by Melissa Frey
The dark form stole out from under the cover of the tent, slipping silently past the unknowing inhabitants of the dig under the night sky.
Lamanai Archaeological Dig, Northern Belize
Jackie awoke with a start, jolting upright on her cot. Light streamed through the small opening in her tent and illuminated the space inside through the canvas walls. Her eyes darted around erratically, anxiously searching for her two tent-mates, but their cots were empty, the tent otherwise uninhabited.
She stepped into some sandals as she grabbed a nearby sweater out of habit. She pulled it on as she exited the tent.
The sun was hot already. She could feel it beating down hard on her face. She had taken only a few steps before she put a hand over her eyes and turned back to the tent to grab a wide-brimmed hat.
As she left the tent a second time, leaving behind the sweater but donning the hat, something occurred to her. Why was it so bright out here? And why was it so hot? She squinted up at the sky and saw the sun overhead, much farther from the horizon than she expected. What time was it?
She glanced down at her watch. Almost eleven. How had she slept this late without being woken up? Where had her roommates gone?
Then she noticed something, or rather, the lack of something—this place was much too quiet. This time of day, the dig should be bustling with activity. Especially this late in the morning.
So where was everyone?
Belize Rainforest, South of the Mercenary Camp
Holun yawned and tilted his head to either side. He was sitting at the edge of a large clearing, easily fifty yards away from where Na-um was briefing the troops. He played with a long blade of grass as Na-um administered his daily dose of sleeping medication in the form of troop movements, plans, and the like. Holun resisted the urge to stand up and visibly stretch. Even from this distance, he could clearly hear every word Na-um was saying. The exceptional hearing afforded a few of the more gifted members of the Clan usually came in handy.
But today, it was nearly nauseating.
Holun stared at the ground as he tried to focus solely on the single blade of grass in his hand in an unsuccessful attempt to drown out Na-um’s wearisome speech.
“We will continue our training the rest of the week . . .” Na-um was saying. Holun rolled his eyes, careful to hide it from anyone who may be looking his way. Training, ha. That’s a joke. Exasperated, he tossed the blade of grass to the ground in front of him. He was about to stand up when something unexpected reached his ears. He froze in place, now listening intently as his eyes bored holes in the ground.
“Na-um,” the voice was whispering, “I have more news.”
Holun stole a glance toward the formation, taking in the fifty-plus men standing at attention before his eyes stopped on Na-um.
And the young man now by his side.
Holun vaguely recognized the man—well, boy, really. He was almost as young as Holun himself. He had always just been one of the soldiers, nobody special. At least to Holun.
Apparently Na-um didn’t share the same sentiment.
Holun tried to not stare, but he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Like someone was more important to Na-um than he was. It was stupid. To feel like someone had taken his place by one simple conversation . . .
“I just came from Location Alpha,” the boy continued. “The plan was executed nearly perfectly. All but a few should be dead by the end of the day.”
Holun gasped, then mentally kicked himself. He quickly averted his eyes, hoping Na-um didn’t suspect that he was listening in. Only a few in the Clan had exceptional hearing—and only those select few even knew about it.
But Na-um was one of them. He had undoubtedly heard Holun, which meant that he would have easily realized that Holun was listening. And, clearly, the secret conversation was not something Holun was meant to hear.
After all, if Na-um wanted him to know, wouldn’t he have been told about this guy by now?
As the conversation ended and Na-um continued his brief, Holun sighed, feeling as though he had avoided a verbal lashing. His reprieve was short-lived, however, as he remembered what he had heard. Where was Location Alpha, and what plan had been executed there?
He plucked another piece of grass from the ground in front of him as he contemplated the possibilities.
The location could be Lamanai, the dig . . . or Leticia, where the Americans currently were. But given what the young informant had said—all but a few should be dead—he figured they were probably talking about the people at the dig. Plus, Na-um wouldn’t be continuing his speech if the American foursome were dead. There would be no reason to continue.
So what was the plan? Did they have a small group go in last night and murder everyone in their sleep? He shuddered at the thought, realizing as a knot formed in his stomach that the scenario was entirely possible. Na-um had lost any semblance of humanity days ago; Holun wouldn’t put the execution of innocent people past him. Except . . . didn’t the boy say they should be dead by the end of the day? What did they do?
“Holun?”
Holun jumped at the sound of Na-um’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed his leader finish his brief and release his men. Holun’s internal musings had successfully blocked out his superior’s voice, and he found himself eternally grateful that Na-um couldn’t read his mind.
Na-um now stood at his side, arms crossed. Holun shot to his feet instantaneously and snapped to attention. “Yes, Sir?”
Na-um smiled a little. “Sorry to startle you, Holun. At ease.”
On the outside, Holun appeared to relax a little, but the knot in his stomach was multiplying into hundreds of little knots. He returned Na-um’s smile with a little effort. “Yes, Na-um . . . sorry.” His body relaxed even more as he composed himself further. “What is it?”
“Holun,” Na-um began, placing a hand on Holun’s forearm and leading him a few steps farther away from the group. “I heard you listening to my conversation a few minutes ago.”
Holun pasted an apologetic look on his face. For appearances only. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “Still haven’t gotten this hearing thing under control.” The lie came to him more easily than he would have thought possible, which surprised him. And worried him, just a little.
Na-um smiled and placed a hand on Holun’s shoulder. Holun knew that Na-um intended the gesture to be reassuring, but the younger man just found it to be condescending. “That’s fine, Holun.” His superior took a deep breath and fell silent, his brow furrowing in concentration. With every second that ticked by, Holun grew more and more nervous.
Finally, Na-um sighed. “It’s probably time for you to find out what’s going on.” He walked to a nearby boulder and sat down, motioning for Holun to do the same. Holun took a seat as Na-um began.
“When we first discovered our problem at Lamanai, I had Konae do some recon for us,” he started, nodding toward the soldier Holun had overheard just moments earlier. He was currently running around with his friends like the adolescent he was. Holun had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “He started reporting on their movements, on everything that was happening. He was the reason we knew when the Americans were leaving the dig, and why we were able to stop the vehicle from getting too far, at least the first time.”
The memory of that day sickened Holun, but he was able to keep any telling expression from his face. He all too clearly remembered the day the Clan robbed those innocent men of life.
Na-um continued, apparently oblivious to Holun’s displeasure. “Soon after he started the recon, he came across someone at the dig, a supporter. Someone sympathetic to our cause.”
Holun couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Someone at the dig was helping them? How could they live with themselves? “Who?”
Na-um shook his head. “I’m not sure. They apparently want to remain anonymous. No one knows who Konae’s contact is but him.”
“But why would they help us?”
Na-um shrugged, looking
a little too pleased with the situation. “Who cares? We have someone on the inside, someone willing to help us defeat the Americans. Why question such a fortuitous turn of fate?”
Holun could think of many reasons, but he kept his mouth shut.
Na-um rose to his feet. “Konae’s been keeping me apprised of any progress at the dig. We’ve found his contact to be extremely reliable. This should be over very soon.” He smirked as he started to head back to his men. “Holun,” he called back over his shoulder just before he was out of an average man’s earshot, “let me know when you find something!”
Holun nodded slowly, trying to play along. Na-um knew Holun could’ve heard a whisper from a hundred yards away, so his last statement was obviously for his soldiers’ benefit, soldiers who didn’t know of Holun’s special hearing ability. Holun stayed seated on the rock and—initially for appearance’s sake—serenely slid his eyes shut.
Although Na-um hadn’t directly mentioned anything about his visions, his comment made Holun realize it’d been awhile since he’d looked for any news. Guess now is as good a time as any.
He tried to concentrate, struggling to see the outcome of Na-um’s imminent battle with the Americans. As anticipated, he was unable to see anything.
At first, it had been extremely irritating. He had wondered what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t see the most important battle his people would ever fight. But after awhile, he came to expect the lack of information. Maybe something was blocking him again. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to know the outcome in advance—after all, why would they bother fighting if Holun saw the possibility that they might not win?
Holun sighed. Well, I guess I can still try to check on the Americans. He clenched his eyes tighter and tried harder to concentrate. He thought that perhaps if he could focus solely on their informant at the dig, whoever it was, he may be able to find a link to the Americans. He figured it was worth a try.
The plan worked like a charm. Holun smiled to himself as he began to tap into the consciousness of their informant, gleaning all the information he could from them. He found out about the plan at the dig, about why everyone was dying. And he saw the previously undiscovered whereabouts of the four Americans—the very ones that had so frustratingly eluded them so far.
Just before the vision cut off, he felt something, a twinge in his consciousness. Almost as if someone was pulling at his mind, trying to get in. The informant? Holun clenched his teeth as he fought to keep them from tapping into his mind, but that only seemed to make them stronger.
This had never happened before. Whoever this was—and he suspected it was their informant—was powerful, and knew how to control their mind. The thought made him shiver. He struggled to cut off the connection, fought to break the vision off. He couldn’t let them take over . . .
Holun’s eyes flew open. Sweat was pouring down his forehead as he stared at the ground, trying to compose himself before hurrying to tell Na-um the news. Good news, for once. Well, it would be to Na-um, anyway.
But as he rose and started walking toward his superior, he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling settling deep inside him. Someone out there was powerful, perhaps even more powerful than Na-um himself. That person—if it, in fact, was their informant—was on the Clan’s side, for now. But who knew where their loyalty would ultimately lie? Holun shuddered. He had a sinking suspicion that if this person was as strong as he feared, whoever got in their way probably wouldn’t survive.
CHAPTER 35
Contagion
Lamanai Archaeological Dig, Northern Belize
Kayla drew an unsteady breath as she climbed out of their rental car. She pulled her shirt away from her stomach and tried to fan herself with it, but the fabric was heavy and saturated in the thick and visibly moist evening air. Thanks to the only car they could find to rent at such short notice being seriously lacking in air conditioning, her clothes were all plastered to her skin. Kayla rested her hands on her lower back and stretched, then rolled her shoulders and neck. She really wished she could just go get a cool shower and sleep for a good twelve hours before she had to do anything else.
Then she remembered why they’d traveled hundreds of miles to come here, and knew her wish was not coming true tonight. She sighed and reached for Grady’s hand. She would need his strength to help her get through what she could only imagine lay ahead.
But, even with Grady at her side, the longer she was here, the more unsettled she felt. Something sinister, intangible but undeniably real, was reaching out for them, beckoning them toward certain demise. The air was thick, yes, but it wasn’t just from the humidity. Something else, something almost evil, was here. She could feel it just underneath her skin.
Death.
Kayla squeezed Grady’s hand and pulled him closer. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, but the smile he attempted fell far short of genuine happiness. Though she couldn’t hear his thoughts anymore—which she found herself missing more and more—she knew him, and could still read him. And she knew that he was feeling the same way she was.
Then she spotted something, floating toward them out of the mist in the waning daylight like a ghostly apparition. Jackie’s face came into view, hovering about five and a half feet off the ground before the rest of her body appeared. Kayla felt herself relax a little when she started to notice another person behind Jackie, then another, and another, gradually appearing out of the mist and walking toward them. Well, maybe relax wasn’t the word. Relief, maybe? No, not quite that either, exactly. She was relieved that some people had survived whatever had happened here . . . but what exactly did happen here? She opened her mouth to ask, but Grady raised his hand and the words died in her throat.
Grady’s simple gesture halted Jackie and her small band of refugees in their tracks. They stopped a good distance away, almost too far to be heard without raising their voice.
Grady pulled her slightly behind himself, and Kayla was glad for the barrier between her and the refugees. Something was off here tonight, and just seeing the bedraggled group made the feeling stronger, reminding her of why they’d spent nearly twenty-four hours in airports and on planes to rush here and—do what, she wasn’t sure. She’d only known that they’d had to get here, and fast.
“Grady!” Jackie’s shout abrasively broke the silence, a sound which grated on Kayla’s nerves a little, like someone speaking too loud at a funeral home. Almost exactly like that. “We’re not contagious—at least I don’t think we are,” she began. “We haven’t touched or even gone near any of the . . . sick.” Jackie paused briefly to take an abnormally short but deep breath, then pressed on. “Plus, none of us have shown any symptoms.”
Grady’s eyes flashed to Kayla’s. “What are you talking about?”
Kayla could see Jackie blink hard, even from this distance. “You didn’t get my message?”
Grady shook his head and reached instinctively for his phone. “We’ve been on a plane most of the day.”
Jackie stared, then blinked again. “I thought that’s why you came. Though I couldn’t figure out how you got here so quickly. It’s only been an hour.”
Kayla couldn’t stay quiet any longer. She had to know. “Since what?”
Jackie exchanged glances with her group. She drew another deep breath before explaining. “This morning—I think at breakfast; I skipped it this morning—everyone started getting sick. They just fell to the ground and looked like they were in a lot of pain.”
“What happened to them?” Grady prodded.
Jackie shrugged, looking more nonchalant than Kayla would have liked. “We’re not really sure. Somehow we didn’t get sick, though, at least so far.”
Grady simply nodded, hesitating for a moment before yelling across the distance between them. “Where are they?”
“They’re spread out all over the dig. Like I said, we haven’t gone close to them, which hasn’t been all that easy. It seems like most of them are in the mess hall, though.” The side of her mouth tu
rned up in a humorless grin.
“And the medic?”
“I think Dr. Larson’s sick,”—Kayla heard her voice catch even from this distance—“but only because I haven’t seen him. I figured he would have found us if he wasn’t.”
Kayla ventured another question. “And Jack?”
Jackie’s face fell, and Kayla felt her stomach drop. “I haven’t seen him either.” Jackie frowned as her brow furrowed. Kayla choked back tears.
Grady spoke up. “So what are the symptoms?”
Jackie shrugged. “No idea. We haven’t gotten close enough to tell. At first, they were all moaning and holding their stomachs, but now they’re quiet. We didn’t know if they were . . .” her voice trailed off as she stared off into the murky darkness.
Grady’s next question came out a little less harshly, for which Kayla was grateful. “Are you the only . . . survivors, Jackie?”
Jackie nodded quickly. “Yes, as far as we can tell. But there could be more, maybe . . .” She didn’t sound hopeful.
Grady swallowed hard. “Do you have any ideas about what might have happened?”
Jackie paused before answering, and her eyes flitted around the group at her side. “Um, we’re not really sure. We’ve been talking, and the only thing we thought sounded reasonable was poison . . .”
Grady nodded once, and cut her off. “Okay. If none of you have contracted the disease by now, it doesn’t look like whatever happened here was contagious. So . . . wait. Have you called the Institute, the authorities?”
Jackie looked at the ground. “Our communications are disabled. Everything in the trailer is unusable. Which I guess means this wasn’t an accident . . .” Kayla could see she was fighting back tears. “Who would do this to us?”
