Children of the Storm, Part 3

An adventure in the world of The Ace of Redwater Bay

The pilot in command, a man in his mid-thirties by my guess, had scorch marks all over his clothes and face, and a stranger tree pattern appeared on the unburned portions of his skin. The co-pilot, a woman a bit younger than the pilot, had similar damage and the same tree pattern on her skin. Scorch marks ran across the instrument panel as well and it looked unusable. I surveyed the rest of the cockpit, looking for any clues that might explain what happened here. Finding none, I checked the cabin and inspected the cargo compartment more closely. While I did not find any more clues pertaining to the dead crew, I did find other items that warranted further investigation. I tucked them into my pockets and headed back to the TP-6, glad to be away from the stench of the newly dead.

For the first time since I’d met him, Harold looked genuinely unsettled after I relayed what I found in the cockpit.

“Dead?” he said.

“Both of them had been electrocuted,” I replied. “It was like a lightning bolt hit the two pilots and the instrument panel, but nothing else. It’s like it came from the inside of the plane.”

“That’s impossible.”

I shrugged. “And yet the evidence says otherwise. My guess is that it happened earlier this morning. Their bodies were just starting to stiffen.”

Harold processed this for a moment. “You can tell that? How?”

“Not important right now. It does mean something was screwy with that distress call you received. Who sent it?”

“Jameson Hughes. He’s part of the research team.”

“Who else came here?” I produced from my pocket a children’s book and a box of well-worn crayons, the items I had found in the cargo area. “These aren’t exactly the tools of the modern scientist.”

He blinked at me a few times and then sighed. “No use in delaying, I suppose.”

“Delaying what?”

“The truth.” He compressed his lips as he considered his words. “I told you I had a son and daughter. They came with the research team. I suspected they would be here but wasn’t sure.” He pointed to the items in my hand. “That confirms it. One of the other scientists is my wife, Cassandra.”

My eyes widened. “Wait. Your whole family is on that island?”

He nodded, looking guilty. “We’ve been…separated for the last month. She took the children. I hadn’t spoken with them since it happened. I only found out about the trip this morning when we got the distress call.”

“Harold, I need a full explanation of what’s going on, and I need it now.”

He looked back at the approaching storm. “You’ll get it, but we have little time. If we don’t get them out of here soon, that storm will kill all of us.”

I glowered at him. “Fine,” I said through my teeth. “Tell me while we make for the shore.”

As we taxied closer, Harold began telling me the story.

~*~

Years ago, Harold met Cassandra when the university she worked for hired McCormick Shipping to take a team to one of the islands affected by a power storm. The timing was crucial. They had to arrive as soon as the storm receded to allow the team time to study the flora of the island and take samples before it grew again. Only Harold and Kwame volunteered to fly the team out there. Kwame was a descendant of a civilization that once inhabited the islands before the Anjou Imperium conquered the archipelago centuries ago. He sported impressive tribal tattoos and was the bravest man Harold had ever known. They made a good pairing and trusted each other implicitly. That first trip proved successful for the research team, so they contracted McCormick for further expeditions.

For Harold’s part, he had never met a woman as resourceful and beautiful as Cassandra with her sharp mind, dark eyes, and jet-black hair. The man was smitten. It took a second trip eight months later and a few dozen letters back and forth for Cassandra to see him in the same light. By the third expedition, they were married. The university, unwilling to lose one of its foremost experts on the effects of power storms, opened a small office in Port Sauval and put her in charge of its staff.

~*~

Harold stopped his story so that we could anchor the TP-6 and wade ashore. Before leaving the plane, we grabbed some gear from the back. I took a Burchfield .30 bolt-action rifle, he an Esperanza Arms 12-gauge trench gun. Each had a leather strap for ease of carriage. We left our flight gear on the plane so it would stay dry. Airplanes tended to get cold up at altitude, so having dry clothing would help ensure we stayed warm for the return trip.

Unsure what dangers awaited us, I covered Harold with the rifle while he crossed the few yards to the beach, and he kept watch as I followed after him. In addition to his own gear, Harold carried the crate of grenades. We made sure to hold the equipment over our heads as we trudged through the water to keep it dry. While the island lay farther north, the water was unusually cold for this time of year. I shivered a little for some minutes after reaching the beach.

“You’ve been here a few times, then?” I asked as we checked our guns and gear on the beach. We each had a pack with a first aid kit and a canteen of potable water.

He nodded. “There is an area where they usually made camp. That’s where they’ll have set up the radio tower. It’s flat and provides easy access to the island’s interior as well as a quick retreat to the beach if necessary. We’ll start there.”

“And while we hike, you can tell me the rest,” I said. “Unless I’m a terrible judge of character, a man like you doesn’t let his children anywhere near a place like this on purpose.”

He gave me a somber expression and nodded. We followed a path that took us between the densely packed trees as he continued his tale.

~*~

Cassandra was seven months pregnant when they arrived for the fifth expedition. Twins, the doctor had told them. Harold expressed concern for the unborn children and their mother and didn’t think they should go. She promised it would be the last one until long after the children were born. While they had made several astonishing breakthroughs, the university and, more the point, its financiers were eager for results. Eventually, Harold capitulated, and, along with Kwame, flew the research team out to the island once again.

However, the storm changed its behavior, unexpectedly surging toward the island several days early. The researchers and crew scrambled to pack up their equipment and documents into the TP-6 and leave. As they finished loading the last of it, Cassandra realized she had left her journal behind with most of her research notes. She turned around and ran back to the campsite, Harold chasing after her to bring her back. Kwame stayed with the rest of the team which included a younger Jameson Hughes. She found her journal and started back.

As Harold was about to reach her, lightning struck the rocky ground between them and turned it into crystal. Cassandra was transfixed, her gaze drawn to the strange glowing gemstone. She reached out to touch it. Harold tried in vain to stop her. When her fingers touched the crystal, it suddenly pulsed with light and knocked her unconscious. What exactly happened to her, Harold didn’t know. He picked up his pregnant wife and charged back to the plane as Kwame fired up the last engine. As soon as they were aboard, the two pilots prepared to take off. Kwame seemed angry about something but would tell Harold about it later; they had more pressing issues. The research team looked scared as they strapped Cassandra into the second row. The pair of pilots fought choppy water and harsh winds in their climb to escape the power storm.

They were still climbing when the aft cabin door suddenly flew open. If the door tore off and collided with one of the nearby rear engines it would prove disastrous for the plane and its occupants. Kwame left control of the plane to the more experienced pilot and went to deal with the new problem. The airplane bucked wildly, and Harold heard the man cry out in pain. Fighting to maintain control of the TP-6, Harold ordered one of the scientists to go help Kwame.

Jameson volunteered. What happened next, Harold never knew exactly, but suddenly the door closed. When he called back to check on Kwame, Jameson informed him that his co-pilot had closed the door from the outside and fell into the sea. Anger renewed Harold’s determination as he fought the winds and finally managed to clear the edge of the storm. Harold always felt as though Jameson was hiding something about what happened but could never prove anything.

By the time they returned to Port Sauval, Cassandra had awoken and, aside from a headache and soreness, felt fine. The doctor found that the children were still alive and seemed to be thriving in the womb. It wasn’t until they were born that they saw the effects of what had happened. The two children, named Phoebe and Thaddeus, had silver hair and purple irises. That wasn’t the only after-effect. As the children aged, they exhibited strange behavior every time the power storms surged. No matter where they were or what they were doing, they would stop, stand stock still, and face the direction of the eastern power storm without moving. Then they would begin speaking unintelligible gibberish. They stayed that way for minutes at a time and then collapsed to the ground unconscious. An hour or so later, they would wake with no memory of what had happened.

Cassandra and her team as well as a host of medical professionals tried to understand what was happening to them. Harold grew weary of his wife’s concerns. From his perspective, he was happy that his wife suffered no ill effects, and his children were alive and, despite some occasional strange behavior, healthy. For him, that was enough. Slowly over time, Cassandra’s concern and curiosity became obsession. For the last year, she pressed Harold to return to the island with the children, something he was adamantly against. Finally, after claiming that he was a coward and did not care enough for her or the children, she had taken them leaving behind only a note.

Mac had canceled the contract with the university immediately after the original incident on the island and put a company embargo on any requests to travel there. Word spread across Port Sauval. Red Star and many of the other companies put their own embargos and restrictions in place.

~*~

“So how did they get here?” I asked as Harold finished telling me the story. We’d been hiking for roughly half an hour by this point.

“After the TP-9 broke down for the tenth time,” he replied, “Mac sold it to Sheffield and Sons a couple of weeks ago. They’re a bunch of mechanics that wanted to make a go at the transport business. They needed a cheap plane and didn’t mind the extra work.”

“They didn’t know about the embargo?”

“Or didn’t care.”

I reflected on Harold’s story. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to feel about the whole thing. I finally settled on saying, “Sorry about your family. I’ll help any way I can.”

He sighed. “I should have been more upfront.”

“Yeah, you should have been.” I lowered my voice. “But we can deal with that later. Is this it?” I indicated a clearing not far away with the barrel of the Burchfield.

Harold nodded and raised the trench gun.

We slowly made our way into the clearing, weapons up. The place looked to have been abandoned in a hurry. Research equipment and tools lay scattered all over the ground. Chairs were turned on their sides. Plates, silverware, and uneaten food sat on a small folding table. The small radio tower looked intact. We did not see any people.

“Something scared them off,” I said.

Harold moved to the other side of the camp where the tents were set up. A large, multi-purpose tent with its flaps rolled back dominated the area with smaller, personal tents flanking either side. He ducked into the large tent to search it.

When he came back out, he said, “The radio’s damaged. I think someone did it on purpose.”

I tightened my grip on the rifle and began scanning the tree line. With fresh determination, he moved to the side tents. I kept an eye out as he checked each one in turn.

“Not there,” he said with some dismay. His eyes looked all over the surrounding forest, as though hoping by some chance it would reveal where his family had gone.

Movement from the direction we had come caught my attention. I snapped the butt of the rifle to my shoulder, a movement that came naturally thanks to countless drills in the Aubrein military.

A haggard looking woman peered from around a tree. Her eyes were wide as she took us in.

“Harry?” she said.

“Cassie!” he replied and slipped the strap over his shoulder. He took a step and then drew his eyebrows together. “Where are the kids?”

Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes. At some point, she likely had been beautiful. Right then she looked anything but with pale skin, frazzled hair, disheveled clothes, and sunken eyes.

“I-I don’t know,” she said and began to sob. “I woke up in the woods and heard someone coming up the path. And…and…”

He moved to her and stopped a few feet from her. “I told you not to come here,” he said, almost growling. “This place is dangerous.”

She withered under his rebuke. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry.”

His features softened. “It’ll be alright, but we have to find them. What happened?”

I’ll hand it to the woman. Pained though she looked, she gathered herself after a moment. “It’s Jameson. He’s nuts, Harry. And there was this creature.”

“Jameson? He was the one who called us.”

At that, she looked perplexed. Then her eyes widened. “It means he’s almost finished. We have to hurry!” She started toward the camp.

Harold caught her with one arm and easily held her in place. “Hold on! We still don’t know what we’re dealing with. What did Jameson do? What creature are you talking about?”

Cassandra took a few deep breaths and started speaking quickly and deliberately. “Jameson was the one who pushed for this research trip. He convinced me he had found a way to sever the children’s connection with the storms. He claimed he had a…device that could reverse the effects of the crystal, but that we had to be near a storm for it to work.” She fixed her eyes on her husband. “It was risky, but I had to take a chance.” Her shoulders sagged. “I realize now that I’ve been a fool.”

“What does the device actually do?” I asked.

She seemed to realize I was there for the first time. “Who are you?” she asked, suspicion in her tone.

“A contract,” said Harold. “His name is Connor. He knows everything.”

“You told him?” she became incredulous. “That wasn’t his business.”

“Not the time, Cassie.”

“Ma’am,” I said, “we found the plane with its engines damaged and the crew dead, burnt to a crisp. Unless you killed them, I’m assuming it was this Jameson character. If we’re going to save your family, we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“He’s right,” said Harold. He pointed at the oncoming power storm. “And that storm is nearly here. Our window to get out is small. Now, answer the man’s question.”

She gave us an annoyed expression but relented. “I don’t know what it does, not exactly. It’s a big metal box with wires and gauges all over it. There’s a tall antenna in the middle. Jameson was fiddling with it from the moment we arrived. He worked like a man possessed. He wanted to hook the children up to it. Early this morning, the storm began to roll in sooner than we expected. He was in a rush and made one of his assistants test it out first.”

“How is it powered?” I asked.

“Some kind of portable electric dynamo and battery system. Once the battery is charged, he pulled a lever that sent the current into the machine. When he turned it on, I knew something was wrong. A weird energy came from it, something I could feel. Jameson and the rest of the team seemed unaffected, but the children began screaming. They said it hurt. Jameson refused to turn it off and made one of his assistants test it first. When she hesitated, Jameson aimed a strange looking weapon at her. When he fired it, it shot out electricity and burned up a nearby tree.” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “That poor girl attached the electrodes where instructed. Jameson turned some knobs and switches, and the weird energy grew. A slow-moving lightning bolt reached out from the storm, like it was being pulled from the clouds. The bolt struck the antenna and the girl…the girl was incinerated.”

Cassandra broke down. Through tears, she said, “Her screams were horrible. I couldn’t let the children near that thing. I took them and started packing, but Jameson went crazy. Began threatening me and the children if I didn’t let him finish his experiment. The other assistant was in on it and helped him.”

“Where was the Sheffield crew during all this?” Harold asked.

“On the plane performing routine checks and giving a daily report. They likely had no idea what was happening.”

“What happened next?” I urged with a glance up at the storm.

“Jameson was about to shoot me when the creature arrived. It was a hideous thing, all black and purple and silver. It killed Jameson’s assistant before it turned on him.”

I thought back to Harold’s mention of the pilot rumors about creatures on islands like this. I was glad we had brought the grenades.

“Jameson shot the thing multiple times with his electric gun. He couldn’t kill it, but he did drive it back,” Cassandra continued. “I tried to escape into the trees with the children, but I think Jameson caught up with us. Something hit me on the back of the head, and everything went black. When I woke up the children were gone. I don’t know how long I was out, but they would never have left me alone like that, so he must have taken them. I went to look for them, but the creature was prowling nearby.”

I brought up something that had been bothering me for some time. “This doesn’t explain what happened to the TP-9 nor why Jameson radioed Mac’s instead of Sheffield.”

“I think I know the answer to that,” said Harold. “He’s covering his tracks. He killed the crew, destroyed the engines to make it look like an accident and made a distress call to the one person he knew would come running. Me. He wants to kill everyone who knew or suspected the truth.” He eyed Cassandra. “This time and last time.”

She sniffed and nodded. “Kwame.”

“I always suspected Jameson somehow made him fall from the plane. Kwame must have seen something.”

She moved closer to her husband. “Harry, we have to find them.”

“Where is the device?” I asked.

She wiped her eye and pointed in a direction that led deeper into the island. “That way.”

“Cassie,” said Harold, “follow this path, get to the plane, and try to contact someone at Mac’s. They know we were headed this way. Tell them everything you told me.”

“What if the radio isn’t working?”

“Then skip it and prep the plane as best you can. You remember how, right?”

She nodded and embraced him. “Please save them.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll find them.” They separated and he looked at me. “Let’s go.”

Cassandra gave him one more lingering look and set off down the path toward the beach at a run.

I fell in behind Harold and asked, “What’s the plan, boss?”

“First, I’m going to find Jameson and shoot the bastard. Then I’m going to wreck his infernal machine and get my family the hell away from here.”

Thanks for reading! To continue reading, head over to the Chapter Index.

If you enjoyed this, please consider subscribing or chipping in for a cup of coffee.

If you want to check more of my writing, take a gander at my Linktree.