The Captain opened her satchel and protectively flipped through thick files. Ash caught the labels on a few of them—Wiki, Everest, Syntax, and Relay—before she removed one labeled “Shamrock.”
“Just a summary is fine, Captain.”
“Yes, sir,” the Captain responded as she opened the file. “Two hundred thirty-eight suspected fatalities last year, a twenty-eight percent increase over the year before. This year Shamrock is on pace to kill double that. In the past week, a narco assault on the farm resulted in thirty-six fatalities, and according to intercepted radio traffic, a highly trained hit squad from the Guadalajara SWAT team disappeared near here. Six fatalities are presumed, but only the fat crocodiles know for sure.”
The Colonel looked back at Ash. “Don’t worry, that’s not why we’re here. Nobody will miss a few thousand narcos. We’re here because your country needs your skills.”
For the first time one of Ash’s chakras gave a warning, as his Throat chakra warmed. The Colonel hadn’t lied, but he’d not spoken the whole truth.
“My country?” Ash asked.
The Colonel recited facts, not referencing any notes. “The locals call you mano de la muerte, the hand of death. A name you actively encourage to keep people away from the farm. You were born in Denver near your father’s family. Both parents went missing ten years ago, and your grandpa raised you. You hold a Mexican and American passport which both list your name as Amauta Sicu which Wiki and Syntax are still arguing about. One believes it’s ancient Aymara for ‘Wise Killer’ and the other ‘Death Priest.’”
“It’s pronounced see-koo,” Ash said absently. “And it’s a title really, not a name. My mom and grandpa are called the same.”
“Right, which probably explains why your family uses trees for names.”
Ash shrugged, not willing to discuss the complexities around names. In the last two weeks he had completely reevaluated everything his grandpa had told him, along with the few things he remembered from his mom. Including the taboo around speaking a person’s real name.
“The ‘patriot-die-for-my-country’ angle isn’t going to work on me,” Ash stated. “So your appeal to my nationalistic passions for a country I’ve barely lived in will fall on deaf ears.”
“That’s understandable,” the Colonel replied, unconcerned about Ash’s reply. “How do you feel about the world? That is, how do you feel about it blowing up, possibly at any moment?”
“I feel a little more strongly about that,” Ash replied.
“Listen, our profile on you highlights your quick decision-making and straightforward approach, so let me get to the point. There is a race to understand what happened in Egypt. The possibilities of not understanding could destroy us all. Nearly as bad, if our enemies, or let’s just call them competitors, gain an understanding before we do, they could gain the power to force their ideals on every culture on the planet. After destroying the ones they don’t like of course. To be honest, we know almost nothing about that Pit, and as you undoubtedly know, a few days ago, whatever problems we thought we had, became a lot more serious when specters of the apocalypse appeared like horrifying superheroes. We have more problems than we’ve ever had and almost no answers, and our enemies have reacted faster than we have. That’s where you can help us.”
Ash’s Heart chakra sensed the Colonel’s love for his country when he spoke about saving their planet and American culture.
“I’m a simple avocado farmer,” Ash replied.
“The Captain here is the best at what she does. A special type of profiler you might say. She assures me, despite the fact you appear so black and blue it hurts to look at you, that we do not possess anyone or have access to anyone that she believes can beat you in a fight, fair or not. So, from a strictly soldier’s point of view, you’re immensely valuable. But you and I both know you’re far more valuable than a mere unarmed combat specialist.”
Ash didn’t respond, but his Throat chakra confirmed this was what the Colonel had hidden earlier.
“Captain, show him.”
“Sir, I don’t believe—”
“Please, we just don’t have the time to follow protocol, and I believe the more information we provide, the more trust we’ll earn.”
“Yes, sir,” the Captain said with a nod.
The Captain removed a group of pictures from her satchel and held them out to Ash.
Ash took the pictures and glanced through them, his heart sinking as he realized exactly why the US government had come.
The pictures began a few years ago, and initially, they were only from what obviously must be satellites, as the details were a little blurry, but still visible. The more recent ones, however, were from a long telescopic camera, which displayed the details far better. Most pictured him Step training with his grandpa, with the vast majority focused on one aspect.
The pictures highlighted them bowing before and after their training, where they used the Bamboo Viper Clan hand gesture of respect. The exact same gesture the trio in the sky above the Mediterranean had performed.
Interestingly, Ash noticed that even though some of the pictures had been taken recently, none contained his new Sisen. Which was odd because they’d spent two days performing the most intense and painful Step training of his life. Maybe they’d just missed her somehow.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Now you understand, Ash,” the Colonel said, “why we’re interested in a simple avocado farmer who just happens to single handedly keep one of Mexico’s largest cartels from taking his tiny farm.”
Ash didn’t try denying or explaining anything and just handed the pictures back to the Captain. “What do you want from me? Specifically.”
The Colonel didn’t hesitate. “We want you to explain that hand gesture. What does it mean? Why do you know it? How are you related to the gods that appeared above the Mediterranean? And maybe just as importantly, we want you to be part of the team that’s going to explore that Pit in Cairo.”
Grandpa Pine stepped out of the house and placed a hand on Ash’s shoulder. Immense gratitude filled Ash that the witchcraft of the small blonde bruja had indeed been strong enough, as she’d assured him, to heal his very sick Grandpa.
Grandpa Pine kept his hand on Ash’s shoulder as he spoke. “Our tribe learned a special martial art long ago, over six thousand years before the pyramids to be exact. Hundreds of generations later, we remain. These teachings came from the mouth of god. He chose us and helped us unlock our potential so that we could aid him in the future. When the world needed a Qhapaq.”
For once, Ash didn’t sigh in embarrassment. His grandpa had condensed a lifetime of stories into a few sentences but still conveyed the gist of Ash’s family story. A story that Ash believed for the first time. His skin prickled as the immensity of the truth rocked him. Everything his grandpa had told him, all the teachings, were true.
“Give me a moment with my grandson please.”
The two soldiers immediately complied, moving back to their truck.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” Ash whispered. “I should have believed.”
Grandpa Pine squeezed Ash’s shoulder. “What’s important is that you believe now. Do you remember Ukhu Pacha?”
Old memories worked their way back into Ash’s thoughts, of ancient Peruvian pyramids, secret caverns, and carefully drawn depictions of the three levels of existence. “The lower world.”
Grandpa Pine smiled and his eyes filled with pride. “And a necessary step from Kay Pacha, this world, to Hanan Pacha, heaven. Steps destined for the Qhapaq to take.”
And there it was. Qhapaq, the chosen one. Generations of faith that someday the Qhapaq would save the world. Ash felt like the star in a low budget fantasy flick. All he needed now was a sword and a dragon.
Ash’s Third Eye chakra burned intensely, and it felt like his eyebrows would burst into flames. He hadn’t Awakened the chakra yet, but he’d used it enough to trust its messages. And while the Third Eye remained mostly blind, it had opened enough to see this path. To know for certain he must walk it.
Ash clenched his left hand into a fist and placed a flat, palm-down hand atop it. He bowed deeply to his grandpa.
Grandpa Pine returned the bow, and both their eyes glistened.
“I worry,” Ash said, and then paused, not sure how to finish without making his grandpa feel weak. Finally, he added, “about who will harvest the avocados.”
Grandpa Pine grinned. “I’ll be fine, after all the chupacabra and her husband roam our grove.”
Ash’s eyes widened in surprise. His grandpa had not only known about the guardians but had seen them. Something Ash had never accomplished. Suddenly he understood that while his grandpa had been sick, he’d never been feeble or senile.
Ash returned the grin. His grandpa had awakened three chakras and was recognized as a Master of the Bamboo Viper Step Clan. What arrogance for Ash to consider the man helpless.
“Finally, my micheladas will be safe again,” Grandpa Pine muttered.
Ash laughed and hugged his grandpa.
Grandpa Pine opened the house door and retrieved Ash’s bug-out-bag. “I added a few things. Trust yourself.”
Ash’s throat tightened so he just nodded and took the bag he always kept packed in case the narcos overran the farm.
Years of protecting the farm and disposing of bodies in crocodile infested waters had left Ash with a lot of money, jewelry, and precious metals. Millions and millions of dollars’ worth.
“Do you know where I hid all the—”
“Of course, I do,” Grandpa Pine interrupted. “How do you think I afford all the beer you drink?”
A weight disappeared Ash hadn’t known he carried. Killing, even in self-defense, had a cost, and what made it worse was the secrecy as he’d done everything he could to hide the danger they were in from his grandpa.
Ash had sometimes—many times—worried his grandpa would disapprove of his choices. The fact his grandpa had acknowledged the treasure and joked about using it even though he likely never had, was his way of telling Ash to stop worrying.
“Thank you, Grandpa. For everything. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t rush. Let me enjoy having the TV to myself without someone always changing the volume.”
Ash shook his head and silently prayed that whatever healing magic the little witch had performed fixed his grandpa’s hearing as well.
With a final bow, Ash picked up his bag and strode toward the Colonel and Captain.
“Thank you, Ash,” the Colonel said sincerely.
“Shamrock, Sir,” the Captain said. “From now on we use his callsign.”
“Just so, Captain, thank you for the reminder.” He glanced at Grandpa Pine, who still stood at the door, and spoke to Ash. “My superiors are desperate for any information related to those three super beings. Do you think your grandpa would tell us more?”
“Dear lord in heaven, yes,” Ash responded. “You won’t be able to get him to stop telling you stories once he starts. It would be like a dream come true for him to have a receptive audience.”
The Colonel grinned. “That is excellent news. I happen to have a few very curious analysts nearby.” He half turned to the truck. “Lieutenant, wheels down.”
One of the masked men in the back of the truck touched his ear and spoke softly under his scarf. A moment later the sound of the helicopter above grew louder as it rapidly dropped from the sky. In seconds, it had landed and two men in plain clothes stepped out, clearly military despite no uniforms. A six-man team surrounded them, and the group headed toward the house.
“Come on,” the Colonel yelled over the sound of the chopper.
Ash followed the Colonel, and the Captain brought up the rear, her satchel clutched firmly to her chest. They’d barely climbed into the chopper when it leaped into the air climbing quickly. He got one more glance of his grandpa as the old man shook hands with the two plain-clothed men.
The Colonel handed Ash a headset as the Captain slid the door shut. Once the headset covered Ash’s ears, the noise decreased to a bearable level.
The Captain dropped into a seat next to the Colonel and spoke, her voice appearing clearly in Ash’s ears. “These are VOX—sorry, I’m trying to limit my jargon. They’re voice activated, so don’t mutter anything you don’t want everyone to hear.”
“Thanks,” Ash said. “Where are we going?”
“You’re the last one on the list,” the Colonel said. “We’re headed to team Shamrock.”
“Why is my callsign Shamrock?” Ash asked.
The Captain laughed. “I didn’t expect you to have a sense of humor.”
The Colonel’s comment finally struck Ash. “Did you say team Shamrock?”
“I did,” the Colonel responded.
“But you said I’m Shamrock.”
“Affirmative.”
Ash looked back and forth between the Colonel and Captain as a knot formed in his stomach. He’d spent his whole life basically on his own. Dealing with people was not one of his strengths.
“I’ll put you out of your misery,” Captain Riegel said. “Or maybe just confirm it for you.”
Ash waited as the helicopter continued to climb and two others, these with obvious weapons, took up positions on either side.
“It’s called team Shamrock,” Captain Riegel said, “because it’s your team.”
Colonel Rogers smiled. “You’re in command of the civvies, Shamrock, and you’ll need every bit of your luck.”