The Second Wave (10 page)

And that was why John was in a building
called Headquarters Main House, carried a half-empty suitcase, and
hoped he looked like someone holding a Ph.D. might look.

John was antepenultimate in line. He watched
the people in front of him show their ticket and ID to a protector
and got nodded through to step into what looked like an elliptic
waterfall made out of light.

Apart from the travellers and the protectors,
there were also a bunch of people dressed in white lab coats,
probably engineers, who relentlessly checked on the elliptic
waterfall of light which John understood was the much heard of
wormhole to another planet.

John had chosen his place in line on purpose.
He figured that by the time it was his turn, the protector who
checked everyone was fed up, ready to call it a morning, and would
most likely not look meticulously enough to notice that the ID John
carried, which identified him as one Dr. Duncan Wagner, carrier of
a second wave program ticket, was a fake. While he gradually moved
forward, he observed the protector, a young woman whose name tag
said Sheldon, to assess her. She smiled a lot and was patient with
the children despite the obviously tight schedule. Played well
enough, he fancied he could distract her by voicing some made-up
personal concern or other, to make her concentrate on his person
rather than on his ID. He might even get on her good side with a
good natured funny remark.

His plans were thwarted, though, when across
the hall a large door opened, and livestock was herded inside, no
doubt to serve as food and resource on the other planet. Cows
mostly, sheep, goats, chicken and a couple of horses. The cows
seemed at ease with themselves and their surroundings, but the
horses were nervous, and the goats refused to come close to the
wormhole. Protector Sheldon got called out to help catch one of the
two he-goats when it freed itself and was trying to make a break
for it. So instead of her, an equally young man with a grim face,
Niman, went on to tend to the travelers.

Before John could think of a new strategy, it
was his turn. Protector Niman asked for his credentials.

“Clever animals, goats,” John improvised,
nodding towards the impending animal mayhem. Protector Niman looked
like he had spent more time with the cattle than he liked
already.

“Clever little bastards, yes,” he smirked.
“And tasty.”

They both laughed. Niman only fleetingly
skimmed through John’s electronic papers, then waved him through.
John felt absolutely nothing when he stepped through the pool of
light.

* * * *

In her room Eugenia’s eyes snapped open with
a cry of surprise. Something was happening.

From listening to her people, she knew that
today was special somehow; everyone was excited about something.
But she didn’t know about what until it hit her—literally hit her.
Suddenly the voices in her mind multiplied exponentially; where
there had been one there were now ten. Where there had been ten
there were now one hundred. And they all came at once, a sudden
intrusion.

She was not prepared. It was a violent
overtaking of her mind. Sounds, fears, words flooded into her soul.
They drowned each other out. It got so loud, so chaotic, that
finally Eugenia couldn’t make out single voices anymore. Just one
jarring noise that reverberated through every fibre of her physical
form. Her hands sought hold, but found only the soft sheets of her
bed. Her body convulsed in pain, involuntary croaks escaped her
throat.

Why were they doing this to her? It made no
sense. Why would they punish her like this? It must be on purpose,
they had to know what they were doing to her, that they were
hurting her!

She screamed, but no one came. Amidst the
racket, the mind-numbing uproar, Eugenia was all alone with her
pain.

* * * *

An eerie silence blanketed the wormhole main
chamber after the last animal left for Alternearth. Everyone was
through now. Everyone except Captain Eleven and Dr. Paige, who were
officially the last people to go through; then the second wave
settlement was on its own for a trial week, during which the
wormhole would stay closed.

General Fatique shook the women’s hands.

“May Vesta bless you,” he said. “And good
flock.”

Burke did the same. “He means luck. Have a
successful first week.”

“One of my team will meet you in seven days
for the first report,” Eleven promised Fatique.

He nodded. “Good. And find me those first
shavers, Captain. This is your priority.”

“That and the safety of the second wavers,
sir.”

“First shavers was a first.” Paige smirked
when she and Eleven were out of earshot of the General and about to
walk through the wormhole.

“Sometimes it takes all my protector training
not to giggle at his creations,” Eleven agreed with delight.

“We should’ve kept a list. To keep morale up
over there.”

“You think morale will sink?”

“I think we’ll have our ups and downs.”

“I’ll be fine as long as there’s tea.”

“I say ditch the tea and go straight for the
chocolate.”

“Thank Zeus Elizabeth didn’t come with
us.”

“Not that we didn’t like her.”

“Of course not. Although like is probably too
strong a word.”

“Tolerate?” Paige suggested.

“Abide,” Eleven proposed.

“Agreed.”

As soon as the doctor and the captain were on
Alternearth’s ground, the wormhole vanished. It was almost dusk on
the planet.

The settlers were scattered about in a loose
circle, some standing in groups around the protectors, others
chatting, getting to know each other.

Timothy Niman made an announcement to give
the exact time so everyone could reset their watches. Mandy Rett
helped load the suitcases onto a horse cart, so the settlers
wouldn’t have to carry their luggage for the forty minute march to
the colony; some of the people helped her. Sophie Bahr did a
headcount to ensure everyone was present. Sally Sheldon tried to
keep the chickens together. She was a farmer’s daughter and more
comfortable among animals than among people.

Eleven waited until Sophie noticed her, then
gave her the sign.

“All right, everyone!” Sophie had to shout it
twice before everyone heard her and the general talking ceased.
“Please follow the cart to the colony. Once there, you will be
shown to your houses. We ask you to stay indoors for tonight. There
are a map of the village and personalized information for each one
of you in your homes. Take your time to settle in. Tomorrow morning
we will have an orientation meeting for everyone. The details are
in the information brochure. Let’s go, people!”

John watched it all with interest. His plan
to leave whenever he felt like it vanished along with the wormhole.
Traveling freely from here to there was out of the question, but he
was sure he’d think of something when the time came. For now, he
felt as safe as possible on this planet. If things went haywire, he
could always make a run for the forest and keep himself alive out
there for as long as it took; he had done it before.

He kept to himself while they walked to the
village, and he didn’t put his suitcase on the cart. There wasn’t
much in it, just a change of clothes and some food. The little
bling he owned he carried close to his body in a pouch on the
inside of his boots.

They walked along a trail in the grass next
to a creek for the better part of half an hour ere the village came
into view behind a small orchard of what looked like young apple
trees. John was impressed when he stepped through the gate in the
high fence that surrounded the colony. It looked very high standard
for a village in the middle of nowhere. The buildings were simple,
yet functionary, flat, one-storied structures. All of them were
interconnected by dirt roads, except for a wide, open area in the
middle of the colony, the agora, which was cobbled with rough,
uneven stones. It was here the protectors led the group.

They were greeted and welcomed by a man in
his fifties, who introduced himself as the first designated mayor
of the village, Heath Rochester.

“If at any point you have a problem, or need
help,” he told them, “please don’t hesitate to come to me. This
situation is as new for me as it is for you, but I’ll do my best to
do a good job for you. There will be an orientation meeting
tomorrow, the schedule is in your houses, together with a map of
the colony and personalized information for each of you.”

In the fading light of the sun, John saw
clean, single-storey houses to the immediate right and left,
connected by dirt roads. At the other end there were three
multi-storeyed buildings. John assumed, and rightfully so as he
would later find out, that those were labs and a hospital.

“Sir, what’s your name again?” protector
Niman approached him after the mayor’s speech. He held a piece of
paper in his hand, no doubt a list of names.

So no high tech equipment, John made a mental
note. This could work in his favor, if push came to shove.

John introduced himself as Duncan Wagner; the
protector found his name on the list in no time.

“Right. Dr. Wagner, your house is number
twenty-three, just over there.” He walked John across the agora and
then turned right into a road marked ‘Eight’. Number twenty-three
was the first house, with a view of the hospital and the village
centre. The light was switched on already, a gesture John thought
more strange than courteous.

He thanked the protector, then stepped
inside. It didn’t occur to him to be surprised that the door was
unlocked and that he didn’t get a key for the house. John had spent
his last years in places where people were either too poor to lock
their doors, or too dangerous to bother.

* * * *

Carl Gibson returned from the men’s room to
find Eugenia Gust screaming at the top of her lungs. He opened the
door to her room just in time to see her all but fall out of the
bed. She moved with an uncanny speed, yanking at her restraints.
Already she had pulled out the IV needles successfully.

He didn’t dare to approach her, so he stayed
rooted to the spot in the doorframe. He groped for his radio.

“Captain, this is Gibson,” he shouted over
Eugenia’s groans. “We have a situation in the hospital.”

“
What is it, Carl?”

“I have no idea. But bring Dr. Paige.”

He held the radio towards Eugenia, so they
could hear her screams.

“
We’ll be there as soon as we can, but
we’ve just left the arrival site. Try to calm her down.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

He switched the radio off. Very carefully he
made one step towards Eugenia. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you
calm down, hm? No one is going to hurt you.”

She heard his words through the never ending
fog of noise. She could even remember his name, if she
concentrated. But the voices were too many, she didn’t know how to
shut them out anymore. All Eugenia knew was that she needed to get
out of here. She needed to go back to her temple, she was going to
be safe there. Surely she was going to be safe there.

She had to free herself. Leave this place.
Run away. But first, she had to be able to concentrate again. So
she tried to bring order into the cacophonous chaos of her mind.
Sorted the noises into groups, and the groups into categories. That
was when she found Dr. Paige again. The doctor was worried about
her, she was hurrying to get to the hospital; her thoughts were
running wild, she was no good to Eugenia. Eugenia needed someone
with a clear mind, someone whose strength she could hold on to. It
took her a while to find such a voice, but then she heard him. His
thoughts were different from the others, structured, focussed. He
was thinking of running away, too. No, she amended her first
impression of him, he was already running. Eugenia closed her eyes
and concentrated on that one voice.

* * * *

The house was simple. Timber, with a flat
roof. When John stepped inside, he noticed it was not completely
finished. The floor in the vestibule was nothing more than dried,
solid earth, and the walls in the kitchen weren’t sealed, yet.

There was a simple wood stove, a sink. A
wooden crate for provisions, shelves on one wall, as well as a
counter. No refrigerator or ice box, no microwave, not even a
blender.

To the people who came here for a new start
it must seem like a huge step back from the comfort they had in the
cities, but to John it was almost like being back in the outlawed
zone. He’d like it here, he mused.

The sound of footsteps startled him out of
his thoughts. Out of habit he drew the dagger he’d stolen from
George and swirled around. A man stood in the door to the kitchen,
looking at him with curious eyes.

“Who are you?” John snarled. “What are you
doing in my house?”

Peter cocked his head. “I could ask you the
very same thing. Probably a mix up.”

John lowered the knife but kept it in his
hand. He didn’t like the way the stranger looked at him with
something akin to recognition on his face.

After a long moment, John was just about to
ask him for his name again, Peter said tentatively, “Ian?”

What were the odds of going to another planet
in another reality with a stolen identity, and meet the one person
who would recognize him from another lifetime?

John had been Ian for a relatively short time
when he was about twenty. Cardiff, his memory helpfully pointed
out. But although he could still remember the club’s name where he
used to work as a bouncer,
The Cat’s Wardrobe
, he couldn’t
find any familiarity in the face of the man before him.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Peter felt surer
now.

“Yes,” John drawled. He saw no point in
denying anything. If this man knew him, than he was in enough
trouble anyway. So much for staying for a while.