Location: U.S. submarine, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

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Tremaine stared at K’in. The strange animal lay asleep on the floor of its tank, half submerged in water. It looked different now compared with what he had seen back at Paradise Ranch. Its skin was now a fully opaque milky white. Eyelids had formed to shield its retinas from the sunlight, and its gills were a deep scarlet. They billowed outwards and then fell back to a resting position with each breath the creature took. It shook slightly, shivering.

The Shadow Man reached out one of his huge hands to touch the creature. His dark, thick fingers drew close to the contrasting white skin of the animal’s head. What was all the fuss about? What did it mean to touch this thing? The temptation to make contact was overwhelming. But he couldn’t. He just didn’t trust it. Kelly trusted it and so did Freya. And she trusted Kelly, which annoyed Tremaine. He’d spent years protecting her, and that damn fool gets her respect in days. He grunted away the feeling and slowly pulled his hand back, careful not to disturb the air around K’in. As he took an awkward step backward, K’in jerked awake. Caught unaware, Tremaine fell and smashed onto the cold floor. K’in quickly sprang onto all fours and padded over to the fallen man. The creature positioned himself over Tremaine’s body and pushed his face directly in front of the man’s. He stared into his eyes, blinking as he did so, cocking his head to one side and then the other like a curious plumed bird. Tremaine stared back. His body frozen. Not in fear but confusion. What did it want? He propped himself up on his elbows, bringing his face closer to the animal’s. K’in blinked again and sniffed at the Shadow Man’s skin. A final blink and the animal quickly reversed, span around, and waddled back to its low-lying tank. He climbed inside and lay back down, tail folded around his body, head resting on his forelimbs.

Tremaine climbed to his feet and pulled his clothes straight. Strange little creature. It was time some other fool watched the goddamn thing. He wasn’t a babysitter, or dog sitter, or fish sitter, or whatever kind of sitter there was for that thing. He marched over to the heavy metallic door and pulled it open, stepped into the hallway, and beckoned one of the submariners.

“You watch it for a while.”

The soldier nodded.

Tremaine shook his head and continued along the corridor.

* * *

The XO, General, and Wiezorek were huddled around the interactive navigation table. An illuminated map of the Pacific Ocean lit the room with a faint green glow.

“Mr. Tremaine.” The General acknowledged his subordinate as he entered the room.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you have to get someone else to babysit the big fish. I think it’s sick or something. It just sits in its tank shivering.” Tremaine huffed and placed both hands palm down on the table. “Something’s not right.”

“I would agree, but we have bigger problems right now, Mr. Tremaine. It seems we are being hunted, not only by the Chinese, but by our own government. A few faithful men on the surface have kept me informed. It seems one of the original team, Colonel Robertson, has taken it upon himself to find me.”

“So what’s the plan?” Tremaine asked, expectantly.

“At the moment, we keep out of sight. We need to protect the creature and keep it from both our government and our enemies. We have to wait until Freya can provide more information regarding a new orb.” The General motioned his head toward the XO. “Executive Officer Teller and I were just discussing options. If we found the Chinese down here, then they can find us. We are working on a strategy to stay undetected.”

“And we just let Nilsson and Graham fend for themselves?” The Shadow Man’s face was as deadpan as ever, but his gaze contained genuine concern.

“They will be fine. As long as the governments are looking for us and not them, they have time. It’s easier for them to move undetected as it’s just the two of them.”

“So that’s why I think we move into the Zhemchug Canyon.” The XO moved the map on the table of light to hover over an image that showed a relief of the canyon as if the Pacific Ocean had been drained. “It’s over two miles deep, one hundred and forty-four miles long, and sixty miles wide. It’s the biggest canyon in the world. Let those Chinese bastards find us down there.”

“It sounds like a plan to me. Why are we not doing it?”

“Because,” interrupted Wiezorek. “We need to be in contact with our away team. And that’s very difficult below periscope depth. I’m a chopper pilot, and even I know that.” The young pilot fidgeted. He wanted to join the conversation—show his worth.

“It’s kinda true,” the XO replied. “Subs use extremely low frequency, or ELF, transmissions. The antennas required to receive and transmit these signals are thirty miles long, buried underground. Only a handful of these ELF transmitters exist, and only two of them are in the U.S. If we use them, we’ll be detected right away.”

“Well that’s just useless,” Tremaine said.

The XO ignored him and continued. “There have been attempts to bring submarines onto the U.S. Defense Department Global Information Grid along with all the other Navy ships. The High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program, which investigated using the ionosphere as an antenna for communication, was one such attempt. The idea was to excite the upper atmosphere with high-frequency radio waves, and it would then emit the ELF bands required for one-way communication with submerged submarines.”

“Thanks for the techno-nerd lesson, but what I’m hearing is we can’t communicate at depth, and if we bob around on the surface, we get caught. Right?” Tremaine raised his eyebrows, waiting to be corrected.

“You didn’t let me finish.” The XO grinned. “It’s a Kobayashi Maru situation.”

The General scowled. “What?”

“It’s a Star Trek reference, again.” Tremaine shook his head. “You and Kirk.”

The XO’s grin broadened. “Everyone’s gotta have a role model. The Kobayashi Maru refers to an unwinnable situation. You either need a brilliant solution, or you need to redefine the problem. Kirk cheated. And so shall we.”

“Get to the point, man,” Tremaine said, irritated.

“My point is this: we are worried about being monitored. So, let’s get monitored. Lockheed have developed a classified communication system that uses disposable buoys that jettison to the surface. They can be miles away, but we can use them to transmit to your satellite even when we are submerged. This sub has prototypes.”

“What’s the range?” Tremaine asked. “Surely it can’t be that far? They’ll still be able to pinpoint us.”

“Well, that’s the genius bit. What we need to do is jettison a whole bunch over a few days across a wide area. Then we use them to ping messages between themselves and the satellite. If we also spam a bunch of cell phones and devices all over the globe, it’ll be difficult for them to trace who we’re talking to.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile broke across the Shadow Man’s face. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Make it happen,” commanded the General. “Make it happen now. I can continue to use the coded messaging that only Freya and I would understand.” He hushed his voice, realizing his mistake.

The other three shot confused glances at one another.

“I will go and check on the creature. Wiezorek, you come with me. Tremaine, assist the XO with whatever he needs.”

“Yes, sir.” The young pilot scurried after his commanding officer, who had already stormed out and down the corridor.

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Location: A small village, Egypt

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His best friend stared at Kelly, not with eyes but with pitch black sockets. His face was chalk white and drawn, and gray shadows replaced his normally full cheeks. A single hole in a Hawaiian shirt pocket leaked thick red liquid. The skeletal figure raised one arm and pointed a boney index finger directly out in front. The ghoul’s mouth opened to speak, yet only a chilling noise spewed forth. A noise that embodied pain and suffering.

* * *

Kelly lurched awake as the wheels of the jet touched down. He glanced around the cabin. Freya was slowing the plane, guiding it off the runway toward a small hangar to which she had been directed by the control tower. Her gaze remained dead ahead, but he could see the concern on her face.

“Your wife?”

“What?” Kelly snapped.

“Sorry, you just seemed to be having a nightmare.”

Kelly sighed and shook his head slowly. “No. Actually, it was Chris. But—”

“Chris?”

“Yeah. But that’s not what’s bothering me. For the last couple of weeks, I haven’t had dreams, not nightmares, anyway. I think they’re back because I’m away from K’in.”

“Oh? You think his being near you has had an influence on your psyche?”

“You know, I would have to say yes. I’ve had a weird, uneasy feeling since we left him with the General. I figured I was just nervous about the trip, but I think it’s more. I feel—”

“Empty.”

Kelly nodded. “Exactly.”

“I feel it too, just a little, but I do.” She considered placing a hand on Kelly’s knee in comfort but thought better of it.

Kelly shook his head as if to remove the dream from his brain like a child clearing an Etch A Sketch. “Fuck it. We have enough to do here.”

“Well, the instructions you gave worked. We were given permission to land. Do you know where we’re going now?”

“It’s a village just south of Cairo. My contact is there.”

Freya cut the engine and switched off the display. She climbed out of her seat and followed Kelly into the main cabin. A set of small stairs dropped down from the opening. They grabbed their backpacks and took a few paces toward the exit.

As Kelly stepped into the sunlight, the bright desert sun seared his retinas. He closed his eyes in pain, but it seemed as if the photons were slicing through his eyelids anyway. He blinked and swayed unsteadily on the metal stairs.

“Are you okay?” Freya asked.

“Yeah, it’s just friggin’ bright.” Kelly slung his backpack over one shoulder and put his free arm over his forehead to shield his eyes before stomping down the staircase in his heavy jungle boots. Freya marched after him.

A little Egyptian man was waiting by a dilapidated jeep. It wasn’t open-top and looked to be sweltering inside. Kelly strode over to the man, who was dressed in a traditional ankle-length galabiya, striped kaftan, and an off-white cap of sort. Kelly muttered something to the man that Freya didn’t understand. The occasional word made sense to her. She knew Ahlan wa sahlan, “hello,” and Izayak, “how are you,” but other than that, she was lost. Had they been in Russia, it would have been a different story.

Kelly shook the man’s hand vigorously and must have told him to get into the car, because the sweaty little fellow scurried over to the driver’s side and jumped in. Kelly nodded to Freya, indicating they should climb in, too.

Inside, it was horribly hot and dry. And there was no air conditioning. Freya gasped the arid atmosphere into her lungs. “How long will we be in this thing?”

“A couple of hours, depending on traffic. If we were in an air-con car, we’d probably end up with one of the local military forcing his way in to hitch a ride. You don’t want that. Anyway, why? For a military chick, you’re a bit soft sometimes.” Kelly screwed up his face in confusion.

“I was trained as an officer after college. And my active tours have not been in the Middle East. Now frozen wastelands—they’re more my thing.” Freya grinned and pulled on her ponytail to tighten it. “Anyway, how come you can speak so many languages?”

“Izel was a linguist. It ran in her family, and she taught me a thing or two. And I guess on my own travels, I picked up the odd phrase. You’ll do that after spending the night in a cell for mispronouncing the occasional word or two and for getting into a serious bar fight and punching a girl in the face.”

Freya glared at him.

“Well, I say girl, but it was Thailand if you catch my drift?” Kelly motioned to his own groin.

“I get you. You can stop pointing now.” Freya stifled the grin from spreading across her face.

Kelly shrugged. “Well, that’s another story.” He leaned forward and muttered something to the driver, who nodded and revved the ancient engine. A powerful stench of petrol filled the cabin as the rusty machine pulled away.

* * *

Kelly stared out the window, fixated on the yellow arches of the international fast food chain, contrasting with the out-of-focus, ancient pyramid-shaped structures in the background. He mused on the comedy of it—how those ancient monuments were probably the result of the wisdom and technical know-how passed down by K’in’s kind, and thousands of years later, what have the humans done to honor this knowledge? Made hamburgers. And plonked the gaudy, ass-shaped ad right next to one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Genius. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Freya. She sat in her usual position, hands together in her lap, head down. He couldn’t tell if she was awake as she was wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses.

His thoughts turned to Chris. Kelly missed him. He missed fucking about with him. They’d be wrestling in the back of the car right now, fighting to not have their own head stuck out of the window as they zipped along. Kelly smirked, but it faded quickly as his mind drifted to Victoria. She’d been dragged into this situation simply because she’d been near Kelly at the time, and now she was dead. This was all because General Lloyd’s team just couldn’t miss the opportunity, all in the name of connecting to the animal, K’in. Strangely, Kelly missed the weird man-sized axolotl, too. He sighed heavily, his chest hurting.

Kelly turned back to the window and watched the hustle of Cairo disappear as sand dunes filled his view. They would be there soon. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

The car jolted to a stop. No sooner had it halted than Freya had flung the car door open and leapt out—perhaps expecting the external air to be cooler. It wasn’t. Kelly paused, his hand on the handle but did not move. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed out, a wordless prompt to his body to get out of the goddamn car. He stepped out and was immediately confronted by the driver, who eagerly awaited his payment. Kelly rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a handful of Egyptian pounds. He handed them to the man, who scurried back to the driver’s seat and powered off in a cloud of sand and dirt.

The tiny village in which they stood consisted of a few square, brick houses with flat roofs. Leather-faced people strolled by in the heat, each wearing very light clothing, with many of the women having covered heads. The people stared at the two foreigners, appearing amused, but kept to themselves and walked on. Freya looked around and then expectantly at Kelly. “So, where is your contact?”

“He’ll be here. This is a small village. He works just down there.” Kelly nodded along the dusty street. Freya had already marched off ahead. He trudged after her.

Before he knew it, Kelly was standing in the doorway. The small, square room was dark and dusty. Large fissures cut jagged paths through the white-washed walls, some of which were so deep, light from outside seeped through. There was no proper furniture to speak of, just an odd, rickety, wooden table with old books strewn across it. Yellowed pieces of paper with handwritten scrawl were haphazardly stuck to one wall. At the opposite end of the room, a man was standing with his back to the door. He wore sand-colored slacks and a linen shirt. His wavy, gray hair was tucked behind his ears by a pair of rectangular-framed glasses perched on top of his head. The man was busy with pieces of crumpled paper, picking them up, reading them, and then placing them on the table in front of him. Without turning, he spoke. “I heard you were in the village.” His English was accurate but carried a thick Latin-American lilt.

Kelly sucked in a deep breath and held it before releasing it slowly. “News travels fast here. It’s been a while.”

“That it has, Kelly. What do you want?” The man still had not turned around.

“We need to talk, Alejandro.”

“Do we, now?”

“I need your help, but first, I need to tell you about Chris.”

Freya shot a confused glance at Kelly, but he ignored her, remaining fixated on the man.

“Christopher has come to his senses, has he? Finally stopped following you around like a puppy?”

“He’s ... he’s dead.”

The man slowly turned around. His face was old and furrowed with cracks. A short white beard masked his mouth, making it difficult to judge any expression of emotion. He pulled the glasses from his head onto his nose and peered through them at Kelly. “Dead?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Alejandro. I need to tell you how and why and—”

“So you have taken the last of my family from me, have you? First my daughter and granddaughter and now my son. I knew the day I laid eyes on you that you were bad news, Kelly Graham. My family suffers, yet you always seem to slither away unscathed.”

Freya’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. Izel’s father.

“Look. You and I have had our differences, but I have always done my best. For Izel. For Carmen. When they died, Chris needed someone. And as always, you were somewhere else.” His voice trailed off as he realized what he had said.

“I raised my children to be independent. Strong. They didn’t need me. But you—for some reason, they were spellbound by you and your charm.” Alejandro turned back to his work. “If Christopher has truly passed away, then he is with his family now. And you and I have no further need to speak again.”

“This is why. This. You were always a cold bastard.” Kelly screamed, his voice straining as he fought back a mixture of rage and sadness. “They weren’t spellbound by charm or trickery—they were happy to have found someone who gave a flying fuck about them. Loved them.”

Alejandro span around and scowled. “You know nothing of love. You were always too infatuated with yourself to care about anyone else. If you hadn’t left for South Africa to make a name for yourself, then Izel and Carmen would still be with us.” His voice was harsh but calm.

The words cut into Kelly’s heart. “Fuck you, old man. This was a mistake.” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room into the bright Egyptian sun, leaving Freya standing on her own.