W
hen Marshall’s fists came crashing down onto the Mustang’s steering wheel, Jag knew something was horribly wrong. He saw that the Sentry’s eyes were red as the man tore away his Bluetooth earpiece and threw it down.
“What’s happened?” Jag asked, gripping his seat belt as they tore down the freeway.
Marshall’s jaw worked for a few moments before he managed to force out, “Gwen’s been shot.”
“Gwen?”
Marshall didn’t respond. From behind, Aari said, “Wait. Is that . . . is that the Sentry who was following Tegan and Mariah?”
Marshall pressed the fingers of one hand against his eyes. Jag stared at him, aghast, his heart dropping to the pit of his gut. “I thought you said she wouldn’t fail!”
Dropping his hand back onto the wheel, Marshall muttered, “They caught onto her somehow and they . . . ambushed her.”
Jag looked back. Aari had his face covered with his hands and Kody was staring up at the roof of the convertible. He turned back to look at Marshall, wanting to break something, but stopped himself when he saw the Sentry staring at the road ahead with tightened lips and his shoulders slumped. The man looked . . . broken. Guilt prickled Jag’s skin; the first thing that had left his mouth when he found out the other Sentry had been shot was accusation.
A few seconds of silence passed before Marshall spoke. He looked dejected but his voice was strong and determined—at least, it seemed to Jag. “We’re going to have to find your friends on our own. Gwen said that the abductors turned off the freeway at Deming, New Mexico.” The car’s speedometer needle moved farther to the right. “We’ll get them back.”
They drove onward without talking as Marshall kept a heavy foot on the gas pedal. Jag glanced at the Sentry every so often as the thoughts swirling in his mind grew into a crescendo.
Where have they taken Tegan and Mariah? How do we get them back? Why are we with this stranger, this Sentry? Do we know for sure if we can trust him? Why is this even happening? We didn’t ask for any of this! I don’t want anything to do with this prophecy anymore . . . I just . . . I just want my friends back. I want our lives back.
In the midst of the tempest in his mind, a man’s voice, rich, dignified and slightly accented, quietly parted the raging sea of thoughts.
Jag.
Jag froze, eyes darting to Marshall and his friends in the rearview mirror, but none of them seemed to be paying attention to him. The voice called to him again.
Jag.
It was the voice from his dreams. Now though, he knew who the speaker was.
Elder Nageau?
Yes, youngling.
The Elder’s comforting tone seemed to dispel a great deal of tension in Jag’s shoulders.
Jag slowly pressed himself back against his seat.
What . . . how . . . ?
Understand, Jag, that my physical self in this, the biosphere, remains a long way from you, but we are connected through our consciousness in the novasphere . . .
The Elder’s voice broke off, as if a call had dropped, then returned a few moments later.
Do you remember this from your training?
I . . . I think I remember. The novasphere is the higher plane where consciousness, uh . . . is projected. Where we’re able to seek out those that are ready to connect with us.
Very good, youngling. I am pleased that you still recall that.
But I thought the five of us weren’t ready to communicate this way?
Jag could hear Nageau chuckle as he responded,
You, Jag, were more than ready. You always have been, though I sense Tegan will soon find this ability as well. The mighty hand of the universe has tilled the earth and now tends to the saplings of Aegis. You should know by now—
the conversation halted again before Nageau’s voice came back to Jag
—that you and your friends are indeed the ones promised in the ancient verses of the prophecy. However, a repeat of an old lesson was not why I connected with you. I know you are uncertain and have your reservations about the Sentry. Let me assure you, Marshall is a man of honor and integrity. He is fully devoted to his duties. It did not sit well with him when he found out we had suppressed your memories.
Jag glanced again at Marshall.
Yeah, I guess I can see that. It’s just . . . Was there really a need to remove our memories, even temporarily?
Yes, and as I am certain Marshall has told you, it was for your safety.
So then why were we allowed to regain them?
When he received no response, he asked,
Elder Nageau? Are you there?
The man’s voice returned.
Yes, I am. This form of communication will not be perfect in the beginning, but you are doing remarkably well. Now, do you recall the warnings of the prophecy, Jag?
I do now, yes. The dark clouds that are gathering on humanity’s horizon . . . A catalyst at the center of this storm that the five of us will need to face to save the world. That’s still something I’m trying to wrap my head around, to be honest.
Understandably so,
Nageau said softly.
I do not believe anyone expected the five from the prophecy to be so young. But the cosmos works in strange ways, with reasons unfathomable by our limited comprehension. To answer your question, the reason for reinstating your memories is simple. We believe that the time has come. There is a plan that we think is unfolding even as we speak. We have read the signs and are almost certain that it is being initiated by the catalyst we were warned about. However, we have not been able to completely verify this assumption. I have been trying for a long time to seek out this catalyst in the novasphere but alas, my efforts have been in vain. As such, I have not been able to determine the intent or the capability of this entity. I believe that the five of you
—his voice disappeared again—
hold the key to revealing this catalyst and neutralizing its malevolent intentions.
I still don’t get it. Where do I—we—begin?
Start by trusting and having faith in the Sentry, Jag. He will do everything he can for the five of you. He understands how precious and important you are and stands ready to give his life to protect you if he must. Trust him, as you trust us.
Jag pressed his thumbs to his eyelids, then turned slightly to study Marshall again. The Sentry gripped the wheel with steely hands as determination returned to his eyes.
I . . . I will.
Thank you, Jag.
Elder Nageau?
Yes?
Jag took in a shaky breath.
Despite everything happening right now, I—we miss you all.
We miss you dearly as well, youngling.
Could you please pass Akol and Huyani a greeting from the group?
Most certainly. We will speak soon, Jag. I promise.
It felt as if a comforting hold was ebbing away as the Elder withdrew from Jag’s mind, like someone pulling back from a hug. Jag wondered if all cognitive presences felt the same.
The Mustang flew over the road for nearly another hour before Marshall said, “We’re here . . . exit to Deming.”
They made a couple of turns before driving straight up North Golden Avenue as the first light of dawn crept in. The land was flat save for a small hill and the mountains in the distance. Creosote bushes, desert grasses and some deciduous trees made sporadic appearances by large empty lots and buildings. All in all, though, the place seemed barren.
As they drove further up the road, bright flashing lights came into view. When they rounded the bend, Jag, Aari and Kody leaned forward to get a closer look. They saw an ambulance, a couple of police cruisers, a semi-truck, and yellow barricade tape. A black-and-red motorcycle stood upright on the side of the road. A man in civilian clothes was taking photographs while a couple of uniformed officers were talking to an older man next to the semi-truck. The man looked distraught.
Marshall slowed his vehicle down to almost a crawl and stared out of the window. The Sentry and the boys watched, mute, as two paramedics gently slid a stretcher carrying a sheet-covered form into the back of the ambulance. Marshall’s throat throbbed and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel but he continued on, gradually picking up speed once they were away from the scene.
They drove north for the next five minutes when suddenly Jag let out a yell of dismay. Aari and Kody jumped. “What?” Kody asked.
Leaving the key in the ignition, Marshall put the car in park and got out, as did Jag, slamming the door shut. Aari and Kody followed them out into the arid environment, and when they were standing in front of the car, realized what was wrong.
The headlights behind them cast their shadows onto a fork in the road. Jag shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Gwen wouldn’t have mentioned which road they may have taken, by any chance?” he asked, sounding miserable.
Marshall laced his fingers behind his neck and glared ahead, eyes red, though whether from unshed tears or anger, Jag didn’t know. “Unfortunately, no.”
“How are we going to find them?” Kody asked quietly.
He received no answer, and even their shadows seemed to have taken on an air of despondency as they stared at the divide that cruelly taunted them.
T
egan slowly lifted her head, eyes barely open. She felt lethargic, dizzy, and had a bad taste in her mouth. Lying on her side on the hard ground, she could feel a throbbing pain from her shoulders down to her hands, which were bound behind her back. She forced herself to open her eyes further but couldn’t see anything through the darkness. Was she blindfolded? No; there was no pressure around her head to indicate so, and she could blink easily.
Letting out a heavy breath, she used her arms and torso to pull herself into a sitting position. The soreness spread to her back and she groaned in protest. As she looked around, her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The small, musty-smelling chamber she was in was devoid of any light save for a crack under a door. There were things that looked like cardboard boxes at one corner of the room and there were a few buckets lying around.
As she assessed her surroundings, there was a loud growl from her stomach and she suddenly remembered what had happened to the five.
Abducted before dinner,
she grumbled to herself. She knew she should have been afraid, but her hunger was making her irritable.
Why did they take us? Where did they take us? Oh God, where’s everyone else?
A light grunt beside her nearly made her yell out. Turning quickly, she squinted in the dimness and saw that Mariah was lying beside her, nearly facedown. Tegan bowed her head in relief before her ears picked up a male voice from the other side of the door.
“ . . .Yes, I know. I’m sorry.”
Tegan raised her head again. Maybe her ears weren’t fully awake yet, but she thought the voice sounded familiar. The man spoke again, sounding as if he were on a phone call. He also sounded a bit jittery. She strained to listen in.
“I know, those guys were my responsibility . . . Yes . . . I didn’t mean to—no, there was no way of knowing. They didn’t expect the two to regain consciousness so quickly . . . Yes . . . They know what they’re doing, and the tranquilizer dosage should have knocked them out for at least five hours . . . I understand . . . ”
Tegan struggled feverishly against her bindings but ended up whacking her elbows hard against the wall. Thankfully, the man on the phone outside didn’t hear her and continued his conversation.
“I’ll take care of it, I promise . . . I know what I’m doing. I’ll take care of it personally if I have to . . . What? No, there was no mention of that . . . Just something about a prophecy but they brushed it aside . . . ”
Tegan, now certain she knew the voice but barely able to bring herself to believe it, got her feet under her and stood up. She shakily made her way over to the door and lay down by it, pressing her cheek against the ground as much as she could to peek through the inch-high gap under the door.
She saw a pair of low-cut leather shoes pacing back and forth; the man was extremely close to the door. His voice was clearer now that she was closer to him.
“Believe me, I’ve worked with them for a while, they’re good . . . Something strange happened, that’s all I know . . . Yeah, I’ll get them back . . . You can count on it . . . I’ll keep you updated. We’ll get them back for you.” The voice paused, before asking tentatively, “Do you plan to see them here? . . . Yeah, alright. Of course. Have a good day, or night, wherever you are.” The man gave a forced laugh.
Tegan watched the feet as they stopped pacing and heard a grunt from the man. Then the feet turned away from the door and retreated, displaying the man’s socks that rose past the rolled-up cuffs of his pants. Tegan couldn’t hold back her gasp.
The socks were striped.
Tony
, she whimpered inwardly. A surge of resentment crashed down onto her and she quickly scrambled to her feet to run back to Mariah. In her haste, she kicked a cardboard box into a wall and the resulting thud echoed around the chamber.
She heard rapid footsteps coming toward the door. In a panic, she flung herself down beside Mariah and lay in her original position, tilting her head to her chest so she could have a view of the door as it unlocked. She closed her eyes most of the way but kept one open a slit and watched through her eyelashes as the door buzzed quietly and was opened outward. Bright light from outside illuminated the room.
A silhouette was outlined against the light. Despite not seeing any part of the man’s features, she recognized Tony’s deceptively non-intimidating frame. She held herself back from storming to her feet and hurling questions at him
.
Where were they? Why did he have them abducted? Who had he been talking to on the phone?
The silhouette must have been peering at the girls for a full minute. Tegan could feel the suspicion emanating in waves from him. She kept absolutely still and made sure her breathing was even.
Finally the door was pulled shut and relocked. Tegan blew her cheeks and sat back up to face Mariah. She extended her leg, nudging her friend urgently. “Mariah!” she hissed. “Get.
Up
.”