by Rae Knightly
The ground where it had stood turned into a gaping hole, the sides of which continued to be eaten away by the shocks until it was wide enough to fit a full-sized house.
Ben yelled, willing the destruction to stop. Suddenly, it did. The earthquakes died down, the rattling walls of the van settled, and the night reclaimed its silence.
A branch thudded onto the roof of the van, making Ben yelp. He strained his neck to glance through the windows. Where once there had been an open area surrounded by trees, now red steam swirled out of a deep wound in the ground resembling the mouth of a seething volcano.
Ben’s mind spun with one terrifying thought:
The spacecraft is free to leave!
***
Hao groaned. His chin burned. He wanted to rub it but found his hands bound behind him.
“Inspector!” a hushed voice called beside him. “Are you all right?”
He forced himself to a sitting position, wincing as he moved his leg, forgetting it was in a cast.
“Inspector!” the woman insisted, and he remembered Laura Archer.
He shut his eyes tight for a second and moved his jaw from side to side to lessen the pain. “It’s James, actually,” he said, then noticed the fear in her eyes. She sat beside him, equally bound. This is no time to be a wisecrack.
Not far off, an irritating sound distracted him. His phone lay on top of a pile of boxes five feet away, humming endlessly. Too far, he thought.
He checked around him and found four thugs standing behind them, waiting. Waiting, for what?
It didn’t take long for him to find out. Two other thugs lowered a wheelchair from the van, its headlights bathing them in such a bright light that Hao had to squint. The person sitting in the wheelchair rolled over to them smoothly, indicating it ran on an electric motor. Hao tensed, his senses on high alert.
The person stopped before them, the van headlights catching his facial traits. It turned out to be an old man. He wore a white goatee, his longish grey-white hair gathered in a short ponytail at the back of his head. His slanted eyes observed them without a hint of emotion. He waved a hand with long, knobbled fingers at the phone.
Immediately, one of his men shut down the buzzing sound, then stood on guard by his side.
When no-one moved, Hao ventured, “I work for the federal secret services. Whatever this is about, you should be dealing with me. Let the woman go.”
The old man ignored him and said something Hao did not quite catch, but which he understood to be Mandarin, a language he spoke from his childhood days.
In response, one of the thugs grabbed Laura by the arm, making her yell.
“Wait! What are you doing?” Hao shouted.
The thug pulled at something around Laura’s neck. Whatever it was, it broke off easily.
“That’s mine! Give it back” Laura objected.
The thug brought what Hao gathered was a necklace with an object attached to it to the old man, who studied it with interest. Then he stared at them again. He spoke slowly, searching for English words. “You must forgive the rough treatment,” he said. Once more, he waved a hand, and the thugs responded as if they could read his every thought.
Hao felt the bonds slip from his wrists. He frowned at Laura, who was also freed.
“We had to be sure it was you,” the old man said. “We mean you no harm.”
Hao glared at the thug who had punched him in the chin and got a cold look in return. “If you mean us no harm, then release the woman,” Hao insisted.
“All in good time,” the old man said. “It is she I have come to talk to.”
Hao glanced at Laura in surprise, but she seemed as perplexed as he. His phone hummed again.
The old man glanced at it, unfazed. “There isn’t much time.” He turned his attention to Laura. “The Observer has sent us an urgent message. You have been of invaluable assistance to him so far, and you have put yourself in great danger. Yet, I must ask you to continue to do so, for the Observer’s mission is at stake.”
“What message?” Hao whispered to Laura.
Laura’s eyes widened. “The fountain!” she exclaimed to the old man. “You saw the symbol Mesmo created on the fountain!”
The old man smiled, the corner of his eyes creasing. He held the small, black object in the palm of his hands. “The Observer has entrusted you with Angakkuq’s[1] life’s work.” One of the thugs approached him with a box, which he opened. He pulled something small from it and placed it in his palm. He now had two identical objects in his hand.
Laura gasped.
“It is highly irregular to trust an outsider with such sensitive information, but the Observer has spoken well of you and, considering the precarious situation in which he now finds himself, I have no choice but to hand over my life’s work to you as well.”
A thug picked up both objects from the old man’s palm. He brought them over and carefully placed them in Laura’s hands as if they were breakable Swarovski crystals.
“Laura Archer,” the old man said. “The Observer never made it to China to meet with me. I have travelled a long way so he could receive this last element. Should you succeed in bringing them both to him, then he will return home a hero, his mission fulfilled.”
Laura gaped. “You are one of the Wise Ones!” she exclaimed.
The old man nodded.
Hao stared quizzically from Laura to the old man.
“And you…” the old man said in Mandarin, suddenly turning his attention to Hao. “…you have the access Laura Archer needs to reach the Observer. So I will ask you, as one compatriot to another, to bring Laura Archer to the Dugout and protect her from the corrupt shapeshifter.”
“What?” Hao gasped. “How do you know about the Dugout?”
The old man gestured towards the buzzing phone. “We have eyes and ears everywhere, Inspector James Hao. You have served your organization well, but have made the wrong choices. From now on, you will protect the Observer, the woman, and the boy.”
“Is that so?” Hao retorted, his cheeks heating. “Who do you think you are? I do not serve you. And I am not your compatriot.”
“You are right,” the old man answered in his native tongue. “That was a bad choice of words. While we may have come from the same region of this planet, current borders have no meaning to our situation. Those I serve transcend human history. I am here merely to assist the Observer.”
Laura burst into the conversation. “You are Toreq?”
The old man smiled at her and switched back to English. “Do not mistake the colour of my hair for that of the Toreq. No, I am of A’hmun descent, though I do serve the Toreq. I have served them well. I had hoped that the Observer would concede me a one-way ticket back to the Mother Planet.” His smile faded. “But that is no longer to be.”
The light on Hao’s phone came on, indicating a new incoming call.
“Our shapeshifter is up to something,” the old man said, his face becoming gloomy as he glanced at the phone. “You must hurry.” He turned his wheelchair around and rolled away from the pair. “I am counting on you, Inspector. And on you, Laura. Forgive me for imposing this burden on you both, but I know that, together, you can free the Observer and send him home. He has already lost his life companion and his daughter, he does not deserve further wrath from the shapeshifter.” The old man was almost halfway to the van.
The other thugs blended into the shadows after him. As they lifted the wheelchair, Hao heard him say baffling words, “And if you succeed, I trust he will speak a good word for you, when the time comes.”
The van doors rolled shut. The motor roared to life, and the vehicle sped away.
Hao hopped to the pile of boxes and grabbed his ringing phone, pressing the call button.
“Sir!” his assistant screamed into his ear over a thunderous noise. “Where are you? The Dugout is under attack! I repeat: we are under attack!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Waking Dragon
The helicopter
landed on a bustling airfield. Hao leant on Laura’s shoulder to clamber out of it. Her hair whipped his face as the rotors continued to turn.
A military jeep stood a few feet away, a soldier ready to lead them into action. LED floodlights illuminated the airstrip, and army trucks weaved their way at dangerous speeds among marching soldiers.
Hao and Laura took places in the jeep, which sped in the opposite direction to fleeing crowds, heading for the source of the commotion. They reached a fence topped with barbed wire and had to come to a halt to avoid running over an armed guard.
“Back away!” the man ordered.
Hao waved his badge. “Inspector Hao. I have clearance.”
Someone grabbed his shoulder. He turned to find Laura leaning over the front window of the jeep, staring ahead.
Hao grunted and pulled himself up beside her.
Before them, trees burned and men and women scrambled for safety. Some of them were visibly hurt. But what made Hao’s blood turn cold, was an eerie red mist that escaped from an enormous, gaping hole where the Dugout entrance had once been. Hao dropped back into his seat and yelled to the driver, “You! Get out!”
The soldier glanced at him with wide eyes, then hopped out of the vehicle.
“Laura!” Hao barked. “Take the wheel!”
Laura slipped into the driver’s seat, pressed the gas pedal and bypassed the guard who was shouting at them to stop.
Hao grasped the side of the car, half to avoid painful jolts to his leg, half from increasing dread as to what they would find ahead.
Laura hit the brakes near the hole that looked like the mouth of a volcano. They stepped out and approached it with care, peaking over the edge. Wisps of red, hot water vapour lifted from a dark mass that lay at the bottom, resembling a waking dragon.
Hao exchanged a glance with Laura. “This way,” he said, leading her to the left. He had spotted a set of stairs on the outskirt of the hole–only, it was one floor down, and there was no way to get to it.
We’ll have to jump, he realized.
Laura glanced at him and drew her eyebrows together.
“I can make it,” Hao reassured her.
She nodded and headed to the edge of the hole. Hao watched as she grabbed on to the side, then swung down. He heard a muffled thud and peeked down hurriedly.
Her voice sounded distant. “It’s ok,” she shouted. “The landing is clear, but you risk falling on your injured leg.”
Hao didn’t wait to hear more. He dropped his crutches and heard them clatter next to Laura. Sitting on the edge, he lowered himself over the side, copying Laura, then hung on until he had determined how far down the floor was.
“Careful!” Laura warned.
He let himself drop, landing on his good leg, but lost his balance and tumbled into Laura as she tried to break his fall. They landed in a heap on the floor, Hao’s broken leg bumping on the concrete. “Ouch!” he yelled, seeing stars.
“Are you ok?” Laura gasped.
Hao shut his eyes. “Never better,” he groaned, drawing in a sharp breath. Oh God, this is going to hurt. He bit his tongue and accepted Laura’s help as they stood. She passed him his crutches.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“This way,” he said, grimacing. Inwardly, he prayed the emergency stairs were still in one piece all the way to the bottom. At first sight, they seemed to be, but Hao realized he had a bigger problem. “Laura, it’s going to take me forever to get down there. If you want to save your son, you’re going to have to go on ahead without me.”
Fear reflected in her eyes, but she set her jaw and nodded.
She’s got guts, this one, he had to admit.
“Listen,” he said. “You have to reach the seventh floor, then cross the hangar where the spacecraft is located. You’ll find another set of stairs on the other side. It leads to the eighth and last floor. That’s where your son is.”
She nodded again wordlessly.
“Be very careful,” he cautioned. “We don’t know what’s down there.”
“Be careful, too,” she said, before heading away.
“Laura!” Hao hissed, suddenly remembering something. “Check the sixth floor. See if the control room is functioning. If security cameras are still active, they might give you an idea as to what’s going on down there.”
Her eyes widened, but she gestured that she understood, then set off again, with Hao hopping after her at tortoise speed.
***
Ben listened to the silence with increasing dread. His situation was becoming more dire by the minute. He expected Bordock’s spacecraft to emerge from the hole at any moment. Then the shapeshifter would come for him, and that would be the end of that.
He became aware of Beetrix again, anxiously calling his name from nearby. He let the translation skill take over his thoughts and slipped weakly onto the bee’s back.
The ground was littered with leaves and broken twigs; the large branch that had landed on the van lay to its side.
He realized that Beetrix wasn’t moving, but hovered in one spot. She scanned his mind worriedly, testing his resilience.
Your spirit is frail.
Her statement frightened him because he knew she was right.
Come, she said, lifting upwards into the leaves.
Where are you going?
She didn’t answer but used a warm breeze to carry her higher and higher until they reached the summit of the trees.
Beetrix! Wait! Where are you going?
***
Laura ran down the emergency stairs two steps at a time, swinging around corners with the help of the railing.
Lights struggled to remain on. One bulb fizzed just as she rushed by and sparks flew over her head.
She ignored her thumping heart as she wondered what she would find around each corner, then came to a standstill when she spotted a sign that indicated she had reached the sixth floor.
She pushed the door open and glanced down the dark corridor. It was littered with rubble. Not daring to stop for fear she would give in to cowardice, Laura rushed to her right. Not finding anything, she backtracked and headed left.
Double doors, which hung twisted at the hinges, showed promise, and a fallen sign confirmed it was the control room. She hurried inside and found herself in a large room with a broken window to the right and television screens to the left. Wiping away beads of sweat on her forehead, she approached the window slowly, pieces of glass crunching under her feet.
Not far below, the dark form of the humming spacecraft made her skin crawl. She stepped back, willing her mind to focus on what needed to be done.
She turned and glanced at the many screens, half of which showed static. Unstable images scrolled across some other screens. She rushed over to study them, then gasped. A grainy image showed a room with several forms lying next to each other. One of them was Ben.
She touched the screen as if willing herself to pass to the other side, overcome by a mixture of relief at seeing him, but also distressed at the lack of a sign of life.
She was about to head on when a movement caught her eye on another screen. She leant forward for a better look, then realized the form belonged to Mesmo. The alien lay on the ground, surrounded by rubble. There was a gyrating switch next to the camera, which allowed her to move the camera from left to right. When she did so, a corner of the spacecraft came into view.
Gotcha! she thought to herself, having pinpointed his location, then hurried to find her way down.
She entered the emergency stairs once more but found that the wall had crumbled over the last set of steps. She wasted precious minutes clambering over blocks of concrete and iron poles, coughing her way through the dust that hadn’t settled yet.
The final door had burst out of its frame and lay useless on the floor. Slightly disoriented, Laura figured she would find Mesmo to her left, so she avoided the hangar altogether and crept along the wall until she found the spot she had seen on the security screen.
/> She listened to the muffled silence, her breath coming out too fast. Then she heard a groan.
***
Beetrix headed away from the gaping hole and over the treetops, with Ben begging her to turn back.
He fell silent as he became aware of a humming sound from within the branches of a maple tree that towered above the others. It was a comforting, welcoming noise that made him feel safe. He knew before they even reached it that Beetrix was leading him to her hive.
What are you all doing here?
Hadn’t he left the hive back at the park?
We followed you and clung on to the roof of the manmade machine that took away your lifeless body. You promised to help us, remember? We couldn’t let you come to harm. We needed to know if you were still alive.
Ben felt a wave of agreement from the swarming insects. Although they buzzed around noisily in a chaotic manner, he sensed an inner harmony that allowed them to speak in one voice. He was reminded that Beetrix had told him about an invisible interconnectedness between hives, and the deathly silence that remained when entire colonies disappeared. He couldn’t imagine how horrible it would feel if this hive went silent.
He sensed thoughts of wellbeing and encouragement wash over him as if extended family had decided to visit him in hospital at the same time and was wishing him a swift recovery in unison.
I’m not alone.
A gush of gratefulness almost pulled Ben back into the quicksand’s arms, and he had to concentrate for several minutes to settle his emotions.
The humming song lulled him, but a persistent thought kept on pushing him to remain present.
I can’t let Bordock win.
The idea escaped him, then slipped into the swirling black hole of quicksand that grated beneath him.
Beetrix, don’t let that spaceship leave. Get soldiers…to stop…the shapeshifter…
There were gaps in his thoughts, the pressure exerted by Bordock’s trap almost too heavy to bear. At the same time, he sensed that Beetrix was reaching some kind of consensus, one he wanted to be part of. So, with superhuman effort, he willed himself back into the centre of the hive and forced himself to concentrate. The queen bee did not involve him, but the determined buzzing suddenly made him aware of what she was doing.
