can’t afford to get stopped.”
“Actually, this may be beneficial for us. We need to get lost in the crowd. But you gotta go back there and find the object before we hit the city. We’ll have to hoof it and jack another car.”
“Me. How about you. I’m a better driver anyway. You can’t even work a stick.”
He looked at her, then the road, and then her, again. “Okay, put your foot on the gas. Don’t let up, you hear me?”
Children of the Fifth Sun Page 20
