The Relics- The Keystone Trilogy - Part 1

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The Relics- The Keystone Trilogy - Part 1 Page 33

by Michael K. Damron


  “Um, no, not for the moment,” said Jack, scratching his head as he processed the awe-striking exo knowledge.

  “And, not to overwhelm you, Jack, but there was something else in the morphacite container we found with your handwriting on it, besides the serum recipe,” said James.

  He handed Jack an old piece of vellum, on which, in Jack’s handwriting, was written: Go to Zosar’s Vintage Books in Cairo. He’s holding a package for you.

  “But I didn’t write this on here, either!” said Jack.

  “Not you from this reality, at least,” said Takeru.

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” said Mark. “We believe another version of you left a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.”

  “It’s true,” said Nigel, interjecting. “The vellum with the note about a bookshop was wrapped around a warp crystal inside of the container.”

  “Where does the crystal take you?” said Jack.

  “Ah, your father and I were curious enough to use it and see where it led. Stepping through the rift, we arrived behind the very bookshop mentioned by you on the paper.”

  “Did you go inside and get the package?”

  “Well, we did walk in. We even met the owner—nice fellow—but he may have been playing dumb when we asked about any sort of package. He had a strange device with a light at the top that turned red when he used it on us, then he said he didn’t know what we were talking about.”

  “We think you’re the key to getting whatever kind of package he’s holding, Jack,” said James. “It’s your handwriting that told us about the package, after all.”

  “So do you need me to go to the bookshop with you or something?” said Jack.

  “As soon as possible,” said James, taking a warp crystal from his pocket to signal his eagerness to embark.

  “Hey, I want to go with you,” said Wren. “You know I’ve got a thing for old books.”

  “Um, you have a thing for them?” said Freya.

  “It’s more of a love affair, really,” said Wren.

  Freya and Seb collectively rolled their eyes.

  “I guess it’s fine if you tag along,” said James. “But don’t bring any of your machines or weapons. We need to keep things low key while we’re in public.”

  “Ugh, whatever you say, bossman,” she said, springing to her feet and placing herself beside Jack. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

  A rift sizzled open against an alleyway wall on the outskirts of Cairo. Jack, his father, and Wren stepped through the portal, exposing themselves to the sweltering heat of the Egyptian midday.

  “Woah, it sure is bright out here!” said Wren, using her hand as a visor to shield her eyes from the sun.

  “We’re currently facing the back end of the shop,” said James. “Let’s make our way to the front entrance.”

  Arabic letters adorned the sign above the store entryway, below which was written, in English: Zosar’s Vintage Books. A bell chimed as they opened the door and passed through the threshold, which led to a voice from somewhere among the bookshelves to yell out words in a language Jack and the others didn’t understand.

  “My goodness, look at all of these old books!” said Wren, grabbing some from the shelves and breathing deep as she riffled through the pages. “Ugh, just leave me here for a few days and come back for me after I’ve had my fill of fiction.”

  They didn’t wait around for long before a pleasant-faced man walked out from around the corner to greet them.

  “Ah, tourists! Welcome to my shop! I am Zosar, owner of . . . Oh, back again, I see,” he said, staring at James. “I thought I made it clear that—”

  Zosar stopped speaking and did a double take after noticing Jack.

  “You. That face. I recognize you!” he said, grabbing Jack’s shoulders as he looked him over from head to toe.

  “Uh, you do?”

  “Well, not you I suppose. But you look identical to your twin, just like he said you would. He told me it could be his twin that picked up the package, or even a close friend. My job was to simply verify their identity before handing it over.”

  “Oh yeah, of course, my twin,” said Jack, trying to play along with the Egyptian while having no idea what he was talking about.

  “And you, I didn’t realize you knew the person regarding the package you asked about,” Zosar said to James. “Ha, you made me nervous! I didn’t think there was any good reason for you to be asking about something I was tasked to keep hidden away.”

  “No worries,” said James, also playing along. “I should have made it clearer the first time we met.”

  “The good news is that it looks like the package’s intended recipient is finally here,” said Wren, joining in the conversation.

  “Of course, of course,” said Zosar. “You know, young man, your twin paid me a pretty penny to keep the package safe. Though, that was quite some time ago. And all the while, no matter how tempted, I kept it secret and safe and out of the hands of anyone else.”

  “Amazing,” said Jack, gulping hard. “Can I . . . please have the package?”

  “Naturally, boy, naturally!” said Zosar. “I, myself, am glad you finally came to claim it. Even so, procedure is procedure. I still need to confirm your identity.”

  He began fishing around on a top, dusty shelf behind him to find something he stowed away.

  “Here we go,” said Zosar, showing off a small and strange electronic device.

  “W-where did you get that?” said Wren, noticing the piece of technology resembled something she conceived of creating a long time ago, but never got around to making it.

  “The kid’s twin gave it to me to use as a verification tool when someone came to claim the package,” he said.

  Jack felt a sharp jab in his hand as Zosar pressed a probe on one end of the device to his skin and pressed a button. A diode was quick to illuminate green on the instrument’s topside.

  “Looks like you’re the real deal,” said Zosar, putting the device away and yelling into a row of bookshelves off to the side. “Amon! Amon, quit your hiding and tend to the register while I go into the storage room! What do I pay you for, anyway!”

  He beckoned Jack to follow him as he weaved in and out of the book displays, moving closer and closer to the back of the store. Wren and James followed close behind. Zosar turned a squeaky doorknob to gain access to a room brimming with extra furniture and obscurities, interspersed around and on top of stacks of unorganized books. In a far corner, he pulled an old sheet off a large safe.

  “Please stand back a little more,” said Zosar. “I can’t risk anyone stealing the combination.”

  After a moment of twisting the knob back and forth, the safe’s handle was pulled down and the door opened. Zosar reached in and, from the bottom, pulled out a morphacite container.

  “Here it is,” he said. “I’m happy to finally have it taken off my hands.”

  “Finally? How long has it been in storage here?” said Jack.

  “Oh, hard to say . . . five years now, maybe more.”

  “Five years!” said Wren.

  “Yes, but it doesn’t surprise me. The young man’s twin told me the package could be claimed at any time, even years from the time it was given to me. He told me to name my price and keep it safely tucked away until the day came to hand it over to its intended recipient.”

  Jack looked at Wren and his father with a bewildered expression, scratching his head while he tried to process the story Zosar presented them.

  “Forgive me, Sir,” Zosar began, “but would it be appropriate for me to ask to see what’s inside this, um, this object? I’ve been so curious all these years. Is there really something inside, or—”

  “I’m certain the contents, if there are any, are meant to be private,” James blurted out.

  “The young man can speak for himself, I’m sure,” said Zosar, waiting for Jack’s response.

  “I agree,” said Jack, “definitely private.”

  The shop owner
’s face contorted into a look of disappointment.

  “Fine. As you wish. Off you go, then, if you please. I can’t tend to your needs all day, having a business to run and all.”

  Jack tucked the morphacite container under his arm as they were shooed out of the bookshop.

  “Regardless of my curiosity not being satisfied, thanks for finally coming to get the package,” Zosar said as they made it to the entrance. “But please, I beg you, don’t come back here unless you’re buying a vintage book or something. Ha! This is a bookshop, not a safe deposit box! If your twin wasn’t such a wonderful patron, I would have never agreed to keep that package here in the first place. With peace, goodbye!”

  The shop door slammed behind them as they were ushered outside.

  “That’s a hell of a lot of mind-bending information to unpack, wouldn’t you say?” said Wren.

  “Better to unpack later,” said James. “Let’s get back to the estate.”

  Jack held the container close as they made their way into a vacant alley and, away from any potential onlookers, used a warp crystal to rift back to Japan.

  “Ugh, worthless!” said Alexie, frustrated by not finding the written information she desired in the notebooks Jack left behind.

  Worried she wasted too much time, she left her room to wrangle the twins and together they marched the halls of the facility to find John. After searching for a short while, he was found in one of the research labs talking with a couple of scientists. Alexie opened the lab door and cleared her throat to grab his attention.

  “Hi, John. Um, the twins and I would like to talk with you privately for a moment. It’s urgent.”

  “Uh, okay,” he said, concerned. He turned to the scientists to say he’d be back at a later time. “All right, girls, we’ll go somewhere private to talk. Follow me, please.”

  He led them to a vacant lab space where they could speak without the fear of being heard.

  “What is it that you need to tell me?”

  Alexie looked at the twins and took a deep breath before saying what she felt was necessary.

  “It’s about Jack. I believe he’s still alive.”

  “Oh, Alexie,” said John, a look of pity coming over him.

  “No, no, hear me out.”

  “You should really listen to her, John,” said Garnet. “Listen to the whole story.”

  “Well . . . go on, then. Tell me why you think Jack is still alive, even though, as you’ve seen, his body is currently in the medical ward.”

  “Because we’ve been communicating with each other telepathically, even after his body was brought here.”

  John’s countenance shifted to an expression of worry. “And you’re sure you heard him talk to you?”

  “Look, I promise, I’m not going crazy. I know what I heard. It takes some time for my messages to reach him, and his to reach me, but it’s Jack I’m talking to.”

  “We believe she’s telling the truth,” said Ferra.

  “He said he was planning on seeing us again soon,” said Alexie. “He said he was doing okay and even apologized for the condition Marcel was returned to us in, saying he tried to prevent the rogues from hurting him.”

  “Let’s say you have been able to talk to Jack. How do you explain his body, which is now in our possession?” said John.

  “Garnet had a thought on that matter which, to me, makes the most sense. The relics we’ve discovered, the power of the exos we tap into—we still have no idea what their true limits are. That being said, what if the Jack in our medical ward is the real Jack, but just not the one from this universe? What if the rogues were able to pull another version of him from a different reality to make us think he’s dead, but he really isn’t?”

  John became awestruck by the concept.

  “That would . . . oh, wow, that would explain why you could still communicate with Jack. And . . . my god, what if that means the rogues have been tricking us this whole time? James, Nigel—has anyone actually been murdered by the rogues at all?”

  “I, um, I never thought of that,” said Alexie. “S-so you don’t think I’m crazy? You think it could be plausible?”

  “The concept is far-fetched, for sure,” said John. “But I was a big believer in the idea of a multiverse, ever since I was young. If one thing’s for sure, it’s worth an investigation. I’m going to give the idea merit. After all, considering the things I’ve seen while being with this division, there’s a possibility you could be right.”

  “Thank you!” said Alexie, hugging him. “I was worried you’d dismiss the idea.”

  “It’ll be all right, Alexie,” he said. “This is what I’ll do: I’m going to find Richard and run the hypothesis by him to see what he thinks. After that, I’ll have all the books, scrolls, and materials on the relics analyzed for any mention of their potential as tools for accessing alternate universes or realities. Most importantly, if the rogues believe we think Jack’s dead, they might get sloppy with hiding his whereabouts because we would no longer be looking for him. Who knows, we may even find that some of our old comrades are alive and in need of our help.”

  “This is all so exciting!” said Garnet.

  “Please tell me how I can help in any way,” said Alexie.

  “Don’t worry,” said John, “you won’t be kept in the dark about the situation. If we find out something important, I’ll gather everyone together and share what we’ve discovered.”

  He patted Alexie on the shoulder and, with excitement, exited the room.

  “Ah, I’m so happy he believed me,” she said. “And thanks, you two, for being here. It means a lot.”

  “No problem at all,” said Garnet.

  Ferra remained silent and still with a concerned look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” said Alexie.

  “Just a feeling that came over me—a dreadful feeling. Are either of you sensing anything strange?”

  “Hm, maybe something,” said Garnet.

  “Now that you mention it, I think I can feel something too. My mind has an uneasiness about it,” said Alexie.

  John walked down the stairwell to begin his search for Richard. Before descending a full flight of steps, his screen started notifying him of a call coming through. After pulling the device from his pocket, he saw that he was being contacted by an unknown caller. Concerned as to who wanted to speak with him, he froze in place while accepting the call. John’s screen remained black, further hiding the caller’s identity.

  “I wanted to personally thank you for your hard work with the Searcher division these past couple of years,” a male voice said.

  Although he hadn’t heard the caller’s voice but a few times, he immediately recognized it.

  “A-Archon, sir, thank you. I—”

  “That being said, I’m afraid you are no longer considered a valuable asset to the division. The results of your recent actions, as leader, have caused me great anxiety. Because of your accumulation of failures, I have arranged new leadership for the division.”

  “Please, sir, don’t!”

  The Archon ended the call before John could say another word. He began to sweat as intense trepidation started creeping into his mind. Unsure of what to do after receiving such ominous news, John ran down the stairwell at a rapid pace toward the bottom floor. Turning the corner to the final flight of stairs, Rakiten’s leopard familiar was there, more massive than he had ever seen it, waiting for him. He turned to run away after locking eyes with the beast, but the morphacite creature lunged at him and sank its black fangs deep into his right ankle. He tried to resist being pulled by letting go of his screen, causing it to fall down the stairs, and grasping the nearby railing with both hands. Although he withstood the painful tugging for a few seconds, his grip wasn’t able to counteract the dark creature’s strength. Step by step, he was dragged to the bottom of the stairwell, where Rakiten waited. The leopard finally released its grip, allowing John to see what a bloody, lacerated mess his ankle had become.
/>   “I told you this day would come,” said Rakiten.

  “You don’t have to do this!” John implored, speaking through bated breath as he winced in pain. “Both you and I know that whoever the Archon is planning on replacing me with, they’ll eventually fail in his eyes too! He’ll never be satisfied.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Your replacement is more than capable of succeeding where you have fallen short. Now, get on your feet.”

  John pulled himself up with the stair railing, favoring his injured leg so he could stand.

  “Any final words before you shuffle off this mortal coil, John?”

  He paused for a moment to think, not yet ready for his existence to be extinguished.

  “If you really are planning to kill me, I want to know something.”

  “And that is?”

  “Why did the Archon form the Searcher division? For power and prestige? What is he really after that’s so important?”

  Rakiten flashed a wiry grin.

  “There exists a special relic, which you and the Searchers have thus far failed to find. It’s what the Archon desires most. Once found, he will use it to become an invincible god who walks among mere mortals and across vast realities. All will marvel before his glory and tremble at his power.”

  “If we’ve yet to find this special relic, how can you be sure it exists?”

  “Because, long before you were even a twinkle in your parents’ eyes, it was within my grasp. Then, the moment I lost focus, it slipped away from me.”

  “You’ll never find it,” said John, giving an amused laugh as he began to feel dizzy. “People like you and the Archon don’t realize it takes more than money and power to obtain something intangible.”

  “I guess, with time, we’ll see if what you say is true. Sadly, you won’t be here to find out.”

 

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