Location: A hospital, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

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Benjamin lay in the hospital bed, the monotonous beeps from the heart monitor ringing in his ears and the respirator mask smothering his face. With foggy vision, he dizzily glanced around the room until he found an open window. It was dark outside, but he could see a warm orange light flicker in the distance. In the opposite bed, the professor lay unconscious, his bandages weeping blood, the bed sheets stained red. No one was there to help. He heard the clatter of trolleys and wheelchairs in the corridor as hordes of people crashed through narrow passages and spilled in and out of rooms.

He tried to lift himself up but fell back into the bed, exhausted and broken. His thoughts turned to Freya. He’d wet her head and brought her into the church. He’d watched her grow from a baby and vowed to look after her should the unthinkable happen. He’d never expected it would actually occur. He remembered the day she came to stay with him. Skinny and awkward, her thin hair matted to her cheeks, eyes so large and wet they seemed to fill the majority of her face—she was so small, so afraid. He had worried he wouldn’t feel any paternal instinct and only was doing his duty to protect her. But he needn’t have worried. That scrawny little girl, the daughter of his best friend, had immediately penetrated his heart. He knew he’d do anything for her—to protect her. If he was honest, she was the reason he’d done all of this. He had no children of his own. And when Freya entered his life, his perspective changed. Suddenly, collateral damage didn’t seem so collateral, and his entire life with the military seemed meaningless. He’d kept her close, and guided her from behind the scenes through the military academy, pulling various strings to ensure her position in his division. But he’d kept too much from her. Perhaps he should have trusted her—not that it mattered now.

A drunken man stumbled through the door wielding a large titanium golf club in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the other. He swayed on his feet, blinking violently as he tried to focus on the room, blood streaming from his tear ducts, making it all the more difficult. The man lurched forward, walking into the side of the General’s bed. The drunkard considered the motionless patient. He surveyed the medical equipment, the bandages, and then the General’s tunic that lay on the chair next to the gurney.

“You ... you’re a military man, huh? An army man, right?” The visitor spoke with a thick Southern drawl, made even more incomprehensible by his inebriated state. The General couldn’t answer. “You’re the reason for all this. You fuck-fuckers—think yer sooo clever, don’t yer. Well, guess what, military man? I got me a nine iron, an’ you ain’t got shit!”

The drunkard lifted the golf club above his head, swaying back and forth. Benjamin closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He pictured Freya in his mind. Unable to defend himself, Benjamin closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.

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Location: Peru, South America

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Poked in the ribs—that’s how Kelly was awoken. With an irritated groan, he shooed the prodder away with one hand, never opening his eyes. Poked again—this time harder.

“Will you fuck—” Kelly was cut short. He sat upright in his hammock and surveyed his surroundings. Ten to fifteen men surrounded him, each dressed in overly bright sports t-shirts and short pants. It was difficult to discern how old they were. Each one had the same leathery appearance to their skin and chin-length, black hair. Most were brandishing some kind of weapon, primarily old mining tools: spades or pickaxes. They looked more scared of Kelly than he was of them.

“Freya? Freya!”

“Mmm?” She turned over in her hammock and looked at her watch. “Kelly, it’s four in the morning. We should wait till there’s more light.”

“I don’t think they’re going to let us wait.”

Freya shot up, rolling out of her hammock onto the ground, and drew her firearm.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kelly shouted. “Calm down. If they’d wanted to hurt us, they would have by now.”

Freya swung the gun left and right, taking aim at each and every one of the men. They stared back at her, none of them saying a word.

K’in moved under his foil sheet. The startled men leapt back and chattered amongst themselves, apparently arguing over which one of them was to pull back the sheet. Eventually, one of the younger men was shoved forward despite his protest. He edged toward the foil-covered pit, a long spade stretched out in front of him. His eyes darted from Kelly to Freya and back to the hole.

“We can’t let him.” Freya said.

“Just stay calm. Relax. We’re in Peru, right?”

“Right.”

The man had stopped and was staring. Close enough now to lift the foil with his instrument, he was shaking uncontrollably.

Kelly took a deep breath. “Rimaykullayki.”

“What are you doing?” Freya demanded.

“Shhh. Let me think.” Kelly breathed in again and furrowed his brow in concentration. “Rimaykullayki. Sutiyqa Kelly. Inlista rimankichu? Intindinkichu?”

The man stopped and stared at Kelly, somewhat bewildered, then turned to his comrades. They shook their heads and gestured for the young man to continue with his mission.

“What the hell did you say to them?”

“If we are in the right part of the world, then they should speak Quechua. Damn, I wish Chris or Izel were here. They could help. I’m probably saying it all wrong. Their language is pretty complicated and precise.” He turned back to the man. “Inlista rimankichu? Intindinkichu?”

“What does that mean?”

“I think I’m asking him if he speaks English, if he even understands me. But I don’t think he does.”

Almost in confirmation, the man completely ignored Kelly and started poking at the sheet with his spade. The sheet moved, rustling as it did so. The foil slid back and onto the jungle floor as K’in stretched upward. His long, red plumes sprang from under the sheet and opened outward, a huge cerise fan. K’in’s eyes were fully formed, glassy and black. His skin was damp and shiny but had lost its transparency and was now a milkier white. He opened and closed his mouth, allowing tiny gasps of air to fill his newly forming lungs. The man froze in fear. As his heart convulsed in his chest, he looked back over his shoulder to his comrades in a silent cry for help. K’in climbed out of the pit on all fours, his limbs clearly no longer atrophied and much more adapted to land. He padded quickly over to Kelly, his body slung low to the ground like an alligator or crocodile.

“Shit, Kelly, he’s walking.”

“I can see that. Don’t panic.” Kelly jumped down from his hammock and stood between K’in and the men. “It’s okay,” soothed Kelly. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Who are you talking to? Kelly, I hope you know what you are doing.” Freya was still holding the gun, arms locked, ready to put holes in anything that moved too fast.

“Does it matter? Your General wanted us here for a reason. I’m betting these people are it. The professor said in this part of the world, Moby Dick was revered a long time ago. The South American people are one of the few groups that hold on to old beliefs. The Middle East has moved on, become more westernized. But small villages like this, they still hang on to the traditions.”

One man stepped forward. He pulled off his faded hat in order to get a better view of the creature as the dawning sun’s light spread around it. He was the only member of the group to have white hair. Kelly hadn’t seen it before due to the man’s headwear. He was much older than the rest of the group, His face full of deep crevices. The old man paused, looked at Kelly, and then stepped a few paces closer to the creature. He and allowed his finger tips to lightly touch its forehead. Apart from blinking once or twice, K’in didn’t move.

“Kelly?” Freya asked.

“It’s okay. K’in seems fine. I can feel him.”

The villager stayed in his fixed position for what seemed like an eternity. He swayed a little from side to side and then took his hand away, cutting the connection with the creature. Blinking slowly, he turned to Kelly and eyed him. A surprisingly broad smile spread across the man’s face. He beckoned Kelly closer, waving his hand toward his body. Kelly obeyed and took a couple of paces forward. The elderly man took Kelly’s right hand and placed it on K’in’s head before putting his own left hand on K’in too. Staring deep into Kelly’s eyes, he patted his own chest with his free hand.

“Yes,” Kelly said. “I feel it, too.”

The man nodded and turned to the other villagers. He spoke quickly, much too fast for Kelly to understand. But it at least sounded friendly. The men talked among themselves, then lowered their tools. The older man trotted back to the group. He had an almost sprightly spring in his step. He patted his colleagues on the shoulders and continued moving forward through the crowd and into the jungle. The other men followed suit as did K’in.

“Where’s K’in going?” Freya asked.

“With them, I guess.” Kelly shrugged and started after them.

“Wait, we need to pack these things up.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna need that stuff. It’ll weigh us down anyway.”

“So we’re just gonna follow them?”

“You have a better idea? The General sent us here. Let’s play it out.”

* * *

The sun rose higher in the sky as midday approached. The jungle was bright but quiet now. The emerald green leaves glistened with the last of the morning dew clinging to their surface. The raw untouched nature of the tropical forest apparently pleased K’in. He waddled behind the Peruvian men, his crocodilian gait causing his stubby tail to swing back and forth and his bushy plumes to bounce to and fro. His head was swiveling around as he absorbed every nuance of the new surroundings.

Sweat ran down Kelly’s back and across his face. He ran a hand through his wet hair for the fifteenth time and focused on the men as they marched on up ahead, the eldest at the lead, setting the excessive pace. His mind wandered to Izel. This place made him think of her. He’d met her in a village in Argentina. He had been on a photography assignment. She was teaching English to the locals. He took her picture and strode over, cocky as ever. Made some quip or other that he couldn’t even remember any more. She hadn’t been impressed. In fact, she’d positively blown him off. “All brawn and no brains.” That’s what she’d said. Made him feel about three inches tall. He’d slinked off and sulked for the rest of the day.

For the next week, he’d watched her—how she worked with the children, how she loved them as if they were her own, and how they loved her in return. He photographed her endlessly. Each night, he’d develop the film and stare at her face—a beautiful face like that of an angel and unlike anyone he’d ever seen before. She had a halo, a glow around her.

It had taken her nearly drowning for him to get that first date. She had been swimming in the river, but the current had been too fast at the center. She’d been hauled downstream and pulled under. Kelly had been in the jungle nearby, setting up equipment for an extended capture session—time-lapse photography. Then, he had heard her gurgled cry. Kelly knew instantly it was her. He dropped his beloved camera, ran as fast as he could to the river, and dove in without thinking. He fought the current and grabbed her flailing body, dragging her to the riverbank. They had lain there, panting and out of breath. When he could speak again, he opened his mouth and said, “I just broke my camera—my favorite camera. I think that means you owe me a date.” Izel lay there for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Her beautiful face lit up. He loved her right then and there. It was weeks later that Kelly discovered he already knew her little brother, Chris, from college. That just made things all the more romantic and serendipitous to him. They were his first family.

* * *

Freya walked quietly beside him, her gaze fixed on the forest floor. She was lost in her own thoughts. Kelly glanced at her from the side, analyzing her. She seemed so different. The bolshie, headstrong woman had been replaced with a quiet, perhaps even sensitive person. Her features seemed less angular than before. In fact, she seemed almost vulnerable.

“Are you alright?”

She glanced up, her eyes wide and unsure. “I guess. I’m just questioning everything, you know? I’ve spent my whole life in the service of the government and never really thought about it. Now, I’m not sure of anything anymore.” She released a quiet sigh and shook her head.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the same boat. Spent the last few years wishing I was dead and took every crazy assignment I could on the off-chance it might kill me but never had the guts to do anything about it. Now, in the face of all this, I feel really stupid.” He looked at his feet and kicked his own heels as he walked like a reprimanded toddler.

“You think K’in is okay? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I bet he is, too.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Kelly picked up speed and jogged to catch the group. He passed K’in, who turned to watch him pass. Once at the head of the caravan, he slowed to match the pace of the elderly man. Freya saw Kelly talking and gesturing to indicate eating. The man nodded and pointed in front of them. The village was close. Kelly strolled back to Freya. “We’re close. We can eat in the village.”

“Okay, great. I’m famished.”

“Me too.”

“Strange, isn’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“All that has happened, and yet here we are thinking about food. The human ability to move on, to do what is necessary to survive.”

“I guess. We just keep on trucking. Look at Moby over there. He hasn’t got a clue what’s happening. But he’s happy to come along anyway. And these villagers have just taken the whole situation on board. So it’s a man-sized salamander that may have telepathic powers? Okay, got it. It’s crazy.”

* * *

The group crested the last green hill that signaled a break in the tree line. In front of them lay a flattened area of rich, reddish brown mud speckled with pot holes and filled with discolored water. Various shanty-style cabins were dotted around, each with a corrugated metal roof. Children danced about in nothing but shorts or a t-shirt but never both as an ensemble. They chased each other in and out of the large puddles, occasionally being reprimanded by their mothers or an older girl for unnecessary splashing.

The elderly leader of the returning troop marched into the center of this strange, little hamlet and stood on a large rock. He opened his arms as wide as he could and then loudly and purposefully cleared his throat. The people hushed. The children stopped running. He had commanded their attention. He spoke vociferously, and gesticulated wildly. Kelly strained to listen, to interpret, but the man spoke far too quickly. Until, that was, the man uttered his last word. A word Kelly did understand—Quetzalcoatl.

The elder swung his arms backward. The troop of Peruvian miners behind him parted like a human curtain, revealing the creature. The sharp intake of breath was unmistakable as the villagers recoiled at the site of K’in. Some of the children cried, running to their mothers and older sisters.

K’in appeared uneasy, his feet shuffling nervously. Kelly drifted toward him and placed his left hand on the creature’s head. K’in ceased moving and looked at Kelly. The creature blinked slowly, calming at his touch. Kelly smiled at him, never speaking a word but communicating all the while. Everything was going to be okay.

The elder stepped down from his rock and waltzed happily over to K’in. He looked the animal straight in its glassy black eyes, searching for an answer to his unspoken question. The elder bowed his head and closed his eyes before kneeling in front of K’in. He stretched out one hand and touched the animal’s forehead as he had done previously. Kelly felt the warmth and contentment course through the creature. It soothed him, too.

In a corner of the dirty courtyard, a small girl, no more than four-years old, took a single step away from her older sister. The toddler wore an ill-fitting, yellow t-shirt and nothing else. Her shoulder-length, black hair was braided into two pigtails, which stuck out horizontally as if fixed by bent wire. She took another uneasy step forward, childish inquisitiveness forcing her legs to move. With a rubbery gait, she had reached the creature within ten paces.

K’in looked at the miniature human. He was intrigued, cocking his head to one side and staring. The tot reached forward, her tiny fingers waving like branches in a breeze. Her touch reached the skin on the tip of K’in’s face, on what could only be described as his nose. His skin was warm and wet, not cold and clammy as it appeared. The creature’s giant plumes billowed outward in apparent joy. The little girl giggled and allowed her whole palm to rest on K’in’s head.

That was the trigger. The other villagers edged closer, each one placing a hand on K’in as they reached him. The creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, with each additional person, K’in appeared to grow happier.

Freya slid across to Kelly from the spot where she had been transfixed. “What’s going on?”

“Look at them. So happy, so content. And look at K’in. He seems so comfortable.”

“K’in? Him?”

“I guess he’s grown on me. To be more accurate, he’s grown in me.”

“In you?”

“Yeah, here.” Kelly lifted Freya’s right hand and moved it toward K’in. She resisted, trying to recoil.

“It’s okay. Trust me.”

Freya looked into his eyes, trying to decide whether to trust him or not. “Okay.”

Kelly pulled her hand again and placed it on a free space in the middle of the creature’s back, keeping his hand on top of hers in reassurance. He raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Understand?”

Freya just nodded. She could feel the kindness and tranquility pervading her, not just from K’in but from Kelly, from each of the villagers. They were all connected. She closed her eyes and absorbed the feeling, being part of a greater whole. Perfection.

A strange, low-frequency warble emanated from deep within the creature’s throat. The entourage of villagers stepped back quickly, unsure if they had angered him. The creature arched his back and moved to rest almost all of his weight on his hind legs. Slowly, his head lifted upward toward the sky, the red plumes forcefully outstretched. The bright sunlight shone through the crimson, feather-like fans, projecting a halo of fire around the creature’s head as he stood as tall as he could on two legs, his tail used to form a supportive tripod. K’in was upright, elevated and god-like, commanding reverence.

The elder nodded as if in agreement with K’in. He turned to his villagers and rapidly muttered a few words. Several women ran off and returned with dishes containing various fruits and vegetables. Others brought things they had obviously created in their shacks using what was available in the forest. It was time to eat.

K’in dropped back to the floor on all fours, the halo of fire dissipated. He padded over to one of the bowls held by an old woman. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the strange scent. A small child stepped beside him, dipped his hand in the bowl, and scooped out a large handful of the brown, semi-solid mush before placing it in his mouth. An obnoxious grin spread across his round face as he attempted to chew the oversized mouthful. K’in stared at him and then the bowl. Message received. K’in shoved his head into the bowl, almost knocking the old woman off her feet. Squelching noises and loud gulps could be heard from inside the pot. The villagers laughed.

“See, told you he was hungry,” Freya said.

Kelly nodded. “Yeah. Well, so am I. Let’s eat and then get some rest. This heat is killing me.”