Terra Nova (The Variant Conspiracy Book 3)

by Christine Hart

  “Once Irina and I find this place, I can bring everyone out through a portal. We’ll have our full fighting strength quickly.” Melissa sounded confident and I believed her.

  “I’ll grab us a cab.” I ran to the edge of the plaza where a sky blue car with an unlit “Hire” light on top.

  “Sir, hello, are you available,” I rapped on the window.

  The driver rolled down the window. “Jambo! Where would you like to go?”

  “This is going to sound strange. I’m not a tourist. I’m here with a non-profit. I need to get out to that huge slum outside the city.”

  The driver’s smile evaporated. He frowned at me. “You mean Kibera. It is not a place to visit.”

  “Yes, I understand that. As I said, I’m not a tourist. I know it’s not safe. I’m not sight-seeing.”

  “I will not take you to Kibera. I will not be responsible for you if you go.” The driver rolled up his window and drove away.

  I cast a quick glance back at my friends who had anxious expressions on their passport faces. I crossed the street to a white taxi which also waited for a fare. I made the same request and got a less courteous decline. In my peripheral vision, I saw Ilya approach.

  “This is bullshit. We’re going to rent a car instead.” Ilya beckoned me back with a brisk wave.

  Cole had already ducked into a strip mall on the other side of the plaza. Ilya and I returned to the group, but Cole was already on his way back. The stranger’s face he wore exuded rage.

  “They won’t rent the car to me. I’ve got a passport that doesn’t match my driver’s license and credit card,” said Cole.

  “I’ll try another cab,” I said.

  “We could be at this all day. Let’s ask at the hotel. If Tarak’s friend isn’t a variant, he’s at least in the loop.” Melissa ducked behind a large orchid-covered shrubbery, opened a portal, and disappeared.

  I followed her knowing that I would come out into Melissa’s hotel room. “So what exactly can we say to the manager, when we get him, that’ll convince him to take us out to Kibera? That’s what that skittish driver said the largest slum is called.”

  Cole and Faith popped out of the portal behind me. Her arched eyebrows framed fretful eyes.

  “There’s more than one?” Melissa cocked her head to the side with a blink of disbelief.

  “More than one what?” Faith spat the words like an addict on the edge.

  Ilya and Josh came through the portal and Melissa promptly closed it.

  “More than one slum. The one in my vision was huge. It has to be Kibera, the one the cabbie mentioned.”

  “We have to tell the hotel owner what’s at stake. He’ll help if he knows,” said Melissa.

  “What if he doesn’t believe us? If he wants evidence, that’ll take time we don’t have,” said Cole.

  “So we convince him we need to borrow his car for another reason.” Josh rubbed his cheek thoughtfully.

  “And what reason would that be?” Ilya glared impatiently.

  “I hate to say this, but maybe we need to steal a car,” I said.

  “How do you suggest we quickly and quietly steal a car in the middle of Nairobi?” Cole’s tone bordered on sarcasm and I suppressed a snarky quip as a new idea hit me.

  I ran out of Melissa’s door and whipped my head around to get my bearings. She was on the third floor. I ran to the stairwell, bounded down one floor and sped to mine and Jonah’s door.

  My boyfriend and my sister were sitting out on the balcony playing cards. They looked at me with curious expressions.

  I plunged my hand into my backpack and felt for the plastic bag Monsieur Bonne Nuit had given us. I flipped it out. Success! We had a handful of turbo melatonin-spiked Egyptian crackers ready and waiting to help us scoop a car.

  I ran back up to Melissa’s room with Jonah and Gemma on my heels. I burst through Melissa’s door and flung my hand out gripping the plastic baggie.

  “We’ve got the sleep crackers!” I exclaimed.

  “Fat lot of good that’ll do. It takes too long for those to kick in,” said Faith.

  “We’ll hire a tour van and say we want to go to the Rift Valley. I’ve seen a few posters for that in the lobby.” I gestured our route through the air, digging deep for convincing enthusiasm.

  Faith picked up her tablet and started tapping away.

  “This is a bad plan. In a stolen vehicle we could end up arrested,” said Jonah.

  “Actually it’s not likely. Nairobi’s crime rate combined with the resources of their urban police force make it unlikely they would find us quickly, if at all,” said Josh.

  “I found it!” said Faith. “Kibera is actually en-route to the Rift Valley. We could get a tour guide. Anybody with a van can take us out there. We’ll go out to a lookout or some kind of roadside stop, get him to eat the crackers and stall until he falls asleep. We’ll make sure it’s something like a food stand or a trinket trap so the guy’s not totally stranded. Then we’ll double back to the slum. From there Ilya can listen for Tatiana and Ivan.” Faith’s features finally relaxed with the start of a solution in sight.

  “What if he doesn’t want to eat the crackers?” said Ilya.

  “Then we’re screwed.” Faith rolled her eyes with a toss of her dreadlocks.

  I pulled my backpack back on and marched out the door. I hopped down the stairwell and bounded into the lobby, nervous and afraid. I hoped the combination would come across as excitement in the eyes of the people at the front desk.

  “Jambo!” said a young male clerk behind the counter.

  “Can you recommend a tour operator to take my friends and me to the Rift Valley? We need someone to take us to a viewpoint.”

  “Ah, yes, Rift Valley is very nice for pictures,” said the clerk.

  “Yes, we’d really love to take some pictures.”

  “You take Karibu Kab Tours?” said the clerk as he pointed at one of the posters I’d seen earlier.

  “That would be perfect. Can I borrow your phone? Or can you send them?” I said.

  “You sign up here. He takes groups of eight to ten. If you are not enough people in your group, you wait until more sign up,” said the clerk.

  “I have eight people ready to go now. When will he let us know?”

  “I call right now and he comes immediately.”

  “Okay, that’s perfect.”

  In fifteen minutes, I sensed a presence behind me and I turned around.

  “Good afternoon, miss! You go to Rift Valley?” said a beaming man with a wide straw hat.

  “Are you our driver?” I said optimistically. I sized him up in more detail. He was tallish and strong, but not so giant that we couldn’t affect his physiology. He signified comfortable professionalism in a linen shirt and crisp khaki shorts. I prayed he wasn’t so nicely dressed as to attract thieves or worse once we left him stranded overlooking the Valley.

  “I have Karibu Kab Tours. You have group to go for a drive?” said the driver happily.

  “You bet! I have eight people. When can we leave?” I said.

  “You pay by credit card before we go?” The driver tilted his head hopefully.

  “I can probably give you cash.”

  The driver’s face brightened and he grinned broadly. “In that case, we go now if you like.”

  I rounded everyone up and got us back down in the lobby in less than ten minutes. I wasn’t taking any chances on the Karibu Kab driver changing his mind.

  He waited for us outside the lobby in a small white passenger van with a huge custom sunroof. It was exactly the sort of thing one would picture rumbling across a grassy African plain in pursuit of zebra and lion photos.

  I counted out twenty-five thousand Kenyan Shillings while my friends climbe
d into the van. I didn’t have the heart to tell them we were almost at the end of our financial resources. We had bigger problems on our hands anyway. I took the front passenger seat next to our driver.

  Once he re-counted his fee, we were off and bouncing our way through Nairobi traffic. The van’s suspension was designed for off-road driving. On the urban pavement which had seen better days, each crack and bump hit our tailbones. No one seemed to mind though. We were all preoccupied.

  Then we rounded a corner and a sea of aluminum and fiberglass slabs stretched unevenly into the horizon. I let out an involuntary gasp.

  “This is the Kibera slum,” said the driver with disgust in his voice.

  “How many people live here?” I asked.

  “Some say as many as a million. It is definitely in the hundreds of thousands. The area is large. It is a very bad place.”

  Words left me as we drove on, letting the slum pass by. I felt overwhelmed by the images combining from my mind’s eye and the landscape in front of me. A city within a city packed full of people who lived in squalor and disease already. They probably thought life had already delivered the worst it had to offer. Little did they know what Ivan and Tatiana had planned for them—for everyone. I had to concentrate to keep breathing evenly and calmly.

  We left Kibera behind and the road stretched into more dusty golden rolling hills. Outside the city, dry grass and shrubbery stretched around us. The air was warm, but not muggy. The sun was bright, but not too hot. In many ways, we could easily have been driving along a highway, back in California or Utah.

  But then we would pass a small strip of huts and shacks selling produce and clothes alongside automotive service and it would be utterly different. Hand-painted signs in English and Swahili over stained cement storefronts were paired with fragile straw-capped wood huts.

  While some facades were painted bright red, green, or yellow, some were dingy plain stucco or bare brick. European vans and pick-up trucks shared the road with donkey-powered carts and scooters. Many people were on foot, carrying plastic bags or baskets. We were far enough from the city that I could only guess where they had come from or where they were going.

  Small trails headed off into the wild here and there. Everything on those dry red clay side roads kicked up a cloud of fine dust like smoke signals hinting at more civilization hidden on the plains.

  After passing fits and starts of housing developments, a huge gulf of green yawned in front of us. Fluffy white clouds cast shadows over the lush grassy plain. The sky above was a perfect cerulean blue.

  Tiny structures dotted the landscape connected by faint trails. Farm fields locked together like a patchwork quilt along the center, bordered by dense forest. It was all a stark contrast to the semi-arid desert territory we had driven through to get there.

  “Welcome, my friends, to Kenya’s Rift Valley. You take many pictures. I will take you to buy souvenirs and food and art. You will have much fun.” Our driver clearly had a plan of attack when it came to making the most profit from his tour drives in the area.

  I smiled at the change of pace he’d experience with his current passengers. Worry quickened my pulse. Our driver risked a glance at me as though he sensed my condition. I smiled uncomfortably.

  “Are you feeling well, my friend?” The man’s features remained concerned as he returned his attention to the road.

  “I’m well. Enough.”

  “Good, good. This will be your favorite part of your trip, I promise. Relax. You are safe out here with Karibu Kab.”

  Chapter 21

  We pulled over at Samburu Curio Shop, a pair of bright red wood buildings with vibrant yellow trim. The simple yet colorful building overflowed with wares. Striped and patterned fabric hung in layers from racks. Drums, plates, and bowls were mounted on the wall above the large open doors. Inside sculptures and carvings covered every inch of the first two tables I saw. Batik squares of canvas covered the wall behind it.

  "You look, you buy," said an older woman who approached me out of nowhere. She held a painted wood lion in her hand and thrust it at me. I took it from her, caught off guard.

  I took in my friends one by one. Each of us had a sales person chattering away about buying, buying, buying.

  “Handmade. Good deal,” said another lady, older than mine, tugging on Jonah’s arm.

  “Gifts. Treasures. Take many,” said a little boy, no older than twelve who held up two shell necklaces, one in each hand in front of Gemma. She took a necklace and smiled.

  “We don’t have much money. We can’t stay long.” Cole frowned at the man showing him a painted soapstone keepsake box.

  Melissa browsed inside, miraculously unattended and Faith had slipped away to the bathroom shed. I handed back my lion and excused myself to the van.

  I pulled our melatonin crackers from my backpack and said the only thing I could think to say to our driver. “Sir, can I offer you a snack? I packed these crackers for myself, but the sun hit me funny. I’m still not feeling well.”

  I held out the plastic baggie casually, pleading with the universe, willing him to take the bag while trying to come off as nonchalant as possible.

  “Thank you, miss. You sit. You feel better, you shop again.” The driver set the crackers down on the dashboard of the van and said something in Swahili to my saleswoman who rapped on his window.

  I imagined she complained because I hadn’t bought her lion. Maybe, one of the others had told her I had all the money, which in terms of cash shillings was mostly true.

  A handful of excruciating minutes passed and then our driver did the unlikely. He absent-mindedly reached into the bag of crackers and pulled one out. He ate carefully. Then he picked up the whole bag and ate the rest. Ten crackers laced with whatever form of concentrated melatonin Monsieur Bonne Nuit was capable of imparting.

  Another tour bus pulled in and a couple dozen American schoolchildren stomped out squealing. The salespeople rushed to greet the eager children.

  I tiptoed back to the front of the van. Our driver slept deeply. I inspected the parking lot. Josh and Cole were on their way to the van. Melissa, Faith, Ilya, Jonah, and Gemma followed.

  “Is he asleep?” Josh poked his head in the door.

  “Don’t you think he’d speak up if he wasn’t?” I answered.

  “We’d better get rid of him quickly. These people are obviously his friends.” Cole opened the driver’s side door and slipped his arms under the driver’s legs and behind his back.

  The rest of my friends got into the van quickly. I stole a quick glance at the curio shop. The kids and their chaperones were the perfect fit for the aggressive salespeople piling trinkets and keepsakes into wicker baskets for anyone who would hold them.

  While commerce commenced overlooking the valley, I watched Cole carry the driver to a nearby tree. He laid the man in a seated position back against the trunk. To a newcomer, the man simply took an afternoon nap. It was perfect.

  “All right, time to go.” Josh slid into the driver’s seat. He started the van and Cole hopped into the front passenger seat. Josh pulled out onto the road and we sped back toward the city, the van rattling at our speed.

  “Ilya, can you please get rid of these stupid passport personas?” I’d grown to hating being anyone but myself.

  “Wait, take the next dirt road. We need more practice.” Jonah pointed to a path. Josh peered ahead and shook his head dismissively.

  “There isn’t enough time,” I said.

  “We’ve still got Ilya, right? So nothing’s gonna happen until they get their hands on him.” Faith’s uneven voice betrayed her lack of confidence.

  I paused to consider her logic and it made sense.

  “It’s a fair assumption.” Melissa sounded impressed.

  “Irina, you’ve got to have another v
ision. I hate this not knowing. If I don’t know what’s going to happen, how can I stop it?” Ilya’s concern moved me. Faith leaned forward with wide eyes that begged for hope.

  “This one! There’s a stream!” exclaimed Jonah as we passed a sign for the Ngong Hills Recreation Area.

  Josh hit the brakes and turned hard. Inertia shoved me against my seatbelt. We banged our way up the hill and crossed the stream. The road curved around a bend to a plateau on top and we found a pond surrounded by rushes and several baboons bathing in the pool. I froze in my seat as Josh parked.

  One of the baboons ambled over to our van and Cole stepped out. The baboon eyed him up for a moment, assessing every square inch of Cole. Then the animal let out a primal scream of rage that rattled me to my core.

  “Bring it!” said Cole in a deep angry tone.

  Sensing the challenge, the baboon rushed Cole. But Cole was faster. The baboon leapt into the hair, springing from its powerful hind legs. Cole snatched it out of the air and tossed it down the hillside behind us.

  Josh hopped out of the van in time for another baboon to pounce on him. The baboon swiped. Instead of rending flesh, a sickly scrape was followed by a whimper as Josh’s fist connected with the baboon’s face and sent him flying. The remaining two baboons ran off down the hill after the animal Cole had tossed.

  “Come on out. It’s safe now,” called out Cole.

  “Are you sure this is a good place to practice?” My glance darted around the space, waiting for something to materialize behind a tree.

  “Could you see this pond from the road?” said Josh.

  “What if someone comes up here sightseeing?” said Melissa. “Or a local?”

  Ilya stared back the way we’d come. “Then they’ll find the illusion I just threw up of a barricade with biohazard symbols.” “It’s a universally recognized emblem.” Jonah seemed unconcerned.