16: A City Dead And Buried
The arrowhead shapes of overhead planes pointed the way for the people carrier as it drove as fast as the law permitted down the busy road to the airport. It was the next day. Their speed in preparation was due to Tony’s skill with computers allowing him to book tickets a day in advance.
Thankfully, Jimmy had drifted off after his hundredth “Are we there yet?”. They had left the dawn behind them a short time before. Just like every other drowsy group in their insignificant vehicles, the intrepid band of mismatched fellows trundled along in file to round the corner and enter the car park. There was nothing to suggest that they were any different.
No one spoke a word. The car doors opened and five stepped out. The sixth snored.
“You know,” Tony leant over to whisper in Eve’s ear, “we could just leave him here. He’ll only slow us down. He’s what, ten, eleven, he can look after himself.”
This earned him a slap.
“And what happens when he wakes up?” Eve retorted, “The little guy would be scared out of his mind.”
Somehow the excitement of these adventures had made Eve a kinder person of late, the good feelings they gave her having the side effect of her caring in some way for those she was sharing them with, even Jimmy.
Oblivious to the bickering, Jimmy turned over in his seat. Cary joined the huddle.
“And I hate to say it, but he could come in useful, again.”
Tony had to accept this point and proceeded to poke the boy in the cheek. Jimmy started.
“Are we there yet?”
Tony groaned, “Yes. Now get out of the car.”
Jimmy obediently slid out of the car. The four of them turned to go, only to see Philip and Noah had already gone off towards the entrance, carrying the bulky bags. They hastily began to follow. There was a tap on Tony’s shoulder. He looked down into Jimmy’s concerned features.
“Do you know what letter we parked under?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well if we don’t,” Jimmy had to jog to keep up with their long strides, “how will we know where to find the car?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with no hint of a soothing tone, then, to Eve, “I told you we should have left him behind.”
“Come on,” Philip called back to them from the open doors of the airport.
It was a time-sensitive operation; they couldn’t afford to be late.
A grown man in a dark outfit, two teenage boys in similar costumes, two teenage girls in modern fashion, and a younger boy being led by the hand. Metal objects were banging against many others inside the bags the man and one teenager were holding. All around them people were going about their daily lives, or as close to life as you can get at seven o’clock in the morning. They had gone straight past the check-in counters. Luckily not many holidaymakers were at the hand-luggage checks yet. Even so, they kept out of eye shot of the staff manning the desks. Noah put his bag on the ground. They crouched down, clustering in a shadowed corner.
“We’re never going to get that past them,” Eve pointed out.
Noah, Philip and Tony just stared at her. Philip reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and began to pull out something.
Out of the corner of his mouth, Noah muttered to Philip, “Does she not remember?”
“I thought she would,” Philip muttered back, letting go of what he was holding. “I guess she still isn’t used to what we can do.”
He turned to the huddled girl.
“Look, for me and Noah it’s simple to get this stuff past the guards. All we have to do is phase and we can walk right through the place. You remember what we did at CERN?”
Everyone turned to look at the security.
“Let’s get this over with,” Tony said.
Philip and Noah rose to their feet, a bag once again in each hand. The other four watched as the pair melted into the surrounding air. They waited a minute, guessing how far they’d got, when the pair reappeared at the door beyond the baggage checks. Seeing this as the all clear, they stood up themselves and strode up to the metal detector, presenting their boarding passes as they did so. Naturally, the men and women by the metal detector didn’t suspect anything as the group went through one by one. None of them set the device off, Philip and Noah had taken all the metal objects across with them.
The shops of Gatwick were open at this hour, lighting up the windows and enticing potential buyers to sample their merchandise. This was all bypassed, despite Jimmy’s tugging and moaning. Impatience grew inside Philip as his mind struggled once more against the influence of the Lords. They should be moving faster, not passively waiting in line like regular tourists.
There was a large room teeming with half-asleep individuals. Hanging from the ceiling were sizeable screens flicking through flight updates. Pushing the crowds apart, Philip bulldozed his way ahead, getting as close to the screens as possible. He’d left the heavy bags behind with the group so as to slip through the crowd easier. It didn’t occur to him to phase. He was simply too desperate to get this over with, to possibly get back to anything like a normal life. He reached the base of the screen and scoured it for the information he sought. He was not pleased with what he saw. It was then that Tony caught up with him.
“Found anything?” he asked.
Philip shook his head, “I can’t see it.”
Tony shrugged, “It’s probably on the next few screens. It’s Egyptian Airlines, isn’t it? It’s strange; I didn’t think they flew from here.”
“They haven’t finished rebuilding Heathrow yet, so all flights have been redirected here, or at least they should be.”
“What happened at Heathrow?”
The question went unanswered, and to make matters worse the flight they were looking for still hadn’t appeared.
Tony pointed at the screen, “There, isn’t that it?”
“Can’t be,” Philip despaired, “It’s been delayed.”
“By four hours, oh, that’s not good.”
The remainder of their party thrust their way through to the pair, the bags knocking into numerous bystanders.
“Before you ask, it’s been delayed by four hours,” Tony informed them over his shoulder.
“Can we wait that long?” inquired Eve.
“Not a chance,” Noah breathed.
“Has it occurred to you that this may just be one elaborate lie, that they let us see those coordinates? This place might be genuine, but it could just as easily be irrelevant.” mentioned Cary.
“It’s always possible,” Noah considered, “but what would they gain from sending us on a fool’s errand to a buried area of Egypt? No, it’s most likely that the Brethren Lords got Philip to learn of the city so that he would get whatever it is they want for them, but now he has turned against them, they will be going after it themselves.”
All this time Philip’s frustrated eyes hadn’t left the screen. Ignoring all of them, he turned and began to walk.
“Screw this.”
His companions followed suit, perplexed, tired of playing catch-up.
“What...” Tony got bumped around in the bustling crowds, then tried to reach Philip again, “What are we doing?”
Philip was similarly jostled, “If we can’t get there on our flight, we’ll have to get another one. There’s a private jet out there we can take.”
“I see a few problems with that plan. For one, it’s going to the wrong place, and two: it’s not our plane.”
Philip didn’t reply, he just kept on moving. Gate after gate went past, he didn’t stop. Noah was managing to keep up, but the others were finding it a little harder, especially Jimmy. Eventually he did stop, tapping his foot impatiently by a man in uniform waiting for the owner of the jet to come and board.
“Come on,” he beckoned once more, a little more irritably this time.
Once they were all together, Philip started giving instructions.
“Noah, I assume you know what I’m about to tell you to do.”
“That doesn’t mean I like it.” They had talked earlier about multiple contingency plans in the event of possible emergencies.
“That doesn’t matter. I want everyone else to follow his lead and carry on in single file. I will take up the rear. Do not talk to anybody unless you absolutely have to. Are we all clear?”
There was a chorus of nods and confirmations. As instructed, Noah led the group past some line of lethargic travellers at the adjacent gate to the member of staff by it. There was a brief moment where the employee questioned their actions, which was followed by having sparking fingertips placed on his temple, an action which Noah tried to shield from any onlookers. Noah took the hand away, leaving the young man swaying slightly, the inside of his head prickling. The staff member made some incomprehensible noise of confusion.
Noah spoke clearly, yet quietly, so that only the man could hear him, “You were about to escort me and my group up to the plane before the others as we have a message to give to the pilot. And those who come after us aren’t to be allowed aboard.”
“Yes...yes, of course.”
He opened the doors to the gate and led them through.
The roar of planes moving up to take off filled the open air. It wasn’t a long walk from the gate to the plane. The one to which they were headed glistened blue in the light of the rising sun. The mobile stairs were in place. Cary walked behind Noah, leaning forwards to whisper into his ear.
“What did you do to him?”
Noah murmured back, “I simply scrambled his short-term memory with a minor electromagnetic pulse, nothing dangerous.”
Though the sun had risen, the summer heat had not yet settled in. The chill of the night still hung over the area, sending shivers down the spines of all those outside. All except Philip. The closest thing to a shiver with him was a twitch in his hand as it wrapped around the handle of his pistol concealed in his inside jacket pocket, compliments of Noah.
When they were all inside, the gate manager left them to see to those who were meant to be travelling in this plane. When he was out of sight, Philip placed his palm onto the mobile stairs. They retracted from the plane, so no one else could embark. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew how to do this, he just did. The stewards were working at the rear of the plane, and as such had not noticed their arrival. Philip indicated the seats to his fellows.
“Please, have a seat. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Where are you going?” Eve asked him.
“As our friend said,” Philip muttered, “we have a message for the pilot.”
He moved into the cockpit. They heard nothing at first, and began to wonder what he could be saying. Then there was the distinct sound of a gun cocking. Cary leapt to her feet and marched after him. Tony grabbed her forearm.
“I don’t think you should be going in there.”
She wrenched her arm out of his grip and continued on her way.
When she got in there, she found Philip with a pistol pointing directly between the eyes of the pilot. The co-pilot wasn’t moving, he was just transfixed by the scene before him, by the unmoving barrel. Philip hadn’t noticed her.
“I don’t see what’s so difficult,” he was saying through gritted teeth, placing a piece of paper on the controls, “just take us to these coordinates. There are no passengers, they won’t get hurt, and if you comply, neither will you.”
Cary edged forwards, placing her hand on his shoulder, “Philip, you shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t have to shoot anyone.”
To her surprise, Philip’s head whipped round to stare at her, but the barrel of the gun never moved an inch, “You’re only here because of two things: you know too much, and I brought you here. If you continue to question my judgement, I will lock you away somewhere you cannot interfere, is that understood!”
She had stepped back at his violent manner; she had never heard his voice so angry.
Philip spoke again, a little more calmly, “Now get back to your seat.”
She did so, and he turned his attention back to the pilots. There was a crackle from the speaker in the pilot’s headset. Slowly Philip took a hold of it, and covered the microphone.
“Now I’m sure you don’t want me to shoot you, so I’d advise you do as I say. And if either of you do anything ... unwise, if the authorities come to intercept us, then you’ll be explaining to your employers why they have to replace their stewards.”
Both just looked at him and the gun.
“Well?!” he stressed the word in a maniacal tone, “Get this damn plane off the ground.”
They did as he said, preparing for takeoff. Satisfied they were doing as he wished, Philip lowered the gun and retreated back to the seating area. He didn’t sit with the others, but a few rows back on his own. The plane rumbled and shook as it turned onto the runway. The captain’s voice rang out through the intercom.
“This is your captain speaking. This is a message to cabin crew: in light of recent events, we have had to take a new course for today’s flight. We will not be going to America as scheduled, but rather to a remote location in Egypt. This is an emergency flight, so we will not be carrying our original total of passengers. On our flight instead will be a group of six people. Enough time has elapsed for us to use our original take off slot. Please, enjoy your flight. Thank you.”
Eve and Noah, who were sitting next to each other, turned in their seats to look at Philip as the plane took flight.
“You have to cut him some slack,” Noah said in an undertone, “You have no idea what he’s going through.”
“No, and I won’t until somebody tells me what’s going on,” she hissed back.
Noah thought about how to put this, “When I broke off from the Brethren Lords, they didn’t put up a fight. True, they’ve tried to kill me on a number of occasions since, but they never tried to take me back. But with Philip, for whatever reason, they’re not letting him go. Maybe they think that they don’t have time to mould a new Mancynn to the necessary standards, maybe they think he’ll be too much of a threat to their cause, we can’t know. So now he essentially has two mindsets: the rational one, the one that knows the truth and thinks for itself, and the Mancynn objectives, which they are pressing upon him. Think of it as a battlefield in his brain, the two personas struggling for supremacy and influence on his actions. With all that going on in his head, I’ll be surprised if he can tell right from wrong at this moment. He’s having to rely on first instincts and he can’t be sure if that’s the best course of action, even if he has no other ideas.”
Eve looked at Philip with new sympathy in her eyes. She watched as the stewardess came over to him when the plane levelled out, watched as his unbalanced psyche lashed out, watched the internal struggle show.
“He really should be left alone, to let everything settle. It will only prolong the pain if he is agitated.”
*
As the plane accelerated into takeoff, Philip closed his eyes and tried to shut out the rest of the world. This only resulted in increasing the irritation behind his eyes. The image of Gryal’s demonic face swam in the darkness of his vision, those yellow eyes boring into his. He knew he wouldn’t get any rest on this flight, so he might as well go over their plans, double check the timings for each stage of the operation. As he had done repeatedly in the car, he opened one of the bags and checked its contents, on the off-chance that they had forgotten something. Satisfied that everything was in place, he resealed the bag and put it to the side. This was going to be a long five hours. It was as fast as they could go, though he did wish they could go that little bit quicker.
It couldn’t have been too much later when he heard someone’s footsteps coming up behind him. The plane had levelled out by now and the seatbelt sign had been turned off. He raised his pounding head to look at the newcomer. The stewardess had braided black hair reaching halfway down her back. Her face was stiff with Botox, her cherry lips oversized. Her fluttering eyes were an emerald shade of green. On a tiny, laminated badge, was the name Jasmine Petersen.
“Could I interest you in any refreshments?” her voice was as sweet as honey and sounded like, in any normal situation, it would wash away all of your troubles.
“No,” he replied, coldly.
She leant on the opposite seat, “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“I said no!”
Disgruntled, she moved on to see to the others. Philip breathed out slowly, letting his head loll back.
*
Through the cockpit window the pilots watched the north coast of Africa pass underneath the plane, the sands of the Sahara painting the horizon a yellowy-gold.
This was not Captain Roger Richardson’s first flight as a pilot, nor was this the first company he’d flown for. He had spent much of his adult life in the service of one airline charter firm or another, and in this privatised one he was a figurehead to be idolised, a fifty-two year old figurehead. His youthful enthusiasm had gone, but there was still the drive of financing his wife’s, Elizabeth Richardson’s, home and creature comforts. And then there was his new co-pilot, Omari Ingram. He’d never flown with him before, so Roger had no idea to what standard he was at. But he could only imagine what he was going through. A hijacking so early on in his career. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. Roger knew he had to do something resembling heroic action, yet he didn’t want to give the lad next to him any stupid ideas that would get him into worse trouble.
Roger took his hands off the controls and stood up, making his way to the door to the cabin. Once it was securely shut, he returned to his seat. Omari watched as he picked up the in-flight phone.
“You shouldn’t be using that,” Omari warned him.
Roger ignored him, recalling the number of the airline firm.
“You know you’re not meant to be using that during flight,” Omari’s voice was beginning to turn into a growl.
Roger’s phone had already begun dialling, “We have to do something, and this is the only number I can think of that will help.” The person on the other end of the phone picked up, “Sierra-Uniform-Delta-Mike-Whiskey, transponder seven five zero zero. Two nine eight, two seven zero. Find tower communications from our departure.”
Suddenly, from behind them, came the sound of someone trying to open the door into the flight deck. Quick as a flash, Roger disconnected the call. Standing, Omari stepped over to the door, opening it for the expectant Jasmine. The pilot watched, placing his hands back on the controls, as the stewardess and his co-pilot had a few hushed words. He had no idea what they could be talking about, but didn’t fixate upon it, as he had to return to keeping the plane under control.
Omari and Jasmine’s conversation lasted mere minutes. Soon the young man was retaking his seat by Roger.
“What was that about?” Roger asked, changing the tone from that of their previous words.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Omari waved the question aside, then, reminding himself of what had happened before Jasmine’s entrance, “You shouldn’t have told them what was happening.”
Alarmed, Roger turned to see if the door had once again been shut, before replying, “What are you talking about? I had to tell them.”
“Not true,” Omari snapped, starting to growl again, “We should have just given them what they want and we could have gone home.”
“If we were to just give into them then they will kill us in the end. We’ve seen their faces.”
“And by calling in the cavalry you have almost certainly made our situation worse.”
*
Sometime later, Tony slunk over and perched on the opposite seat. Philip opened one eye, knowing his period of tranquillity was over.
“What do you want?” he grunted.
Tony braced himself for the oncoming storm of rage, “You know of this place primarily from a documentary about an Egyptian dig?”
“Yes...” Philip drew out.
“Well, isn’t there a chance that there will be archaeologists working at the site? They might be working for the Lords to find the city…”
“They won’t matter.”
Tony knew he was treading on thin ice, “It’s just that we’re nearly there...”
Before he could finish his sentence, Philip leapt to his feet and marched up to the cockpit. Tony looked after him, worried for his friend.
As Philip re-entered the cockpit he drew his pistol. The co-pilot flinched at the sight of it, letting go of his controls. The captain held his grip. But Philip didn’t make any other threatening moves. Instead, he moved forwards to look out of the window. Below and ahead was a sea of sand dunes, mountains of desert undulating on the horizon. There didn’t seem to be any defining landmarks to signify their location, not that they’d be able to detect them for much longer, as, out of the blue, the radar crackled and died. Without a word, Philip turned to leave, ignoring the questions of the cabin crew about what he’d done.
“It’s time.”
Noah understood, and got to his feet. Together, they unzipped the bags, rummaged within them and drew out smaller bags, one for each member of their party. Passing them out, Philip and Noah each put on one, heading for the rear doors, while throwing sunscreen to the crowd of teens and Jimmy. Obediently, though with no clue what was going on, the other four followed, doing the same with their bags and rubbing in the sunscreen. They never got to lead the group.
However, they didn’t get to the rear of the plane. From the back coming towards them was a flustered Jasmine. She stopped abruptly in front of them.
“We are coming to the coordinates you gave our good pilot. Would you want us to redirect our course to the nearest airport so we can land?” she smiled girlishly as she said this.
“No thank you,” Noah blankly responded.
“Then may I ask what you are doing?”
It was Philip’s turn to reply, “We are about to open the rear hatches and hopefully parachute down to the surface. And before you ask, we won’t use the front hatches as we don’t want to get sucked into engines. There are parachutes on this private jet, aren’t there?”
This was not the response Jasmine, or their companions, was expecting.
“Just to clarify,” Cary raised a finger, “we didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Just let us past,” Noah persisted.
Jasmine put up one of her hands, indicated where the parachute packs were stored and stepped to one side. They trooped past, one by one, Jimmy sticking his tongue out at the stewardess. Watching them go, Jasmine smirked, and turned to strut into the cockpit, where she would tell the co-pilot what he needed to do.
At the rear hatch, Noah turned to the group, passing out bags from a cabinet.
“In these backpacks are parachutes. When you jump, wait for a three count, then pull the rip cord. If that doesn’t work, pull the emergency cord. Just remember to land on your feet.”
“We know,” Cary whined, “we’ve seen it on TV.”
The plane lurched in the air, dropping dramatically in altitude.
“We don’t have long now,” Philip reminded Noah.
“Right,” Noah said to the group in general, “let’s move out.”
He unlocked the door and pushed it open. There was a sudden suction on the air around them, any loose items being sucked out of the plane. Taking the lead, Noah stepped out of the vessel, getting whisked away in the wind. Tony followed in much the same manner, throwing himself away. Next was Eve, she too threw herself at nature’s mercy. The remaining three looked down at the ground below. It seemed to be rippling, changing, swirling. But it was the green streaks moving upwards that did it. Wasting no time, Philip grabbed onto the reluctant Jimmy and Cary (who smartly wanted to increase their chances of living to see another day by not jumping to their potential deaths) and pulled them out of the plane with him. Falling rapidly through the air, Philip let go of Cary and Jimmy. Separated, they each pulled their own rip cords. There was an abrupt lurch as the parachutes unfurled, carrying the trio to the sandy ground. Looking up, they saw that they had jumped just in time. The plane had tried to turn back in the direction it had come, but before it had time to do so, one of the green streaks had shot up from the dunes, cutting straight through the fabric of the plane. The larger intact pieces of the plane began to fall down to Earth, while the smaller clusters of debris drifted slowly downwards, spreading out in the wind, covering a greater area.
The three of them touched down on the ground. Immediately, Jimmy began to run towards the place where the plane had crashed.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Philip called after him.
“We have to search for survivors,” he yelled back.
Philip began to run after him, and with longer legs, caught him quickly.
“No, we don’t. What we have to do is find Noah, Tony and Eve. Now start running that way!” He bellowed that final part.
*
At the wreckage of the plane, a woman got to her feet. The figure that had been Jasmine looked around at her surroundings. Her long, black hair had been singed into a shorter, uneven style. Her Botox-filled face was cracked, and in these cracks was what looked like the green of her eyes, seeping down her cheeks. Her stewardess outfit had been replaced with a dark robe. She lifted her head, taking a long intake of breath through her nose, smelling the air. It was not long before she found the scent she was looking for. Pleased she knew where she was and what she must do, she knelt on one knee and proffered a hand to the cockpit’s debris. And from the wreckage burst a grey hand, with three razor-sharp talons, grasping for the sky.
*
A trail of footsteps ran behind Philip, Cary and Jimmy, dots on the blank canvas of desert. Philip had already fired a shot into the air, trying to give the other three their location. He didn’t want to have to spend too much time looking for them; the unbearable heat of the desert was already beginning to get to him. Jimmy had just sworn that he’d seen three figures climbing over the next dune, but Philip had put it down to a mirage.
“Wait,” Cary pointed at the sand dune, “I see it too.”
“See what?” Philip snapped.
“What Jimmy saw; the others.”
They all looked up, shading their eyes with the backs of their hands. There were indeed three figures scrambling over the lip of the sand mountain. Jimmy smiled, and gave Philip a little punch in the arm.
“Told you.”
Sure enough, it was Tony that was attempting, and failing, to surf down the side of a dune. Stumbling the last few metres, the boy reached his friend, panting. Once there, he turned and waved to Noah and Eve, still at the summit of the dune. They signalled back with waves of their own. Satisfied, he turned back to those in front of him.
“Okay, I know this is a time-sensitive operation so I won’t waste any time.”
“Hi, then,” muttered Jimmy, begrudgingly.
“Hi. Now, anyway, Philip, you know that group of Egyptologists I suggested might be here?”
“What about them?” said Philip, his words layered with concern.
“Well on our descent, Noah, Eve and I spotted what looked like their cars and tents to the north-east.”
“So there are other people here?” asked Cary.
“Not exactly. We saw their equipment, but not the Egyptologists themselves.”
“So the camp’s deserted?” pondered Philip.
“Pretty much, why?”
Philip didn’t respond to Tony’s question. Instead, he began to lead the group back up the dune Tony had descended. At the top, he made it clear to the rest of the group that it was best if they located this camp, and found out what happened to the Egyptologists. There was also the chance that they could use anything the scientists had left behind.
The beige paint on the four by fours was scratched and worn by prolonged exposure to sand. Under the beating heat of the overhead sun, the band of six trod lightly across the desert floor past the abandoned vehicles. A research camp had been set up in this secluded plain of the Sahara. The canvases of the tents billowed slightly in the gentle breeze. Here and there was the occasional laptop, map or box of notes. However, the only real sign that anyone had lived here were many trails of footprints, still visible in mostly undisturbed sand. The group spread out, examining the derelict site, a couple bringing bottles of water out of their bags. Philip proceeded to walk around the perimeter. Jimmy went to scoop up a wad of paper, covered in spidery writing and complex diagrams, only to take a step back, having woken a skittish spiny tailed lizard.
“They’re dead.”
Everyone turned to face Philip. Tony took a step towards him.
“There are no bodies, how can you know for certain?” he asked.
Philip gestured with his arms, indicating the entire camp, “Look around you.”
“Yes, I have. And there’s nothing to suggest they’re dead.”
Philip sighed, “The ground was covered in footpri