Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2)

by Robert Storey

  ‘We’re going into town tomorrow to get supplies,’ Trish said. ‘Do you want to come?’

  Sarah thought about it. With the road network in a state of disrepair, the nearest town worthy of the name was a long way away. ‘Isn’t the GMRC curfew still in effect?’

  Trish nodded. ‘We’ll stay overnight and come back the following day.’

  ‘What time are you leaving?’

  ‘Early, ’bout six.’

  Sarah made a face.

  Trish laughed. ‘I didn’t think you would.’

  ‘Do you want us to get you anything?’ Jason said.

  ‘Chocolate bars, cakes, maybe.’ Sarah paused to think. ‘Anything sweet.’

  He nodded and went back to watching the TV.

  Sarah continued to listen for a while as the different reports from around the world came and went before she got up and moved to the balcony. The net curtains rustled in the light breeze as she parted them to walk out into the open air. She looked down at the steep drop over which the cabin had been built. The elevation ensured the tops of the nearest trees were just below her, offering a clear view of the wisps of cloud that hung suspended over the rejuvenated forest which spread out for as far as the eye could see. She breathed deeply, sucking in the fresh air and soaking up the rays of the sun, which already drifted towards the horizon and a distant mountain beyond.

  Sarah stayed leaning on the balcony’s rail as the sun dipped lower in the sky, her mind drifting without direction.

  A noise from behind made her glance round to see Jason and Trish coming to join her.

  ‘The days are drawing in,’ Trish said, as she came to stand next to her.

  Jason moved to Sarah’s other side and leaned on the balcony rail in similar fashion. ‘At least we have days again. This time last year this would have been pitch-black.’

  ‘I still have trouble getting over how everything’s grown again,’ Trish said. ‘It’s amazing, don’t you think?’

  Sarah nodded and Jason grunted his agreement as they each enjoyed the beautiful vision that surrounded them. More moments of silence passed. Day turned to dusk and the sun set over the majestic vista, sending beams of light cascading through the trees and casting fascinating shadows through the slow, spiralling mists. A single bird repeated its distant call while the sound of insects increased as nocturnal life replaced its diurnal kin.

  ‘We are going to have to make a decision soon,’ Trish said, breaking the spell, ‘about what we do next.’

  Sarah could see her friends looking at her and knew they wanted to know if her convictions remained. And from their earnest expressions she knew she would have to say something sooner rather than later or her pain would spread to them, and that was something she couldn’t abide. Why should they suffer because of me, after all I’ve put them through already? She stood up straight. At least the future isn’t the past, she thought and expelled a deep breath. ‘I still want to find out,’ she said, ‘once and for all.’

  ‘About your mother?’ Jason said.

  Sarah nodded. ‘I need to know … if it was my fault. I can’t move on with my life until I do.’

  ‘And that means finding out who set the fire,’ Trish said.

  ‘The military had my map in Sanctuary’s vaults,’ Sarah said, her voice quiet but determined, ‘which means it was taken before the fire was lit.’

  ‘If it was the U.S. government,’ Jason said, ‘then you may never find out.’

  ‘Then I’ll never find peace.’

  ‘If we couldn’t find out while we were in Sanctuary,’ Trish said, ‘what chance do we have now?’

  Sarah didn’t want to think about it, but Trish was right, regardless. Her best chance of finding out the truth had disappeared as soon as she’d left the underground base. It’s strange, she thought, things are so much clearer in the light of day. The dark, she realised, much like secrecy, always had the ability to affect judgement.

  ‘What about Homo gigantis – the Anakim – and Sanctuary itself?’ Jason said. ‘Do you still want to expose it all?’

  ‘The world has a right to know.’ She looked at them. ‘Doesn’t it?’

  Trish gave a nod.

  ‘I would say so,’ Jason said.

  ‘And there’s no way we could go back to the way we were before,’ Sarah said, ‘and pretend like nothing happened.’

  Jason shook his head.

  ‘Not a chance,’ Trish said.

  ‘Then that means only one thing, we gather our evidence and when we have enough, we go public.’

  Jason didn’t look convinced. ‘That could take years.’

  ‘Not necessarily. We have the parchments,’ – Sarah steeled herself and touched her chest – ‘and we still have the pendant; we just need to find some more bones.’

  ‘That’s a big just,’ Jason said.

  ‘Is it? We found them before and I know a place that is still ripe for potential burial sites.’

  Trish’s expression turned confused. ‘You do?’

  ‘The Cradle of Humanity,’ Jason said, ‘of course!’

  ‘But the meteorite,’ Trish said, ‘South Africa was obliterated.’

  ‘The surface was,’ Jason said, looking to Sarah for confirmation, ‘not underground. There may have been quakes, but something will remain and we know exactly where to look.’

  They all fell silent as they contemplated what they would need to do to bring about their goal.

  ‘It’s a big decision, though,’ Sarah said, ‘life changing, and considering what I’ve put you both through, I wouldn’t blame you if neither of you wanted anything to do with gigantis ever again. Perhaps the question should be – can you even trust me after everything I’ve put you through?’

  ‘Of course we can,’ Trish said, ‘don’t be silly. We knew what we were signing up to, and despite what you might think we do have minds of our own, you know.’

  ‘I know that, I just feel … responsible, that’s all.’

  Jason gave her a nudge. ‘We know, but you don’t have to. I’m big enough and Trish is ugly enough that we can take care of ourselves.’ He looked past Sarah and waited for a reaction, and when none came he said, ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘I did,’ Trish said, her expression smug, ‘but I’m choosing to ignore you.’

  ‘It’s a shame we can’t say the same for your smell.’ He sniggered and gave Sarah a wink. ‘The local kids call her el hedor, it means—’

  ‘The stink and it was you who taught them to sing it!’ Trish leant round Sarah and cuffed him round the head, which made him laugh and brought a brief smile to Sarah’s face.

  ‘I thought they were just pleased to see me first of all,’ Trish said to Sarah. ‘They were running all round me, dancing and whooping and singing this song and it wasn’t until I listened to it that I realised what they were saying. I got my own back though didn’t I, Jas?’

  ‘Pigs wee tea, I thought it tasted quite nice until I found out what it was.’

  Trish giggled and Sarah’s face turned serious. She found it difficult to maintain a smile these days and keeping up a fake façade was nigh on impossible.

  ‘So, what do we do, then?’ Jason said. ‘How do we go about exposing the biggest cover up in history?’

  ‘We need money,’ Trish said. ‘It’s like we said before, fake paperwork and passes will be key.’

  ‘Well, we won’t have to worry about controls in South Africa,’ Jason said, ‘that’s for certain. And we know the rest of Africa can be navigated below the radar if need be, and half of Asia will be just as slack.’ He reached up and stretched. ‘I’ll take the Deep Reach helmets with us tomorrow, see what I can get for them.’

  ‘No parchments though,’ Sarah said, ‘or the Mayan tablet; they’re priceless.’

  He nodded.

  ‘And I’ll go on the net,’ Trish said, ‘see what’s what.’

  Jason yawned. ‘I still can’t believe they don’t have it out here. Although at least they have electricity,
that’s something, I suppose.’

  ‘You wanted remote,’ Trish said. ‘And besides, they used to have it; one of the elders told me when the dust cloud hit, a gang of outsiders stole all the infrastructure – masts, cables, the lot.’

  ‘I suppose the satellites will start working again soon,’ Jason said. ‘Better get hold of a cheap sat-phone if we can, might come in handy.’

  ‘I’m just glad it’s all coming to an end,’ Trish said. ‘The impact winter, I mean. I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime and from what the news has been saying, it was getting pretty scary up here, and that was without all the wars.’

  Jason murmured his agreement. ‘Civilisation is more fragile than we think.’

  Sarah remained silent, immersed in a swirl of thoughts. Even talking about what was to come stirred up powerful emotions. And yet the same questions remained, and along with them, the same problems she’d faced before she’d left London all that time ago. It seemed like a lifetime, but when she thought about it was actually less than two years since she’d embarked on her journey into the unknown. Would I have swapped it all for a life with Mark, a life of veiled threats and drunken abuse? She would like to think not, but then that meant accepting the rest as preferable, which was hard to take. She wiped her eye with the back of her hand as it teared up.

  Jason, perhaps sensing her melancholy, put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘Don’t worry, Sazza,’ he said, ‘we’ll look after you, ain’t that right, Trish?’

  ‘Of course we will.’

  ‘And you’ll never walk alone, you just have to keep hope in your heart,’ – he pointed into the distance at the final rays of light – ‘don’t be afraid of the dark, at the end of a storm is a golden sky.’

  ‘That’s really beautiful, Jas,’ Trish said and linked arms with Sarah.

  The three friends gazed into the setting sun and Sarah felt her tension ease. ‘It sounds familiar, isn’t that a football song?’

  Jason chuckled. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t recognise it, I think Rodgers and Hammerstein were the ones who actually wrote it. I like the words, they have power.’

  ‘And we still have each other,’ Trish said, ‘that’s what counts.’

  The sun flared bright before it finally disappeared beneath the horizon and the inevitable darkness closed in.

  Trish gave a shiver. ‘I’m going back in; it’s a bit nippy out here.’

  Jason followed her inside before stopping to hold the curtain open. ‘You coming?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘I’ll be in in a minute.’

  He gave her a look of understanding and let the curtain drop back to leave her standing alone on the balcony. A moment later a light inside the cabin switched on and Sarah returned her attention to the trees and the forbidding dark that lurked in their midst.

  The sounds of the night intensified, the resonant chirp of crickets prevalent amongst the squawks and croaks of the various creatures that called the cloud forest home. Nearby, a local couple strolled along a wooded path, their low tones drifting up through the foliage, and Sarah wondered what it would be like to live in such a place your whole life. I’ll never know, she thought and looked up at the sky where the shimmer of the brightest stars shone through the dust cloud’s fading shroud. It was good to be back on the surface, and while her sense of safety had left her, she knew, at some point, it would return.

  A shooting star arrowed across the sky, its blazing arc of light fading away like a forgotten soul. Sarah closed her eyes and made an impossible wish before opening them again to gaze out at the blackness.

  Her mind echoed empty before another meteor streaked across heaven’s empyrean vault and she wondered, What does the future hold for me now? She did not know, but one thing was for certain, the life she’d known and the person she’d been would never return. With one last look at the wilderness, Sarah Morgan re-entered the cabin to rejoin her friends, the two people she could rely on more than any other in the world, who she cared for above any other and who epitomised one unifying and emotive word … family.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  The thump of a car door closing woke Sarah from a troubled dream. She opened her eyes to darkness and realised Trish and Jason were leaving for town. Full of anxiety, she knew she didn’t want to be left on her own, and she rushed to the window and heaved it open, only to see a set of red taillights vanishing down the un-surfaced road. The cry of ‘wait!’ died in her throat and she stood staring in forlorn disappointment at the emptiness without.

  Closing the window, she returned to bed, pulled the sheets up around her and curled into the foetal position. Left all alone, she felt on the verge of tears.

  She fought back the sensation, angry and disturbed by her weak resolve. What’s wrong with me? she thought. She tried to reclaim her hold on unconscious sleep, but her limbs felt cold and shaky and the idea she could be suffering from some kind of illness increased her concern. You had a brain operation, said a voice in her head, you could have an infection, a bleed – or worse – both! I haven’t got a bleed, she told herself, don’t be crazy, I’ve been fine for weeks. But what if you needed drugs to suppress the chance of infection? If you haven’t been taking any, you’ve put yourself at risk. And so the thoughts went on, round and round in her head until her stomach clenched into a knot and the taste of bile entered her mouth. Unable to get back to sleep, she lay in bed until the sun streamed into the room and her sheets clung to her with the damp cold of sweat.

  As Sarah lay in a semi-catatonic state, the combined sensations of the itchy bandage round her chest and the clammy, dirt-ridden bedclothes overwhelmed her mind. Unable to stand it any longer, she flung off the covers and slid to the edge of the bed, where she sat staring at her hands, which continued to tremble and shake. Clenching her fists, she stood up and a wave of nausea made her head swim. She breathed deeply to expel the feeling and stumbled out of the room and into the dingy bathroom, with its blackout blind and closed shutters. In semi-darkness, she splashed cold water over her face and then cupped her hands to allow the cool liquid to pool before drinking it down with great, gasping gulps. She tucked the strands of hair that clung to her face back behind an ear and struggled out of her pyjama top, which she dropped to the floor in a sodden heap. Naked apart from her bandage, she moved back to the bedroom, feeling light-headed from the lack of sleep. At least my hands have stopped shaking, she thought, and she pulled on some clean knickers and an old T-shirt before sitting back down on the edge of the bed, which felt damp to the touch.

  She ran her hands over her face and then bowed her head. Is this my life now, she wondered, too scared to be on my own, a nervous wreck? What do I have to look forward to? The prospect of failing to find Mum’s killer and revealing the truth to a world too busy to care. And what difference would it make, anyway, if everyone knew about the Anakim? Will it change my life? No. Will it endanger Trish and Jason? Yes.

  She knew they said otherwise, but could she really drag them back into the mire? Or should the question be, am I even capable? Can I function in the real world? She held out her hand which trembled in response. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Am I Sarah from London, daughter of a murdered mother? Am I Sarah the childless spinster, cursed to live alone? Or am I the archaeologist who’s ridiculed by her professional peers? You’re Deep Reach, said another voice, don’t you remember?

  She didn’t want to remember and her brief life in Sanctuary was fading fast; it was almost like it had never happened. But ever since she’d decided to leave London behind in search of Homo gigantis, she’d been either chasing secrets or fleeing from those who wanted to protect them. Perhaps I should just give up and live a quiet life? Go back to the soul-sucking boredom of my nine-to-five. It sounded nice, it sounded safe.

  A scratching noise at the bedroom window caught her attention. She got up and walked over to open it and the ginger cat jumped down to rub round her legs. Sarah watched it wander away to investigate benea
th the bed and that’s when she remembered her drawings. She moved to the bed and peered underneath. The cat’s face popped out and kissed her face with its nose. She stroked its head before gently moving it aside as she reached out to locate the cardboard box she’d hidden away. Sliding it out, she carried it downstairs to the kitchen while the cat continued to worry around her.

  She placed the box on the dining table, withdrew the sheets of white paper and spread them out. Sitting down on a creaky chair, she chose one of the pencils at random, selected a blank sheet and paused as her hand trembled. She reached out and held it with her other hand and waited until the disturbance eased. Able to continue, she drew a straight line, and then another, and soon she was immersed in the task, connecting series after series of bisecting lines. She didn’t know why she was doing what she was doing, but it felt right somehow.

  She hadn’t told Trish and Jason about her midnight preoccupations, the time when she usually succumbed to the compulsion to put pencil to paper. She felt guilty for not telling them, but she knew they wouldn’t understand, or would ask questions she didn’t want to consider. She finished shading the drawing and held it out to assess. It wasn’t quite right. She moved it aside and started afresh on a new sheet.

  Hours passed and Sarah didn’t realise how long she’d been lost in her artistic fervour until the lack of illumination halted her progress. Frustrated at the interruption, she got up and switched on the light. The ginger cat stared at her with green eyes from where it sprawled on the kitchen counter. Sarah gave it a quick stroke before deciding to take on some food and drink.