Bloodline (The Forgotten Origins Trilogy) (14 page)

“Yes, yes…he was here trying to locate the pyramid.  I was his replacement after he died, but had nothing to work with.  He was very good at protecting our secrets.  For the past two hundred years over a dozen of us have attempted to find its position.  We’ve been close the last ten years
, but it wasn’t until your dad called for a special meeting two years ago, that we finally believed it had been achieved.  Without much time to spare, either.”

“Why don’t you use a satellite or
get the Government involved?” Chris asks, never failing to see the bigger picture.  That would certainly make the most sense. 

“The Government!”  The professor spits the words out as if they were foul and glares at Chris.  “For the past two hundred years there has been another group forming, called the Mudameere.”

“The who?” I ask, not recognizing the word.  I know he is speaking Arabic, the native language of Egypt, since I had heard my dad use it before.  But I don’t know the language myself.

“It is Arabic, meaning
Destroyer
,” he explains.  “Their sole intent is to locate our secrets and twist them around to their own benefit!  They have been supporting and promoting their own within numerous governments, especially the US.  For this reason, we have been forced to retain all our ancient ways, including documentation and communication.  Everything has to be completely off the grid and either written or verbal.  One slip and it could all be lost…the past five thousand years of effort and hardship, all for nothing.  Meanwhile, the Mudameere have embraced the new technology and used it against us.  We had ten members assassinated recently, including your father Alex.”

He looks at me as he says this and my suspicions are finally confirmed.  I knew my dad’s death hadn’t be
en a mugging.  “Why kill him?” I ask.  “If they thought he knew where the pyramid was or had special knowledge, why not just take him and make him tell them?”  Chris nods his approval at my question and I’m a little proud of myself for thinking ahead.

“They tried that before
, multiple times when they first formed, with other Khufu Bast.  It became obvious that we are trained early on in the art of torture and will not talk regardless of what is done.  So they changed tactics.  Instead of trying to unlock the final secret of how to
activate
all the pyramids, they decided to simply prevent us from
releasing
it.  A goal much more easily achieved, especially since we still hadn’t found the last pyramid.  When they killed your father, they successfully destroyed our final hope.  Or so they thought.  They watched you, you know.”  He says while looking at me.  I squirm a bit in my seat at the idea.

“That’s why your dad didn’t tip you off prior to the Holocene shower.  He knew the Mudameere would be watching and that it would be deadly
if you were caught looking for it.  They, of course have since gone into seclusion.  Thousands of them escaped underground with their food rations and other essentials, days before the outbreak.  They will simply wait it out and then emerge to what they think will be a new and better world.  One that they can take full advantage of the benefits of this virus without the side-effect of losing their free will. They have geneticist and biologists ready to isolate and manipulate the Viral DNA.   Imagine it; a society of highly intelligent, efficient sock puppets that they think they’ll be able to control.  We shall see.  We shall see.”

He’s
getting irritated again, and has begun to tap harder on the table, looking back and forth between us like he’s expecting something.

“How do we activate it?”
I ask hopefully, eager to get to the final point.  If I’m right about my dad’s last message, I know where to find the directions to the pyramid.

“Why bother?” h
e says loudly, his dark, bushy brows furrowed.  “The Holocene virus is here.  That’s what the scientists are calling it now.  It has spread almost everywhere.  Even if the anti-virus works, the Mudameere will already have preserved samples and will eventually unleash their own kind of evil.”

I know that the P
rofessor is a scientist himself and understands what he’s talking about, but I find it hard to believe that he of all people would have given up.  He should know more than anyone, especially as Khufu Bast, that if an anti-virus has been created before, it can be again.  It doesn’t make sense.

“It’s quite beautiful
.”  The change of tone in his voice causes me to look closely at him.  “The virus, that is.  A work of art.  I’ve seen it; all of it.  Studied it.  I only had a few days with it at the lab, but even in that amount of time, I saw it for what it really is.  Did you know that viruses have little bits of either DNA or RNA?  Never both.  There are over five thousand known viruses and most have just a few of these pieces.  The Holocene virus has
hundreds
of
both
!  I have been fighting to stop it my whole life.  Devoted everything to it.  I would have, too, if given the chance.  But it’s too late now.”

“What if it weren’t too late?”
I plead, wishing he’d stop sounding like he
admires
it.  “What would we have to do to release the anti-virus?”  My voice has risen and my last statement comes out more like a demand than a question.

Blinking at me, he realize
s how he’s acting and straightens up in his chair, hands stopping their constant banging.  “Well, the crystal skulls of course,” he says matter-of-factly.

I start to reach for the back pack but Chris puts his hand on my arm under the table to stop my motion. I look at him questioningly and he gives a v
ery slight shake of his head.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, so I keep my mouth shut about our skull.

“There is one for each designated pyramid, carefully crafted and capable of more than any other current super computer.  It must be
put in its proper place inside the pyramid and then activated with a small drop of blood containing the correct DNA.  This will then in turn link and activate the release of all the anti-virus.  If you don’t even have a skull, than you’re wasting your time.  I don’t have one and I don’t know where it is.”  Pausing, he looks down the darkened hallway past the kitchen, tilting his head slightly as if listening. 

“There’s no guarantee your blood would even work,” he explains, looking at me again.  “You are only half Egyptian, Alex. Yours is the purest bloodline of the Khufu Bast, but we still have no way of knowing for sure.”

“Your blood would work, wouldn’t it?” I ask him.

“I followed your Father’s tradition, you know.”  Not grasping the change in subject, I look to where he has raised his hand to point at something.

Above the Fireplace is a huge painting of him and who I am assuming is his wife.  They look happy together.  “I met Susan right after I graduated from the University.  It was love at first sight.  My parents were appalled and my position in the society threatened, but I held my ground.  Some things are worth fighting for.”

His expression darkens when he says this and he stands again, rubbing at his arms
like he’s somehow cold in this hot room.  “She got sick on Sunday.  By the time I got back home from the City on Tuesday, she was starting to improve and I knew there was no chance for her.”

“Is that who’s in the room with the lock o
n the outside?” Chris asks evenly, and I understand now why he didn’t feel comfortable sharing everything with this man.  He must have seen it when he went to the bathroom.

Ignoring Chris, Professor Hassam begins to pace behind the table, starting to mutter softly under his breath again.  I am beginning to fear that he is quite insane.

“I waited,” he says to himself as much to us.  “I waited as long as I could.  You hadn’t come.  There was no hope.  There
is
no hope.  God has sent this plague on us and we must accept our fate.”

“This is
not
the work of God!” Chris says fiercely, tensing in his chair.

“God has
left us!
” the professor shouts, slamming both fists down hard on the table as spittle flies from his mouth.  His eyes are wild and his nostrils flared.  

Baxter growls low in his throat, having come to stand beside me when he sensed the tension.  I place a hand on his head to calm him, but I’m trying to guess how long it would take for me to get Jake and run out the front door.

Chris jumped up from his seat in reaction and now stands facing the professor, the table between them.  “You are wrong,” he says calmly, challenging him.

Laughing, the older man claps his hands together and turns away from
us.  “Where are my manners?” he mutters as he walks into the large, country style kitchen.  “Here I have guests in my house and haven’t even offered any tea!  Susan would skin my hide.”

Unable to keep up with his personality changes, Chris and I back away from the table and head towards the family room where Jacob is still asleep.  I hold the backpack close to me, comforted by the weight of the skull.

“What kind would you like; Black or Earl Grey?  Oh…are you leaving?”  Walking out of the kitchen with boxes of tea in his hands, the Professor seems a bit flustered and confused.  I suddenly feel sorry for him.  This has pushed him over the edge and I can’t really blame him.

“We need…to go,” I offer. 

Nodding with comprehension, he sets the boxes down and approaches me with urgency, his face now a picture of concern.  “You have a few days before they’ll know everything,” he says, taking one of my hands in both of his.  I let him, but am not comfortable with it.

“What are you talking about?”
I ask, searching his eyes for a sign of the man that was supposed to help us.

“Well, I infected myself just this afternoon so if it works, it should take a good three days before I am to the point where I will share all my knowledge with…the Shiners.”

Pulling my hand away, I take a step back from him.  “Why would you do that?”  I demand.  “Why would you want to be one of them?  They’re
killing
people!”

He seems disappointed at my reaction, but takes a small step
closer, pleading with me.  “It probably won’t work on me, but I had to try, Alex.  I don’t want to be alone, alone and so inadequate.  It’s our destiny…I knew that as soon as I saw the creation under the microscope.  I’m tested as a near genius, but if this
corrects
my brain, I will be one of the smartest humans to have ever lived!  Imagine what I can do Alex!  Think of all the things I can discover and create with not only that level of intelligence, but no emotional barricades!”  He smiles as he’s talking, getting excited at the thought of changing into one of these abominations.  It’s too much.

“We have to leave,” I say again, moving over to the door.  “Thank you for talking with us.  Really.  I hope that you and your wife are alright.”
             

We make our way out into the blessedly cool air on the front porch, and Baxter runs ahead to the truck.  Jake finally raises his head and looks around groggily as Chris puts him in the back seat, trying to figure out where he is.

“If you can’t stop it Alex, then come back.  I have a very pure, isolated virus that I can infect you with.  It should work,” he says encouragingly.

Appalled, I turn away from him and stumble across the driveway.  I will never give up, I will never join them.  I
will
finish what my father and now I am meant to do. 
That
is my destiny.

Sitting huddled on the front seat in the
darkness; I stare out the window and watch the receding lights.  Lights that before had represented safety but now seem to mock me, like the shining eyes of the billions of people whose only hope for a cure rests squarely on my shoulders.  I’m feeling that weight now and am having a hard time not collapsing under it.

I point to the right when we reach the end of the driveway, and Chris turns out onto the two lane county
road.  “Where are we going?” he wants to know.

“To a hunting cabin.  One that Dad took Jake and me to several times. It’s like over fifty years old, but will probably be there for another hundred.  I’m not even sure who it belongs to, but there was never anyone else there when we went.”

“Right.  The cabin from the note.  I thought maybe he meant the Professor’s place.”

“No, I never met Mr. Hassan before Dad
died.  He didn’t even live here then.  So I figure he’s got to be talking about a place that only Jake or I would know, like with the duck blind. That letter wouldn’t make sense to someone else reading it.”  We ride in silence for awhile and I watch the line in the road rush at us.

Jake calls out my name and I turn to check on him.  Baxter is draped over him in place of a blanket and he is curled up under his paws.  He must have fallen right back to sleep, because he appears to be saying my name in a dream.  Setting a hand gently on his forehead, I try to reassure him.  Shuddering, he sighs and turns over; holding onto Baxter’s leg like it was a teddy bear.  I double check the guns on the floor to make sure they are secured with safeties on and then turn back around.

“Do you think he could be right?”  Looking back out at the trees creating a dark tunnel for us to travel through, I ask Chris my greatest fear.

“Right about what?”

“Not about wanting to change; there isn’t anything that would excuse the murder of millions of people.  I mean about God.  Is it possible he did this?  I mean, he sent plagues on the Egyptians before.  Do you think this
is
God’s plan?”

This time it’s Chris’s turn to smile without it reaching his eyes, but for him, it isn’t due to a lack of emotion.  Sadness is all I see as he stares
back at me.  “Absolutely not,” he answers without hesitation.  “Our God is a loving God; he wouldn’t do this to us.  Even during the times of Revelations, it is made clear that we will always have a
choice.
  The Egyptians also had a choice; were given numerous opportunities, actually. 

“We are to do the will of God, which includes following his commandments, the greatest of which is to Love him and each other and to not murder.  He wouldn’t take away our ability to love or drive us to murder millions of people.  That’s the work of evil Alex, not God.”

I know that he’s right, that even in the letters from my dad he refers twice now to this virus being
evil.
  The Professor has come to see the changes caused by the virus as a step forward in evolution and doesn’t want to be left behind.  To deal with his guilt he has to come up with an excuse to make it okay and blaming it all on God is an easy out.

“We need to hurry.”  A new sense of urgency has overcome my fatigue and doubt.  “We can’t let this happen.  It has to be stopped.”

Reaching out across the seat, Chris takes hold of my hand.  The physical contact reassures me that I’m not alone and I push aside all my fears.  I need to concentrate on finding the cabin and moving forward. 

“There’s a gas station up here a ways, isn’t there?  We should stop and get some stuff.  I’m starving.”

I can’t believe he’s thinking about food.  “We don’t have time for that Chris!  People are probably dying
right now
!  And what if they’re looking for us?  We can’t risk being seen anywhere.”

“Alex, think about it.  How long until we’re at the cabin?  Then what?  I guarantee you there is going to be some sort of traveling and hiking involved if we have to go find this lost pyramid.  When was the last time that any of us ate or drank water?  Do you even have any left with you?  Because I don’t.  I think we’re going to need some energy or else we’ll fail.  That isn’t an option.”

Looking at him, I weigh what he’s saying.  I hate how reasonable he can be, making me feel a little stupid and childish.  Sighing, I give in.  “Alright.  But I only have a few bucks and we don’t dare use a bank card.”

“I’ve got a
lmost twenty dollars.  It should be enough for water and snacks.  We’ll park out of sight and you guys can stay in the truck.  I’ve got sunglasses and a ball cap in my backpack and I won’t say anything.  I doubt their resources are that organized yet.”

Half an hour later we’re back on the road, eating a late dinner of cheese crackers and pepperoni sticks.  Chris was right and the guy didn’t seem to give him a second thought.

Jake woke up after we stopped for food and I tried my best to explain what was going on, without being too elaborate.  He seems to have accepted things for what they are and the rest has also helped.  He’s at least eating, and even laughed at Baxter trying to lick the peanut butter off his cracker.

We’re deep in the Cascade Mountains now, heading northwest.  We turned off the main road a ways back and the blacktop eventually gave way to gravel.  Chris was forced to slow down to navigate the narrow, rutted road and I’m doing my best to watch for the markers that I vaguely remember.

As we come around one particularly steep bend, Jacob calls out from the back seat.  “Hey!  There’s that one sign with the moose head on it!  I always thought that one was kinda cool.”

Chris stops and I lean over him to peer through the driver’s side window. 
Barely visible under outstretched cedar branches, is a brown marker with a moose head at the top, marking the trail.

“Good job Jake!”
I tell my brother.  His help really has been critical.  I take a moment to look at him closely, dreading a time when he might start to sniffle or show other signs of the flu invading his body.  What I can see of him looks rather normal and I try to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay Chris…I don’t know if the truck will fit through there or not, but maybe we can manage to get it off this road.”  I jump out to help guide him in between the trees, pulling some branches aside to make room.  It’s a tight fit, but he’s able to go a couple hundred feet up the barely recognizable road before having to come to a stop.  There is a downed tree and
its way too big to even consider trying to move it.  We’ll be on foot from here.

Gathering all of our stuff, Chris takes the heavier bag with the skull, tucking the handgun into his pants.  I sling the rifle across my back and his backpack with the food and ammo.  I am especially thankful for the flashlight Chris brought.  Once all the lights go out on the truck, the dim moonlight barely penetrates the thick canopy of trees and we are plunged into a complete darkness.

Jacob moves close to me, and I put an arm around him.  He has never liked the dark.  Before we set out, Chris walks back to the head of the trail and takes a couple of minutes to bend the sign over.  It’s buried too deep for him to pull it out, but in a short time, he has it almost flat on the ground and I doubt anyone would notice it driving by.  That isn’t something I would have thought of and I’m thankful he’s so smart.

“I don’t have any shoes!”
Jake complains and looking down at his pajama-clad body, I see that he is indeed barefoot.  I hadn’t even thought about it.

Going back to the truck, I rummage around in the back seat for awhile and come up with some running shoes I had stored in there from cross-country season.  They are two sizes too big for him, but I tie them on as tight as possible and they seem to do the job.

“How far is it?” Chris asks me as we help each other climb over the large tree trunk.  Giant mushrooms are growing all over the surface, making it slippery.

“I’m not sure, exactly,” I admit.  “We had always driven all the way to the cabin.  Dad borrowed this cool jeep from one of the other cops he worked with, so we never had any problems getting there.  I know it took several minutes so I’m guessing it’s a good three miles or more.”

“Well, at least we know no one else can make it up this road either,” he observes.  “And there aren’t any other cars around.  Odds are we’re alone out here.”

On the other side of the tree, I help Jacob down and Baxter easily leaps to the ground.  My eyes have adjusted a bit to the dark and looking around at the woods surrounding us; I really hope that Chris is right.