by Dennis Fueyo
“This is where we part, Carver Warden. The name of Clark Stone is dead. Should I hear it again, the human associated with it shall follow the dead name.”
“Don’t leave me. Where will you go?”
“Where Sam Mason goes, the outsider follows.” Rickettserax sputtered, “Cuddles.”
The spiders then repelled off Clark Stone—officially blessed Carver Warden by Rickettserax.
“I shall take the father and son, leaving the outsider helpless. Then, I shall destroy the outsider.”
Chapter 26
“Oh, God, no!” Emelia collapsed to her knees. Juan and Sam struggled to hold her, yet they too crumbled under the weight of sorrow laid over their heads by the vision.
Enlil approached carrying the body of Lou Frasier. The face of the man who once called Dr. Tom Mason “Doc” was sunken; pallid skin taught against bone and digested muscle.
Tom followed behind supported by a glowing yellow staff in one hand, and tall Atlantian robed in blue and silver under one arm. His features were blotched with red and white, and deep purple rings accented his eyes. The collar of his robe soaked; he dragged his feet through the baily mud collecting moss and leaf litter around the lower hems.
Enlil stopped before Emelia, Juan, and Sam, and lay Lou’s body down. “I am very sorry. He was dead when we found them. The Tom Mason gave the Lou Frasier many fluids, but it would seem he needed more. A microbial sickness took him.”
Enlil stepped back to take Tom’s staff and dip under his shoulder, then whispered to him, “I blame Uruk for all of this. The archbishop’s deceit ripples repercussions, I know not how far those waves travel.”
Tom mumbled, “Lou’s last words were, ‘Something has come for me, and it’s not Cuddles.’ He must be with Apsu now. Where is Uruk?”
“Dead. I pledged to your son one life for one life. Apsu said the Sam Mason must die and be reborn.”
“My Sammy?”
“It was foretold. In rebirth, he will protect the Atlantians. I gave Uruk’s life in return.”
Tom looked into Enlil’s saddened eyes. “I fear we all have died, though I know not what we have become. Regardless, thank you. Atlantians can be a compassionate race.”
“I wish you could stay, and the Sam Mason told us more about Apsu. Your son was open and honest in his description. It was impressive, I must confess.”
“I wish we could, too, Enlil.” Tom’s neck lost its strength, head bobbing down in the direction of his dead friend. “My job here is finished. I see no reason to travel further.”
Sam stepped forward, reaching out to Tom. “Dad—”
Issakum’s hand rested on Sam’s shoulder. “Let us take the body to the Dead River and give thanks for Lou’s sacrifice. He will be honored amongst our ancestors.” Issakum then helped Tom onto a fan boat, Enlil sitting beside him, and the craft departed. Another fan boat followed ferrying Lou’s body. Issakum assisted the remaining friends onto a craft, waved to proceed, and settled in next to Sam as their craft departed. “The Tom Mason will not be at peace until he says goodbye to his friend.”
The large fan fired up creeping the boat forward. With a subtle thrust, it cruised north towards the Dead River.
Sam resonated his voice over its buzzing din: “When we first arrived here, I envisioned two outcomes. Either we were to succumb to the transformation or kill every Atlantian in Savannah. It is strange how, lately, the third least obvious choice with lower probability continues to take precedence over the others.”
Ears perked up, Issakum asked, “What are other instances of this occurring?”
“Issakum, I trust you. Something about you screams out good character; I cannot put my finger on it. I will tell you everything.
“At first, I guessed Eva Stone controlled the jackers. Emelia’s aunt. Turns out, she was nothing more than a puppet in the Clark Stone show. He steers the governments of both Canada and the U.S. I know not how he does it, maybe through this alter ego Uruk mentioned, Carver Warden. Did not occur to me he was in control until Emelia told us about the Stone strain. When she mentioned someone was destroying shipments, I knew right away it was him.”
Issakum asked, “Why would he destroy his factory’s own shipments? Wouldn’t that cost money? I presumed we were hurting him by shooting down the shipments.”
“The short answer, he runs operations under the radar and gets funding no matter what happens to the shipments. Discretionary funds from the government secured by Eva. The more complex answer, the events are a form of control over your people. No witnesses, no stories return to civilization. You believed you had an inside contact helping you, right? Providing info to shoot down the helicopters out of hatred for the strain?”
“That’s right,” Issakum said, ears folding back. “That wasn’t the case?”
The overpass of I80 crept by as the fan boat steadied underneath. It echoed the boat’s buzzing fan under decaying concrete and returned the blower’s wind back down into the water. Ahead, the Dead River wound its way south past downtown Savannah and eventually turned southeast to the ocean.
“That was in no way the case. Think about it—the border wall, traps, mandate to alter captives, shooting down shipments. All activities in line to isolate the Atlantians.”
“We believed it was Apsu’s wish.”
“It was Uruk’s wish. He acted in the interest of gaining power, but he was only killing himself. And taking you with him.”
Emelia scooted next to Sam and held his hand tight.
“You are truly blessed,” Issakum said, looking at their clasped hands. “I don’t know what will become of the Atlantians if we cannot integrate others.”
Emelia gave Sam a queer look, to which he clarified, “The Atlantians are sterile. Issakum, I promised Apsu I would return to help you, I think this is how I can. When my dad and I return to Raleigh, we will start working on a cure for you right away.” He raised a hand. “Not a cure for being Atlantian, how to get your child-making parts back online.”
A vast cemetery grew before them as the fan boat turned into the river’s current and slowly bobbed northeast. Tall willows and maple trees draped Spanish moss over enormous tombstones. Their soft, plush vines drifted in a gentle ocean breeze.
Issakum marveled, “Apsu was so beautiful, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, yes! Such a crime Uruk did not share more with your people. This leads me to my second example. I assumed the jackers formed an alliance with another tribe. One that could sail those stolen cutters and shelled the life out of our resources. Trying to hunt Clark…Carver…down, my assumption put me in range of him. He dug into my brain and got the information needed to command the Diver headquarters. I massacred my own people. Turned out Eva provided those cutters in secret, but I did not figure that out until Charleston.”
Emelia stroked his matted hair. “It wasn’t your fault, Sam. Stop beating yourself up over the Battle of Wilmington.”
“One more miscalculation in a string of bad ones,” Sam said, head hung low. “The next example,” he palmed her hand with both of his, “not seeing Emelia’s third choice. Before reaching Charleston, I recognized two choices she could make. We discovered she knew much and shared little. I said she could choose to side with her family or side with mine. As it turned out, there was a third—to side with each other. A third family.”
“I made the right choice in the end,” she said and kissed him. “So did you.” A twinkle flashed in her eyes.
Sam said, “The third choice.”
Emelia perked up. “That’s right! Do you think this means balance will return to nature?”
“Yeah, I am not quite there yet, Emelia. I still cannot believe in all this balance crap you guys keep obsessing about. I chose you not for some fantasy of balancing nature but for your love. I see no reason to improve anything unhinged by the Wash. It exposed humanity for what it really is.”
“Sam?”
He examined Spanish moss drifting gently in the offshore breeze
clinging to an old red maple. “Our government hijacked by psychotic, power-drunk affluence? Common people massacring the innocent? Jackers and Drunks letting their animal side roam unabated. Your family wears no shackles molded in the penultimate morals that society claims to hold dear. They play with the pure of heart like toys in a sandbox, a trait inherited by the Atlantians as demonstrated by Uruk.”
Sam’s statement noticeably gutted Issakum’s optimism, the Atlantian unable to meet his eyes in affirmation.
Sam cupped Emelia’s chin and said, “Your family’s actions were consistent with human nature. If my estranged sentinel sought to return balance to nature, it failed. I care little for mending wounds exposed by humanity’s ignorance and selfishness.”
A powerful realization struck Emelia; it was evident in her suddenly expressive face. “That’s what it sought! The sentinel wasn’t seeking an arranged marriage, it knew you, and I would reject the beliefs of our families, whether friends or lovers. These innate desires for dominance let loose and unchecked by our ancestors…these you describe, they die here and now.” She squeezed his hand and raised it to her heart.
Issakum faced the approaching cemetery with a stoic countenance. “You may discount your sentinel’s beliefs, Sam, but you believe in sentinels now.”
“That is for sure. What Apsu showed me, I will never forget.”
Issakum smiled with a tilted, consoling face. “We are here. I will pray for you. For all of you, and I will praise the Lou Frasier’s finest qualities.”
Sam bowed his head. “We will always be friends, Issakum.”
Chapter 27
“Why Jack Harr, it’s been ages since we last met in person! You look just as you did when we first met, cheap black suit and plain tie. Why are you wearing that government monkey suit? You took that off years ago to work for our family.”
“Jonathon. You appear to be in a good mood.”
“I am. Spoke with a friend of Mel’s two days ago, Sam Mason. He seems a nice kid, not at all what I expected considering his arrogant father. In fact, we coordinated somewhat of an undercover operation. At an old friend’s expense, no less!”
“How are things here in Raleigh?”
“Terrible. Jackers are closer to cutting off Fayetteville and are rebuilding Wilmington. Supplied by Eva, no doubt.”
“And Emelia?”
“Yes, well, that’s why you’re here. Only so much investigating you can do from our Malibu mansion.”
“I can’t believe you sent her with Tom Mason to Wilmington.”
“Again, that’s why you’re here.”
“I have a letter for you, Jonathon.”
“Let me read it. Ahem, dear Mom, I hope this letter finds you well. Dad and I are safe—is this from Sam Mason?”
“Yes.”
“How did you come across this?”
“After you called, I reached out to a few contacts. One reached me in Charlotte during my layover. Read on.”
“We are taking a boat up the river and plan to return home soon. I bring much news, Mom. A lot has happened. We have lost old friends, and gained new ones—what friends specifically, Jack?”
“James Laramie and Lou Frasier are dead. I suspect the new friends might be the Atlantians.”
“The Atlantians! Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“My God! Let’s see here, I’ll read on—you must do me a favor. I hate asking this, but I fear many lives are in danger, including yours. Please request Jonathon Stone to allow you to live on the base. In return for his protection, I offer information that will shift the balance of power. He will understand what this means.
“The Atlantians, Jack, it must be them.”
“Lisa is already on the base. I saw to it personally.”
“Lisa Mason? She’s here now? I suppose that will be all right. I want a stomper unit guarding her at all times. She doesn’t take a step without them knowing where her foot plants.”
“Taken care of. There’s more in the letter.”
“Yes, let’s see here—we expect to travel by an area safe for me to mail this letter—good, they made it to Augusta—with luck, it will leave a trail unseen to many, but visible to an associate of Mr. Stone’s named Jack Harr. In fact, it would not surprise me if he hand-delivers this to you. We desperately need his assistance.
“Cheeky little bastard, isn’t he?”
“He grows more powerful by the hour.”
“Powerful? Sam is not one of us, not a child of the green pill.”
“It’s…it’s hard to explain. Emelia is helping Sam unlock inner talents, and he is guarded by a sentinel.”
“The demon Tom mentioned? It’s his, what, ward?”
“It’s not a demon, Jonathon. These things are called sentinels. Ancient, powerful beings deeply connected to their natural surroundings. I encountered this one before, many years ago.”
“So, you’re friends with it?”
“No. The sentinel guarding Sam is unsympathetic, destructive, and selfish. But it can also be reasoned with. The sentinel is planning something. What it is, I cannot determine. I would describe the sentinel more as a business colleague than a friend.”
“Fascinating! The letter concludes—with much love, Sam. Postscript, Do not delay, Mr. Harr. Many eyes search for us, and none can be trusted. I hope your special gift is as reliable as rumor describes.
“Well, you are the best.”
“Thank you. Your father agreed.”
“Enough to trick you into ingesting our family’s destructive little green gift. I’m glad he did. Otherwise, you would not be here now.”
“I’m heading to Asheville, Jonathon.”
“Why?”
“Because I am the best at what I do.”
“I understand. Jack…”
“Yes.”
“Bring my daughter home.”
∆ ∆ ∆
Sam marveled at the curves of Emelia’s body. Strong shoulders and a muscular back balanced by enticing buttocks and perfectly sized breasts. He skimmed his cuticles over a shapely rump, down her quadraplex, and hooked her inner thigh, drawing her into his pelvis. A soft moan lifted into the air. He repeated the motion along her shoulder.
“That tickles,” she said and giggled.
“Glad you’re not seasick.”
She rolled over and stared into his eyes. “I only get seasick when Juan is doing a million miles per hour on the ocean.”
He kissed her soft, warm lips. Their sensuality encouraged his hand around the back of her head, holding her tight. She stopped and asked, “You ok?”
“Can’t you tell?”
She pressed her index finger to his forehead and snickered. “I’d prefer staying out of that head of yours. Do you want me inside?”
“A question I was going to ask you.”
“Oh, you!” Emelia spanked Sam. “You have had quite enough inside time, mister.”
“That remains to be seen,” he said and grinned.
“Your father is sleeping on the deck. Be respectful.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, rolling on his back, “that is true. He probably feels alone now. I mean, I am his son, and he loves you as his daughter. He and Juan have shared enough excitement together.”
“But?”
“I worry about him. That moon, lighting our way up this river, how many times has he seen the same moon with Mom? That pelting sound of rain above our heads, how many times has he listened to that with Lou while working in the lab?”
“Let’s be extra nice to him. Don’t worry, we’ll be in Asheville before you know it.”
“It seems so far away. Maybe I can hotwire a car and return inland.”
“You said the jackers could be anywhere between Myrtle Beach and Colombia. I believe you’re right. This is the only way, Sam. We sneak through Augusta so Carver Warden doesn’t find out. We traverse the Appalachian cities, probably riddled with Carver’s assassins. Who knows which other gangs he bought out beside
the Drunks. Not to mention Rickettserax, it could show up at any moment.”
“What an inducement for hiding under a rock. How are we going to do this?”
Emelia propped on an elbow and examined his eyes. The sheet slipped down her shoulder below an excited nipple as she leaned to rest her head on his chest. “I don’t know. A sentinel lived with me when I was a little girl. It morphed between this yellow, fuzzy mass and a small dog. The sentinel was mortified when I asked its name.”
“It figured you couldn’t see it?”
“Was surprised I could. It wouldn’t tell me its name but told me many other things. Like all sentinels, it sought a human to farm energy. They need energy to replace what they shed over time. But it was too timid to try my father or aunt, and it never pushed me to do anything violent. Poor thing.”
“What happened?”
“It died. Never left my side. Had I known they required energy from the dead, I don’t know. Maybe I would have acted differently.”
“It loved you the way you were. How does that work, taking energy?”
Emelia held her hand into the cabin light. “See my shadow there? My hand is three-dimensional casting a two-dimensional image. They are the same. We see a three-D image of their multidimensional bodies. We generate energy in life, and on our death, they harvest it as it passes away from our body. Usually, they’re not greedy. They take without interfering.
“This Rickettserax, it’s different. Didn’t know such a creature existed. And the sentinel, Cuddles, actually struck a bargain with your father. They aren’t supposed to do that, Sam. Exposing themselves and interacting with us, that was more unusual than how Rickettserax behaves.”
“We can figure out how to stop Rickettserax.”
Emelia smiled. “I believe you’ll figure it out. Let’s hope Cuddles never reveals itself.”
A voice called beyond the cabin door, “On deck, people. Augusta’s coming up soon.”
∆ ∆ ∆
The tired 340 Sundancer pushed up the river fighting the angry currents and dodging trash-clogged jetties of the Savannah River. Juan watched the riverbank change from dense forest to crippled farms, from hand-built lean-tos to populated patches of shanties. He rubbed DEET oil on his cheeks, forehead, and ears and covered the rest of his body in gear to avoid the gnawing clouds of hungry mosquitos. An occasional raincloud passed overhead providing a reprieve, but only long enough to glimpse what relaxation could feel like.
