by S. S. Segran
“I understand,” he said, clipped. “What’s Tony’s assignment?”
“To give us a . . . compelling leverage against the children when the time comes.”
“I’m sure Tony will be elated to be out here again. But what about the New Mexico Sanctuary? Will you be sending me back there?”
“No. I’ll get Arianna Abdul to move. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Da. She was my chief geologist for the mining operation in Canada. But I thought she was helping out at the Heart?”
“She is, though I’m sure she’ll be happy to serve wherever she is most needed. Besides, work in the Heart is almost complete. I’ll get Adrian to call her.”
“He’s a busy man, running the topside of the company,” Ajajdif said. “I know he’s a key player in the Inner Circle but he’s not the only person. I can arrange to transfer Arianna while I wait for further instructions.”
“Already trying to work back into my good books, I see. I don’t need you to do anything. Understand? Adrian can handle it.”
“As you wish.” Ajajdif wiped a finger on the vehicle’s exterior, leaving a clean trail through the dirt. “I know I no longer run the New Mexico Sanctuary, but I can’t help but worry about it. Has Tony managed to find the mole that helped the intruder escape?”
“That intruder said he had no help. A lie, surely. Nothing has come up yet, but I’m certain Arianna can follow up just fine. It’s no longer your problem, Vladimir. Get that through your head.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Stay put. You’ll get your instructions soon. And, Vladimir?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“I don’t enjoy giving second or third chances. You’re like a son to me, but make no mistake. If I have to, I will make an example out of you.”
“. . . Yes, Boss.”
PART THREE
42
Kenzo Igarashi stood near the back of the crowd as the Stewards, gathered in their tranquil garden aptly named Eden, eagerly awaited the Boss’s address. The eighteen-year-old raked his fingers through his silver hair a few times, then reproached himself. Look excited, not nervous.
His cousin, Ren, chattered with a gaggle of her friends. Kenzo, barely able to distinguish her black hair in the crowd, felt a familiar stab of misery. If I can’t save anyone else, I’m going to save you, he promised silently. His cousin and the rest of the SONEs had grown into their roles over the past year and possessed an air of determination and experience. He, on the other hand, felt more out of place with every passing day.
At the center of Eden, an immense, twenty-foot-tall projection screen displayed a golden phoenix symbol against a black background. Speakers around the cavern hummed along with the rest of the mechanical systems that kept the subterranean settlement habitable. Construction work on the New Mexico Sanctuary had been completed the day before, and the entire night was spent in celebration. Kenzo hated that he’d actually enjoyed the festivities; the atmosphere had been so unifying, so lively, that he almost forgot that they’d been taken from the outside world, brainwashed and dumped underground.
Since encountering Victor half a month prior, Kenzo had worked hard to expand his network, befriending many SONEs and administrators. Tony, often sullen and refusing company, was a problem he hadn’t quite figured how to circumvent. He’d also kept watch on the SONEs, hoping against hope that at least one other youth was like him, impervious to Dr. Nate’s cerebral reprogramming but acting as one of the masses out of fear. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case.
The speakers suddenly crackled. The emblem on-screen morphed into an image of a figure in a black coat with the gold hood concealing a face in its shadows. A hush fell on the gathering, followed by a thrill that swelled through the ranks.
“Welcome,” the figure said, a modulator altering the voice. “Thank you for joining me from different time zones across the planet, just as we did almost half a year ago. I would like to begin by expressing how proud I am of each and every one of you. All six of our Sanctuaries are now nearly complete and operational.
“You’ve demonstrated that you are hardworking and dedicated, and more importantly you are, day by day, proving yourselves to be worthy of the title of Stewards of New Earth. Or, as I’ve heard you call yourselves, SONEs. It has a pleasing ring to it, I must say. You are indeed sons and daughters of a new world.”
The voice rose. “A world that will be free from the stranglehold of a society driven by greed and corruption. No longer will the cancerous culture that celebrates deviant obsessions in the name of progress be allowed to poison the soul of humanity. These people, these parasites, will be wiped off the face of our planet and we will return the glory to Mother Earth. And you, the Stewards of New Earth, are the chosen ones who will bring about that change.”
Kenzo joined the thundering applause but felt sick to his stomach.
“As you have undoubtedly noticed during the course of the past few weeks, we have begun distributing new uniforms according to the five-echelon classifications for the Sanctuaries. You’ve each been carefully selected for the echelon you’re in. No one group is above the other in our collective, and each plays an important role that complements the rest.”
The hooded figure disappeared from the screen, replaced by an image of a SONE in an olive-green shirt, military camouflage pants, and polished boots.
“The Vanguard,” the voice from the speakers said. “You will ensure tranquility, order and safety, both now and in the future.”
The next image depicted two SONEs in black cargo pants, though the first wore a gray shirt and the other, maroon. “The Producers and the Builders. Many of you will serve your brethren through these two echelons. You play a significant role in safeguarding the survivability of each individual with the food you produce and the facilities you build and maintain.”
Following that was a SONE dressed in a black shirt and beige cargo pants. “The Administrators. Certainly you’re a smaller group, but no less important. Your main duty is to establish the fair and just governance of our community. You will have weekly meetings with the Head of your respective Sanctuaries to discuss this further.
“And finally, we have the Counselors. You are here to ensure our wellbeing and happiness, and to guarantee that we remain committed to our cause. As with the rest, you will attend meetings in the coming days to familiarize yourselves with your responsibilities.”
Kenzo looked down at his navy shirt and white pants. Guess I’m a Counselor. ‘Here to ensure wellbeing and happiness.’ Hah. More like keep a sharp eye on everyone. But this could be good. I’m sure I heard someone say that this is the echelon that has access to the CUBE. If I can get my hands on one of Dr. Nate’s devil helmets, I can toy around with it, see if I can put what I know to good use.
The hooded figure reappeared on screen. “And there you have it. These five echelons are the foundation of a new civilization that we will build when we return to the surface. Speaking of . . . you are aware that the process of disintegration is accelerating around the globe at this very moment. It will lead to the complete collapse of civilization as we know it, but it isn’t the first time humanity will experience near-extinction. Seventy-five thousand years ago, a supervolcano erupted and nearly wiped out all of humanity and plunged Earth into six years of volcanic winter, leaving behind fewer than ten thousand survivors. The ensuing genetic bottleneck led us along an evolutionary path to where we are today—and it is not a path that has brought out the best in this species.”
A few among the crowd murmured.
“We will correct that. The apocalypse that is unfolding today and the eventual rebirth of mankind is guided by our hand, not by a random act of nature. And as such, the recovery will be swifter. Our approach is not one that harms the planet, but rather one that destroys the vermin that decimate it. But should our venture be thwarted, I will not rule out extreme measures to reach our goal, knowing that we possess the ability to rehabilitate the planet.”
>
The murmurs grew in intensity.
“Moving on to a matter that I’m sure will rouse your excitement and curiosity: In due course, you will be joined by a group of rare individuals whose unique blood will usher in a new stage in your evolution, giving the next generation an array of remarkable abilities. They will be equally distributed to all six Sanctuaries. And that, unfortunately, is all I can say for now.”
Groans erupted from the gathering, followed by some good-natured laughter.
“These are exhilarating times as our plans fall into place,” the Boss said. “Keep faith and work hand-in-hand, and I promise history will remember us as the ones who righted all of mankind’s wrongs. To you, my SONEs, and to New Earth.”
The crowd thundered, the echoes of their roars resonating in the cavern as they threw their fists in the air. “New Earth! New Earth! New Earth!”
As the screen went dark and retracted into a concrete slit in the garden, the Stewards dispersed into smaller groups, chattering animatedly with springs in their steps. Kenzo cut through the crowd toward the administrative building behind the massive workshop. Ducking out of sight of the lone CCTV camera, he checked the signal on his phone. Victor said the best place would be around here somewhere . . . bam, here we go. Aw, man, one bar?
He dialed one of the two contacts, named ‘V’, but got a long beep followed by dead air. He tried again with no luck. After a few attempts, including shooting out a text that wouldn’t transmit, he gave up.
Guess I’ll have to keep checking this signal. He heard someone call his name from the other side of the building and shoved the phone into his pocket. Should probably head back before someone misses me.
* * *
As soon as the camera feed to the Sanctuaries was cut, the hooded figure turned a knob on the wall behind. The wall faded into transparency, displaying a window overlooking a sandy cove that hugged the shimmering waters of a lake speckled with sampans. A secured float plane bobbed by the dock of the enormous villa.
Behind the camera, an older man who would have towered in his youth rose to his feet from a large rattan chair where he’d sat watching the speech as it was given. His full beard was dark around the mouth and chin but the edges were widely gray. Life had carved deep lines into his stern, fair-skinned face, and his amber eyes flickered with vigilance. A tribal tattoo, its style unknown to the modern world, coiled around his left arm, disappearing into the short sleeve of his embroidered royal purple tunic.
“Not bad for your second address to the Stewards, Reyor,” he rasped.
The hooded figure bowed slightly. “Thank you.”
The old man waited for the hood and voice modulator to come off, but neither did. “I assume you have another meeting shortly?”
“Yes.”
The man nodded, then scowled a little as he clenched and stretched his fingers.
“Are you alright?” Reyor asked.
“Mmh, yes. The effects of the black crystal can only take me so far. After all these years, age does catch up.” He gave Reyor a pointed look. “And once you get your hands on the other half of the crystal, this will be your eventual fate, too—to live for centuries, see civilizations rise and fall, tyrants come and go, and then pass on and hope you made a difference for every generation you lived.”
Reyor pulled out a small control box from the void under the hood and turned off the voice modulator. “There is no need for hope. I know I’m making a difference. The only civilization to come, Mentor, is the one I’m building. I will cultivate it and sustain it for as long as the black crystal will extend my time on this planet. Our new world will not fall, but evolve as the Stewards do. But . . . why do you tell me this now?”
The old man went to the window and gazed out, his strong, wrinkled hands clasped behind his back. “As I said, age does catch up. And truthfully, I grow weary of this world with each passing year.”
Reyor moved to his side. “You speak as if you expect to leave me soon, Mentor.”
A small smile tugged at the man’s lips. “I have assisted you as much as I can, so whenever my time here comes to an end, I can go to the grave knowing I’ve given you all I could. You are my blood, and I am proud of all you’ve accomplished in the last three decades. You have put in so much effort building this empire. But take heed, Reyor. Never allow anger to find home in your life. This will be my most valuable counsel to you. Rage burns away reason and clouds judgement. For those of us gifted with tremendous power, it can bring untold grief that will simmer in our soul for ages. Take it from someone who has lived through it.”
Reyor looked away and instead of responding to his words, said, “You’ve never quite told me why it is you wanted the five children brought to you so badly. Why the obsession?”
“Life doesn’t allow someone to live so long without gaining some wisdom. If these five youths have truly made an evolutionary leap, and the Elders believe that they are the fulfillment of the prophecy, then . . .”
“Then nothing. They are freaks of nature, Mentor. Nothing more.”
“Perhaps. Still, I want to see them. When can you bring them to me?”
“Soon.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I’m putting a contingency plan in place. You will get them, you have my word. And I will bring you the seeds as well. That way nothing can impede our efforts.”
“Very well.” The old man tugged on his beard, then shot a grin at the hooded figure. “I am glad to see you’re still taking good care of my leather coat. It’s a timeless piece of our history. I wore it on the ship that brought our people to a new home—where we eventually established Dema-Ki.”
Reyor chuckled, then reached into a pocket and withdrew a small violet sphere. “Oh, I know.” The lathe’ad rolled over smooth fingers. “You never cease to speak of it. And I see you’re yet to outgrow the colors of our forefathers. That gaudy hue hurts my eyes.”
“I will let that quip slide. This Tyrian purple is a nod to our heritage, Reyor, and a noble heritage it is. It is us, after all, who brought the abjad to the world. If not for that, the ancient Greeks would have been letterless! See how revered they are now, even to this day.”
“The world has much to thank us for and soon, when it has been cleansed, it will thank us again.” Reyor turned to the digital clock on the desk at the far end of the room. “I have a meeting with Tony in a few minutes.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” As the old man left the room, he added over his shoulder, “Go easy on the young man, Reyor. He is entirely devoted to you, and you know it kills him that he’s let you down. A good leader knows when to swing hard and when to give their people breathing room.”
Once he’d left, Reyor turned back to the window and raised the lathe’ad, watching the sun refract in the sphere, then said, “And sometimes, a good leader knows that fear and an iron fist gets the job done.”
43
Mariah readjusted the ear loops of her disposable surgical mask. “I hate these things,” she muttered. “They feel so flimsy compared to the full-faced ones Danny gave us.”
“Those ones are military grade,” Marshall said. “Just hang tight. We’ve already cleared immigration and got our bags, so all we need to do is get through the health screening and you can use your personal masks.”
“Is Dominique here yet?” Tegan asked, sounding eager to see the African Sentry again.
“She’s making her way to the arrival hall as we speak.”
Aari looked at his watch. “Midnight on the dot. I’m surprised she managed to get to Cairo on such short notice.”
“Helps when you’ve got friends who can fly planes.” Marshall slapped Kody’s back. “Just like someone we know.”
Kody staggered forward a few steps before Tegan caught him. “Whoa, hey, good sir,” he said, brushing himself off. “I’ve only logged about two hundred hours on a single-engine Cessna. Now if we’re talking gliders, I’ve got that locked down.”
The friends a
nd Marshall stood in a lineup of nearly two hundred people from two separate flights, waiting to be transferred to the screening area. They all wore masks that airport staff had distributed before they’d boarded their planes to Egypt. As far as Mariah could tell, most of the passengers were Egyptians returning to their country before flights were grounded. At the very front of the queue, security personnel in white uniforms and full-face masks with assault rifles slung over their shoulders ushered the travelers into the arrival hall. Other armed guards were positioned at various entranceways.
Marshall cocked his head. “Hm.”
“What?” Mariah asked.
“I was just remembering the last time I was here, a few years ago. Security was shamefully lax. Sure feels different now.” When his gaze drifted to a traveler a few rows ahead of them in the lineup, Mariah saw his face tighten slightly.
A disgruntled young woman in a mint-colored hijab sat on her suitcase. An older lady looked down at her miserably, then extended a hand to the young woman only to have it angrily swatted away.
The crowd was soon led into a cordoned corner at the farthest side of the arrival hall. Rows of chairs had been divided into three sections by stanchions to segregate passengers from different flights. At the end of each section was a long table, two of which were occupied by nurses in hazmat suits ready to take blood samples and cheek swabs. The passengers from Tel Aviv were assigned to the center section marked ‘B’ while those who’d arrived on the flight from Jordan sat in Section C. Just as the first passengers were called up to the tables, the flight crews from both planes arrived, taking their places with the others.
One by one, every person gave the necessary samples, flashed their passports, and returned to their seats to wait for the results. The friends did some people-watching to kill time, all of them impatient to get going.
“This shouldn’t take long, right?” Aari asked. “We were screened before we got on the plane.”
