by S. S. Segran
“What happened?” Mariah murmured.
“They were camped out on the tip of the island and some men tried to steal their stuff. They fought back, the captain got killed, and Lucius—he . . . he . . .” Aari mimed the scene. “From what he was feeling, I think it’s the first time he’s ever killed someone.”
“Hence this spot being an emotional geo-marker,” Tegan said, nodding to herself. “That’s dark. And Carmel still had the seeds?”
“Yeah.” Aari waited until the urge to throw up had ebbed a bit. “But I still need to find out where they went. I think I have an idea, but just in case they didn’t follow the captain’s directions . . .”
Kody thumped him on the back. “Down the rabbit hole you go.”
At the next flash, Aari faced a volcanic mountain with a distinctive collapsed side. Then Lucius turned around to gaze at another majestic peak in the distance, surrounded by savannah.
I knew it, Aari thought. ‘A white mountain that touches the sky.’ That’s what the captain said. Despite still feeling nauseous, he smiled to himself. Hello, Kilimanjaro.
47
“Kilimanjaro. Like, Mount Kilimanjaro?”
Aari exhaled noisily as he rolled up the letter. “Yeah, Teegs. That one.”
Tegan stared up as the darkening sky bled from fire to twilight blue. These seeds are really making us work, she thought. It’s almost insane. But if it hadn’t been for the highway bandits, we wouldn’t have travelled by boat and it probably would’ve taken us way longer to find the exact location of Lucius’s geo-marker. Or we could have missed it entirely.
“If we drive around the clock,” Dominique said, poring over the map, “I think we’ll make it there in about two days. But if my pilot friend outside of the city is willing to help, we could get there in seven or eight hours.”
“We’ll see him tomorrow,” Marshall decided, “but right now we need to call it a day. It’s past sunset and I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk around these parts at night.”
“Are we gonna camp out here?” Kody asked, snapping off a short wheat stalk and wiggling it under Tegan’s nose until she sneezed.
“It’d be safer than wandering into the city,” Marshall said, “since we don’t know what it’s really like in there.”
“I’m not sure it’s much safer out here,” Mariah whispered, her back to them as she stared out at the acres of dead crops. The silhouettes assimilated so well into the backdrop that Tegan didn’t realize what they were until they moved—human forms clinging to the peripheries of the fields and lurking between trees like restless spirits.
“Uh, yeah, I’m not comfortable with this, either,” Kody said. “There are people just chilling out there, watching us. It’s very Shaun of the Dead.”
Aari shrugged. “What are they gonna do, watch us to death? And anyway, I think we can defend ourselves if we have to. Or maybe it’s nothing at all and they’re just curious as to why a bunch of people are hanging out in these fields.”
Tegan looked toward the city, contemplative. “If there are still cars going back and forth, then it can’t be too bad in there, can it?”
“But why put yourselves at risk?” Dominique asked.
“We’re totally exposed out here,” Mariah said. “If we can find a motel or something, then at least we’d be in a closed space with minimal risk of infection.”
As the group debated, Tegan mulled to herself. Then she placed two fingers to her lips and whistled sharply to catch their attention. “I think it would be better if we found a place to stay the night. Like Mariah said, four walls is better security than an open field.”
Marshall seemed uncomfortable. “Are you sure about this?”
Tegan looked back at the forms creeping in the far shadows. “Positive.”
They got into the boat, some reluctantly. Marshall steered them across the river until they reached the mainland and tied their vessel alongside large freighters docked by the shore. There were no signs of life as the group walked the streets of the straggly but seemingly empty city of Khartoum, all of them on high alert. Tegan kept a hand on the full-faced mask strapped to her leg.
“Motel at one o’clock,” Marshall said.
Aari looked skeptical. “You really think anyone will be running it?”
“Only one way to find out.”
They cautiously entered the stout building’s lifeless lobby. “This doesn’t look too bad,” Kody said, craning his head around. “It’s like one of those boutique backpacker hostels you see in budget travel magazines.”
“It needs to be decent,” Marshall said. “Khartoum’s a hub for tourists. At least, it was until all this happened.”
A man in a perfectly-pressed suit with a short gray afro greeted them with a wave from behind the marble reception desk. “Ahlan wa sahlan!” When his gaze drifted past Dominique to the Americans, he added, “Oh, welcome!”
Dominique flashed him a smile, motioning behind her back for the teenagers to move to the far end of the lobby, away from the man. “Good evening. Do you have two rooms available for a night?”
“Every room I have is available.”
“Ah. Sorry to hear about that. How are your rates?”
As Marshall discreetly took out cash from his bag, the receptionist passed Dominique two keys and took a proper look at the group. “What are you doing out here? And my God, it looks like all of you fell into a mud bank!”
“It’s a long story,” Dominique said politely, then made a show of looking around the austere lobby. “Business isn’t that great, huh?”
The man laughed a little. “It’s very bad. No one has booked a room in two weeks.”
“Then why do you keep the place open?”
“Because it’s all I have left in this half-dead city.”
A teenager, dressed as impeccably as the man, emerged from a doorway behind him. “What? I don’t count for anything?”
The man gave the boy a gentle tap on the back. “Tsk, Atif. You know what I mean.”
The teenager greeted the guests and went to peek out through the glass doors of the main entrance, biting his fingernail. “Did you see anything on your way in?” he asked.
“If you’re asking about people,” Tegan said, “we saw no one.”
The boy bumped his head against the glass. “It’s the damn disease. I bet if you walk into any of the houses around here, you’ll find old people on the floor, dead.”
“Atif!” the receptionist snapped. “We do not worry our guests like that!”
“I’m sorry, Uncle, but it’s true!” The boy turned to the group. “And sometimes, you can hear screaming outside. I went to see what it was a few days ago and . . . and a man was bleeding out of his face. He was so sick with the other disease. And he—”
The receptionist exchanged rapid, angry words in Arabic with his nephew. The teenager’s face darkened and he stormed back through the doorway he’d entered from.
The man sighed. “I apologize about that. My nephew has been agitated lately with all that’s going on.” He handed them their keycards. “Your rooms are on the second floor. And don’t worry, you’ll be safe in here. We lock the doors at night.”
The group rode up an old elevator in silence, then muttered goodnights as they parted ways toward their neighboring rooms, the girls and Dominique taking the first door and the boys with Marshall taking the second. Tegan dove into the shower the moment they dropped their bags, only too eager to wipe the grime off her body. When she reemerged, clean and fresh, Mariah ran past her into the bathroom, yelling, “You always take too long in the shower!”
“I have a legitimate excuse this time!” Tegan yelled back.
Dominique heated a cup of instant noodles in the microwave. “This is dinner,” she said remorsefully.
“I’ll take anything right now,” Tegan said. “I’m famished.”
The clock hadn’t even struck nine by the time Dominique and Mariah had fallen asleep. As Tegan lay in the dark, playing
a game of Snake on her phone while it charged, she heard a muffled curse outside her room. Curious, she peered out the door. Kody leaned against the wall between their rooms, rubbing his elbow.
Tegan smirked. “Spatial awareness woes?”
Kody nodded, wincing. “It’s like my body keeps forgetting that I’ve grown and have longer limbs now so I need more space to move. It’s a chronic problem.” He continued down the hallway and as she followed, said, “Look at us, black sweats and t-shirt. We’re twinning!”
Tegan wasn’t amused. “Don’t ever use that word again.”
“Grump.”
“How are the others?”
“Squeaky clean. Marshall’s out like a light. I think being nearly eaten by a crocodile does that to a person. It’s a good thing we had you, Teegs, or he’d probably be gone.”
“I don’t like his near brushes with death,” Tegan muttered.
“Me neither.”
She noticed a tightness in his face. “Kody? What’s wrong?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Aari’s doing some timeline thingamajig on his laptop where he keeps track of the spread of the disease. Teegs . . . three days ago, we saw that fifty thousand people had died globally. We’re past a million and a half now.”
Tegan turned away, fighting the bile rising in her throat. Kody ran his hand up and down her back. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
“Does . . .” Tegan used the wall to steady herself. “Does Aari have a projection for how long it would take to . . .?”
“Wipe us out? No. He slammed his laptop shut before he could get that far, but he did say that if the virus spreads at its current rate, a billion people will be dead in thirty days.”
“Kody . . .”
“I know.”
Despondently, they headed to the elevator. Kody pressed the button a few times but nothing happened. “Guess it’s the stairs for us.”
“Where are you going, anyway?” Tegan asked.
“The drain in the shower is plugged. I’m hoping the receptionist can fix it.”
They reached the main floor, turning past the lobby filled with empty chairs and divans, and headed to the reception on the left. Tegan, busy admiring some of the antique furniture, stopped short when Kody balled the back of her shirt in his fist. She turned to protest but he clamped his free hand over her mouth, eyes glued directly ahead at the reception counter. When Tegan finally saw it, she let out a quiet whimper.
Crouched like an animal on the countertop with his back to them was Atif, the motel owner’s nephew. His suit was bedraggled, half of it hanging off his shoulder. The sides of his white collar were inked red. His rough, ragged breathing grew louder with each lungful of air. He shrieked at the wall in front of him, hitting his head with his hands. Tegan’s gaze slowly drifted to the ground. A body lay on the floor, only the legs clad in dress pants visible, the rest hidden behind the counter. A stream of slick blood grew steadily, coating the tiled floor.
Kody eased his hand from Tegan’s mouth but didn’t loosen the grip on her shirt. He tugged, pulling her with him. They backed away quietly through the maze of chairs and sofas. Tegan couldn’t take her eyes off Atif. When he turned his head to look down at the body behind the counter, she saw crimson trails dripping from his ears and nose.
The pair neared the stairs, and as they turned to make a break for it, they collided into one of the divans. The scrape of furniture against the floor demolished the silence like the klaxon of a foghorn. Tegan flinched. Slowly, they looked toward the reception.
Atif’s head swiveled until his bloodshot gaze found the pair, then he turned his body around. The front of his suit jacket was shredded and stained as if he’d been in a fight. An unearthly scream ripped from his throat and he flew off the counter toward them.
Tegan vaulted over the divan and sprinted for the stairs. As she ran up, she realized that hers were the only footsteps she could hear. Without a second thought she hurtled back toward the lobby and found Kody on the floor, thrashing as he tried to push Atif off him. The sick boy grabbed him around the neck and slammed him into the ground over and over.
Tegan spotted a fire extinguisher and ripped it off the wall. Screeching, she swung at Atif with all her might, driving the cylinder against his head. The boy was clear thrown off and slid across the floor. As he struggled up, Tegan bellowed and hurled the extinguisher at him, nailing him in the face. Atif fell back and didn’t get up. His fingers twitched, but as quickly as the attack began, it was over.
Tegan returned to Kody as he got to his feet. The heavy sadness that clouded his normally bright emerald eyes made her stop in her tracks. He held a hand to the left side of his neck. Through his fingers, blood spilled down his shirt.
She started toward him. “Kody—”
He gingerly removed his hand. Deep cuts and bite marks covered his skin. Tegan sank to the ground, covering her mouth. Oh, God.
Kody looked down at his reddened palm, then through a watery smile, said, “Well, that’s all, folks.”
48
He worries me, Mariah thought. He acts like it’s nothing, like someone didn’t infect him just hours ago.
Jag’s words rang with mild exasperation in her head. Sounds like Kody, alright. Let me guess, he’s also cracked jokes about his situation?
Not jokes. Puns. Awful ones.
That’s the only way he knows how to cope with anything, which makes it harder to tell how he’s really feeling. And you guys don’t have the personal test kit anymore . . .
He’s terrified out of his mind, Jag. It’s in his eyes. It’s like he’s barely able to keep himself together but he doesn’t want us to worry. He keeps saying ‘At least I can’t infect you guys!’ It’s insane.
I wish I could be there. Maybe—
I doubt you could’ve done anything. Really. Don’t feel guilty. Marshall and Domi are already beating themselves up. Marshall cleaned out Kody’s wounds and put a dressing on his neck with some of the Dema-Ki powder, and he just looks so miserable, as if he’s failed us. And Tegan’s on a major guilt trip.
Tegan? Why?
Mariah glanced at Tegan, who, with the Sentries, had led the march south of Khartoum through the fields and dirt roads toward a fenced seventeen-acre estate surrounded by empty farmland. They approached the black, padlocked gate surrounded by wood and barbed wire fencing, with a sign that read ‘Sigmund’s Air Adventures’. Dominique hit the buzzer.
Mariah? Jag prodded. Why does Tegan feel guilty?
Because she made the call for us to go into the city instead of camping out at the field last night. She hasn’t spoken much since the attack. If you could talk to her—
I will.
Thanks, Jag. So, how’s your leg?
It’s mending pretty fast, but Danny took a look at it and said it’ll still take some time.
At least you’re on track to recovery. And you’re positive no one’s on your trail?
As far as we can tell, we’re good. The safe house is in the middle of a desert so it would be hard to sneak up on us. Plus, Danny patrols the perimeter often. He’s not a Sentry, but man, he’s got a heart like one. We’ve been playing card games and sharing stories. You wouldn’t believe some of the things he and Marshall used to do. They kind of remind me of us when we were younger.
I’d love to hear those stories sometime. Sounds like you’re with good company.
Yeah. Danny’s really cool. Still . . . I know it’s just been three, four days since you left but I miss you knuckleheads.
Mariah smiled despite herself. We miss you too, you macadamia nut.
And you guys are sure you’re not being followed?
We shook them before we got to the airport. There’s no way Reyor’s dogs know where we are.
Dominique hit the buzzer a few more times but got no response. Frowning, she snaked her arm through one of the gaps in the gate, pinched the sturdy padlock loose as easily as if she were snapping a pea, then led the group up the sandy pa
thway toward the red-brick bungalow.
Something’s been bugging me, ’Riah, Jag said.
Mariah tilted her head up to feel the sun on her face. Hm?
The seeds.
What about them?
It’s been on my mind for a while but I didn’t really get to delve into it. Since you left, I’ve had time to mull it over and . . . well, the whole story bothers me.
Go on . . .
Think about it. So the siblings, Carmel and her brother, possess the seeds to the Tree of Life, a tree that’s supposedly able to cure virtually every disease. And yet they guarded it with their lives and with so much secrecy instead of making this amazing gift available to the world. I mean, when they thought they were going to die in Masada, they buried the box. Why was there a need to keep those seeds hidden away?
Maybe it was part of their mission? They were descendants of the Keepers of the Seeds, weren’t they? The ones who were under the charge of the Custodians of the Temple on the Island?
It still doesn’t make sense to me.
There’s so much that even the people of Dema Ki don’t know about the seeds, and the little we do know came from Magèo’s discovery of the ancient journal. Maybe it was just a safekeeping ritual or something.
I don’t know. Something’s not adding up.
Why don’t you keep digging, see what you can find? Reach out to Elder Nageau, he might have some insights. We’re about to enter the house, so we’ll catch up later, okay?
Yeah. You guys stay safe. And keep a close eye on Kody.
Of course. Mariah severed the connection as the group walked up the small concrete patio. Dominique knocked on the door. They waited a few minutes but no one appeared to welcome them.
“That’s odd,” Dominique said. “His truck is still here.”
She tried turning the knob and to everyone’s surprise, the door swung inward. They filed into the sparsely decorated house. The open floor plan gave the single-story home a spacious feel with the kitchen and dining area to the left and the living room on the right.
“Sigmund?” Dominique called. “Siggy? It’s Domi Mboya!”
