by Sam Nash
“Hello?” The greeting was projecting from within her mind, extending the frequency out into the ether. “Is that you Dan?” Another wait. She concentrated hard on amplifying any feedback or sensations that she could pick up on. “Hello… Lachie?”
“Mary…help us.” It was faint, but definitely someone trying to make contact. It can’t be Dan, Mary reasoned. He has a strong ability to connect with me.
“Am I speaking to Lachie and Oona at the Summerfield Retreat?”
There was that echo again. It was infused with unrestrained emotion. Mary could feel the terror and sadness welling up through the transmission.
“Who is Lachie and Oona?” The voice came back, clearer this time, and with a notable Russian inflection. Mary gasped.
“Captain? Is that you?”
“Mary…at last we have found you.”
“Captain Thirty-Four?” Mary steadied herself against the wall of the diner. It could not be. Was this really the captain of Alexi’s Hive Mind? The leader of a team of conscripted personnel who were kept in a constant state of coma, with the sole purpose of exploiting their mind control capabilities? The very same unit that the British Secretary of State for Defence had blown to smithereens in a diverted US Airforce drone strike? Mary stayed quiet, hoping that whoever was pranking her would make a tell-tale error.
“Mary…Can you hear us? We have been without direction or orders for such a long time. What is happening?”
There was no mistaking his accent. The rush of military presence was exhilarating. Her head filled with excited chatter and noise. It made her giddy. She pushed through the door of the diner and slumped onto a bench seat.
“What can I getcha?” The waitress said, flicking her lank hair out of her eyes.
“Oh, um…tea please, and a cheese sandwich, if you have it?”
“Grilled cheese for table six, Arnold.” She shouted, scribbling in her notepad.
Mary was too bewildered to correct her. She held her head in her hands and listened to the building clamour of voices crowding her senses. How could she still hear their thoughts? Their physical bodies perished in the inferno at Fairfax Airport in Alaska. How could she possibly explain to the unit that they were not able to return to their families and loved ones, that they were cast adrift in the upper atmosphere, to end their days, slowly dissipating into space? Oh God. That means that Parth’s theory about consciousness and the Ionosphere could be true. He will be unbearable, and the fall out for all the religions across the world could lead to decades of conflict.
Her warm milk and teabag arrived. She thanked the waitress and hid her face with her hands. I can’t put it off. These poor soldiers need to know. “Captain, are all your troops with you?”
“No, Mary. A while ago we lost over half our unit at once. We assumed that since they were recruited together, they completed their service at the same time and went home to their families.”
Mary decoupled from the neural link. She did not want the Hive minds detecting the sadness welling up inside her and she needed a moment to think. A large fraction of those who died, also lost the retention of their consciousness within the ionosphere, but some did not. A small number remained accessible. What if she were still able to connect with her grandfather, or her long deceased parents? The thought buoyed her spirits a little. First things first. I have to tell these men the truth.
“Mary, where is the Colonel? We have not been given orders for a considerable time.”
This could not be put off any longer. “Captain, Colonel Visser is dead. There was a drone strike which blasted him, and all the shipping containers that you and your unit were stacked in. I am sorry to tell you this, but all of your bodies perished in the flames.”
All at once, the mutterings transmuted into loud howls, concurrent strings of angry Russian rants and sobbing. These men knew that something had gone dreadfully wrong, but the glimmer of hope that they might see their families once more, was extinguished. Anger, frustration and pent up seething, boiled into Mary’s neural circuitry. She felt their pain as acutely as if she had suffered the same fate. She was their only link to the living world. “I am so sorry.” She repeated over and over, but she knew the weight of her words was nothing. The grilled cheese order arrived, slammed down onto the table without fanfare or cutlery. Mary was not sure she could eat. With the roiling mess of emotions filling her entire being, refuelling her flesh seemed insensitive.
Sipping her tea, she allowed the dead to express their grief. The energies surged and bubbled inside her head, overloading her frontal lobes. What use was she to them now? After a few minutes, Mary felt as though her presence within their frequency was an intrusion. What if they stumbled upon a stray thought that gave away her part in their demise. That would add further insult to an already impossible situation.
“Captain, I feel your grief, and that of your comrades, but you all need time to come to terms with this awful state of affairs. If there is anything I can do to ease the suffering, contact me again. In the meantime, I can only convey my deepest sympathies.”
“We understand, Mary. At least now we have our answers. Thank you.”
The disconnection was not as abrupt as she expected. Instead, they seemed reluctant to cut her psyche loose. Again, Mary waited patiently, until she could feel the last consciousness drift from hers. She ate her cooling lunch, while the waitress slopped more hot water into the dregs of her tea, expecting her to re-use the same teabag.
Was it too soon to try? Mary couldn’t wait any longer. She took a slow breath and cleared her mind of trivia. With renewed hope she sent her message out into the airwaves. “Grampy, can you hear me? Hello…Grampy?” The acid burn of her sinuses stimulated her tear ducts, until they erupted into a stream of saline down her cheeks. “Grampy…please, I need you.” He has to be one of the few to survive physical death. He is too precious to lose forever. “Please.”
“Are you alright, Hun?” It was the hair flicking waitress. She rested her hand upon Mary’s shoulder and squeezed.
Mary used the napkin to dry her face and sniffed. “Fine. Thank you. I say, please may I have a clean cup and a new teabag?”
“You’re English, right?” The waitress smirked.
“How could you tell?” Mary found the energy to smile. Maybe it was just too soon for her grandfather to find his way back to her. Maybe.
The remainder of her expedition was completed in a pall of grief, but the distraction of shopping was welcome. With the Smart car boot and the passenger seat jam packed with bags, Mary set the navigation system to take her back to the ranch, and depressed the accelerator. The sun disappeared behind the clouds, casting the Napa Valley into a dejected bleakness. Even the vines lining the hillsides looked weary. Turning off Highway Twelve, she slowed for the junction that would take her up to Luca’s home. A wide old school bus, painted a garish turquoise, chugged and strained with the incline, it’s exhaust belching out plumes of black smoke.
The bus wound around the roads, at a pace that would frustrate a sloth. Mary shifted into second gear and crawled behind, keeping a sharp eye out for an opportunity to overtake. Where could they be headed? There are only two ranches along this road, and one of those is Luca’s. Eventually, the coach slowed, and pulled onto a dusty lay by at the roadside. Mary passed them slowly, taking in the collection of people disembarking the vehicle. Such a broad cross section of the population was represented by the passengers, Mary could not neatly pigeon hole them at all.
It was only when she peeked in her rear-view mirror and spotted the daubed placards leaning against the front of the bus, did comprehension dawn. The word had spread. Christians across the globe had united in their hatred of Mary. The faithful were raising an army.
Chapter Twenty
The moment Luca’s automatic gates closed behind her, Mary knew she was trapped. The reporter must have posted her image online the second he snapped her leaving the ranch. How quickly the troops rallied. This is a massive country. One
coach load of locals is just the start. The longer I leave it, the more they will come. I need to get my brooch back and get out of here.
With a determined plan fermenting in her mind, she carried her shopping up the terrace steps and into the lounge room.
“Luca? Viktor? I’m back…Hello there.” Mary wandered down the corridor to the study and tried the door. As usual it was locked. She pushed her ear to the wood and listened for voices, but only heard the dull roar of her own auditory chamber. “Where is everyone?” A quick circuit of the kitchen and utility rooms yielded nothing more than empty spaces. She returned to the terrace and looked over the valley towards the ranch gates. Christian protesters were positioning themselves across the entrance. The dark jeep was parked at the boundary; the reporter’s vehicle.
Mary skipped back down the terrace steps to the courtyard. This was an area she had yet to explore. The first of the buildings housed plastic crates for the fruit collection. Workers were visible through the windows, stacking them into high leaning towers. She rapped on the glass.
“Have any of you seen Senator Bonovich?”
They all shook their heads and returned to their task. Weird. He must be around here somewhere or the ranch would be locked up. She looked in each of the out buildings, but found more store rooms and equipment. It was when she reached the end of the courtyard that she sighted a gate and a pathway leading around the rear of the ranch house. Quickening her pace, she unlatched the gate and left it to swing open behind her. At the end of a long narrow walkway, sloping down into the hillside, were two large steel doors. “Holy shit. Luca has his own bunker.”
A thousand connections whirred in her brain. A flood of unfounded suspicions and worries, fixing her to the pathway. Why would he have a bunker? Was this the start of the wine caves, or something more sinister? The similarities with the underground storage bunker at The Summerfield Retreat rang alarm bells in her prefrontal cortex. “But he’s a Senator…”
“Yes I am. You’re back sooner than I expected.” Luca loomed up behind her, his soft shoes muffling his footsteps.
“Jeez…you scared the…” Mary didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t take her eyes from the steel doors ahead.
Luca took in her defensive posture and lack of speech. “It’s my sanctuary. Part of the cave system around here. Would you like to see?”
Mary was not sure that she did. Could Luca be trusted? Her judgement of character had been way off the mark for years. Was Karan right to warn her off him? A hasty risk assessment persuaded her that she still retained the upper hand. After all, she could always give him a jolt of electricity to match his lightning strike. “Okay.” She tried to sound nonchalant but it came off as haughty.
He beamed, stepping ahead to wrench open the heavy doors. She dipped under his outstretched arms and entered the cavern inside. Disorientated, she blinked until her eyes adjusted to the ambient glow from the walls.
“I’d turn on the lights for you, but it’s best to view the tanks in the dark like this.” He touched her shoulders and gently pushed her forwards. At first, she thought the walls were moving, but closer inspection revealed an underwater world of elegant species, each with their own magical powers. Electric eels, medusae jelly fish, cuttlefish, catfish, stingrays, different sub-species of sharks; the aquarium virtually surrounded them with bio-luminescence in one form or another. The effect was hypnotic. Mary lost herself in their depths. So many creatures existing in harmony together.
“How is it that they aren’t eating one another?” All thoughts of distrust dissolved into the waters.
“I feed them well. There have been a few mishaps, but on the whole, it works…somehow.” He watched Mary. Her fascination with his pride and joy made him smile. “I come here when I need to block everyone else out. The rocks here are rich in iron minerals, dozens of feet thick. It acts like a Faraday cage. Blocks out all other frequencies. It’s very peaceful.”
“And yet you let me in.” She turned to him, honoured by his invitation into his personal space.
He nodded, slipping his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and pulling her towards him. “Uhuh. You had your hair cut. It’s nice.”
Mary stood on tip toes and reached up to kiss him. He obliged, bending low to meet her. She wondered if he was digging around inside her mind as they smooched. It broke her concentration.
“So how far back do these caverns go?” She needed to distract him. It was hypocritical of her to worry about him trawling through her thoughts, but she couldn’t help herself. It unnerved her. Now she knew how Shrimant Karan Shinde felt when he thought she was reading him.
“Oh, miles. There are a series of larger and smaller caves, right across the mountains. Most contain wine casks. We had to blast some with explosives to open them out, make them more useful, others only needed passageways dug between them.”
“Don’t you ever feel claustrophobic?” She turned back to the aquarium glass as a reef shark drew close.
“Can’t say that I do, really. It’s the only place where no one bothers me.”
“What’s through there?” Mary pointed to a bolted door on the far side of the space.
“Just access to the tanks.” He moved towards the exit, grabbing her wrist and tugging at her arm. “Come on, I’ll ask Viktor to make us afternoon tea.”
“Can we go and feed the fish?” Mary resisted his pull, leaning back towards the locked door.
“Another day. It’s a mess back there. Come on.”
Mary grumbled, but complied. She didn’t want to push her luck. He had shared his grief over losing his daughter and now allowed her into his private sanctum. The least she could do was to respect his boundaries.
They returned to the ranch house. Mary stowed her shopping away in the guest quarters, Luca answered a call on his mobile phone and Viktor arranged their refreshments. Mary was first to arrive back at the terrace. The Christians at the gates were growing in number, their placards hoisted high for the news crew setting up just beyond. Oh hell. Not again. CNN must have news crews in every bloody state. She turned back and walked inside the lounge. Luca’s muffled voice bled through the study door. What was it about those books that drew her attention? It was like someone was tugging at her neurons, urging her to confirm a nebulous fact. Grabbing the photographic book from the shelves, Mary settled cross-legged on the reading chair and flicked through each of the pages. It was an excellent vantage point. Kitchen staff, winery managers and Viktor bustled through to the study door, and not one noticed her quiet presence.
Monasteries, volcanic craters, The Kremlin… She turned each page with an urgency that she could not explain. Viktor reappeared with a tray of muffins and coffee, slamming it down on the coffee table with a grunt which said; I am not their fucking slave. He left the room muttering sour and guttural noises which made no sense to Mary whatsoever. The next page in the book made Mary gasp. It depicted a snowy day in Moscow, The Royal Citadel clearly visible behind the Russian President. The two western figures clad in thick ski wear, were indisputable. Those mischievous blue eyes twinkling beneath the beanie hat as he shook the president’s hand. The same blue eyes that had lulled her into submission in his sanctuary only minutes before. The second man was Viktor.
Mary couldn’t move. Her arms rigid and trembling, her breath quickened by the adrenal spike in her central nervous system. A few weeks ago, her immediate response would be to run. Experience had taught her to learn more first. With Luca’s image burned into her memory, she took a few calming breaths and returned the book to the shelves. Moving to the settee, she poured two cups of coffee from the cafetière, and added a splash of cream to one. With her arms crossed, she leaned back and waited, framing her interrogation questions in her mind. She was just considering whether to simply present the photograph to Luca and demand an explanation, when he walked into the room.
“Sorry about that. So much for a few days of downtime, eh?”
She flashed him a lack lustre smile.
He paused, and frowned. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing it’s fine. Have you any more news about Alexi and the Summerfield Retreat? Did agents track down the nuclear materials?” She could not prevent her eyes from narrowing as she spoke.
It made him more guarded in his response. “As it happens, yes. It is all dealt with. Big raid, materials recovered, everything sown up. You were right, he is a dangerous little crook.” He reclined on the settee and balanced his left ankle on his right knee. “So, you can relax now. Everything is under control.”
“And there were no fatalities, no opposition to the raid?”
“Casualties, I believe. No one died, I don’t think. I haven’t seen the report yet.” He gazed at her dark irises and frowned again. “What’s eating you? I thought you’d be glad.”
“Oh, I am, it’s just hard to believe that it’s all over with, so easily.” It took the wind out of her sails. She had geared herself up for a confrontation, but now saw no need to question him. He wouldn’t stop staring. A pincer grip took hold of her thoughts. She felt him lock onto her consciousness with such brute force, it made her woozy. Sifting through her worries, he alighted on the image of him and Viktor with the Russian President. Laughing, he released her at once.
“Is that it? My you are a suspicious one. I don’t suppose you read the dedication in that book, did you?”
Mary shook her head.
“My cousin was the photographer. It’s his book. He came with Viktor and me on a diplomatic trip to visit the Kremlin. My one and only chance to meet the president was captured in a book, which he dedicated to me.” He unfolded his legs and sat forwards to reach his coffee. “Anything else you want to grill me on, Ms Arora, or do I get a pat on the back for my efforts?”
