The Embers of Hope: A science-fiction thriller (Hibernation Series Book 2) Page 23

  ‘Nathan,’ she shouted. ‘Stop!’

  But he couldn’t. Control was a devious lie. The Histeridae was in control, it always had been.

  Chapter 66

  The technician frowned at his screen, mouth hanging open.

  ‘What is it?’ George asked.

  The kid shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever…’

  ‘Just tell me!’ George barked.

  ‘I’ve got multiple readings. Strong brain activity.’ He trailed off into a whisper, his face almost touching the screen.

  George staggered towards the chamber that housed Jen’s body.

  ‘Open it up!’ he shouted. ‘Quickly!’

  Nothing happened and George turned. Nathan was hovering, bolt upright, three feet from the ground. His head was snapped back and blood was pouring from his nose, running down over his face and neck. He was making a terrible sound, a raw animal-like growl that had no business coming from his mouth.

  But George didn’t see Nathan. He saw the past; he saw Theo.

  ‘Open the chamber, before we all die!’ he screamed at the technician.

  The tech did as he was asked this time. The chamber opened, sliding upward with a low, wet groan, sending clouds of cool air rushing from its edges.

  Jen was held in place by two thick bars of steel, one across her legs, one across her chest. Steam rose from her wet skin.

  George willed her back into existence with everything he had left.

  Chapter 67

  Zitagi had seen many things in her life that could be described as unbelievable, but they all had some kind of explanation, some grounding in reality. Until now. She watched in awe as Nathan began to levitate, rising up from the ground, body rigid. Felt the ions in the air changing, like the quiet moments before the first roll of thunder. The Histeridae burned so brightly it looked as though it might explode, and as the building began to implode, crushed by the unnatural forces at work, Zitagi knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t going to end well and she needed to act, fast.

  She launched herself over a railing, dropped silently to the floor and shot the American in the back. He crumpled to the floor as if his bones had been vaporised. She took down the other two guards with precision and then focussed her attention on Nathan, who was still hanging impossibly in the air. She raised her gun and took aim.

  ‘What are you doing?’ George stared at her in disbelief.

  Zitagi ignored him and pulled the trigger but her fingers didn’t move. She tried again but her body was solid, like glass.

  Nathan rotated slowly, hanging in the air as if impaled by an invisible spike. His eyes flicked open, wet and black and moving like oil on a dead sea. He stared at her, lips stretched back in a rictus of anger, and he began to shake like a man being burned alive.

  ‘Lower your gun!’ George screamed. ‘For God’s sake.’

  Behind her a large blue cylinder groaned like a whale hit by a harpoon, a sorrowful sound that announced its imminent demise. Zitagi turned and stepped back slightly. Above her a light fitting banged out, and glass fell like sharp rain to her left. Others followed suit.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Zitagi shouted.

  The Histeridae began its own deep song, one that reminded Zitagi of the thrumming drone of an aircraft engine combined with a high-pitched frequency. The sound was so deep it shook the dust on the floor and permeated every bone in her body as it built in waves. Nathan’s hands stretched out, shaking, as though all the energy in the world was being channelled through him.

  There was a loud crack as another huge cylinder blew open. A large split appeared and it began to implode, collapsing as easily as a piece of paper crumpled into a ball. All around them this was happening. The sound was deafening as metal and energy combined into a terrifying display of compression.

  ‘He’s going to take this whole place down if we don’t stop him,’ Zitagi shouted, still paralysed.

  The remaining lights shattered and the largest of the cylindrical towers pulled inward suddenly, as though it had been shot with a heavy-calibre round. Impact lines creased the metal from a central point and it imploded, no longer recognisable in shape.

  Then, it all stopped.

  And there was silence.

  The imagery remained – Nathan stretched out like an electrocuted doll, glass and metal exploding around them – but all sound was gone. It felt to Zitagi like a dream, a terrible dream where deafness only served to enhance the horror of imminent disaster.

  In this strange silence the bright sunlight, visible through the smashed windows and torn roof above them, disappeared, replaced by a muddy, threatening darkness. The Histeridae glowed impossibly bright as a thick shadow consumed the building and the ground shook fiercely. Sound returned like a racing car approaching, high pitched and wailing. It was the technician’s voice that cut through first. He was screaming, pointing up at the roofline. It was then that Zido realised what the terrible sound had actually been, the one that had been low and building all this time.

  It was a tsunami, a colossal wall of water towering over them like a black sheet of death, and it was going to kill them all.

  Chapter 68

  Jennifer Logan was fully aware as she fell from the replication chamber, but the world that came rushing into view was a confusing one. Compared to the myriad of dreams and thoughts she had experienced over the last four years this was visceral and sharp, this was real, but it made no sense.

  Her body pulled away from the soft mould that had fed and grown her flesh and she stumbled forwards, landing on the floor, catlike and alert. She watched with fascination as the metal bands that had restrained her spun away gently as if floating in zero gravity. Time was passing, it seemed, but in increments so slow as to be almost indistinguishable. It was as if time itself wasn’t aligned yet, wasn’t joined. She, on the other hand, was moving in real time, could feel the normal weight of gravity.

  She saw three people, fanned out like a frozen theatre group enacting an unfamiliar tableau of fear. Shards of glass decorated the air between them like a sheet of brilliant diamonds, each piece catching the light, creating rainbows of flickering shapes and colours.

  She recognised George instantly. Like her, he was on the floor, covering his head. There was a younger man to his right, looking up and pointing. Jen also recognised Zitagi, gun raised, her eyes wide and glistening. She followed her gaze and finally saw Nathan, hovering impossibly in the air, blood pouring from his face. This bought pain and a rush of emotion that was real, but not yet accompanied by any true understanding. Nothing made sense; substance and context hadn’t caught up yet. All she knew was that she loved Nathan and he was in pain. She needed to help him.

  Jen finally looked beyond Nathan, saw the massive tsunami, impossibly slow but still descending, crashing through every space. The walls of the plant were exploding inward as though they were made of sand, large pieces of masonry framed by white explosions of foaming water. It was as beautiful as it was deadly, but Jen realised if she didn’t act, that thought might be her last.

  Strangely, the thought didn’t scare her. She had seen death and all that lay beyond, and didn’t fear it, but something was telling her to move, something bigger than her.

  She got to her feet, her agility confirming that whilst the group remained in slow motion, her speed was normal. It was as if a second in their time was a minute for her. She made her way to Nathan, pushing through fragments of glass and metal and droplets of water as she covered ground.

  She stood below him like a conductor preparing an orchestra. She took a long, deep breath, turned her hands upwards and focussed on him and the terrible spell that had taken possession of him. As the water continued to fall she drew him down, pulling him towards her. She attracted the others, too. They slid towards her, like metal statues drawn by a powerful magnet.

  The water had looked for a while as though it were carved from solid glass but it was churning now, a dark mass nearly upon them, moving faster every se
cond. With Nathan finally down and the rest of the group surrounding her, Jen raised her arms once more as if she were welcoming the wave, as a yogi might welcome the morning sun, greeting the destructive act of nature with pure love.

  Time returned to its universal speed and the sea fell with the ferocity and weight of the world.

  Chapter 69

  It was black for a while, as dark as death, but they were alive; somehow, they were still alive. George was lying on the ground. He pulled Nathan towards him and watched in awe as Jennifer Logan – a dark outline, illuminated by the red glow of the Histeridae – moved her arms in graceful, flowing lines above him.

  Shafts of light revealed she was working to maintain some kind of protective energy; a dome of sorts. She was massaging it, repairing parts that were bulging inward under the pressure, pushing them and smoothing them away.

  It’s a gift, George thought, perhaps from the stars, or from a God he found himself wishing he believed in. Logan was back from the dead – which was in itself a miracle – but what he was seeing here was something else entirely, something more difficult to define, like a divine intervention.

  Deep water churned and pushed around them, and as more light reached them from the surface, debris became visible. Torn sheets of metal and silvery lengths of pipe went spinning and dancing through the water. Clouds of sand and weeds revealed a shoal of fish, looking as surprised as George felt. They flickered over the dome and then darted away. He almost cried out as a body –the American – slid and rolled above them, his left hand cutting a bluish light over the jelly-like surface of the dome. It sent water showering down over them in a wide arc and set Jen to work, sealing the breach before it could take hold, stitching the membrane of energy closed. And that’s what it was, George’s mind reassured him, a protective bubble of energy that had somehow stopped millions of tonnes of water crushing them. He peered at the dark shape that moved beside him. Zitagi’s steely eyes stared back.

  The wave receded as quickly as it had arrived, the silver sheet of the water’s surface visible and descending towards them. George felt water, a cold rush over his legs and feet, a chill that snapped him right into the moment. He looked at Nathan. His eyes were wide but horribly vacant and his mouth hung open.

  The dome finally gave way. It popped with a fizz, bursting in a circle around them like a large soapy bubble. Water washed over them, but it was knee-deep. George supported Nathan around the waist and stared up at Jen.

  Her hair was wet and matted with seawater, clinging to her face, hiding her features. Her arms fell to her sides and there she stood, still and silent.

  A low rumble of destruction could be heard in the distance, along with sirens and the desperate shouts of survivors. The technician got to his feet and stared at the wreckage like a child waking from a nightmare. The front half of the building was gone, ripped open. Lines of debris led to a huge, gaping hole where a river of water was being pulled back out to sea. ‘We need to move,’ the technician murmured weakly. ‘It might come back.’

  ‘He’s right,’ George agreed, but he didn’t believe it. He had seen tsunamis on the news, heard how they crash through everything in their path and then – once they hit higher ground – come back for another bite. This seemed different, though; this wave had been focussed on them and then receded quickly. This had been caused by the Histeridae, by Nathan.

  Another sound came, an aircraft just visible through the torn roofline. It hovered, unable to land.

  ‘It’s Paul,’ Mohanty said, still holding Nathan.

  Four small silver objects appeared through the milky haze of destruction. They glided around the group, spinning golden rings of light in a circle, a net that would hoist them all to safety.

  The Histeridae was still glowing but it was duller now, the glossy black sheen of its surface visible again. It was on the floor near the replicator.

  ‘Hold him,’ George told the technician and stepped out of the ring of light that was forming around them. He knelt down to retrieve the object.

  Zitagi aimed her gun at him. ‘You know I can’t let you take that, George.’ Her voice was calm and firm.

  George didn’t think, didn’t need to. He connected with the Histeridae and reached for her. When he felt his mind being slapped back – and remembered Nathan’s warning about the existence of a blocker – he cursed himself for being so stupid. He stumbled back, screaming.

  ‘It won’t work on me,’ Zitagi sneered. ‘And there’s –’

  The gun flew out of her hand so fast that when it hit metal a hundred feet away she seemed confused, unable to make the connection, to process the speed.

  When Jen spoke her voice was a whisper, yet loud enough to be heard by all. She wiped the hair from her face, revealing eyes that glowed like emeralds lit by fire. Her instructions were aimed at George but her gaze remained locked on Zitagi. ‘Get Nathan to the ship,’ she said. ‘I will follow you.’

  George considered a protest but then simply nodded. Who was he to decide what Jen should or shouldn’t do? He was absolved of his responsibility now, had done what he set out to do, had brought Jacob’s daughter back.

  He felt a balance in his heart that had been missing for so long, like the tsunami had somehow wiped the slate clean. He stepped into the golden net of spinning light and, as he began his ascent to safety, looked down on the pair who stood facing each other amid a scene of destruction.

  Chapter 70

  Jennifer Logan’s second birth had been almost as traumatic as the first. This time the umbilical cord around her neck had been replaced by a tsunami, but both had seen her fighting for her life before she even knew where she was.

  And now, after the colossal wave and all that followed, there was a brief moment in which to catch her breath, and as she did so she started to remember.

  Death had been a strange kind of existence for her; more real than a dream but transient in a way that seemed distant and separate. Time hadn’t existed, but her long sleep and subsequent awakening left her with a sense of its passing, a gaping hole where life should have been.

  In some ways, it was good that she hadn’t had time to think. If she had, then perhaps she would have doubted her ability to control the water.

  One thing she could feel coming back, slowly, were her years on Earth. They brought weight and meaning to every moment. There were huge missing pieces, hanging before her like a white canvas waiting to be painted. She knew it would be a struggle but believed she would remember it all eventually. A life rushing into her mind all at once would be too much, she decided.

  She thought of George and Nathan and their determination to bring her back to life.

  Nathan.

  She loved him.

  His kiss had brought her home; they were joined now and it pained her to know he was suffering. She could feel his life force. It was weak. She wanted to help him but she had work to do first, unfinished business.

  There was so much that didn’t make sense, but there was one thing she felt certain of, something that needed no re-enforcement, a feeling of absolute destiny.

  They were all important, all had a role to play, and it was not by chance that Zitagi was here. Her adversary was staring at her and Jen saw something in those eyes, the smallest recognition perhaps that she felt this too.

  ‘Why did you kill me?’ Jen asked, coolly.

  ‘Why did you save me?’ Zitagi replied.

  ‘Because you’re going to help me.’

  ‘I’m what?’

  Jen observed her. ‘You need to tell me what you know.’

  ‘Trust me, you don’t want –’

  Jen stepped forward. ‘You know I can take it from you.’

  Zitagi swallowed. ‘You can’t just…’ But she stopped.

  The Histeridae glowed and purple tendrils of light broke free from Jen’s mind, wrapping themselves around Zitagi. Jen felt a million connections happen instantaneously and heard a whimper, like the sound of a wounded animal. It was coming f
rom Zitagi.

  ‘Please don’t,’ Zitagi whispered, but it was distant, and Jen felt her nemesis open up as if her soul were Jen’s alone. She scoured Zitagi’s mind with precision, the two of them connected as one.

  Tears fell in a cascade of shared emotion. Jen saw the child Zido had been and the woman she had become and a wave of understanding, bigger than the tsunami that had nearly ended them, crashed through her. The truth – all of it – the moon, the ark and the end of life on Earth, was felt by them both instantaneously. For Jen it was a new and terrible truth, but for Zitagi it was no less powerful.

  Jen backed away, shaking her head and gasping for air. ‘It can’t be,’ she screamed. ‘It can’t!’

  Zitagi stared back at her, eyes wide and dancing with tears, her mouth shaping words that wouldn’t come. She stumbled back, turned and ran. Jen let her go but sent a message deep into her, into the woman who was running, had always been running.

  Soon, you will have to choose.

  Zitagi didn’t look back. She waded and pushed through debris, climbed a broken set of railings and was gone.

  Jen crouched down and held Nathan tenderly in her arms as the magnitude of her newfound knowledge embedded itself. Life had been given back to her but had changed beyond all recognition. She picked up the Histeridae. It was cool to the touch and sent a reassuring pulse through her. The red silk-like glow within – the one she thought of as its heart – continued to dance.

  Jen heard the aircraft above and felt the two of them lift from the ground, surrounded by the glowing safety orbs. Inside the safety of the ship, George placed a hand on her shoulder and she nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. From this height she finally saw the extent of the damage. The wave had taken a huge bite from the Oman coastline, nature at its most raw and powerful, a reminder that mankind’s rightful place was a falsehood.

  Zitagi had shown her a truth, one she could never have imagined – not in a thousand years – yet she had let her escape. Why?