The Second Wave Page 2

  The man was still bowing and muttering his gratitude when John was too far away to hear him anymore. He made his way to the waterfront, from where he took only the roads by the coast to his destination. The sea brought in trade winds, the air already smelled of snow. The wind whispered of frost.

  There was not much to see in these parts of Egypt. The strong coastal winds made it impossible for people to permanently reside there, so the towns and cities were deserted and mostly destroyed. Between Alexandria, which marked the beginning of the outlawed zone, and Port Said, a shielded area of prosperity, lay nothing but seemingly endless desert fields. No trees, not even shrubberies could find ground on the barren lands. Occasionally, a long forgotten road was visible underneath the dried up earth, and sometimes the ruins of a temple protruded into the horizon. Apart from that, the coastal area was nothing but a long, lonely stretch of sand and sea.

  With one exception: the temple of Wepwawet. The temple stood in the middle of a desert. This particular stretch of land was once a popular graveyard, before poverty drove people to rob even the dead of what little possessions they had taken with them to their graves. Although the graveyard was destroyed, the temple itself was still intact and clean. It stood erect, walls smooth from the abrasive winds, like a lone sentinel, like a watchtower from a long forgotten time.

  A secret passageway led from the inner sanctum of the temple to a dead lake in Shamshirah further East, and from there to a network of roads used primarily for smuggling goods from Israel. Abdul-Wahid, a wiry man John’s age, was usually overlooking these transfers.

  John didn’t dismount; he rode up the stairs and into the temple’s main chamber. Here, he stopped and got off the horse, just when Abdul came towards him, his smile showing considerably more teeth than the cobbler’s.

  “As-salamu aleikum,” he greeted John good naturedly. “Still riding that old mare of yours, I see.”

  “She is not an old mare, Abdul. I forbid you to call her that in her presence.”

  “That’s because you attend to her well, so the years look kindly upon her. I could still get you a young stallion. Agile. Nubile. Fast as lightening. Just say the word.”

  “The word is no, although I appreciate your offer. Have the goods arrived soundly?”

  John followed Abdul into a small chamber, where the two men were greeted by the annoyed baaing of a dozen goats and sheep. A quick look-over showed no signs of malnutrition, disease, or old age. John was satisfied. He handed Abdul a bag with his share of the payment, not as much as usual, but people had even less in the winter.

  It was difficult to tie the cattle together, even for two men. The sheep were confused from the long march through the tunnel, and the goats were petulant by nature. But cajoling and the occasional smack on the behind did the trick. In the end, John led the animals in single file back into the main hall. The rope with which they were bound together he tied to the side of his saddle.

  “One more thing, Yuhanan,” said Abdul. “There’s someone who wants to speak with you.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. He shot his business partner a warning look. “Here? In the temple?” No one was allowed in here; it was the most important rule of their operation.

  “No, of course not. She is staying in Idku for now. She wants you to smuggle someone.”

  John shook his head. “Not a chance, Abdul, you know that.”

  Smuggling was a risky business at best, but during the cold winter months it was almost impossible. Half of the people froze to death on the long boat journey, leaving John to dispose of the bodies so the police wouldn’t find them. It was more hassle than he got payment for. And besides all that, John had to lie low for the next months. No more smuggling of humans.

  But Abdul insisted, “You should listen to her, she can pay exceptionally well.” His hand fluttered up to his turban, from where he fumbled a small electronic device, much like a miniature personal computer. It was only the casing, though.

  “You must be joking. This is worthless,” replied John after a look at it.

  “It’s just the casing to show you. She has the rest with her. Believe me, I’ve seen it.”

  “And what is it?”

  “It’s a personalized ticket for the colonization program. It’s not activated, yet, but it is genuine.”

  John had heard about the colonization program, albeit not much. It seemed the government was establishing villages somewhere and was recruiting people to start new lives there. Such a ticket might be worth a lot on the black market. It might mean no other jobs during the winter, because this had the potential to be worth more than all the rest of his payments together. An alluring thought.

  “Tell this client to meet me at the lighthouse tomorrow,” he decided. It was where John met customers he didn’t trust.

  Abdul-Wahid didn’t know a name, so John didn’t know what or whom to expect when he waited for her at the lighthouse the next evening. But even so, the old businesswoman was a surprise. Her skin was light und un-tanned, giving rise to the assumption that she wasn’t originally from the South. Her body was round enough to suggest a healthy diet, her soft hands suggested she was wealthy enough not to do manual labour, something her expensive outfit confirmed. John let her walk up to him.

  “I assume you are she who needs my help,” he said without exchanging greetings.

  “I am. May we speak somewhere—” She glanced around. “Less open?”

  John shook his head. “This will not take long. You want me to get your son into the country?”

  “You got half of it right, young man. I want you to smuggle him out of this country.”

  “And what is your offer of payment?”

  “The payment will be generous. You have seen the ticket. Offered to the right person on the free market it is almost priceless. You must move quickly, though. The second wave is supposed to leave six months from now. After that, the ticket is worthless.”

  “I have never had to smuggle someone out of the outlawed zone.” People normally came here to get away from the police or the government. They were free here. If someone needed to get away from here, there were very few places they could run to.

  The woman seemed reluctant to speak for a moment. Then she admitted, “He is being held hostage by the worshippers of Inher-Shu. They want money, of course, which I am not willing to give them. I’d rather send you.”

  John gave a short, humorless bark of a laugh. “Your son is probably already dead, either way. You are wasting your time and, as much as I am reluctant to admit, your resources. I doubt I can help you.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You are perhaps the best con man in the world. If anyone can get my son out of there, I believe it is you.”

  “I tell you, woman, the Inher-Shu don’t take live prisoners. Your son is dead, or at least as good as dead. And in going in after him, I am risking my life as well.”

  The woman’s face became cold. She made a step towards him. “And in my endless generosity I choose to pay you to take that risk. An offer that expires as we speak, Yuhanan. It is Yuhanan this year, is it? Or Ivan? Giovanni? Ianto? Yuehan? It gets confusing after a while. Your footprints can be found all over the globe, if one knows where to look. Whatever you’re running from must be terrifying. So be careful where you next direct your steps.”

  There was not much John could say to that. And he did prefer to get paid for his jobs. So he took it.

  * * * *

  Chapter 5: The Temple in the Forest

  Tom was discussing the prices of a caramel chocolate bar with his dealer, Gerald Higgins from administration, over lunch in the cafeteria. The prices were ridiculously high, but, as Gerald pointed out, it was increasingly difficult to hide them from Elizabeth Burke. They were just about to settle on an agreement when his brother all but jumped through the door, rushed towards him and yelled, “You gotta see this, man! Amazing! Also scary! But really amazing!”

  “What is? Did you ask Doctor Scotia out?” Tom asked, sudden
ly excited. One of them needed a social life, and Phil was more outgoing than Tom—he sometimes even had lunch in the gardens.

  But Phil waved his hand dismissively, “No, not yet. Tony’s online again!”

  A spoonful of tapioca halfway to his mouth, Tom froze mid momentum.

  Three minutes later, the two doctors stood in their lab in front of the main computer monitor, mouths hanging open. The screen almost smugly stated: “Wormhole Status: Online”.

  “What do you think will happen,” Tom whispered, awestruck, “if we press the ‘engage’ button?”

  “I have no idea. This is so exciting!”

  “I love our job!” agreed Tom. They shared a big, ecstatic grin.

  “Let’s hope Tony really reopens,” Phil suggested. The fact that over two hundred people were trapped on an alien Earth didn’t cause the brothers sleepless nights—but the thought that their job might be rendered useless, if the wormhole never opened up again, and they had to move back in with their parents, terrified them both to no extent.

  “Jack, Phil,” Tom explained with strained patience. “His name is Jack.”

  “Oh please. Stop naming stuff after old flames. You’re such a softie.”

  “Oh, I’m the softie now? What about Phyllis? Hm?”

  “At least Phyllis is a real person.”

  “She’s an evil sorceress, Phil. In a computer game.”

  “Who is played by a real person! She is not, and I cannot stress this enough, a robot.”

  “Jack was more than just a robot. And I won naming the wormhole fair and square with a thumb war, so show some respect.”

  “I’m not having this discussion with you again. I’m ignoring you. You are being ignored.”

  “You are being ignored back.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  A spell of silence settled in the chaotic room. Finally Phil shrugged. “Let’s just press the button and ignore us after whatever happens next.”

  Tom frowned, the prior argument immediately forgotten. “Shouldn’t we call General Fatique before we do anything?”

  Phil gave a hysterical yelp, “Are you insane, man? This lab is covered in candy wrappings! If Burke sees this, our salad days will not only be over, but also the beginning — literally! Just press the button, Tom.”

  Tom did, and in the room downstairs the wormhole exploded back into existence, four months after it had mysteriously vanished.

  * * * *

  The Goddess awoke.

  The first thing she realized was that the darkness was gone. She could see dim green light shining through the thick foliage of a forest above her when her eyes adjusted. The temple was gone. No, it wasn’t gone, she soon noticed, but it lay crumpled around her. Only a few walls were still recognizable, half broken down, corroded by the forces of nature. The Goddess hadn’t even known there was a forest around her abode; it hadn’t been there before the darkness.

  She wasn’t actually a Goddess. Part of her knew that. But she was called one, and she liked the sound of it. She might as well be. She blinked, and rain began to drizzle down on her. Time was of no consequence to her, so she couldn’t tell how long she sat in the remains of her temple, shivering in the cool downpour, watching puddles form around her, before she finally understood that she was free. The temple was destroyed. The invisible walls that had been her prison and home for eternity had turned to wind.

  Very carefully, always waiting for the boundaries to snap her back into place again, she rose. She sighed, and the rain stopped. Sunlight streamed through the trees, heavy and orange. Around her, flowers began to blossom in colors she had never seen before, had only heard of. Or perhaps she just couldn’t remember. It seemed to her the petals were showing her the way, so she followed them. Further into the forest at first, past shrubberies and over roots, through lianas that hung between trees like curtains. No animals were about. Not another soul was in reach. The only sound was the soft squishing her bare feet made when they sank into the mossy ground with every new step.

  Finally the trees stopped, and she stepped out into a clearing to watch the last of the sinking sun burn behind the tree tops. Then it was just her and the darkness again; only this time the darkness brought silence. Perhaps, it occurred to her, silence was a bad thing. It told her what she had feared before and now knew for certain: Everyone was gone.

  When the sun rose again the next morning, she continued her exploration. Her body ached, especially her head. That, and that she was unaccustomed to walking slowed her down and made her steps uneasy. What she was looking for she didn’t fully understand until she came to the end of the forest and found strangers. Thinking back, she realized she must have heard them before but didn’t recognize their voices. Everything was different now that she was out of the darkness.

  She froze on the spot. Just looked. They spoke to her, but their words meant nothing. They were uttered in a language she didn’t know. Her head hurt. One of the strangers pointed something at her, so incredibly slowly she almost missed the movement.

  The Goddess fell.

  * * * *

  Chapter 6: Going Through

  Not even an hour after Doctors deLuca successfully reopened the wormhole again, General Fatique stood in the wormhole chamber next to Captain Emily Eleven and her team of six. The protectors were in full gear, ready to go through and check on the colony and the settlers. Nothing might have happened. They had, after all, decided on the planet as Alpha Site due to its almost non-existent wildlife, and the colony was designed and prepared to function autonomously. But after the gateway had opened up again, there had been no messages waiting for them, and so far no one had tried to come back through. The settlement was a good hour's march away from the arrival spot; the colonists may not have noticed the reopening. But Fatique wanted to be absolutely sure everything was in order and everyone was fine.

  Captain Eleven was no stranger to the wormhole. She had been through before, when they first started to explore new planets. So had her team. Six protectors in their twenties, youthful but skilled. They all knew Eleven from the training academy in Winchester; they trusted her implicitly. More importantly, the trust went both ways. They were an outstanding team.

  Eleven shook Fatique’s hand. “Whatever happened, sir, we’ll find out.”

  “Thank you, Captain. And give Victoria Rochester her father’s greetings. Heath’s been worried about her and her family.”

  “Of course.” Eleven gave her team permission to go. Then they turned towards the wormhole, whatever its name was today, and marched through.

  It was morning, just after eight o’clock on Earth, but on Alternearth the sun was high in the sky, indicating it was already around noon—it was another reality, certainly, but the planet and the solar system were pretty much the same, meaning the days and years of Alternearth were about equal to those on Earth.

  Eleven and her team arrived in a meadow. The grass was ankle high, interspersed with flowers in full bloom, some shrubberies and lone trees here and there, all of which looked eerily like Earth’s once lush landscape. Behind was the beginning of a thick forest, and from the left they heard the peaceful gurgling of a creek, making its way through the landscape. The sky was cloudless and blue. A perfect day.

  Behind them the wormhole closed noiselessly. Fatique would reopen it in four hours to allow the team’s return. And while on the Earth side an almost unbelievable array of technical equipment, computer monitors and gadgets was used to create the gateway, nothing of the sort could be found on this side. The wormhole disappeared, and nothing was left to prove it once existed.

  “Let's hope the docs can do their kung-fu again in four hours,” Gavin Watts joked. “I’d hate to be stranded here.”

  “Hm, but it’s so nice and romantic, Gavin,” murmured Sophie Bahr. She leaned against him, batting her eyes. “I can almost see it, honey—you, me, a tent, a couple of cute kids…”

  “When did we ever agree on kids, honey?”

/>   Carl Gibson, ever the steady one, shot them a warning look. “Let’s try to stay professional for once, yes?”

  Eleven turned in a circle, a map in one hand, a compass and a gun in the other. “Which way to the colony?” she asked, confusion in her voice. “This map doesn’t seem accurate. Who developed it?”

  “That was me, ma’am,” Mandy Rett, youngest of the lot, confessed. “I think the wormhole must’ve opened up in another part of the planet. I don’t recognize any of these surroundings.”

  Carl shook his head. “No. It’s the exact same coordinates.” He held up his hand computer for everyone to see.

  “Well, if it is,” Timothy Niman said, peeking over Eleven’s shoulder at the compass, “we need to go that way. East. The colony should be there. An hour away or so.”

  “Or so?” Sally Sheldon raised an eyebrow. “What is this? A technical term?”

  They marched on, listening more or less fondly to Timothy’s definition of “or so”.

  “This should be it,” Timothy stated, an hour later. The team found itself in the outskirts of yet another forest. Or, as Mandy pointed out while they were walking, the very same forest they had seen near the wormhole, only a different part of it. Apart from the trees that grew taller and thicker with every step, the only other item of interest was a large group of deep lilac flowers, each of them nearly two feet tall. When Gavin poked at one, it emitted a hissing sound and all but tried to swallow him, thus making the soldier the butt of the team’s jokes for the next fifteen minutes. Until Eleven compared maps and coordinates and announced that they should be standing right in the middle of the first settlement.

  “Not the middle, by definition,” Carl corrected. “According to my coordinates, we’re standing in the lower grade classroom.”

  “How fitting.” Mandy smirked.