Eve of Man (The Harvest Book 2) Page 2

  As fate would have it, Kyle met Major Gaynor shortly before the Western part of the world disappeared. He’d been an active duty member of the United States Army for exactly three weeks. A twenty-one year old cocky know it all, who specialized in trouble, getting in it and causing it. Not handsome in a GQ kind of way, but in a way that women were drawn to him like moths to a flame and much of the reason why he found himself with a bleeding nose or knuckles or both by the end of a night out. Could he be blamed for the fact another guy’s girlfriend wandered over to talk to him or that another guy’s wife slipped her private cell phone number into his pocket? He didn’t think so.

  On the night they met, Major Gaynor happened to be witness to a particular brouhaha involving Kyle, fists up, in the middle of five very stout German soldiers. The offense had something to do with a fiancée of one of the soldiers. At the last possible second the Major intervened, saving Kyle from being pulverized. When Kyle later asked why he bothered, the major said it was because he saw no fear in Kyle’s eyes and figured he wouldn’t give up until he was either dead or in a coma. The major was close to right. Fear for his own well-being wasn’t an emotion that governed Kyle’s life.

  Kyle had accepted the major’s offer for a ride home, although at the time he felt it was more of an order than a request. Gaynor hadn’t lectured for too long, but made it clear he didn’t approve. Kyle wasn’t so young and dumb to not know when to keep his mouth shut. The major could have taken Kyle to his commanding officer, who happened to be a good friend of Gaynor’s. But he hadn’t. He believed in the good in people and he’d sensed Kyle was good people. In the end it worked out for the best, as it was later on that night the world went dark. When the lights came on forty-eight hours later the Western side of the globe was covered by a white mass of nothing.

  In the mêlée that followed, Kyle found himself guarding the front entrance gates to the brick building where he now worked. Unable to reach their home, Major and Ada Gaynor arrived at the embassy, tired, scared and seeking shelter. Against orders Kyle opened the gates. A bond of friendship formed between the trio and soon after Ada unofficially adopted him (officially in her mind). The couple had no children and only one nephew, who visited every few months. Ada, a retired school teacher, never lost her enthusiasm for taking care of young people in need, and if anyone needed taking care of, Kyle fit the bill.

  After many tense weeks, military leaders on all sides managed to work together to restore order. During a time when the expectation was for people to behave as savages, an expectation instilled by the endless books and movies on the world’s demise, they rose above their gnawing fears and trusted in one another. This trust was the one and only thing to save humanity from succumbing to primal survival instincts and reversing a millennium of progress.

  In the aftermath Kyle was recruited into a newly formed joint military intelligence agency. He was the youngest agent, but soon earned the respect of the older more experienced agents. On the German side he had newfound friends once the news spread on how he’d helped Major Gaynor and his wife. The Gaynors were a fixture in the community, well-liked by military and civilian alike. Many parents owed a debt of gratitude to Ada, for it was her undying devotion to all children, especially those hard to reach kids that had saved some from jail and others from worse.

  Now, a year later, despite having earned a reputation of being slightly unhinged and mostly unconventional, Kyle was well respected. While many men would be envious of his mission, most of the female population would mourn over the news of his pending departure, and both men and women would agree the mission a death sentence. None of this mattered to him. All he cared about was executing his plan. A plan he’d thought through and over almost every day for the past year.

  Kyle walked to the window. Outside snow fell onto the city. He stared out across the Rhine River at the Cologne Cathedral, its many lights twinkling on the water’s surface. The past year had flown by and if he had to spend those days anywhere, Germany’s oldest city seemed to be the right place for him. The city was both beautiful and magical, with its famous Romanesque churches, rebuilt after WWII, along with its numerous museums and galleries. Once upon a time, before the cloud mass, it had been a popular destination for cultural enthusiasts. If the citizens of Cologne had a renewed appreciation for what the city held, he wasn’t sure, but he liked to believe this to be true.

  The snow reminded him Christmas was around the corner. Once upon a magical time in Cologne; a time when the Christmas Markets decorated the city’s center and people filled the streets. The colorful tents and the strings of lights would be absent this year. The mayor and the deputy mayors had made the decision to forgo festivities. No one grumbled over or protested the decision. Christmas spirit, or any spirit, wasn’t in abundance these days. Reaching into his pocket, Kyle pulled out a small picture. He stared at the images for a long time before carefully placing the photo back in his pocket. Torturing himself served no point, not without a keg of Kölsch in hand. A knock on the half open door turned him away from the masked serenity outside and his melancholy mood.

  “Come on in Will.”

  The door opened and Will, somewhat shame faced, walked in.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t show?” Kyle walked over and shook Will’s hand.

  “I was in the neighborhood.” Will shrugged. “Thought I’d, you know stop by—“

  “And try to talk me out of going?”

  “Hell yeah. It’s madness. No one’s been able to get in. No one.”

  “I know the failure rate, but we’ve only tried flying into the mass. I’m going a different route.”

  “Right. Right. You’re going across the Bering Strait. Brilliant plan. You know the men working the outpost on the Russian side disappeared into that mass?”

  “They went by boat,” Kyle reminded him. “I’m not.”

  “What makes you so sure it will matter?”

  “Nothing makes me sure. But I have to try.”

  Will shook his head over Kyle’s stubbornness. “Is there anything I can say to stop you?”

  “Is there anything I can say to make you understand? What if it was Ada?”

  Will pursed his lips and scowled. “Not a fair question.”

  “Absolutely fair. And I know what you’d do. So stop with the guilt trip and help me figure out the best way to tell her I’m leaving.”

  Will cracked a tiny smile and sniffed. “Hell. I’ve no idea, but best to get it out in the open before someone decides to call her.” Will pushed the door open wide.

  Kyle grabbed his jacket, taking one last look out the window before leaving. Night had fallen.

  3 The Adita

  The humans had christened the planet Bliss, but the Adita knew it as Paru. Paru existed long before man, with many species having come and gone before the Adita arrived ten thousand years ago. To the human eye the scenery appeared breathtaking, a paradise. In Agra’s eyes he saw a cesspool of vegetation, felt a climate of stifling heat made bearable only by the ocean’s breeze. A breeze carrying a stench that never left him. In his opinion, nothing blissful existed on Paru. He was anxious to leave the planet behind and begin preparing for their future on Earth, to return to the frozen oasis that had once been his home, the Adita’s home.

  The memories of Earth never faded, despite the unnumbered centuries having disappeared into the vacuum of time. The Adita had once been great rulers of universes far and wide, revered as gods by many species, including man. A sour taste rose in Agra’s mouth. Humans, he thought, disgusted by the mere name. A race of beings unlike any they’d ever encountered. Weak in most aspects, yet possessing a strength that defied logic. Governed by unpredictable emotions, making them dangerous and a danger to themselves. For these precise reasons they needed to be protected from self-destructing. For a species like man to have the life’s blood the Adita required for survival was an egregious insult, but one dictating the necessity of their captivity. Right or wrong. Moral or not. Such things wer
e not the Adita’s concern and certainly never crossed Agra’s mind.

  Many details about their future were left to be decided, but Agra’s patience wore thin. He knew the Elders could not be rushed, and the Saciva’s opinions would not be voiced before the final plans determined. The ninth moon fast approached. The inevitable date when the secret meetings ended and private discussions amongst the Elders ceased. The time to set their future in motion neared and, in Agra’s mind as in that of many Adita, was long overdue.

  A crease formed in Agra’s forehead, smoothing out as he turned from the window to acknowledge Eve. Not a sound or whisper was made to alert him of her approach. He’d not heard her until she’d been close, too close, something no one else was capable of doing and had they tried wouldn’t have lived to tell about it.

  “You wished to see me,” Eve stated as she entered, ignoring etiquette by not waiting for him to speak first.

  Hiding his displeasure behind a cool smile, Agra looked upon her for a long moment, deciding upon which direction to proceed. “You disobeyed me.”

  Eve feigned surprise. “I beg your pardon father, but of what order did you give that I did not adhere to?”

  “Do not be coy Eve,” he hissed. “I’m going to assume you don’t deny having bit the human, like a feral beast? Having shared with him the gift of eternal life?”

  “I cannot deny that which I was unaware being wrong or forbidden. And I only shared enough to make him stronger. He will not turn.”

  Agra held up his hand. “Do not test my patience with your twist on the word of the Adita. You knew it was my desire for the human to remain here. There is much we don’t know about the child. Yet you not only allowed the father to leave, but you did the unthinkable.”

  “We don’t need the human. Caleb will be grown by the ninth moon. He is strong--”

  “Letting him go was not your decision to make,” he interrupted, increasing anger building behind his calm demeanor. “Rules are important my dear and because you are my relation does not exempt you from following that which is written or from being punished for doing that which is forbidden. Rules aside, you have not the knowledge or experience required to transform a human in the proper manner. And, as I recall, the few attempts you made in the past, were failures. Those were overlooked, for you knew not the rules.” Agra paused, holding his temper in check. “You know them now.”

  Eve considered her father’s words, but remained silent. The undertones of his mood revealed more than his words or demeanor. That something bothered him, something greater than the loss of one human, even if the human happened to be unique, was evident and unsettling.

  “This matter will be brought to the council,” Agra announced. “Come.” He waved his hand, taking them both through time and space.

  Within seconds they arrived in the judging chambers, where not long ago Austin had discovered the truth about his son and wife. However, a major renovation had taken place. Sophistication had replaced medieval. The crude stone floors and walls were now smooth black granite. The center, where Zack and Luke had been chained to the floor, was filled with metal benches that gleamed despite the lackluster lighting. The circle’s floor, now a flawless gray stone, similar to polished marble. On the metal benches sat the council. Thirty-four pale beings, male and female, alike in appearance, having been stamped from a parent organism few knew existed and fewer knew the origins. The Saciva, giving as much the appearance of being ominous sculptures as they living breathing beings, sat to the left and right of the great altar. An altar, once a crude stone fixture now gleamed of polished white stone.

  The council stood as Agra took his place behind the altar, while Eve stood over to the side of the circle. Eve looked about. These were members of her family. Where she’d once walked the Earth as a solitary being, she now walked amongst her own. The odd thing about it was, although she’d been alone on Earth, she’d never known the true meaning loneliness until coming home. The very presence of the Adita felt like walls closing her in, overwhelming her with a tremendous sense of isolation. The chamber’s memories flooded her mind. Flashes of trials held long ago came and went, many of which ended in death sentences or worse. Many faces, many unknowns. These unknowns bothered her. A great deal of the Adita’s history remained a mystery, and meanwhile the clock was spinning out of control. To what end the clock tumbled towards, continued to elude her.

  “You may be seated,” Agra announced.

  In a motion synchronized without flaw or sound, the council took their seats. On the altar appeared an impressive book bound in thick parchment, perhaps of an animal, perhaps of a human. The name Adita was seared into the cover. The pages of the book were also made of parchment, and symbols written in blood represented the written word. The origins of both were uncertain to most all present. The book a written declaration of all things Adita, served as an emblem of law during formal proceedings. All Adita knew the contents of the book.

  As Agra turned each page the symbols appeared and disappeared. He stopped turning a third of the way into the book and looked up. “The laws of the Adita are precise and without corruption.” Agra’s voice filled the room. It wasn’t a booming sound, like a preacher at the pulpit throwing down fire and brimstone, yet it held an authority demanding attention and respect. The congregation nodded in unison, one nod up and down. Eve watched and listened to the words spoken, to the thoughts unspoken.

  “The laws of creation are precise and without corruption,” Agra continued. “It is written and it will be upheld, no member of the Adita shall give that which is sacred, the gift of eternal life, to another species, human or other.”

  Again his statements received a single nod from all except Eve. She knew the book front to back, and realized the direction Agra was taking the council. Her demeanor suggested defiance, but her mind was void. No thoughts churned, no opinions formed. That Agra was speaking did not concern her, that he was listening mattered greatly.

  “Eve, daughter of the house of Adita, how do you plead?” Agra asked.

  Eve stepped forward, approaching the altar as was customary for the accused. “I broke no laws intentionally and therefore have no plead to bring forth.”

  A collective gasp, albeit soft, rose from the council. Eve’s response was unheard of within the judging chamber. Arati, who had been documenting the accounts of the meeting, stopped writing, his hand hung suspended above the parchment.

  Agra leaned forward. “Do not test the council with your insolent attitude. State your plea and remedy.”

  “No plea or remedy is necessary,” Eve replied in an unchallenging, but confident tone. “I did not share eternal life with the human. I merely improved his DNA.”

  Agra slammed the book shut with a wave of his hand. The sound reverberated off the walls seeming to shake the temple down to its foundation. “The remedy shall be his death. He will be harvested. You will bring him to this chamber, so that justice can be meted out, as appropriate for the act of corrupting our laws.”

  Eve stepped forward. “With all due respect father, I disagree with the sentence. It is I who broke the laws, although unknowingly. The human should not suffer for my mistakes and I won’t have harm come upon him.”

  The Saciva, who as was custom had kept a straight face and eyes forward, dared turned their heads in Eve’s direction. Whispers arose, and aghast murmurs were muttered amongst the council.

  “Silence,” Agra’s voice bellowed across the room. “All Adita are forbidden to turn another species, especially a human. Our species is designed to survive above all others. Preservation of the Adita relies on our genetics never being tainted, our blood never being shared. We have the purest blood. Flawless DNA. We do not create our kind by changing a human. An inferior being.”

  “And what of my son? Was he not created with that very inferior being you wish me to destroy?” Eve countered, undeterred by Agra’s rising anger, or his indignation over her defiance. His words, their rules, they meant little to her.


  “The creation of the boy was an experiment, a desperate measure taken in order to save our people. A last resort, one such that has never been attempted with a female Adita.” He looked out over the council and back to Eve “The results of the experiment, of your son, must be examined before any decision is determined. However, if necessary the experiment will be terminated without prejudice.”

  “Terminated?” Eve stood a bit taller. A movement so subtle that, if it had been captured on film, the viewer would still have been hard pressed to notice even in slow motion. Had he been alive General Roth would have attested to the impossibility.

  “Terminated,” Agra repeated, a note of satisfaction in his voice. He’d seen Eve’s reaction, detected the twitch in her muscles the same as if she’d jumped up and down flailing her arms. “Now, please state your remedy.” In this request it was clear he expected nothing less than complete agreement and submission from Eve.

  “I will collect the human,” Eve replied, nodding to Agra, to the Saciva, and last to the members sitting in the circle.

  A long heavy pause fell over the chamber. Eve felt her father probing into her mind, digging for truths in her words, looking for ammunition to use against her. After long last Agra picked up the book of laws, a satisfied purse of the lips graced his mouth. “In time you will come to understand the full implications of the measures we take to ensure our survival.”

  Eve stared unblinking at her father. She allowed him to continue prying, validating she spoke in earnest. Once this was found she blocked him from going further, redirecting his push to safe thoughts. If he knew she was doing so, he didn’t acknowledge, leading her to surmise he didn’t. In her private opinion she thought Agra didn’t know a lot of things, that his powers were diminishing each day, each hour. She had nothing to substantiate this feeling or assumption, except her unfailing intuition.