Bloodline (The Forgotten Origins Trilogy) (13 page)

Dad

Silence hangs between us for a couple of minutes.  Finally, I re-fold the paper and put in the pocket of my backpack.  I look at Chris then, and am encouraged to see him gathering all our things with purpose, the despair so obvious before now replaced by hope.

Setting the safe back under the floorboards, he slides the skull into its bag and places it in his backpack.  Lifting it up onto his shoulders, he then reaches out a hand to me.  I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

“We have to get back to Jacob as fast as possible,” I say to him, already headed back the way we came.  “We’re leaving.  Tonight.”

“You know where this P
rofessor is?” he asks as we trot along the edge of the murky water, sensing that I’m not ready to talk about the note.

“Yes.  He’s the one that called the other day; I remember now where I’ve heard that voice.  He’s the same man that was at Dads funeral and gave us Baxter as a gift.  He came over a few more times afterwards and had dinner with us once. I thought he was weird though and caught him snooping in Dads office.  He said he and Dad were childhood friends and taught at the University together.  After Dad moved here the Professor went on to get his PHD in Biology; genetics I think.  Says he doesn’t like to be called doctor because he will always be a teacher.  I’ve never been to his house, but I know where it is.”  Almost falling over a stump, I catch myself and then run to catch up with Chris.

As we turn onto the game trail, I see that the sun is almost below the tree line now and my newfound hope gives way to fear.  Mom will be home soon and I know with certainty that my little brother is in danger.  I should have never left him alone.  I begin to run and pass Chris, my legs carried by desperation.

The ride home is torture.  An overwhelming need to get to Jacob has grabbed me and won’t let go.  I’m already driving ten over the speed limit and it takes all my will to keep from going faster.  We can’t take the risk of being pulled over…not now.  It’s safe to assume that most, if not all of the police force are Shiners.  I still plan on calling them, but after I have Jake and know that he’s safe.

Chris is sitting silently beside me.  We left his car back at the parking lot.  We would be coming back this way to go to the professors and I have more gas than he does.  No sense taking both vehicles. 

We haven’t said much since leaving the woods.  In a way, I’m grateful; this is taking me awhile to make sense of.  I
am thinking of the other people in my life that I love, in addition to my mom and brother.  I’m actually relieved now that Missy and my Grandparents were sick.  At least I don’t have to worry about them being killed.  Glancing in the rearview mirror, I speed up just a bit more.

“He used the word ‘anti-virus’,” Chris says
next to me, making me jump.

Thinking back over the message, I try to remember what it said.  “Something about it falling into the hands of our adversaries, that it would almost do as much damage as the virus?”  I ask.

“Yes, pretty much.  When I read up on the viruses, they talked about reverse-engineering.  If you can isolate the genetic material, you can use it; manipulate it.  Can you imagine what someone could do with this virus?”  He looks at me from the passenger seat, and I marvel at his ability to see the bigger picture.  All I can focus on right now is getting around the next curve, and he’s thinking about reverse engineering a virus.  Amazing.

“I don’t know Chris.  Honestly, I’m not looking that far ahead right now.  I guess that might explain though why this is all so secretive.  Obviously the Khufu Bast is a secret society, and there is at least one other group trying to find whatever it is they have.  Why didn’t he just tell me though?  Or at least leave something a bit more obvious behind that I would find sooner so we could have prevented all of this?”

“It wouldn’t have been safe to do it before the meteor shower,” Chris suggests.

“What do you mean?”  I ask, still not getting it.

“They killed your dad Alex.  They obviously knew about the virus, and that your dad had access to this anti-virus.  I’m thinking that whatever he’s leading us to is a critical link in stopping the infection, and whoever killed him did so to keep that knowledge from getting out.  They would have been watching you.  Waiting for you to lead them to it.”  That thought creeps me out a bit, and I wonder if he might be right.

“I’ll bet you that they were well prepared to escape before the Holocene shower,” he continues.  “I think they want to use it, not be controlled by it.  They’ll probably lay low until the initial phase is over.  Once all the symptoms of this ‘flu’ are gone, the carriers won’t be contagious by the air-borne method anymore.  It’ll only be blood borne.”

“What if they aren’t in hiding, and are still watching me?” I ask, looking in the mirror again.  To my relief, I don’t see any headlights behind us.

“They would have done something by now Alex.  Probably would have right away.”

Not liking the idea of my Fathers killers stalking me, I have to accept the fact that I can’t do anything about it right now.  My anxiety amplified, we turn the corner onto our block and as I push the garage door opener, I know immediately that something is wrong.

Just ahead, sitting in our driveway are two strange cars.  Chris and I exchange a knowing look and I hit the accelerator.  My
truck jumps the curb and I come to a screeching halt halfway in the garage, the door still slowly rising.

Leaping down, I’m met by frantic barking coming from in front of the truck.  As I run for the door leading into the kitchen, I pass Baxter.  He’s tied up to a work bench, foaming at the mouth.  I don’t have time to set him free because coming from inside the house is a sound I’ve prayed to never hear.

My little brother, the one I promised to protect, is screaming.  Not the kind that means he is hurt or mad, but the blood curdling kind born from the terror of death.

My vision again narrowing, I am vaguely aware that I am inside the house and flying down the hallway.  Time slow
s down and my hearing actually recedes as I get closer to his room.  His door is slightly ajar, the light spilling out.             

As I come up on my dad’s office, I veer inside and without even thinking, grab the loaded service revolver from the duty belt hanging next to the desk.  Dad had taught me how to work the double release on the holster and I press the levers with ease.  Holding it at the ready, I brush past Chris on my way back out the door, not even acknowledging him.

Quickly crossing the hallway, I hit Jakes door with my shoulder as I slam a bullet into the chamber.  Raising the weapon, I take in the nightmarish seen before me.  Two men that I have never seen before are on either side of Jacobs’s bed, holding down his arms and legs.  Mom is standing at his side, her back to me, holding a syringe over his bared arm. 

My head is
filled with my brother’s screams.  His body is writhing on the bed, the covers kicked off and scattered on the floor.  “Stop it!” I yell, my voice sounding far away.  “Stop it Mom!” 

I h
ave the gun pointed at her back only a few feet away…but I can’t pull the trigger.  I can’t shoot her.  Before I can determine if he’s been injected or not, she turns on me.               With a speed that isn’t human, the gun is knocked from my hand.  I’m propelled through the air and slammed into the wall behind me, her fingers at my throat.

Her face is inches from
my own as I begin to black out; the pressure against my carotid arteries cutting off the blood to my brain.  Frantically pulling at her wrist, I see the syringe raised above me in her other hand and look in her eyes one last time.  Shimmering slightly, there is only a casual curiosity at my anguish.

As the edges of my vision fade away, she suddenly begins to contort violently.  My neck is released and her face pulls into a hideous grimace as she falls backwards onto the floor.  Standing behind her is Chris, my dad’s taser in one hand, the fallen gun picked up and in the other.   Two copper wires lead from the taser and into my mom’s back.

Turning from me, he confronts the guys advancing on him and unlike me, shoots without hesitation.  Several shots explode in the room and the percussion breaks through my paralysis. 

I fall to my knees, rubbing at my throat, struggling to regain control over my body.  “Alex!”  Chris is in my face, yelling at me.  “Alex, did she expose you!”  Concentrating on his eyes…his nice, normal eyes, I swim to the surface of my consciousness and my surroundings start to come back into focus.

“Alex!” he shouts again, and I slowly stand back up with his help.

“I’m okay,” I gasp, trying to push past him.  “I’m okay; she didn’t inject me with anything.  Jacob!”  He finally releases me and I stumble over Moms writhing body and towards the bed.  Jake is curled into a ball, moaning.

One of the men is lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, holding his stomach and making strange, gurgling sounds.  The other one is sprawled across the top of the partially exposed mattress, face down and not moving.  Blood is rapidly spreading out into the foam from under him.

Chris hands me the taser and scoops Jacob up in one swooping motion.  As we reach the door, the electricity stops flowing and Moms body becomes still, her breathing loud and rapid.  Pressing the trigger
again, I wince slightly as she begins seizing again. I can’t take a chance that she’ll recover faster than normal.   I drop the device and step out of the room.

Chris is already disappearing outside through the kitchen door.  Breathing hoarsely, I run back to Dads office and grab my rifle off the gun rack.  Pulling out the top drawer of his desk, I take a set of keys and open the only locked cabinet.  Quickly selecting two boxes of ammo, I race back down the hallway, the sound of the crackling taser following me.

Once in the garage, I pause long enough to untie Baxter from his leash and we both scramble into the backseat of the running truck, where Jake is.  Before I even have the door closed, Chris is backing out of the driveway recklessly, taking out our mailbox and clipping the bumper of one of the other cars.

“I’m sorry Jacob,” I whisper, pulling him into my lap.  “I’m so sorry I left you.  I should have never left you.” 

Tears fall from me uncontrollably and I sob out the last words.  Struggling to wipe the damp hair from his face, I cup his cheeks with both of my hands.  Forcing him to look at me, I search his face for answers. 

Tires screeching, we fly around a corner and then back onto the road that leads out of town.  Chris turns on the headlights to push back the night and we accelerate up the country road.

“Are you okay Jake?” I beg, desperately wanting him to smile and just be my silly little brother again.  To go back in time to the day we were sitting around our fishing hole, unaware of anything so evil and terrifying.

But he just stares at me, eyes wide and full of knowledge a boy his age shouldn’t have.  In answer, he simply holds his left arm out in front of me.  Looking down, my breath catches
.  Panic claws at my throat and robs me of any encouraging words

A small line of blood trickles out from a puncture wound in the crook of his arm.  Baxter whines softly and pushes his way onto both our laps, sniffing at it.
I pull the sleeve down on his Batman pajamas, covering the small wound, trying to hide the reality.  I can’t help but think of a word used by my dad in his letter…it’s our bloodline.  I close my eyes against the image and gather him close.

The Professor’s house is a large estate several miles outside of town.  I call out a direction to Chris every once in awhile, but it only involves a few turns.  Most of my energy is spent trying to keep my composure for Jacob’s sake.  I’m glad that he is at least talking now, but I’m having a hard time answering his questions.

“Why did she do that?”  Is the first thing out of his mouth, and probably the most difficult to address.  “Who were those guys?  Why was she with them?”

“Shhh,” I tell him, when he begins to cry.  “I’m not sure Jake.  Mom isn’t herself right now, you know.  This virus is making people do really weird things.  It’s okay though, they can’t hurt you anymore.  I won’t let them.”  My guilt is almost too much to cope with, but I push back the rising black tide and focus on what is important.  We have to make it through this and then we’ll deal with everything else.

“What was in the shot?” h
e demands, rubbing at his arm.  “Was it medicine?  Why wouldn’t she tell me what they were doing?  She
hurt
me Alex!”

I’m pretty sure that there was blood in the syringe, probably her own.  I didn’t stop to examine it, but that’s what it looked like and it would make sense based on Chris’s theory about secondary infections.  But I can’t tell Jacob that.

“I don’t know Jake,” I lie.  Well, it’s a half-truth, because I can’t be sure, and he’s had enough trauma for one night.  There’s no way I’m telling him what it most likely was.  In fact, I don’t think
I’m
ready to accept it either…that my little brother could be lost to me too.

“Hey!  Were those guys
dead?” h
e says abruptly, sitting up straight.  “Did Chris kill them?  Won’t he get in trouble?”

“No, he isn’t in trouble,” I say calmly.  “He was protecting us Jake.  We’re going to go see Professor Hasson now.  You
know the guy that gave you Baxter?  Dad left me a note that he wrote before he died, that said the Professor would know what to do to help make people get better.  He used to be Dads friend.”  I’m hoping he won’t notice I didn’t answer the first part of his question. 

When I look back down at him however, I see that he has a dazed look and his eyelids are growing heavy.  The shock of it all is taking its toll.  Sleep might be the best thing that could happen to him right now anyways, so I pull him in a bit closer
and try to keep him warm.  By the time we reach the estate ten minutes later, he is sound asleep.  I envy his ability to escape this living nightmare. 

Before Chris turns off the main road, I check out the back window to make sure there’s no sign of headlights behind us.  We drive up a long, winding, driveway that’s lined on either side by tall oak trees.  Pulling into a large parking area, I look up at a beautiful, A-frame log house.  Green lawn spreads away from it, ending at the darkening woods in the distance.

Chris comes around and opens the back door.  Silently, he reaches inside and effortlessly picks up Jake.  As he takes him from me, I stop him with a hand on his wrist.  “You didn’t have a choice.”  Is all I say.  Pausing, he finally looks at me and I can see the turmoil he’s feeling inside.

“Can you carry the backpack?” h
e asks, clearly not wanting to discuss the shooting.

I pi
ck up the heavy bag in response and drop down off the seat and onto the ground behind them.  The sun is well below the horizon now, and night is setting in.  The windows in the house glow warmly, confirming the impression I’ve built up about it as a place of refuge and protection.  Now that we are finally here, I hope that we can get some answers and maybe even a few hours of sleep.

As we walk across the wide front porch and I ring the bell, I can imagine how we must look; the three of us huddled there with Baxter sitting at our feet.  The door is opened almost immediately and I recognize the pudgy, middle-aged man as the same one that came the day of Dads funeral.  He had introduced himself as an old family friend from Egypt and we had never even thought to question it. 
When he moved into town later that year, he invited me out here for a visit but I never took him up on it. He’s barely taller than me, with short salt and pepper hair and a pointed beard.  The graying hair on his face stands out in stark contrast to his bronze Egyptian skin.  He stares at us down his hooked nose, over his glasses and looks as if he isn’t that happy to see us.

To my surprise, instead of inviting us inside or asking why we were there, he simply kneels down in front of Baxter.  Grabbing him behind the ears, he holds his face close to his own and looks intensely into his eyes.  “Baxter old friend!  It is a pleasure to see you again.”  Baxter chuffs at him politely, but rather than licking him like I would expect, he gently pulls his head away and sits back on his haunches, watching the Professor. 

Chuckling, he slowly stands back up and finally addresses us.  “Well, what are you doing just standing there?  Come in, come in!”  Chris and I glance at each other and then follow our odd host inside.

The main part of the cabin is all open and includes the dining room, kitchen and a huge stone fireplace in the family room.  Towering ceilings make space for the wall of windows on the front of the house that I’m sure give an amazing view in the daytime.

There is a large fire roaring and I’m finding it a bit warm, despite the cool air of the spring night.  Limping slightly, Professor Hassan directs Chris to lay Jacob on the only couch in the large room.  Jake stirs slightly, but with the light of the fire warming his face, he settles back down and doesn’t wake up.

We go and sit around a big
wooden table on the opposite side of the room so we can talk without disturbing him.  A gigantic cat is perched on a bench near us, keeping a close eye on Baxter who chose to lie on the floor by the couch.  He in turn is watching the cat.  I give him a look to let him know I’ve got my eye on him.  He sneezes in my direction and places his head on his paws, pretending to be uninterested.

“Your mom is sick.”  It isn’t so much a question as it is a statement.  I look at the man who is supposed to give us all the answers and am not sure how I feel about him.

“Yes.  She got the flu last Saturday.  Actually, I think it started Friday night, right after the shower,” I explain.  Not sure what to do with the heavy backpack, I consider taking the skull out now, but instead set it carefully on the floor next to my chair.

Nodding, he pushes back from the table and stands up again, rubbing his hands together and muttering quietly to himself.  He seems agitated all of a sudden and unable to sit still.  “
Now
you decide to come.  Not this morning, not last night but
now.
”  He’s looking at me somewhat accusingly and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.

“We just found the directions to come see you,” Chris says, his tone cautious.  “We had no idea until this afternoon that you had anything to do with all of …
this.”

“Of course, of course,” he says quickly.  “I’m sure you came as soon as you knew.”  Seeming to accept the explanation, he sits back down and places both his hands on the table.  “Now!  I believe you have something to show me before we discuss anything further.”  He looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised.

At first, I just stare blankly at him.   Chris nudges me and points to my neck.  “Oh!”  I gasp, feeling stupid.  Reaching inside my t-shirt, I pull out the seal and hold it out for the Professor to see. 

Pulling his glasses further down his nose, he studies the wooden carving for almost a full minute.  “Excellent!  I knew Adam would have made the proper arrangements.  Your father was a very smart man, you know.   I had hoped that I would have seen you much sooner however.  You’re a bit late to the game.”
             

I am both relieved to have confirmation that we’ve come to the right place, but my unease is growing the longer we’re here.  I look to my left at Chris
, and my concern is mirrored in his face.

“We came as soon as we got it figured out.  It wasn’t easy.”  I tell him slowly.

“Ah…nothing involving the Khufu Bast is easy.”  Removing his glasses, he spends some time cleaning them off thoroughly with a large black knit scarf hanging around his neck.  After replacing them, he studies me for some time.  “You look just like your father, you know.”  He finally says, smiling broadly.

I thank him, trying to be polite but my patience is getting thin. There’s no time for small talk.  “I need to know what’s happened,” I tell him bluntly.  “We know that the virus outbreak came from the Holocene meteor shower and that it’s somehow changing everyone.  People with purer DNA are less likely to be infected, but they’ve started using blood to make them sick now and are then killing anyone who is still resistant.  I think my dad was involved in the Khufu Bast to somehow find an anti virus?”

“I am sure you have many questions,” he answers, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.  “I need to start at the beginning.  It is complicated.”  Pausing long enough to make sure he has our attention, he finally starts giving us the information we’ve been desperately seeking.

“Five thousand years ago that same virus
was released just like it was last week; except for it started in a different location.  Back then, our bloodline wasn’t diluted the way it is now.  Egyptians were all of Egyptian decent, and so on.  Some races were more naturally immune to the disease than others.  The infection rate at that time was much less than it is today.  Those that were unaffected rose up against the changed ones and after a bloody battle; defeated them.  Some were kept alive and used as slaves since they were very intelligent and nimble. 

“Historical records have been lost over the years and other information intentionally withheld or changed.  But you need to know that there was in fact a highly technological society that existed in ancient times.  Much more advanced than what we have today.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.  I had scoffed at the conspiracy theories I had read about this type of thing and now wished that I’d instead spent some more time looking into it.  When it’s obvious we don’t have any questions yet, the professor coughs slightly to clear his throat and then continues.

“The first great Egyptian pyramid is in fact a weapon.  Its main purpose is to release an anti-virus that was developed after that first outbreak.  A very elite society of high-ranking Egyptians was formed, called the Khufu Bast, or ‘Pyramid Protectors’.  Over the following thousands of years, as new races and colonies rose up on other continents, they would travel to them and share the knowledge of the pyramids with their leaders.  A sentinel was then assigned to watch the pyramid, and to wait for the
day of the prophesized meteor shower, to release the anti-virus.  They knew that it would be during this century, but were never certain of the exact date.  The Mayans thought they had it figured out, but were obviously off by a few months.”  He chuckles at his own joke, but stops when we don’t share in his humor.

“So why didn’t they just release the anti-virus on Saturday, if there are these ‘s
entinels’ all over the world?” Chris asks.  “Aren’t they still protecting the pyramids?”

Sighing, Professor Hassan taps at the table, obviously thinking about how he is going to answer.  “It isn’t that simple,” he finally says.  “You see, it’s a one-shot deal.  If it were to be released
before
the infection was here, it would be rendered useless.  For that reason, there were certain safe-guards put in place to prevent that from happening.  There is one pyramid weaponized on almost every continent.  Some of the knowledge has been lost over the years so we no longer understand all of the technicalities of it, but basically, they are linked together and
all
of them have to be activated before any of them release the anti-virus.

“Unfortunately, the location of the pyramid on the North American Continent was lost during the small pox outbreak during the late 1700’s.  You have to understand that by this century, there were not that many Khufu Bast alive and only one was assigned to each location.  It was months and sometimes years between communications with those remote places.  That pyramid was small, had been overgrown for centuries and was unknown to the current native tribes.  By the time the sentinel’s death was discovered, his body was long gone to the mountains, as well as the maps and other papers with the location of the pyramid.  The only artifact recovered was the crystal skull.  All we know is that it’s somewhere in the Northern Cascades in what is now Washington State.

“Their whereabouts are protected with our lives and only allowed to be written in one place to prevent its discovery by anyone other than Khufu Bast.   Back then, mapping techniques were still primitive.  Of course, hindsight is 20/20 and I think there were many mistakes made that lead to our situation today, but they did the best they could.  Amazing that any of us are left, really.”

Chris excuses himself to use the bathroom and we wait for him to return. The information tumbles loosely around in my head, and I am trying my best to make sense of it.  Pyramids, ancient technology and sentinels?  I feel like I’ve stepped into the twilight zone.

Chris returns and our host looks at us expectantly.  I’m not sure where to begin.  “So was my dad one of the sentinels?”  I might as well start there.