The Embers of Hope: A science-fiction thriller (Hibernation Series Book 2) Page 24

  Jen sighed as the answer arrived, a knowing without clarity but owned by absolute certainty. There would soon come a time when each of them would play a part. Jen could feel mankind’s final battle approaching, and even Zido Zitagi deserved the right to choose her allegiance.

  Epilogue

  The roar of distant engines burned through the fog of George Mohanty’s sleep. He rubbed his face and stared at the ceiling for a while. He hoped it was Paul returning. It had been two days since the event – he didn’t know what else to call it – and they needed to talk.

  Paul had assured him that the compound was safe and they were welcome to stay as long as they needed, but George had spent too long in one place already and found himself planning his imminent departure.

  He sat up, head swimming. Even after a long sleep he still felt exhausted. The Histeridae was with Logan, and that bought some relief, but George could still feel it, could sense she was using it, repairing Nathan’s broken mind. She said the chances of him pulling through were good, but George wasn’t convinced. He’d been told those kinds of hopeful lies before.

  He shook his head and sighed. Jen was alive, but the impossible manner in which they had survived and the way Nathan had channelled the Histeridae was worrying him. Even Theo, one of the most gifted subjects he and Jacob had ever taught, hadn’t come close to that kind of power.

  The thought made him shudder and set his stomach churning. They were alive at least, they had bought her back.

  But at what cost?

  The engine noise was gone and he heard distant voices, one of which was definitely Paul’s. He grabbed his coat and left the room.

  The compound’s previous life had been as a holiday villa, the kind of place people sipped cocktails and padded around in sandals and linen. Now, it was cold and bare with a high perimeter wall. George walked its dark corridors, footfalls echoing loudly, and made his way outside into the cool morning air. It sent gooseflesh up his arms and over his neck. Paul crossed the courtyard and approached him. ‘Morning,’ he said, taking George’s hand. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Mohanty considered the question. He and Paul hadn’t made a good start of it and he wanted to change that. ‘I’m okay,’ he replied simply. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And how is Nathan?’ Paul asked, face darkening with concern.

  ‘He’s still with us,’ Mohanty replied. He could feel his life force, weak but hanging in there. This was new. It seemed the three of them were now connected in some way. He wasn’t sure if it was permanent and guessed it would probably scare some people to death, but George had spent so long without any connection that he decided he could live with it, for now.

  George said, ‘Nathan gave you the files from the vault?’

  ‘They are going to turn the tide.’ Paul nodded, excitedly. ‘I’ve hardly slept the last few days. What Nathan found down there has caused quite a stir, I can tell you.’

  ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ George asked.

  ‘You think we should keep it quiet?’

  ‘I’m not saying that.’

  ‘Listen,’ Paul said, ‘the truth will come out in the end, it always does, and I believe people have the right to know. Give them some credit, George, you may be surprised.’ He studied him and then stepped closer. ‘The woman,’ he whispered. ‘Who is she?’

  After a pause George said, ‘The daughter of a friend.’

  ‘And she can use that thing.’ Paul’s eyes were narrow and dancing with deep thought. ‘Use it… like you can?’

  ‘Paul, I’m tired and she needs my help. Our focus is on Nathan now.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Paul replied, seeming to snap out of his trance, the difference immediate. ‘We can talk later.’

  ‘Oh.’ George handed him an envelope. ‘Will you make sure Pascale gets this?’

  ‘Of course.’ Paul read the handwritten name, smiled and then proceeded to tap the envelope against his hand. It was obvious he wanted to know more, wanted to enquire about the contents of the letter.

  George felt an unmistakable pulse travel through him. ‘I’m sorry, Paul, but I need to go, I need to see her.’

  ‘Of course,’ Paul said, holding up the letter. ‘See you later.’

  George left the courtyard and climbed a staircase. It led to a walled pathway that ran above and around the entire compound. He felt the pulse again, stronger this time, and followed it. The sun announced itself tentatively on the horizon, its amber rays greeting a flat grey sea. It warmed him, and for the first time in years George wondered where he might spend the winter. He wondered if he might spend it with Nathan and maybe even Jen, but let that strange dream drift away like his breath on the wind.

  The red dot of a cigarette glowed for a moment and a guard stepped out from a watch post. George raised his hand and the guard relaxed. ‘She’s been there all night,’ the guard muttered.

  George nodded. He didn’t doubt it. The feeling was stronger now and he could feel his heart pounding, beating like a warning drum.

  It’s okay, he told himself, I don’t ever have to use it again. It can’t hurt me.

  He walked on, overriding his natural instinct to run away from the Histeridae and the past. Ahead of him, positioned to face the rising sun, was a small building that looked out of place among the hard edges of the villa. It was influenced by Italian architecture, a cloister with four ornate archways. Candlelight sent shadows flickering over its stone walls, revealing deep carvings and haunting shapes. George swallowed and hesitated. He could see her, kneeling in the corner, head bowed in concentration. Nathan was laid out on a low stone tablet in the centre of the small room and covered with a blanket. Large candles were positioned around him like a glowing necklace of protection.

  She looked up, smiled warmly and all of George’s concerns melted away.

  * * *

  Jen walked with George up a steep hillside away from the compound and into the cool early morning air. It had been a long night and it felt good to be out. The sun was spreading across the horizon now, bringing a subtle glow that reflected perfectly on the still water.

  ‘How is he?’ George asked, walking next to her, arms hooked behind his back.

  Jen took a deep breath. ‘He’s going to be alright. It’s a strange thing.’ She paused for a moment. ‘The wave, the power. I think it was all connected to his splintering. There was a lot of anger in him, a lot of pain.’

  ‘And you think it came out like that?’

  ‘Partly.’ Jen sighed. ‘Yes, something like that, but there’s more.’

  Up ahead the hillside offered a perfect view of the impending sunrise. They continued to walk. ‘I think, in a strange way, the Histeridae helped him.’

  ‘Helped?’

  ‘Yes, purged him somehow, released things. All I’m trying to do now is bring him back carefully, just him.’

  George blinked, his eyes moving rapidly as if a hundred mathematical equations were being solved. He began to nod. ‘It makes sense, I suppose. God knows how, but it does.’

  They reached the peak of the cliff. Soon the sun would rise and begin its work, and this place would be so hot as to be unbearable. This, Jen decided, was the best time to be here.

  Here, she thought. I am here, but it’s so strange. She looked at George and then out to sea. This version of being alive was only a few days old. Slowly her previous life had begun to paint the emptiness she had initially faced; scenes of a life filling a wide panorama. The thoughts were chaotic, random, though. A childhood memory suddenly interspersed with a Duality case she had worked on.

  Friends, Mac, betrayal; all of them crashing around in her mind like coloured balls in a lottery tumbler, each memory an unknown surprise, lining up, waiting for a winner.

  ‘And how are you?’ George asked, as if sensing her struggle.

  Perhaps he could, Jen thought. There was a connection between them, and with Nathan, too. They were joined because of their intense experiences with the Histeridae,
yet another thing she didn’t yet understand.

  She started to speak, paused and frowned a little. ‘I’m here, George, and I’m grateful for that, but it’s complicated.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ George said softly.

  ‘I’m coming to terms with what happened to me. The fact that I died, I know that, I remember it.’ She turned to him and he met her gaze. ‘I also remember that you came to me in a memory from my home. You tried to bring me back.’

  ‘Yes,’ George admitted. ‘But you –’

  ‘I didn’t trust you.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You wanted Nathan.’

  ‘It’s like a dream, fading already.’

  ‘I can only imagine, but I suspect it was instinctive.’

  ‘Yes. I think it was,’ she said, knowing he was being kind. ‘I’m remembering things now, things from my past, but also my time…’ She paused, searching for the words. ‘My time inside the Histeridae.’

  They watched the gulls spin and rise up on the headwind and for a while, they didn’t speak.

  ‘What I did, with the water,’ Jen began.

  ‘We don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t –’

  ‘No. I want to, I think I need to.’

  George nodded.

  ‘It’s like an energy,’ she continued. ‘Sometimes it passes through us, we get to channel it, but we are just a conduit.’ She chewed at her bottom lip. ‘I’m not sure I could do it again.’

  ‘No one is asking you to,’ George replied. ‘No one is expecting you to.’

  Jen turned and faced him. ‘You’re a good man, George. Thank you for coming back for me.’

  This set water dancing over his eyes. His face crunched up as if in pain, an expression that finally, thankfully revealed a smile. ‘Jacob was a good friend,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘I still miss him. I know he would be very proud of you.’

  Jen could feel his love. It brought her closer to her father somehow. ‘I miss him too,’ she said. ‘And I have questions, things I need to know.’

  ‘We can talk about it when the time is right.’

  ‘Good,’ Jen said. ‘I would like that.’

  The sun broke its bond with the sea and bathed them in brilliant light. Its warmth was instant, its effect on the colours around them equally so.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened with that woman?’

  Jen glanced up at the fading moon, a ghostly impression of itself, its crooked smile as transparent as the lie hanging over the world. How could she tell George what had happened? She was only just coming to terms with it herself. Her exploration of Zitagi’s mind had been as extraordinary as it was devastating. Jen hadn’t felt such focus before, such clarity, and she had seen it all: Reyland, the moon, the truth. Of course, she had tried to reassure herself that it was all from Zitagi’s perspective – like a fictional novel, point-of-view was everything – yet Jen felt the power of the truth. Like a tuning fork, the truth had a tone, a vibration.

  ‘Her name is Zido Zitagi,’ Jen replied finally. ‘But that’s for another day, George.’

  George nodded. ‘Yes, I know that name. So, what happens now?’

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Long term, I honestly don’t know, but right now, I’m going to stay and watch the morning.’

  ‘It’s a good thing to do.’ George smiled. It was a look of complete understanding. He walked back down the hillside and was gone, and Jen was alone.

  But for the first time – and it was the first, in any of her lives – she didn’t feel alone. Nathan and George were good people, they mattered; she had something to lose now, and rather than that feeling like a burden she felt its power, its importance.

  It also hurt, because she had been shown a version of the future, one without hope, where mankind didn’t stand a chance. Jen couldn’t help feeling that all things had been leading to this point. Her father, the Histeridae, Hibernation, Zitagi – they were all joined somehow.

  Zitagi had told her something, in Russia, in her previous life, a simple phrase that Jen had carried through the veil of death.

  We can’t save them all.

  As Jen watched the sun beat the darkness, watched it rise majestically above her, she felt her reply travelling back through time and arriving with certainty.

  I disagree, she thought, a fresh confidence rising from within, warming her soul as the sun warmed her skin. I think we can.

  THE END

  Also By Nick Jones

  If time-travel is your thing, try ‘The Unexpected Gift of Joseph Bridgeman?’ Can Joe travel back to 1992 and save his sister?

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  Acknowledgements

  A special thanks to my writing team:

  Ian Hughes (It was a slog but we did it mate! Book three?)

  Steve Parolini (So much more than a brilliant editor; thanks for all the guidance, mentoring, comedy and advice).

  Sarah Kolb-Williams (Always fun, super professional and great to work with).

  Kay Renfrew (your constant support and enthusiasm for what I’m doing means the world to me).

  My family (for all your kind words, support and tea)

  My Mum. She said she was ‘very proud’. What more do you need in life?