Barry awoke to the bright light of the mid-morning sun’s relentless rays coming through the shop’s door. The door was propped open and Barry was instantly concerned. He sprang from his cot and rushed toward the door. The shop was empty and quiet, but he could hear noises coming from outside. He carefully peaked through the open door and was relieved to see the group gathered outside.
Doyle and Jaxon were loading the gang boxes into the back of the army truck. Joel and Jamal were sitting on crates, silently facing one another. They weren’t speaking, but Barry could see Jamal flipping through sheets of copy paper while Joel excitedly nodded his head. Barry hobbled across the gravel paved courtyard; the sharp stones biting at his bare feet. Doyle hopped from the back of the truck and noticed Barry’s approach.
“IT’S ALIVE!” Doyle joked, which caused Jamal to look up and notice Barry.
“Ah! Good morning Barry. I didn’t expect you to sleep so long. How do you feel?”
Barry felt like shit. His entire body felt off and he had no energy.
“I’m fine,” Barry lied to Jamal, unsure why Jamal would have any expectations about how long he would sleep. “You guys have been busy. Why didn’t ya’ll wake me up? I should be helping.”
Jamal looked back at Joel, who nodded to him, and then stood up and walked toward Barry. When he got him, he walked a circle around the big man and gave him a visual inspection.
“What are you doing?”
“Just looking you over. You seem to be moving about, well enough.” Jamal informed him.
“Of course I am, what’s your deal, man?”
“My deal, Barry, is that I am ensuring everything is well with you.”
Barry’s eyes were still adjusting to the bright sunlight. He used a hand to shade his eyes and turned to face the Pen’Kai. “Seriously, what are you talking about?
“You’ve been asleep for almost fourteen hours, Barry. Usually, my recipients need half that much rest. I just wanted to make sure there were no complications,” Jamal explained.
“Recipients? Can you cut the shit and tell me what you are talking about?" Barry grumbled.
“Yes, I’ll cut the shit. Acute atrophy of the erector spinae, iliocostalis, psoas, and core muscles due to a congenital spinal arteriovenous malformation causing deoxygenated blood to be pumped into the spinal cord. Hypotonia of the levator veli palatini and tensor veli palatini. Astigmatism of the left eye, severe astigmatism of the right eye. Early-stage osteoarthritis in both knees. Pes planus in both feet. Rotator cuff tear arthropathy...oh yes, and tinnitus.”
Barry quickly lost track of what Jamal had said. Most of the words were foreign to him. He did recognize the word tinnitus, at the end, and became aware of the lack of constant ringing in his ears.
“Are you saying you fixed my tinnitus?” Barry questioned.
“That’s all you caught?” Jamal asked, with an amused tone. “Yes, the ringing in your ears is gone. So is the arthritis in your right rotator cuff. I’m guessing you were a baseball player; a pitcher. You will also find that those flat feet aren’t so flat any longer.”
Barry lifted one of his bare feet and noticed a substantial arch that wasn’t there before. “Son of bitch!” he exclaimed.
“Son of a bitch, indeed, Barry. There is no longer arthritis in either of your knees, nor is there any scarring from the knee scope that was performed to treat it...” Jamal point to a wooden crate sitting on the far side of the army truck, “and if you’ll tell me what the writing says on that crate over there.”
Barry looked at the crate and read out the letters stamped on the crate. "P...M...H...Q."
“P-M-H-Q indeed. You no longer require corrective lenses, either. You now have better than perfect vision. I also addressed the weak muscles in the back of your throat that were the cause of your obstructive sleep apnea. I bet you were told it was because of your weight. It wasn’t. It was a hereditary condition that you’ve had your entire life. Being overweight only made it worse. And now that I think about it…I think I know why you slept so long. It’s probably the first restful sleep you’ve had in decades.”
Barry was caught between disbelief and profound joy. It all seemed so farfetched, but he could read the tiny font on the crate. His right shoulder was loose and free of the ache that nagged him for twenty years.
“Bend over and grab a handful of gravel, Barry.” Jamal instructed.
Barry looked at the ground for a moment and then took a deep breath to prepare himself for the strain of forcing his spine to bend that much. He reached down, anticipating the pain that always came, but there was none. There was no stiffness either. He managed to get within a few inches of the ground before there was any resistance, at all. That resistance was not caused by his back. His gut was just in the way. He closed his fingers around a hand-full of gravel and quickly stood up.
“After the wreck, I spent years going to doctors. They all told me there was nothing wrong with my back. MRIs and x-rays were always clear.” Barry stared at Jamal as tears began to run down his face. “What did you…how did you...HOW?”
“Barry, when you were still a fetus, growing in the womb, the veins and capillaries that exchange the blood that goes to your lower spine grew into a tangled knot. Normally, the capillaries take oxygenated blood into tissue and the deoxygenated blood leaves via the veins. With you, the flow of oxygenated blood was restricted. Your back issues were never because of an accident. The muscles, in your lower back, and a portion of your spine were slowly degenerating because they weren’t getting enough oxygen. You wouldn’t notice for years and years, but it does progress. I would say you were less than a decade away from needing assistance to walk. Untreated, you would have been in a wheelchair, eventually.”
“This is insane. How did you fix all this?” Barry began frantically inspecting himself. He pulled the collar of his shirt over his shoulder to look it over. He then delicately prodded around his eyes and then his throat. He twisted around and lifted his shirt, trying to look at his back, but he was still fat and couldn’t see beyond his love handles.” Where are the incisions? There aren’t even any stitches”
“That, Barry, is someth—”
“Stop saying my name all the damn time. I know you're talking to me.”
Jamal was caught off-guard by Barry’s outburst, but quickly regained his composure.
“Apologies. As I was saying, it would take as many years for you to understand as it took me to learn it. Simply put, I can tell your cells what to do. I can make them dissolve away and I can make new ones grow. That is how I repair the body. I can manipulate genetic code to erase defects and mutations. In the same way, I can also improve it.”
Barry wiped the tears from his face and began to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. His emotions were swirling. He had been plagued with pain and stiffness for so long. Before it started, he was an athlete. He was fast and strong. He was always outside. He spent his free time playing basketball and volleyball. He hunted and fished. Slowly, the pain came and he did less and less. The less active he became, the more weight he gained. After countless exams, and specialist after specialist, Barry had resigned himself to the fact that he would never be that man again. He hoped this was all real. He needed it to be real.
“Is it real? Please, tell me this is the real thing. It’s gone. It’s really fucking gone?” Barry pleaded.
Jamal moved to where Barry stood and wrapped his arms around him. He whispered in Barry’s ear that it was all real and then rubbed the big man’s back as he began to sob.
IT’S REAL. IT’S REAL. OH MY GOD! PLEASE, GOD. PLEASE! LET IT BE REAL!
Barry let Jamal hug him as he thought about all the mundane things that had caused him so much pain. Being able to drop a pen and just reach down and grab it again. He could tie his shoes without straining to get his back to bend enough to reach them. Running and jumping was so jarring to his spine, but not now. Not anymore.
Jamal released Barry and held him at arms length. He stared him in the eyes. For a long moment they held each other's gaze. Barry broke the silence by thanking Jamal as he dried his face again.
“There’s more, Barry.” Jamal informed him.
“Fucking hell, Jamal. It’s enough. I don’t need anything else. I already owe you so much!"
“This isn’t for you. It’s for them.” Jamal swept his arm back toward the others. “And it’s for all those still out there...needing help."
“What is it? What more could you do for me?"
“I am allowed to heal. The Pen’Kai have been healing the sick and lame for thousands of years. But, we do not often get to improve humans. There have been a handful of times when it was deemed necessary, but it's usually only the Kai’Den that do such things. I am sure that recent events warrant me to do so now. So I did.”
“What did you do to me?” Barry asked. He was half concerned, because all of this was still so unbelievable, and half excited about the possibility of being like Cass.
“Just a little. Enough to better prepare you for your next encounter with the drol’ka. You are already a strong man. And your bones are dense. There were only slight augmentations given in those regards. Your strength has not been increased, but I did remove the natural restrictions our bodies impose on themselves. You are now able to use the entirety of your muscles’ potential. To ensure you don’t tear yourself apart, I increased the density of your bones, the tensile strength of all connective tissues, and their elasticity.”
“What the hell, man? I want some shit done to me, too.” Jaxon whined
Jamal ignored the interruption and continued speaking to Barry. “None of that matters if you are exhausted after sixty seconds, so I have improved your body’s respiratory efficiency, and its metabolic rate. You are out of shape, so this won’t mean much, yet. But, it will allow you to perform far better than anybody your size should be able to. You now have a much higher demand for calories so the extra adipose will melt off you. As it does, you will begin to notice just how effective this augment is. You will be able to push yourself further than any trained athlete.” Jamal whirled around as Jaxon grabbed his shoulder and yanked it.
“I was talking to you. When do I get my shit done!”
Jamal’s hand appeared in front of Jaxon’s face and he held his index finger against the gap between the man’s eyebrows. Jamal never said a word. He just looked Jaxon in his eyes as everybody else listened to Jaxon's half of their conversation.
“I’m not scared of you,” Jaxon replied. “I don’t care. You better take your damn finger out of my face.”
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Jamal pressed the finger a little harder, tilting Jaxon’s head backward.
“I don’t think you will,” Jaxon grabbed Jamal's finger, 'but I will break this fucking finger!”
Jamal ignored the threat. A moment later, Jaxon’s eyes opened wide but quickly retracted into a look of defiance.
“I ain’t scared of no man, you son of a bitch. Now, I demand you tell me why that fat fuck is getting all this special treatment. When the hell do I get my aug—”
Jaxon’s grip slipped away from Jamal’s finger and his eyes rolled backward as his eyelids closed. He collapsed to the ground and didn’t move.
“WHAT THE FUCK, JAMAL?” Barry yelled. “Did you kill him?”
“Pen’Kai do not murder, Barry,” Jamal turned back toward Barry. “but, we are not above triggering a sudden release of melatonin, quickly followed by a rapid release of gamma-aminobutyric acid.”
“I don’t know what the hell that means!”
“I put him to sleep. A deep sleep,” Jamal explained. “There is something off with that one. I suspect he suffers from some form of personality disorder. Maybe, an issue with his frontal lobe. Either way. Keep an eye on him. Now, what were we talking about?”
Barry tried to remember, but couldn’t recall where they left off.
“Oh yes, I do have expectations of you. These augments only increase your natural physiology. I expect you to train your body. You will increase your endurance. You will increase your strength. And I expect you to step up and do whatever you must to protect the humans on your journey to the mountains. Can you do that for me?” Jamal asked.
“Man, I have dreamed of being able to lift weights, and run, and be active for so long. You don’t have to worry about that. And as far as protecting the others, I would have done that anyway.”
“Very good. You can start by resting and eating something.”
Jamal stepped over Jaxon’s motionless body and returned to the very confused Joel. Doyle waited for Jamal to walk away before he trotted over to where Barry and Jaxon were.
“Holy crap man. He aint…you know...” Doyle nudged at Jaxon with his foot.
“He’s asleep,” Barry answered.
Doyle ignored Jaxon and grabbed Barry’s shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. “Good for you man. You got all your shit fixed, and then some. Nice!”
“Looks like it.” was Barry’s short reply.
“All this is so hard to believe, man. Like, I’m glad to have Cass around. She makes me feel safer. And apparently, Jamal is more badass than she is. So, I’m liking that. But, I don’t know, Barry…doesn’t it all feel too, like...like we are in the middle of a Ridley Scott movie?”
“Brother, it sure the fuck does,” Barry replied as he turned back toward the shop’s door.
“Where ya going,” Doyle asked.
“To put my shoes on. For all the fixing and augmenting Jamal did, the skin on my feet isn’t any thicker. This gravel hurts like a bitch.”
Doyle chuckled as he walked back toward the truck to load more supplies. Barry arrived a moment later and started helping.
“Barry, not even the Kai’Den can create matter.” Jamal announced.
“Um…okay?” Barry responded.
“Some of your augments, such as the increased bone density, require components. I used the available calcium from your bloodstream, kidneys, and muscles to fortify your bones. Your other repairs and augments used many nutrients, hormones, and chemicals. Simply put...you are depleted and I know you must be feeling rundown. For a few days, you relax as much as you can and force yourself to eat as much as you can.”
“But, they need help loading the truck.”
“Barry, listen to me, please. What I did to you has your body depleted and confused. It will take some time for it to rebalance. It never will if you don’t give it what it needs. Eat. Rest.”
Barry nodded and took a seat. Of all the stereotypes about the overweight, laziness was the most prevalent. He never let himself be caught sitting down while others were working.
Man, I do feel like shit…and Jamal is insisting.
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Doyle made quick work loading the supplies. He lifted them into the truck, then crawled up and stacked everything. When he finished, he sat with Barry, Joel, and Jamal. The four of them had MREs for lunch. Jamal continued writing words and projecting them into Joel’s head. After a while, Jaxon came to, but he avoided Jamal and ate his lunch inside the shop.
Barry finished his meal and spent some time doing pushups and lunges, before sprinting around the courtyard. He felt like his old self again, and for the first time since before his wife and daughter died, he was happy. It didn’t last long. His body was depleted and he began to feel weak.
Whew. I need to listen to Jamal. I feel like crap.
Jamal called everybody together. They all gathered around him, except Jaxon. He came over, but kept a little distance from the Pen’Kai.
“Um, Jamal, I have a question.”
“Just one, Barry?” Jamal joked.
“Just the one...for now. Do any of these cars even run? What about the bombs? Didn't they knocked out electrical stuff?” Barry asked.
“Ah yes. I forget how much information humans gather from fictional entertainment. You can’t believe most of what you see on television and movies. Those bombs were EMPs, but that was not their main purpose. EMPs have to be very powerful to destroy hardy electronics. They will disrupt them. They can cause glitching and resetting, but an astronomically large EMP would be needed to knock out the power. It would have to explode very high in the atmosphere, as well,” Jamal explained.
“Then why did the power go out?” Doyle questioned. “It killed my bus.”
“Did it render your bus inoperable?” Jamal asked.
“Yes. The engine died and all the lights and electronics went out.”
“Did you try to restart the bus, Doyle?” Jamal inquired.
Doyle and Barry looked at one another as the realization came over them. They both shook their heads.
"This isn't television. Most cars, even newer models, would still drive. The rubber tires prevent grounding and their solid metal chassis direct most of the electronic interference away from the more vulnerable components." Jamal chuckled and then laughed. "We are lucky it isn't so easy to disrupt our infrastructure. It it were, EMPs would be going off every other day. There are more than enough terrorist and extremist groups who want nothing more. I assure you, most cars are still operable. I passed many that wrecked as drivers succumbed to the biological agents. They were idle, but still running.”
“Why did you run here, if cars still work?” Jaxon quipped.
“Because I needed to be able to see and hear. Cars are restricted in where they can go, and they are loud. By running, I was able to find multiple survivors. I was able to locate, and assess, the survivors. Every one of them was put in a running vehicle and directed back to my safe house,” Jamal answered. "As far as the power, I believe the grid went down due to a coordinated sabotage of the power stations. All you need to do is stop the flow of current coming from the power plants. Knock out the flow of power and you knock out communication. No power means no water, since pumps stations can't pump. It means gas pumps don't work. Radio and cell towers don't transmit. Once the gas goes bad, we are back to living in the early twentieth century...and most people aren't prepared for that life."
“So it was biological warfare?” Jaxon mumbled, low enough that only Jamal's augmented hearing could hear.
“Yes, Jaxon. According to the few reports I received, the attack was two-fold. First, they disrupted power and communications. Second was the dispersion of three distinct agents that targeted the blood of humans.” Jamal paused, before addressing them, again. “Barry, what is your blood type?”
“I’m a universal donor,” Barry answered.
“RH factor?” Jamal questioned, further.
“Negative. I’m O-negative.” Barry added.
“Jaxon? Doyle?” Jamal asked.
“O-negative,” Doyle confirmed.
“Me, too,” Jaxon answered.
“I’m sure that Joel is, as well. We believe each agent targets a different thing. One each for the A and B antigens, and one that reacts to the presence of the Rh factor protein. Three agents causing the same result; the blood loses its ability to coagulate. This results in extreme hemophilia and causes systemic hemorrhaging. We do not know how it was developed, but it is accurate and efficient. We don't see any symptoms in the survivors. The gas didn't even cause eye, skin, or respiratory distress to those with O-negative blood.”
Barry remembered Jimmy and his ghastly death. The blood appeared to leak from every hole in his body.
“Why, though? Why do they want to kill so many of us? Cassandra said they need our blood,” Barry wondered, aloud.
“I do not know, but I have a hypothesis,” Jamal answered but did not speak further.
“Care to share with the rest of us?” Jaxon asked.
Jamal was visibly annoyed by Jaxon's abrasive tone. He made a point of locking eyes with him, before he answered. "Most people have bred away from O-negative blood. The blood types the bombs targeted come from mutations. These mutations have been passed on over time, it has become exceedingly rare to be O-negative; aside from the indigenous populations."
"Indigenous? Like those tribes in the Amazon?" Doyle inquired.
“Yes, but also the aboriginal people of Australia, the many native tribes of North America, and pockets of xenophobic populations scattered across the planet,” Jamal answered. "The Drol'ka'Choth have been feeding on our blood since before these blood mutations existed. We know that the presence of the antigens and proteins has a negative effect on the drol'ka. They do not have a digestive system as complex as a human. When they feed, it goes into their stomach. From there, it is immediately absorbed and distributed throughout the body. It mixes with the blood already present and fortifies it. Their bodies do not recognize the blood antigens and Rh factor protein. This triggers an immune response, of sorts. It does not kill them, like it could a O-negative human that gets a transfusion from a type A or B donor. Their bodies are resilient and heal miraculously quick. It is, however, very unpleasant for them. The original Drol'ka'Choth have the hardest time with it. The effect lessens with each generation, as does the reliance on blood as a food source. When I first spoke into your minds, that is why I said they wanted to get rid of the diluted blood. Unless a drol'ka knows your blood type, they are feeding blindly. They won't know what blood type you have until after they are well into feeding. If they can eliminate that worry, then they will drastically improve their quality of life."
"Who cares about their quality of life?"
"Certainly, not us, Jaxon. But, the drol'ka do, and here we are," Jamal replied. "We have noticed their proclivity toward targeted feeding, before. Many newer generations seek employment with access to blood donor information, or the medical fields in general. There have been more direct approaches, too. We believe the drol'ka are responsible for the alarming number of missing and murdered indigenous people of Canada and Alaska. Remote territories with secluded populations of predominately O-negative blood types make for an enticing opportunity. They aren't the only ones, either. Entire tribes are disappearing in the remote rainforests and jungles. Blood is also the main driver for human trafficking. The latter generations of drol'ka aren't as affected by blood type, since most of them carry one, or more. of these blood mutations from their human parent. They are less likely to drink a blood type that causes a negative effect. They can just round up whomever they can grab and sell them to other drol'ka to feed on. They blood type them and then they can be curated by a drol'ka that can feed on the matching blood types."
"If you know this, why haven't you stopped them?" Barry barked.
"We try, Barry. Their numbers are vast and they are everywhere. We work hard to locate and nullify the drol'ka, but not every kidnapper ends up being a drol'ka. Humans are still humans, after all. Most of the ones doing the trafficking aren't drol'ka. They are just bad people doing bad things for money. Like any criminal organization, they compartmentalize and distance themselves from the ones doing the dirty work. You must understand, the alpha Drol'ka'Choth are older than I am. They have been learning, adapting, and infiltrating human civilization since it emerged. They have infinite wealth, infinite connections, and they are plugged into everything."
Barry wanted to be angry, but he couldn't argue with the excuse Jamal gave. He hated people who prayed on others, but he could sense that Jamal was being truthful. With eight billion people on Earth, you can't be everywhere.
“How many does that mean? How many people are dead?” Doyle asked. "If only O-negative people are left, how many are left?"
Jamal looked very somber as he took a moment to contemplate Doyle's question. He started to answer a few times before he finally settled on his response. “I do not know, for sure. Seventy percent. Ninety percent. It isn't just the human population, either. The Hol'den have been decimated. Most of them are young enough to be an affected blood type. Even with their increased resilience and healing, I doubt they can survive this. That is why it is so vital that we get as many survivors to the designated rally points. We need to assess and prepare."
Jamal looked forlorn as he finished speaking. He closed his eyes and slowly rubbed his face with both hands. When his face reappeared, it was hard and expressionless.
"That is enough with the questions, for now. We have more important matters to deal with," Jamal announced.
Barry and Doyle looked at each other. Both men were confused by Jamal's abrupt departure from such a monumental conversation.
“What’s more important than billions of dead people?” Barry asked. "...and Hol'den," he added.
“It’s Cassandra,” Jamal stated. “she was supposed to be back at sunrise.”