The Prophecy (Children of the River Book 1)

by Ren Curylo

  “It’s growing rapidly,” Dr. Broussard said in horrified fascination. “It’s as large as a small dog, now.”

  “Let’s get this lid fastened down,” Dr. O’Ruairc said, moving swiftly.

  Captain Teel rushed forward to help the researchers with the heavy lid.

  As they latched the lid into place, the sounds of thunder and rushing water filled the room. Lightning flashed, creating an eerie intrusion into the bright room.

  The creature inside the incubator sat up and blinked, now the size of a human toddler. As it stared at them with red-orange eyes, it grinned, revealing black gums from which popped rows of sharply pointed fangs, on both top and bottom. It gnashed them menacingly, allowing its teeth to scissor together.

  As they watched the creature in horror, its skin turned from pale pink to deep, blood red. It flicked out a long, bifurcated blue tongue and licked its shiny lips. It chattered as it watched them for a moment before it put up a long-fingered hand with webs between each digit. Its palms were as black as its gums. It blinked at them before it pressed its hands against the glass of the incubator. It was the size of a child, now.

  “Shit,” Dr. O’Ruairc said, looking at the floor. “The room is flooding!” The water from the hallway was rushing in with alarming speed.

  “It’s the storm surge,” Captain Teel said. “We have to get out of here.”

  “And what do we do with this thing?” Dr. Broussard said, looking back at the naked, hairless creature that was chattering away and pounding on the glass incubator with sincerity. It was almost as large as an adult human.

  “Leave it in there,” Dr. O’Ruairc said, moving toward the western exit. “We’ll notify Commander that it’s here and they can send a recovery crew.”

  “But,” Dr. Broussard said, before pausing to retreat with his supervisor. “Won’t it drown in here if the room fills with water?”

  “That might be the best outcome we can have,” Dr. O’Ruairc said, glancing at the loudly howling monster in the incubator.

  As he turned his back to it, he heard the distinct sound of breaking glass, quickly followed by a loud, unsettling screeching, shrieking sound.

  Dr. O’Ruairc, now calf deep in seawater, turned to see his laboratory assistant grappling with the large, heavily muscled creature that had launched itself through the shattered glass of the incubator. It hung from the man’s back as it gnashed its teeth and tore into his shoulder muscles.

  “Shoot it,” Dr. Broussard said as he struggled for his life.

  The creature laughed as it bit into the man again, tearing a chunk of flesh from the back of his shoulder. It gulped the meat down and licked its lips before turning with frightening speed to bite into Dr. Broussard’s neck.

  Dr. O’Ruairc rushed to the desk in the corner near the filing cabinet and desperately pushed at the alarm. The monitor on the wall above the button flickered with an eerie blue light for a moment before it crackled loudly and went black.

  The creature was sucking in the gout of blood from the jagged wound as Captain Teel pulled his weapon free from its holster and fired a bolt of electricity into the creature. It chattered angrily and glared at Captain Teel before it shoved away from Dr. Broussard. It did a strangely graceful acrobatic backflip and landed on the table to its left, scattering test tubes, beakers and other pieces of lab equipment as it landed. It’s flabby belly, now hanging over its groin, quivered.

  Dr. Broussard’s muscles stiffened for a moment before he collapsed as if his skeleton had been removed. His arms dropped limply at his sides and his legs buckled beneath him as he fell, face down into the deepening and swirling salt water filling the laboratory from the hurricane raging above them. He grunted out a muffled word, “Venom,” as he sank.

  Captain Teel fired his weapon again, hitting the creature directly in the chest, bowling it over backward and sending it flying from the steel lab table into the rising water where it stiffened rigidly and quickly became catatonic.

  The salt water stunned the creature, momentarily giving Dr. O’Ruairc and Captain Teel a chance to advance toward the exit. The water was now up to their thighs and deepening quickly. Dr. O’Ruairc was several feet behind the captain as he abandoned his quest to set off the alarm system.

  Captain Teel reached the door first and started to wrench it open, as another shriek rent the air and Dr. O’Ruairc slammed against the wall beside him. His head split open from the force of the blow as it hit the tiled wall of the laboratory. The red monster was hanging from the doctor’s back, cooing and chattering excitedly.

  It reached in a slender finger with a long black nail, pulled up a strand of the doctor’s brain, and sucked it down as if it were a child slurping in a string of spaghetti. It grunted happily, as it quickly pulled the man’s entire brain from his skull.

  Captain Teel stifled a scream and began pulling on the exit door in earnest. The force of the water fought against him, making it difficult to escape. His terror was exquisite as he continued to fight with the door, knowing that any second, the creature would finish its snack and move on to him.

  He opened the door a hopeful two inches before it slammed back shut under the weight of the waist deep water. He jerked at the door again, and this time managed to open it enough to stick out his arm.

  The door slammed shut with his arm inside. Pain blinded him for a moment; he felt darkness washing over him and knew he was passing out. He’d drown if he lost consciousness here. He fought to stay awake. As the water rose to his armpits, a hissing noise drew his attention and he turned to find the red-skinned creature staring at him, nose to nose. It was now bigger than a full grown human. The creature opened its broad mouth, revealing three rows of sharp, serrated teeth and bit into his face.

  Moments later, as the room filled with blood red water, the creature looked around, hungry again. It sniffed the air and wailed. It dove under the surface of the water and looked around. There was something long and ropey beneath the water, reminding it of the delicious brains in the head of the food it had just eaten. It picked up the long, black strand and felt it. The creature frowned and shook its bald head. Its stomach rumbled again and it grew another foot in height and added another fifty pounds to its girth. Hunger gnawed at it as it sat on the floor in the flooded laboratory, searching for food. Water had risen to the ceiling, but the creature was oblivious as it sat, now completely submerged. It tried to sniff the black ropey object in its hand and shook its head in frustration as water sucked up its nose. It blew the water out in a stream of bubbles before its nostrils sealed shut. Turning its attention again to the heavy cable in its hand, it bit into it with its sharp teeth. A jolt rocked through its system.

  Its eyes rolled back in its head as the water began to roll around it and sparks flew from the cord clutched tightly in its fist. The water bubbled and grew hotter around the creature who held the sparking cord in its hand, unable to release its grip. At last, the creature slumped over, and its head fell to the floor. Its arm dropped down beside it, cooked flesh floating from its bones.

  Before The End 3 months later Nalin 8

  Anoba Anoba stood at the meeting hall window waiting for her brother. The meeting was about to start and the Commander was growing impatient. He was getting on Anoba’s nerves and she hoped he’d stop harping on Ársa’s punctuality before she lost her temper. Her brother wasn’t late yet, but he would be if she couldn’t spot him coming across the compound in the next few minutes. Even though visibility was limited, she expected to see him at a fair distance, for her eyesight was better than most.

  “Is he coming, yet?” the old man asked, his voice cracking. “He’d better hurry up. I don’t know why he isn’t here already. Confounding, aggravating boy.”

  Anoba glanced over her shoulder at the frail old fellow. He is every bit as hateful as he is old and frail, she mused. She expected him to fall into tiny, dusty, broken bits every time she saw him. She was always a little surprised when it didn’t happen. “Not yet, Commande
r,” she said, taking care to keep her voice even and her tone respectful.

  “Well, he’d better hurry the Ifreann up if he wants to keep his bygod position on this mission. If he’s not here in ten minutes, I’ll start without him and Hermolaos can take over as Mission Leader for Na Réaltaí. I have seen five other groups today and not one of them was late. I doubt anyone will be in the next four I have to see, either.”

  Anoba grunted but didn’t say anything. She turned back to the window to look for her brother once again. “I’ll tell you when I see him,” she said at last. “And you can wait that long, I’m sure.”

  The old man snorted and began to mumble. “I guess it doesn’t matter much anyway,” he said.

  Anoba’s keen hearing picked his muttered words out, though she pretended she didn’t hear him.

  “Hermolaos’ sorry ass isn’t here, either,” the old man grumbled.

  Anoba pushed the greenish-black waves of hair away from her face and back over her shoulder. It was long, reaching nearly to her hips, and only rarely did it bother her. Today was one of those days. But today, everything bothered her. Irritably, she gathered her heavy tresses and tied them in a knot on top of her head. She looked out the window with a sigh at what was left of their world— their dying world. It looked as if it were in its last throes before the final death rattle shook its core. It was already as cold as death, she thought. All it needed was for the wind to stop and it would be as close to dead as she wanted to see it. When it died, finally, after centuries of struggling and fighting, it wasn’t going to be pretty for those left here and she sure as shit didn’t want to be around to see it.

  Anoba and Ársa had worked hard all their lives to make certain they wouldn’t be left here when the time came to evacuate. It had paid off. Ársa was commander of this mission—one of ten— that would allow them to make their great escape. He had proven quite adept at creation, and she was grateful, for it had definitely given him an edge during the selection process. During their trials, he had proven to be a charismatic and powerful, though relaxed leader, which hadn’t hurt his chances of landing his newly appointed role. Her own creation skills were strong, but her forte was with freshwater—lakes, streams, rivers. She was strong enough to stand on her own in that branch, but Ársa could create life itself out of simple little scrappy bits of genetic matter.

  A movement caught her eye, out amid the dust blowing so thick it required a mask to walk outdoors these days. It was constant, relentlessly blowing razor-sharp shards of dust, dirt, and bits of rock. Inhaling out of doors became a challenge that quickly turned impossible, and so everyone had been issued the masks. They completely concealed the identity of the wearer but it was the only way to survive when these dust storms cropped up. Now, as time grew shorter, the storms were more frequent and more violent, forcing people underground as well as further inland.

  “Here he comes, Commander,” Anoba said. Even nearly obscured through the swirling dust storm, she knew it was him because he swung his left arm more than his right when he walked fast.

  “Well, it’s about damned time,” Commander complained. He sipped his Apple Fizz loudly but otherwise went silent.

  Anoba watched her brother approach and mentally compared herself to him. They had started out looking much more similar than they currently did. He was brown skinned, looking as if he had spent his life on the sunny beaches that no longer existed in this world. She had once been the same color, but now, she was extremely different. The genetic testing and engineering they had undergone as part of their training for this mission affected some people far differently than others.

  For Ársa, there were few physical changes, least appearancewise. He was still brown-skinned, perhaps somewhat darker than his natural state. His once blonde hair was now jet black. His eyes were still dark blue. He was heavily muscled, well built and powerful. His shoulders were broad and his hips were trim. Their features were similar, she thought, the only remaining thing that may cause a casual observer to link them together as siblings.

  Anoba’s eyes were the same greenish-black color as her hair, only shades lighter. She had once been a blue-eyed blonde, as Ársa had been. The change in her skin was the biggest difference. It had taken her decades to get used it. Rather than the golden sunworshipper skin of old, now hers was dappled shades of green, brown, and gold. It reminded her of how the sunlight used to glint off the river that flowed past her parents’ country estate where she and Ársa spent their summers as children of privilege.

  As her reflection superimposed itself over her view of her brother coming toward her from a distance, she thought about their similarities rather than their differences. They both had round, wideset eyes; they both had straight, slender noses. Ársa’s was, of course, much more pronounced and masculine than hers. They both had wide, full mouths. His lips were a nice reddish-pink; hers were darker shades of greens and browns with hints of golden flecks.

  She pulled herself from her thoughts and turned her attention to watching Ársa briskly walk through the compound. She knew he was preparing himself for this meeting—he was likely thinking of it as a confrontation—and she decided to do the same. She went over in her mind what she would say and how she would say it as her brother approached.

  From across the compound, Ársa cut a lonely figure walking through the dry, freezing dust toward the meeting hall. He was wearing a cloak over his Chikandi suit, and even from this distance, Anoba could see him shiver in the wind. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets to protect them from the fierce wind that constantly blew across the now barren landscape.

  Most of the buildings had blown down in fierce storms. The old coastline was completely gone, for it had moved hundreds of miles inland to the flat plains on this continent, creating devastation in its wake. It produced an environment far worse than any desert that had existed before. The once rich farmlands were completely underwater, forcing the masses of humanity together into a region devastated by storms so fierce that the top layers of soil had long since blown away. The sky was nearly always grey and bleak. The rays of the sun were blocked so often that the temperature was usually freezing and little rain had fallen in the last score or more of years.

  In the beginning, things had gotten hot—so hot it was impossible to tolerate it. But at least then, there had still been buildings, power, and ways to keep cool. That was before crops started to fail and people began to starve. Over a quarter of the world’s population had died in the first three decades after the coastline was swallowed by the ocean.

  That was more than a thousand years earlier, Anoba reflected. It was when they began this project of cataloging all the life forms on this planet and making plans to salvage as much as they could when they exited it. They had set their plans in motion with The Alteration—the process by which they prepared the inhabitants to vacate this world. Not everyone would be leaving. Unfortunately, there would be some left behind to perish because they didn’t handle The Alteration as well as they should have. The ones who were going forward to form new worlds were divided among ten crews, or Envoys, of which Ársa’s was one.

  The door to the hall swung open and Hermolaos stepped inside. Anoba had hoped he wouldn’t show up. He annoyed her. There was no one she liked to see less than Hermolaos. She remembered him from years ago, before The Alteration. Back then, he had been short, fat, and insecure. His nose was a red bulbous shrine set in the middle of his pudgy face like a landmark on a flat plain. After their genetic alterations, he was no longer any of those things—on the outside. On the inside, Anoba had the impression that he was exactly as he had been only perhaps hundreds of times worse due to his newfound confidence.

  Now, Hermolaos was tall, thin, and wiry, handsome to a fault. He had a chiseled beauty to his face and no one thought so more than Hermolaos himself. His hair had remained dark, a shade of brown just short of black. It held merely a hint of a wave and he kept it cut neatly over his ears and combed back from his face. His eyes were a war
m medium brown. His lips were thin, almost cruel— those also had not changed. His nose was no longer bulbous, now it was straight, thin with only a hint of a bump in the bridge.

  “Good afternoon, Commander,” he said jovially as he shut the door behind him.

  “Ah, Hermolaos’,” Commander said. “It’s about damned time you showed up. We’re ready to start the meeting.”

  Hermolaos gave an easy, relaxed laugh. “Ársa isn’t here,” he said. “How are you planning to start the meeting without your star power?”

  Anoba noted his voice held the slightest hint of jealousy.

  The Commander muttered something dismissive; Anoba didn’t bother trying to understand. She smiled to herself but didn’t turn to face either of them. She would time her entrance to the meeting perfectly.

  Hermolaos’ eyes quickly found Anoba and she could feel him staring at her, looking at her ass as she stood with her back to the room, watching her brother draw near. She didn’t turn around. She recognized the look of unbridled desire in Hermolaos’ eyes. If there was a woman or even a young—very young girl anywhere within eyeshot of him, he would find her and make her feel completely naked and vulnerable with only his unwelcome gaze.

  Anoba had heard many rumors about his exploits with women. No one was safe around him and it was quite difficult to fight him off. She knew from experience not to let her guard down when he was within arm’s reach of her. She would have fallen victim to his aggression if she hadn’t been more than willing to knock his cobble off. A good punch, swift and hard, to the side of his head had made him think twice about finding out how firm her breasts were.

  Using her keen hearing, Anoba listened for his footsteps on the soft-carpeted floor, waiting for him to approach her from behind. If she didn’t turn before he reached her, he would grab her ass or pinch her. His touch made her skin crawl and she wanted to avoid any contact with him. She also wanted to make sure he wasn’t touching her when Ársa walked into the room. Her brother was almost to the meeting hall door. Ársa would not hesitate to knock Hermolaos’ cobble off either and he punched an Ifreann lot harder than she did.