by S. S. Segran
Gareth, sitting on the end of the table with his back to his brother, flipped through the news channels on the TV while keeping an eye on the Twitter feed on his phone. “It hasn’t made headlines yet,” he said, “but we could be on the verge of seeing something go viral.”
“It’s just a matter of time,” Deverell agreed. “Reckon we ought to call Marshall?”
Gareth muted the television. “Yeah.”
Marshall Sawyer, who’d worked closely with the Chosen Ones over the summer, now watched over their families with two other Sentries to ensure their safety while the teenagers trained in Dema-Ki.
The American picked up the call after a few rings. “Well, look at you two,” he said teasingly. “No telepathic ability so you’re stuck chatting over a phone. What a shame.”
“Nice talking with you, too,” Deverell said, sharing slightly amused looks with Gareth.
“What’s up, fellas? How you been?”
“We’re alright, which is more than we can say for some others.”
“Come again?”
Gareth spoke up. “Marshall, there’s something going on here. Some kind of disease, we think. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. We’re still not sure what it is or how it spreads but, mate, it’s damn disturbing.”
“What is it?” All merriment had left the American’s voice.
“Adults and children alike are going through some sort of accelerated aging,” Deverell said. “Babies, even. And then they die because their bodies can’t handle the sudden decay. No one’s spared. These little six-month-olds look like they’re ninety. Here, I’ll send you a photo of one of these kids.”
There was a short silence on the other end, then: “Son of a—that’s a child?”
“Yeah.”
“This isn’t good.”
“We know. That’s why we called you.”
“No, no. I mean . . . Do you guys remember Dominique Mboya?”
“Dominique . . .” Deverell sifted through his mental dossier of all the Sentries he knew. “Aye, we met briefly for a mission in Cape Town a few years back. Strong woman with a smile that could melt an iceberg. A telepath. What about her?”
“She reached out to me a couple of weeks ago and again earlier this week. She’s been in a remote village in Africa for the past two months. The first time we connected, she mentioned that several older villagers had come down with a strange sickness that seemed to cause rapid aging. I advised her to contact the health authorities immediately, but when we connected the second time she said the authorities were doing jack all thanks to the incapacitated government. No test results came back, no help came. And on top of all that, they were attacked by renegade soldiers looting villages for food supplies. The villagers won, but Domi and I decided to call other Sentries from the region to protect the survivors. Many of the villagers have died and none of the cures she knows are working.”
Deverell’s head snapped up towards his brother, both of them shocked. “That’s horrific.”
“It is. And Domi, bless her, she’s still pushing on. All she’s managed to learn is that it’s highly infectious and not containable by any of Dema-Ki’s treatments.”
“That’s just bloody perfect.” Gareth rubbed his forehead. “So it’s only this one village?”
“That’s what she told me, yeah”
“Hold on,” Deverell said. “As far as we can tell, this disease appeared in Europe less than a week ago, but from what you’re saying it’s been confined to that village for three weeks.”
“I know,” Marshall said. “Quite the geographical leap. I reached out to the Elders earlier to let them know what was going on, but I’ll have to update them on your find. And I think it’s time we gather up some of the field Sentries for a meeting at the Lodge.”
“When?” Deverell asked. “And which Lodge?”
“I’ll let you know, and the one in Europe.”
“Wait,” Gareth cut in. “Marshall, you said Dominique’s been in that village amidst this breakout. How’s she doing?”
“That was the first thing I asked her. She said she’s not affected, which is a huge relief, but she doesn’t know why.”
Gareth scratched his head. “That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, to say the least. Look, fellas, I gotta run. The sooner I let the Elders know what’s going on, the better. Talk to you soon, alright?”
“Cheers.” Deverell ended the call and sat back, stretching.
Gareth stared at the phone for a long time. “It feels ominous, doesn’t it, Dev? It really can’t be mere coincidence. This . . . disease . . . breaking out with everything else that’s going on.”
Deverell linked his fingers behind his head. “I think so too. I’ll tell you what, though. This is exactly what I’d do if I had Reyor’s twisted mind.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Think about it.” Deverell went to the sink to splash his face with cold water and dried off with a small towel. “It takes more than just one blow to knock humanity to its knees. You need to keep hitting it until it’s too bruised and battered to get back up. Until its spirit is too broken to rise again. Then you deliver the coup de grâce.”
Gareth’s brow furrowed. “So step one’s obviously the crop destruction. Step two—”
“The war and unrest that’s broken out, a direct consequence of the global food crisis.”
“Right. Turn people and nations against each other. And step three—”
“A deadly and virulent disease that we’re not equipped to handle. This just can’t simply be happenstance.”
Gareth raked his fingers through his shaggy hair. “What are we to do? Reyor probably has everything in place. Who knows what else is in the works.”
“Let’s see what the Elders have to say to Marshall. In any case, he’s right. We ought to convene a Sentry meeting as soon as possible.”
Gareth got off the table. “Well,” he said tightly, “it’s been a long couple of days. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a nap right now.”
“Me too. Take the bed this time, I’ll take the couch.”
“Thanks.”
“What are big brothers for?”
“You’re older by eleven minutes, for heaven’s sake.” Gareth flopped onto the bed and shut his eyes, arms around the pillow.
“Still older.”
The couch looked inviting but Deverell knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with the way the gears in his mind were spinning. If the disease was capable of wiping out nearly an entire village, what did that mean for the countries where the disease had begun to rear its head? If it continued its pattern eastward, all of Europe would be engulfed, as would Asia and, eventually, the rest of the world.
“Ach-y-fi, it’s going to get bad,” he said to himself, tapping his fingers on the tabletop.
We may need to prepare for the worst-case scenario. No rest for the weary.
8
The strange aircraft with its twin proprotors in full forward position flew through Blue Mountains National Park with Sydney’s distant skyline to the east. The stars had mostly faded as dawn commenced its gradual creep into a new day in Australia. All was quiet apart from the beating of the aircraft’s blades.
Keeping low between sandstone plateaus to avoid radar detection, the Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey travelled northward over the manmade lake behind Warragamba Dam. The pilot, ignoring the three-mile wide exclusion zone around the reservoir that supplied drinking water to Sydney, flew close to the calm, blue-green waves and admired the view. The park hosted a range of habitats, home to countless animals and trees. Mist hugged the gorges snugly, giving the entire forest an ethereal feel.
The pilot guided the Osprey toward a preselected landing zone atop a small plateau. The aircraft’s nacelles rotated upright, allowing it to come to a hover, and the grass below swept to and fro under the downwash of the enormous rotors. The Osprey gently touched down with its ramp facing the coastal city.
T
he access door on the copilot’s side opened and a woman in a yellow biohazard suit jumped down. She went around to the back of the aircraft and waited for the ramp to open fully. When it landed on the ground, she stepped on, skin prickling at the eerie silence within. A large cage had been installed that took up the entire length and width of the cargo hold. Inside the cage were over a thousand ravens. They stood absolutely still on their perches.
The woman did a quick inspection, observing the odd slickness on their dark feathers and the discharge from their eyes. She pushed a button on the wall of the cargo hold and, when a click sounded, gripped a lever beside the button. Taking a deep breath, she pulled down with all her strength. As the doors of the cage hissed open, she bolted out of the aircraft and retreated to a safe distance.
A fiendish screeching inside the Osprey grew in timbre until the woman thought she would bleed out of her ears. A dark storm cloud exited the aircraft, spreading out like a demonic sigil against the lightening sky. A few birds peeled away, but most were on a fixed trajectory toward the beautiful city ahead, now aglow with luminous trails of the rising sun.
Once the ravens were far enough away, the woman climbed back into the plane and took her place beside the pilot. They looked at each other without a word. The pilot closed the ramp and the Osprey lifted off the ground in a vertical ascent. Once back in the air, the aircraft’s nacelles rotated forward and the plane headed away from Sydney and its approaching threat.
9
The young black bear lumbered through the forest as if drunk, stumbling through a bush and conking its cranium against a tree. Shaking its head vigorously, it staggered backward and fell onto its rear, crushing the bush under it.
Oh my goodness, will you please cooperate with me?! Tegan could barely keep the creature under her control; its will overwhelmed her. While it moved in one direction, she would try to guide it elsewhere and the bear would end up cross-pawed before toppling onto its face.
It was so much easier controlling that shark in Carpinteria. Ugh.
Something suddenly piqued the bear’s nose and Tegan recognized it immediately: A hare.
Oh, no. Wait just a—AGH!
The bear careened in the direction of the scent. It felt just like the time both of Tegan’s big dogs, a Belgian sheepdog and a Beauceron, caught the mouthwatering aroma of a barbeque while on a walk. They’d nearly yanked her arms out of their sockets when they took off toward it.
Stop! Stop. Please stop. For the love of everything, please stoooop!
In her panic, she lost all control of the bear but remained linked to it. She was helplessly dragged along for the ride as it came upon a hare’s nest on the forest floor against an outcrop of rocks. The hare inside looked frightened out of its wits with nowhere to go. The bear opened its jaws wide as it approached the defenseless creature.
Don’t eat it! Do you hear me? Do. Not. Eat. It!
Just as the bear was about to snap its maw shut, Tegan kicked into overdrive and wrenched its head away. No! Bad bear! She forced it into a breakneck sprint until there was a healthy distance between it and the hare, then severed the mindlink.
When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on the snow in her training area. Groaning, she flopped onto her back. “That was terrible.”
Tikina, sitting across from her, opened her eyes and smiled. “Quite.”
“Hah. Thank you.”
“The bear was a difficult one, it seems.”
“It had a lot more willpower than I imagined. I controlled three wolves a while ago, and they were a lot more cooperative.”
“There will be some individuals within a species that will be harder to mindlink with.”
Tegan sat back up. “Well, I failed that exercise. So where were you? I couldn’t find you when I did have full control of the bear.”
The Elder winked. “Flying quietly through the trees with Akira.”
“I thought you were going to pick a land animal, not her,” Tegan complained; Akira was a golden eagle that had formed a close bond with Tikina. “How was I supposed to spot you?”
“Not to worry, youngling. We will keep practicing.” Tikina went still for a brief moment. Before Tegan could ask what was wrong, the Elder snapped back. “I am afraid the rest of your training has been called off for today. Nageau would like to speak with all of us.”
“What?” Tegan asked, disappointed. “Why? What’s happened?”
“I do not know, but he sounded urgent.” Tikina got up, pulled her student to her feet, then marched off briskly to the middle of the training grounds, Tegan rushing to keep up with her.
The rest of the Elders and their apprentices were already waiting when they arrived. Tegan immediately joined her friends while the Elders exchanged words under their breaths, their faces shadowed by distress.
The teenagers took in their surroundings—an oval clearing with a creek that cut through each of the training grounds, a cluster of boulders beside two log benches—until Nageau finally addressed them. “I will get straight to the point, younglings. Marshall just connected with me. There is a situation developing.”
The friends brightened slightly at the mention of the faithful, amiable Sentry who’d helped, guided, and worked alongside them during the summer. Then the rest of Nageau’s sentence sunk in and they became grim.
“Is it more crop destruction?” Jag asked.
“No,” Nageau answered. “It is far worse—some sort of disease. We first heard of it about half a moon cycle ago, and at that time it appeared to be localized in a remote village in the continent you call Africa. Reports from Sentries indicate that this disease is now spreading across the Europe. Our Sentry in Africa reported that more than half of the people in that village have died so far.”
Tegan, dumbfounded, stuttered, “What’s this disease?”
“It ages people rapidly, no matter if they are a newborn or an adult. The rate at which it spreads is alarmingly quick.”
“And you think that Reyor is behind it,” Aari ventured.
“We are unsure,” Tikina said, “but the signs seem to point in that direction.”
“What do you mean?”
“We suspect that it is part of a larger plan,” Nageau said. “It looks as though the crop destruction and this disease may have something in common besides being global in nature: They aim to strike down humanity but not harm the planet. This disease does not seem to kill animals, at least not the livestock in this particular affected village. The harbinger of darkness—Reyor—is fiercely protective of Earth but has a distinct hatred for humanity.”
“Yeah, Aari and I heard the speech to the Stewards of New Earth.” Tegan remembered with disdain the fervor of the crowd that had gathered in an underground sanctuary to hear Reyor speak a few months back. “Question is, why so much hate?”
“And are we any closer to finding Reyor?” Jag added.
“The Sentry interrogating Tony is trying every avenue to get the answers we need,” Nageau said. “He is currently treading on the risky side, but we leave it to him to play his hand. He is more than capable.” He then bowed his head at Tegan. “To answer your question, youngling, the . . . harbinger . . . as you know, is from Dema-Ki, and is therefore well-versed in our ancient prophecy. The prophecy is a tool to guide us, but like any tool, its possible outcomes are dependent on the motive of the user. For instance, a knife is a tool. It can be used to prepare a meal or take a life.
“Allow me to use the first lines of the prophecy as an example. ‘From the flames of Cerraco, five will arise.’ The people of Dema-Ki now understand it as the arrival of the five of you after your aircraft caught on fire and crashed, thus resembling our fiery bird of legend. Reyor always took that passage to mean a metaphorical fire that would destroy humankind in order that for it to arise anew from the ashes and reorganize into five distinct classes. Echelons, if you will. This interpretation—or rather, misinterpretation—of the prophecy reinforced the harbinger’s twisted view of humanity wherein we a
re seen as a persistent, cunning species with uncanny adaptive capabilities that led to us being the dominant species on the planet. This is why it can be expected that, in order to execute a plan to annihilate humanity, there will need to be a series of coordinated attacks. I should know this.” Nageau smiled sourly. “I have been inside that warped mind, trying to untangle the web of misguided self-righteousness and loathing for mankind that lies within.”
Kody removed his baseball cap to rub his temples. “So we’re nothing more than parasites that need to be exterminated.”
“Precisely,” Nageau said.
“What gives Reyor that kind of superiority and arrogance?” Mariah demanded.
Nageau looked up at the teenagers, then answered, “Evolution.”
“Evolution?” Aari echoed. “How does that play into this?”
“Perhaps we should take a seat first, then I will explain.”
The friends settled on the small cluster of boulders, leaving the Elders to take the two log benches. Nageau continued. “The people of Dema-Ki have unique abilities. You are no stranger to that. Even with the coming together of two very different peoples—the Islanders, advanced for their time, and the natives of this land—these traits were not diluted or lost. These higher mental and physical capabilities are the result of what you would call a leap in evolution. Using our gifts to live ethical lives in harmony with our planet and each other is the hallmark of our people.
“The Elders, not just us but those who took up this mantle before us, always believed that the rest of humanity would, in due course, join us on this path; in other words, evolve out of their self-centered and afflictive conditions. We see the phase that humanity is presently in as its collective and turbulent adolescence. We are confident that mankind will eventually emerge wiser and more mature in how it treats each other and the earth, and this will continue to be our belief. But Reyor insisted that humanity would only destroy itself and the world, and that intervention was needed. Unfortunately, that meant speeding up the species’ demise. And to the harbinger, that is mercy.”
