by Paul Heron
A gun shot rang out from the trees.
‘Don’t move a muscle or every one of you will die,’ came a Mexican accent. After a few seconds, and a number of clicks, they were surrounded by ten men in suits, all armed with AK47’s. Michael jumped to his feet, followed by the rest, grouping closely together. Outnumbered and outgunned.
‘Finally,’ came a hoarse voice with a local accent. ‘Mr O’Hagan, or as I like to call you, the pain in Mancini Corporation’s ass.’
Michael’s head dropped. I can’t believe this. He looked back up at the sky as if to ask the gods for a way out of this one.
Jose Garcia, Alejandro Garcia’s twin brother walked into the circle of automatic weapons that his men had formed around Michael and the rest.
‘Thanks, I think I’ll take my boat back. I’m quite a sentimental person, really,’ Garcia said gesturing towards the boat. ‘She’s called “La Donna Bella”, named as a reminder of the beautiful Italian lady I murdered five years ago.’ He looked at Sofia and smiled. His pearly white smile and dark features would have been attractive to most. But perhaps with a heart as black as tar. ‘Yes, that beautiful Italian lady tried to outsmart Mancini Corporation. What was her name?’
He looked at his men for help with the answer. ‘Maria, yes. That’s right, Maria...’
‘Sirani. Maria Sirani,’ Sofia said, her breathing becoming heavier. ‘You?’ She glared at him, eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. ‘You killed my godmother?’ Her face reddened.
Michael squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t let him see you cry. He doesn’t deserve your tears.’ He spoke in Gaelic Irish, knowing Sofia would have been the only one to understand.
‘You’ll burn in hell for this, you scum!’ Sofia spat at him, hitting him right on the lens of his sunglasses.
He wiped it off and smiled, wiping the spittle on his tongue. ‘Yes, Maria tasted nice too.’
Sofia swiped for him, her nails drawing blood.
Garcia slapped her back across the face with so much force she stumbled backwards, holding her cheek.
Michael lost all sense of calm. He lunged for Garcia, gripping him by the throat. There was gunfire - warning shots - but Michael didn’t stop. He was like a bloodthirsty killer. Everyone had their breaking point, and seeing Garcia hit Sofia had pushed Michael over the edge.
Mohammad let off a huge whistle, causing a family of howler monkeys to jump out of the trees, launching stones at the agents, creating a distraction.
Marcel pulled a gun from an agent; Carolina pulled a gun from another while the monkeys continued to attack. Marcel threw his gun to Mohammad, Carolina threw hers to Eduardo. They disarmed the rest; the agents were shouting for help that didn’t come. The monkeys bit and tore chunks of flesh from them. It was a feast for them, but a horrific way to die for the agents.
Michael was looking deeply into Garcia’s eyes, so close he could see his own reflection in them. He watched as those cold eyes turned bloodshot.
‘Michael, don’t! Michael,’ Sofia shouted. Michael ignored her pleads. ‘Michael stop, please stop!’ Sofia's tone softened almost to a whisper.
He snapped out of it by the soft voice and gentle touch of Sofia behind him. ‘He’s not worth it, Michael. You don’t want his blood on your hands.’
Michael released his grip from Garcia’s throat, drove his knee into his groin and watched as he fell to the ground gasping for air.
Carolina, Marcel, Mohammad, and Eduardo had guns pointed at the agents. All of them shaking, not sure how many more surprises they could take.
‘We’ll tie this scum up and leave them with their boat,’ Sofia said, kicking Garcia, who was still on the ground. ‘And you better change the name of that boat.’
Marcel, Eduardo, and Abbe fitted the agents with their own hand cuffs.
Michael reached for Garcia’s phone and anything else that could come in handy, when Garcia, standing against a tree gasping, kicked Michael in the groin, followed by a knee in the face, sending Michael to the ground.
Garcia quickly produced a flick knife and jumped on top of Michael, grabbing him by the throat. ‘I’m going to cut your...’
Then Michael heard gunshots. He watched Garcia’s body shutter right in front of him. His expression went blank, the smell of cigar smoke on his breath. Garcia’s lifeless body fell on top of Michael as if his dead body was hugging him.
Michael looked over the corpse’s shoulder to see Sofia still pointing an Ak47, shaking, a pale expression on her face.
Mohammad and Carolina pulled Garcia’s body off Michael. Nobody said a word.
Sofia just stared at Garcia as blood pooled around his torso.
After the agents were cuffed, they waited for the chopper, hoping Alban could reach them.
Michael received a message. ‘They’ve set up the equipment. Everything’s ready.’
There was a medley of phone beeps as they all received messages from George in England, telling them to be vigilant and to look out for one another.
‘It’s starting,’ Carolina said, passing her phone to Eduardo.
‘China and Russia are suspected of carrying out the attack. Apparently it was only meant for US President Johnson. Nations are furious. Russia and China say it’s a lie. We need to stop this before the bombs start dropping.’ Michael glanced at his watch. ‘It’s just past six-thirty. We have one hour to reach Bonampak and stop this.’
Michael had left Ireland three days before, but what a person he had grown into, not only the outside, but on the inside. All his life he had been struggling to speak in front of strangers; he was a shy boy. Now, he was leading a group of people and was about to face his worst fear, public speaking. He half cursed Elisabetta for choosing him, but he couldn’t back out. Everyone counted on him, and after everything they’d been through together, he couldn’t let them down. It was his time to step up. His body trembled with the thought.
He looked at Sofia and knew they had all become something they couldn’t return from - their innocence was gone.
Their silence was killed by the thumping sound of the chopper’s propellers in the distance. The aircraft almost felt like home. Mohammad danced. Carolina and Marcel laughed half-heartedly.
In forty-five minutes, Michael would be the only person the world would see and hear. How was he supposed to process that?
Alban landed, and they all jumped in. The cabin was filled with the smell of damp wood, grass, and mud.
‘Thank God you’re all okay!’ Scarlett said. She welcomed each of them with a motherly hug.
Ringo gave each of them a nod of approval and a firm handshake.
‘How long until we reach Bonampak?’ Michael said. ‘I want to get this over with.’
‘Around thirty minutes, hopefully before seven-thirty,’ Ringo yelled.
Ringo, Ahmad, Larry, and Scarlett all proudly looked at the team. But there was a feeling within the group.
How would they cope with the fact that Sofia had just shot dead Jose Garcia? On top of that, everyone was putting on brave faces, trying to ignore the fact that the world was about to start targeting eachother based on a lie.
Michael watched as the sky began to lighten. ‘I want to deliver the message from one of the Pyramids. It’s an important message, and it should be broadcast from an historical site.’ He looked at Abbe. ‘And I’m proud to have experienced the beautiful Mayan culture. Scarlett, Ajit, the rest of you guys, this is Abbe: Sirani Foundation’s newest member.’
Abbe smiled, still shaken from what had just happened on the ground.
‘What’s the blood on your face?’ Scarlett pulled a wet wipe from her handbag ‘Are you bleeding?’ She sat down beside Michael.
‘It’s Jose Garcia’s.’ Michael looked at Sofia, who was staring at the ground. ‘It was either his or mine.’
‘What? What happened? Are you all okay?’ She looked around at everyone individually.
They all just looked back at her, blank stares.
‘Let’s just finis
h this and go home,’ Michael said.
‘While there still is one!’ Eduardo added.
Michael closed his eyes and tried to relax.
Chapter Fifteen
THE CHOPPER LANDED with a thud. A grass covered open space, surrounded by the local lush – thirty to forty feet tall Guatteria Anomala, and Ceiba Pentandra – a family of Mexican trees that stood guard over the tribes, providing homes to the area’s wildlife. The pyramid, a ruin that acted as a reminder, almost a timemachine back to the ancient city that once thrived there.
Michael got out of the chopper first, his trembling legs almost giving way to his weight. ‘Well done!’ he yelled in Ajit’s ear, grabbing his shoulder to balance himself.
‘We’ve done the job!’ Ajit said, humbly. He handed Michael a silver laptop, even this device had the Sirani logo emblazoned on the inside of the flip screen. The software was ready to broadcast. L’amico was ready to shut everything down.
‘Are you ready?’ Eduardo shook Ajit’s hand.
‘We have zero time to lose,’ Ajit said.
‘Have you seen what the Americans have done?’ Ringo shouted, looking at his phone. ‘Russia has been attacked. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. It must have been a warning. But now China is threatening to attack America. The British prime minister said they will go to war, siding with America.’ He checked his phone to find another update from Sky World News: Russia preparing to defend its territory – by any means necessary – this situation has escalated faster than anyone would have expected.
Ringo put his arm around Michael. ‘Are you ready, my good man? Ready to declare our world leaders unfit for their jobs?’
‘I’m ready, Ringo. I think.’ But truthfully, Michael didn’t know what to think. Or how. He couldn’t think straight.
‘You’ll be alright, pal,’ Ringo said with that reassuring voice he always seemed to have. ‘It’s just a little camera. And we’re all here with you.’
Ringo had his own unique ability – the ability to put people at ease.
Scarlett joined them. ‘Where do you want to broadcast from?’
Michael looked at Abbe. ‘This is your home. Where do you want us to broadcast from?’
Abbe looked around, smiling mischievously. ‘That pyramid.’
‘Great idea,’ Scarlett said.
They all grouped together at the bottom of the ruin, the first step.
Eduardo and Ajit, full of excitement, started the climb first. The rest followed.
On his way up, Michael’s knees began to wobble, feeling heavy and weak. What the hell have I got myself into! He felt a gust of wind. A black feather landed on the next step he was about to take.
‘Why did you have to choose the top, why not the bottom?’ Mohammad said, gasping for air.
Michael looked to his right at Mohammad, red faced and sweating. ‘When we get back to Little Camberly, I’m starting a Gaelic football team, and I’m making you captain.’
‘I’ll be off sick that day, sorry.’
Sofia and Carolina laughed.
At the top, Ajit looked at everyone. ‘We are ready.’
Before any of them knew what happened, the sun light disappeared. The world fell into complete darkness. No moonlight, just a sky full of stars, like the largest ever join the dots.
‘Okay, what the hell has just happened?’ Eduardo shouted. ‘Who turned out the damned lights?’
The ground shook. A flash of bright light was cast over the land like a giant bomb had gone off, a wind arrived with it, almost carrying them into the sky. A rumbling could be heard, coming from the distance. The wind grew too strong, blowing them all over. After a second, everything stopped. The earth stood still again. The wind retreated. The darkness crept away into the sky, and the sun had returned, leaving the sky it’s normal shade of blue.
‘What the hell was that?’ Marcel shouted. ‘Did everyone see what I seen?’
‘We’re not blind, dumbass!’ Ajit shouted.
‘Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!’ Marcel marched towards Ajit, his fists clenched.
‘Everyone shut up.’ Scarlett shouted. ‘Whatever it was, we can’t worry about it...’ She trailed off. They all looked at her. The air before her shimmered, like heat rising off the ground. It was like the portal that had led them into the Otherworld. A black figure stepped through, towering over Scarlett. The face wasn’t visible under the black hooded rags. The figure stepped towards Scarlett and reached for her, she dropped to the ground and curled into a ball.
‘It’s the God of the Dead!’ She screamed.
Another portal appeared and Elisabetta stepped through. She spoke in a language only Michael and Sofia understood. Gaelic Irish. The dark one ignored Scarlett and turned his attention to Elisabetta.
‘You will not harm them.’ She pushed Scarlett behind her, and blocked any passage towards the rest of them. ‘You will not get through me, Donn. Go back to the Otherworld, and tell the Formorians that the Tuatha de Danann will fight you to the end, but you will not harm this world. You will have to come through me.’
‘All I want is Michael. And we will have no war. Give me Michael, and I will spare the rest.’
A spear appeared in Elisabetta’s hand. As tall as her. ‘Go back, now, Donn. Or I will drive this into your black heart.’
Donn stood over Elisabetta, his hood tilted. He reached out one hand to grab her, a bright light, flashed, blinding them all. When the light disappeared, so were they. Elisabetta, and who they now knew was Donn, the God of the Dead and leader of the Fomorians had disappeared.
‘Let’s send this message and get the hell out of here.’ Sofia shouted.
When he heard that, Michael felt the blood draining from his head and limbs. He felt like he was going to pass out. His stomach retched.
‘Right, it’s time to go. Alban, wait in the chopper. Keep that engine running; we’ll need to get out of here as soon as we’re finished. Everyone, wake up, snap out of it!’ Sofia said, directing everyone to get behind the laptop. She told Michael to get into position.
‘Sometimes, I think you should be the leader, Sofia,’ he trembled, feeling cold.
‘No, thank you! No way I’m standing in front of that camera.’
He looked at her, seeing her trying to put on a brave face. ‘Are you okay?’
She pecked him on the cheek. ‘We’re in this together, right?’
He smiled at her. ‘Right.’
She backed away. They all stood back. The camera was set. The microphone was working.
‘Okay, Ajit. Let’s get this done.’ Michael was now trembling uncontrollably.
Ajit activated L’amico; Eduardo set up the laptop camera; Sofia opened another laptop and logged into all her social media sites and YouTube; Mohammad set up a portable TV; Marcel had a radio, and Scarlett was on a group Skype call with Sirani agents in all continents, all connected to the Sirani network.
Mohammad looked up at Michael. ‘Holy Moses! Michael, your face is on every channel! That thing actually works.’
‘And I can only hear Mohammad’s dumbass voice through the radio channels,’ Marcel said.
‘Okay, so it’s working. We need to be fast. We shouldn’t keep L’amico activated for too long.’ Eduardo reminded everyone.
Everyone in the world can see this. Michael felt dizzy. From behind the camera, Scarlett was awaiting confirmation from agents. After a few seconds, she signaled with a thumbs-up that the broadcast had begun.
Oh god...the world is now watching me, live. What the hell am I thinking of, I’m the biggest joke on the planet. Michael looked up at the camera, feeling as though he was facing a firing squad. He had never felt so alone.
He opened his mouth, but couldn’t string two words together, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. He felt sick, weak - like his muscles had taken his courage and ran back to Ireland. He sighed and sat down on the hard, cold stone of the pyramid, about to retch. He remembered how he struggled to talk during the ice breaker at
Sir Herbert Noring’s only three days before. How could he talk in front of billions of people?
Ready to give up and run away from the limelight, he looked up at the camera. Then beyond the lense, directly behind the camera were those strangers who he had been afraid to talk in front of just three days ago, who he now saw as his second family. As it stood, they were it. All he had.
A breeze cooled him. Elisabetta’s voice was carried in the wind. She whispered in his ear. ‘Do not be afraid, Michael, I’m with you every step of the way.’
‘Michael...’ Sofia whispered, bringing him back into the present.
He looked at the camera. There was nothing but the sound of a plane in the distance. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this.’
As he said that, he saw everyone’s expression change. They all had that look – the look as if their hopes had been dashed. That look you would get by showing a child the gift they always wanted, then taking it away from them. They all had that look. He knew then, what he had to do. He couldn’t let them down.
Mohammad, looking hopeful, whispered ‘we're with you, chief, all the way,’ he nodded his head and gave Michael a thumbs-up.
The world was watching Michael, wondering who the hell this guy was. Michael dragged his worn-out body off the ground and spoke. ‘Good morning, or good afternoon, or good evening,’ he cleared his throat. ‘I have a message for everyone watching this.’ He felt his muscles seize and his chest tighten. There was tension in the air. He could feel it, almost knocking him back down again. ‘You will all think this is a joke, but look at your TV, check your internet, switch radio stations at home or in your cars. We have hijacked all the earth’s communication channels. Everything. This is the only way we can get people to listen and take action.’ He looked at the camera lens, trembling.
‘As you all know, our world leaders have been targeted and the blame game has begun. None of you know what’s really happening. My colleagues and I do. We have proof that there is a secret organisation that has been controlling our world leaders, playing them all against each other. At the recent UN meeting in Vienna, this organisation, called Mancini Corporation, polluted the politicians’ drinks with a substance, with the hope of controlling them. Anything our leaders are told to do, they will do.’ His throat tickled. ‘Our world leaders are marionettes, and an evil family is pulling the strings. But they’ve ended up poisoning some instead.’
