by S. S. Segran
It took the Sentry longer than it should have to grasp that his laboring lungs weren’t the culprits behind the quaking ground. He lifted his head a few inches just as a war cry rolled across the savannah, followed by an orchestra of infuriated trumpeting.
From behind Marshall, three groups of Tanzanians charged onto the battlefield, each one led by a group of African elephants. The leading pachyderms had triangles painted from their foreheads to their trunks, and riders in tribal masks sat atop them like royal warriors.
If Marshall hadn’t been weakening so fast, he would have laughed maniacally and whooped until he’d cheered his throat raw. Instead, he managed a wet snicker, blood spattering out from between his teeth.
The Watchers of Meru. Subira and her people came for us.
Each of the three groups had what looked like a hundred individuals, all armed with bows and ready to let arrows fly. They raised another call of challenge to the enemy. The battlefield was charged with such an abundance of energy that even Marshall felt more alive than ever.
He wished he could have howled with laughter at what happened then.
Across the entire battlefield, mercenaries dropped their guns and went onto their knees, some with their hands behind their heads, others with their arms up in surrender. Then, to Marshall’s amazement, a few even prostrated themselves.
The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was the elephants as they trumpeted to the sky in victory.
65
In a cottage at the Nyika Wildlife Inn, Aari lounged on an ancient bergère chair beside a bed, scrolling through his phone as he kept vigil. Marshall slept peacefully save for an occasional sound of discomfort. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains onto the blue covers, and mild scents of flowers and wood drifted through the bug screen covering the open window.
One headline permeated all of Aari’s social media, rendering him numb. More than eight million people dead, he thought. Mortalities double every two days. God, I hate being right. Eight million lives . . . all snuffed out, just like that.
Marshall let out a quiet groan and opened his eyes groggily. Solace washed over Aari, superseded by a flare of anger. “Morning,” he said curtly.
Marshall stirred, failing to notice the teenager’s tone. “Ech, my breath is rancid.”
“I don’t doubt it. You’ve been in and out of it for almost three days.”
“Huh?”
Aari glared. “You’re an idiot, Marshall. You were shot three times. You’re lucky some of the Watchers are great healers and a couple are actual doctors.”
He could sense a justification forming on the Sentry’s tongue, but then Marshall sighed and shoved his blanket down to expose his bare chest and shorts-clad legs. He had sutures on his right deltoid, above his right hip, and on the outside of his thigh.
“Huh,” he said. “I feel pain, but it’s not as bad as it should be. Domi’s healing powder?”
Aari nodded. “The healers applied it after the bullets were removed.”
The door creaked open and Tegan and Mariah barged in, trapping Marshall in a bear hug. “You’re awake!” Mariah squealed. “We thought we heard voices in here. We were in Domi’s room, beside yours. She’s resting. The Watchers took you both to a nearby hospital and removed the bullet from her leg and took care of your gunshot wounds.”
Marshall mussed her hair, then jerked upright. Aari’s arm snapped out to stop him from popping his stitches. The Sentry took in the faces of the teenagers, then asked, “Where’s Kody?”
“He’s being cared for,” Tegan said, sitting on the bed. “Marshall, it’s bad. It’s day six of his infection. He’s gotten more . . . uncontrollable . . . but it’s weird. He should be bleeding but he’s not. For some reason, his reaction to the Omega strain is different from what we’ve heard about. Aari thinks it could be because of our physiology. We don’t have Dema-Ki blood, but there might be something in our system that has some semblance to it.”
“It would explain how the five of us have our abilities,” Aari added. “But as long as Kody hasn’t started to bleed, we still have time.”
A weary quiet fell upon them. Aari stared at his shoes for a while; then, without looking up, he said, “Hey, Marshall?”
“Yeah, kiddo.”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. You know how my retrocognition works, right? Touch an object, access whatever memories belong to the object’s owner or maker when they were alive. But, with Lucius . . . I witnessed him die. How is it possible that my connection with his memories continued after that? And I know it was him because his presence felt the same. I guess what I’m trying to get at is, what exactly did I experience?”
Marshall drummed his finger on the bed, blinking slowly. “I’m going to be honest with you, Aari. I’m really not sure. Some of the things you guys do are beyond me, and apparently beyond the Elders. You’re the Chosen Ones of the prophecy. This is new territory for all of us. We’re learning as we go. As for Lucius . . . maybe the essence of his being lingered on in the novasphere for whatever reason, and perhaps you were destined to tap into that. But I don’t think there’s a way to know for sure. Truth is, we’ll probably never get all the answers we want.”
“That’s immensely frustrating.”
“I know. Maybe you could reach out to the Elders about it.”
“I offered to act as intermediary while you were out for the count,” Tegan said, “but he refused.”
Aari scrunched up his nose at her. “I’ll speak to them when we get back to Dema-Ki. I’d rather do it one-on-one. It’s not really important, anyway.”
There was a knock on the door and Subira entered. She was back in her jeans and white camisole, but to Aari, she didn’t look any less regal or fearsome than when she’d donned her tribal outfit. He lifted his hand in greeting. “Hi.”
She inclined her head at him, then addressed Marshall. “You’re up. Good. You’ve missed a lot.”
“I’d like to ask some questions, if you don’t mind,” Marshall said. “All I remember is the mercenaries giving up when you came. Why? They were armed and could have fought back.”
Subira couldn’t hide the pride that colored her words when she spoke. “My people are—were—no more than myths. Stories of who we are and what we do have been exaggerated for centuries. Those mercenaries, they had no higher loyalty besides getting paid for a job done. Present them with the legendary Watchers and spirit elephants they’ve heard of since childhood and they were more than cooperative. We warned them that if they meddled with the affairs of foreign powers again, we would come after them until no one was left. They’ve since slunk back to their towns and villages, but we did get visitors shortly after, led by a giant man called Hajjar. He was searching for his superior, the one we apprehended. Vladimir Ajajdif.”
Marshall goggled. “We have Ajajdif? And Hajjar—”
Aari patted the Sentry’s forearm. “Ajajdif is tied up in another cabin. He told us in the chopper that Hajjar and his mercs had been found and were waiting in a plane at another location to take us off-continent. We figure that when Hajjar learned about the raid by the Watchers, he probably decided it was best to live to fight another day.”
“Guess he isn’t all brawn,” Marshall quipped, bemused. “Subira, I need to contact someone to see where we go from here, but if you could keep an eye on Ajajdif until then . . .”
“We can do that,” she said. “Now, if you’re up to it, we could visit your sick friend.”
Marshall removed his covers in response and grabbed a t-shirt from his bag. As the group followed Subira out to the warm grounds, he called, “Subira?”
“Mmh?”
“Thank you. For all that you and your people have done to help us.”
She raised her eyes heavenward but smiled. “Do you know how many times we’ve heard that while you were in and out of consciousness? You woke up when a bullet was being removed from your shoulder and told the doctor that she was
a beautiful soul for helping a rascal American like you. It’s made my people keen to know what you’d be like drunk.”
Aari snorted a laugh so hard it hurt his throat. “You’re a regular Clark Kent, aren’t you, Marshall?”
Marshall made a move to cuff Aari’s head, but the teenager dodged easily. They passed a few Watchers, all in civilian clothes, who greeted them with different levels of candidness.
“Where’s the tree?” Marshall asked, waving bashfully at the onlookers. “And the box?”
“The box is safe,” Mariah said. “So’s the tree. It’s getting some sun right now. You won’t believe how fast it’s growing!”
Subira led them into a single-room cottage near the reception building and Aari tried to shut his ears to the clamor within. He saw Marshall falter upon seeing Kody on the mattress.
Each of the boy’s limbs were secured to separate bedposts by ropes wrapped in fabric to avoid burning his skin when he thrashed. Multiple fans hummed and buckets of ice water surrounded the bed. Two Watchers battled Kody’s fever by drenching strips of cloth in the buckets and resting them on his face, neck and upper body. He looked like a mummy, which, at any other time, Aari would have found hysterical. Now, it made every part of him hurt like his emotions were being twisted into a giant knot.
Marshall sat on the edge of the bed by Kody’s chest. Kody gnashed his teeth, his normally bright emerald eyes manic and darting. His nostrils flared with every rapid breath. The Sentry hesitated, then rested a hand on the teenager’s forehead, murmuring soothingly. Aari watched, astonished, as Kody’s struggling eased and the frenzy retreated from his eyes. For a few seconds, peace breathed into the room.
Then Kody screeched and Marshall shot off the bed. Subira clicked her tongue, then assertively steered the group outside. “I think that’s enough excitement for him today.”
“Probably,” Marshall agreed weakly.
A Watcher on the other side of the grounds called to Subira. She excused herself, leaving the teenagers and Marshall alone.
Tegan kicked a pebble over the grass and after a few beats, said, “Elder Nageau reached out to me yesterday. He told me the sap from a mature tree can be harvested by tapping the trunk, but since we’re running out of time for Kody, he said to wait until the sapling’s at least four days old. That’s tomorrow. At this stage, the sap evaporates within moments so we’ll need to bring the tree to Kody, tear off a leaf and have him inhale the sap from the stem. It should buy him some time, but for now, there’s nothing more we can do.”
Aari wanted to claw to shreds the powerlessness that came with the tedious ticking of the clock. The group stayed together until the sun dipped below the horizon, when Aari decided the best way to make time pass was to turn in early. Subira had given them the run of the place, so he retired to the suite he’d staked out for himself.
Peculiar dreams plagued his subconscious through the night, only ending when he arose at the crack of dawn. Tired and off-kilter, he lumbered into the shower until he felt more human than zombie, then wandered out into the cool morning. I could do with coffee right now, he thought. Maybe even pour some Red Bull in there and create the Unholy Cocktail. Hah, Tegan would definitely kick my butt across the continent if I tried that nonsense again . . .
His feet mechanically took him to Kody’s suite where a small lamp on the bedside table lit the room. Some of the Watchers had taken shifts through the night to keep an eye on him. Kody was fast asleep; aside from his ragged breathing, all was well. Aari thanked the Watchers, earning him drowsy smiles. As he opened the door to leave, a snuffle sounded. He turned.
Kody had lifted his head to stare at him.
In the silence, Aari’s flesh crawled at the violent glint in his friend’s eyes. “H-hey, buddy. You’re up. You . . . you okay?”
Drops of scarlet started to trickle from the boy’s tear ducts, rolling down his cheeks. The Watchers tried to wipe the blood but Kody screamed at them and fought against his restraints. Aari dashed outside, shouting at the top of his lungs. Marshall and Dominique emerged from their cottage, frazzled. Tegan and Mariah ran out from their own suite in their tank tops, sweatpants and bedheads; Mariah had her backpack with the knee-high sapling sticking out.
“He’s bleeding, isn’t he?” Marshall asked as they rushed to Kody’s room.
“Just started,” Aari panted.
Subira appeared from her suite and caught up with them as they entered the room. The mattress was stained red around Kody’s head. A steady stream of blood dripped from his eyes, ears and nose, and he shrieked at anyone who attempted to get close. He pressed himself into the bed as though trying to sink into it and escape.
“He sees us as the enemy,” Tegan whispered.
Dominique shouldered the Watchers aside and sat over the teenager, using her strength to hold his head still. “Get the sap!” she ordered. “Hurry!”
Mariah set her bag on the bed, face wan. Her fingers trembled as she touched one of the sapling’s luminescent violet leaves. Beside her, Kody thrashed, screaming over and over, his tears mingling with blood. She looked down at him, then wrenched the leaf free and held the stem six inches from his face, letting the silky sap evaporate into his nostrils in a mist.
Kody grew still, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Aari saw his chest stop moving. He inched closer, frantic. “What’s going on?”
Dominique placed two fingers on the unconscious teenager’s neck. “His pulse is there,” she said. “But I don’t know why he—”
Kody’s mouth opened and he drew in a deep, grating breath, exhaled, then went still once more. Aari picked at his nails. What is this? Should this be happening?
Beside him, Tegan and Mariah observed Kody closely, arms folded, eyes welling.
Kody labored in a second breath but as he released it, the sharp creases on his forehead and around his eyes began to relax. He took in another breath and stilled. The group watched. Waited. Hoped.
Moments passed before the boy slowly opened his eyes. He seemed confused, as though he didn’t recognize the people in his company. Tegan moved in, Aari and Mariah following her. Kody wasn’t able to focus on them but Aari saw the veins in his friend’s bloodshot eyes recede until his sclera cleared completely. His mouth opened again. Instead of howls of agony and rage, or abysmal, rattling breaths, Kody squeaked, “Domi, could you please get off me? I can’t breathe.”
The group gaped, then let out a meager laugh. Dominique beamed and patted Kody’s cheek as she got off the mattress. While one of the Watchers dabbed up the blood from his face and ears, Tegan sat beside him. “Do we have you back?” she asked.
When Kody answered, it sounded like his throat had been flayed. “Well, I’m not burning up and the pounding in my head has faded. Also, um, could someone kindly untie me?”
As the Sentries undid the bindings, Aari rubbed his knuckles against Kody’s scalp. “You’re okay? In the noggin, I mean.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kody replied cheerfully. “I’m still alive.”
Aari didn’t buy the charade and knew the girls didn’t either, but they wouldn’t question it. Not yet, anyway. Mariah smiled. “We’re glad you’re still here, brickhead.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Subira said, not unkindly, “I recommend you stay today and tomorrow. If Kody is flying you to South Africa, he should have a few proper meals and rest.”
“Oh boy,” Kody hummed. “I’m starving.”
“Er, we might have a problem.” Mariah held up her backpack. “I don’t think we’ll be able to take the Tree of Life with us on the flight out of Africa. It grows a lot every day.”
“There is a courier south of the border that may still be open,” Dominique said. “I can have the tree dispatched to the go-between Sentry in Yukon, who’ll deliver it to Dema-Ki. And I might as well tell you this now and get it over with . . .” She cleared her throat, as if bracing herself. “Elder Nageau reached out to me last night. He instructed me to take Ajajdif back to the
DRC and hold him there.”
Aari wheeled around to face her. “DRC? But that means—”
“I won’t be going with you to Dema-Ki,” she affirmed.
Before the teenagers could complain, Marshall said, “One more thing. Subira.”
The leader of the Watchers regarded him crabbily. “If you’re going to thank my people again, I will personally feed you to a leopard.”
“Heh, don’t worry, I won’t. Actually, your people is what I wanted to talk about. Yours and ours. You, Dominique and I are really not so different. Domi and I are Sentries, descendants of an uncommon group of people with a duty that we can’t forsake . . . quite like the Watchers.”
Aari could see Subira’s curiosity pique. “Interesting,” she said, “though something in your tone tells me you won’t share more than that, most likely because you can’t.”
Marshall scrunched up his face. “Guilty as charged. But I’d like to think there’s a kind of kinship between the Watchers and the Sentries.”
“I don’t know about ‘kinship’, Sentry, but let’s start with this: Should you need aid, or even if you drop by this region for a visit, know that you have allies here.”
“That’s a better start than I could’ve hoped for, Watcher.”
Subira nodded at the teenagers. “And what of these four?”
Marshall smiled fondly at the friends. “Actually, there’s five of them. And they’ve got a bigger role to play than any one of us.”
“Love you too, big guy,” Kody said, “but I could really do with a meal right now.”
* * *
The friends and Marshall saw Subira and some of her people one last time as they prepared to take off for South Africa the following morning. The Watchers wished them well, each touching the box of seeds before Tegan zipped it in her bag.
Parting with Dominique had been difficult, but the Sentry assured the friends that they would see each other again. They gave her long hugs and boarded the Cessna, waving as she and the Watchers grew smaller in the vast savanna as the plane ascended. Flying south under the radar until they were out of Tanzania, they refueled at a small town on the shore of Lake Malawi that Subira had recommended.
