Decryption, p.1
Decryption, page 1
part #2 of The Genesis Machine Series
DECRYPTION
THE GENESIS MACHINE
BOOK 2
K. J. GILLENWATER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Decryption
Copyright© 2023 K. J. Gillenwater
ISBN Print: 978-1-7357207-9-1
ISBN eBook: 978-1-7357207-8-4
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cover art by Miblart
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Revelation
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
1498. Val Camonica, Northern Italy.
Risa squeezed her son's hand. Crouching in the bushes on the edge of the woods in the dark would frighten any little boy. Being chased by a fearful mob multiplied that feeling times ten, times one hundred.
One times ten is ten.
Two times ten is twenty.
Three times ten is thirty.
Her mind latched on to the things that comforted her: numbers, logic, science.
Things a woman shouldn't know.
Things a woman could be killed for.
Things that not only she could be killed for, but her child. Her innocent child. It was as if an invisible hand squeezed her heart.
She could not lose her son to this mob of witch hunters.
Voices shouted nearby. Lantern light shot through the dark. Dozens of lanterns.
They'd never make it.
How much further to go?
As she pushed through the shrubs, she dragged her exhausted child with her.
"Mama," he wailed.
She clamped a hand over his mouth. "Tranquillo, little one." She knelt on the soft grass and gathered him in her arms. "We are almost there. I need you to be very brave for me. Can you do that?"
The boy nodded and clutched her tightly around the neck. "Ho paura, Mama."
She whispered into his blond hair, "I know, caro." She stood and held his hand tightly. "Come, we're almost there, and then we'll be safe. I promise. Promesso."
But she didn't know if her promise would come to fruition. She'd only finished crafting the machines in the last few days. The first one had been an abject failure. It had turned into a pile of green mush within moments. The formula was not quite the same as she'd remembered.
Her experiments had caught the notice of the wrong people. Not the friendly nuns who'd taken her in—a lost, pregnant woman with no husband. But the religious fanatics who increasingly feared the dark arts and blamed innocent women as the perpetrators. In the last year, their fears reached a fever pitch, and focus turned toward the donna strana at the nunnery.
Who was she? Where had she come from? Why did she speak a foreign tongue? Why was she seen late at night in the woods near the river? Was her child a child of the devil?
Although the nuns had welcomed her into their community years ago, they'd questioned her strange clothing and mysterious arrival. But when they'd learned of her ability to read and write, they'd found her quite useful. So despite the suspicions of those outside the cloister, they had given her very much needed sanctuary. For within her mind resided the secret to returning to her life and the father of her child.
"Lei è andata così!" one of her accusers bellowed.
They were mere steps behind her and her son. The pounding of her heart filled her ears until she could hear nothing else. Branches scratched at her face and tore at her rough woolen dress and the kirtle underneath.
Ahead, she saw the machines lurking in a copse of trees, blending in with their green leaves. She dropped her son's hand, leaving him in a marshy meadow dotted with moonlight, and raced toward them. In the soft hull she pressed a hidden button to expose a hatch.
"Come, caro, come. You must get inside." Risa beckoned her child forward.
The rumble of the mob crashing through the woods made her breath hitch in her throat. She'd seen what they'd done to others accused of being witches: torture, burning, horrible things. But a child? What would they do to an innocent child? The horror was too much for her mind.
"Non voglio," he said, planting his feet. "No."
There was no time to waste. No time to cajole. Her voice grew sharp, and she hated herself for it. "Inside. Ora!" She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the machine.
He was afraid of the dark, and the machine appeared to be a black hole.
"No, Mama! No!" Her son fought against her.
"Sit." She shoved him into the single seat inside the machine and strapped him in. The soft flexible safety harness melded with it as if it had always been a part of it.
"Mama!" The boy cried and struggled in the tight restraint.
She wished she'd had time to explain to him what was happening, where he was going, and why. Risa thought she would have had more time. In fact, she wasn't even sure the machines would function properly. The original machine she'd arrived in had failed miserably. She was so off course and had no idea why. A fault of design? A bad program?
"Eccola!" the mob entered into the meadow. "E anche il suo bambino diavolo!"
"Lord help us," she whispered. She'd never let them take her son. Never.
She fiddled with the controls and set it as best she could remember. It had been years since she'd been inside a machine. Would Byron be on the other side waiting for his son? Would someone make sure he was reunited with his father?
No time to waste. She had no choice. She entered the last of the data.
"I will see you there, my son. Do not fear." She touched his tear-stained cheek and then kissed him on the forehead. "Ti amo figlio mio."
Rough hands pulled her out of the machine.
The boy cried and struggled in the seat. "Mama!"
"My son!" she cried. These animals might kill her, but they would not touch her child.
She raged against the arms that held her. Stinking, dirty, soulless humans. The same kind of men who'd destroyed her world. The same kind of men who'd forced her to flee for her life and her child's life once before. She screamed and bit at her captors' hands. Flailing like a wild cat, she broke free and lunged for the shell of the machine. The meat of her palm pressed the hidden button a second time.
As the hatch closed, a wave of relief filled her. He would be safe. No matter what happened to her, he would be safe.
A heavy object landed with a crack on her skull. Warm blood poured out and ran down her face. It was too late. The other machine would remain unused and disintegrate in the next heavy downpour. But as she lost consciousness and fell into the arms of the men who surrounded her, she smiled as the machine began to spin and spin and spin. Faster and faster until it turned into a blur of motion and green.
"My son," she whispered one last time.
The machine disappeared, and the men fell back in fear.
CHAPTER 2
The child clung so tightly to her neck, Charlie thought she might go under. Although she didn't want to frighten the poor thing even more, she plunged underwater. The shock of the action forced the child to release his grip.
She surfaced, sputtering. Then she scooped under the dark water, found the boy, and hauled him up. After snaking an arm across his chest, she snugged him to her side.
"You're going to be all right." Did the boy even understand her? Where did he come from? Why was he in the pod all alone? "I've got you."
With a strong side stroke, Charlie towed the child back to shore. After the dunking he received, he calmed down and laid limply in the water—too scared or too tired to fight her.
The pod's green glow flickered out as it sank further into the river. The open hatch sped up the process. As her feet hit the bottom near the shoreline, the final curve of the pod disappeared into the black water. Any opportunity to study it was lost to the river and the dark.
"Cutter!" Demarco rushed toward her, gun in hand. "Are you all right?"
She emerged from the water with the small child on her hip. Her legs trembled, and her whole body shivered. "Didn't think the water would be so cold."
The special agent reeled back at the sight of the boy. His forehead wrinkled. "Who's that?"
"Put that away." She pointed at the gun. "You're scaring him."
The boy's rounded eyes reminded her of the Starry Night Owl painting she'd abandoned in Fairfax.
"I don't understand." Demarco's shoulders slumped. He looked out over the river. "I saw you swim to the pod...and then...but how—?"
Charlie reached his position on the shore. "This little guy was in side the pod all by himself." The boy hid his face in her neck, and a maternal feeling awoke inside her. She wrapped an arm across his thin back in an act of comfort. "I hope the commander shows up soon. What the hell is going on here?"
"It can't be." Demarco's mouth slackened, and he backed away. "It's impossible. I don't understand."
"Where are you going? This boy needs our help." How could Demarco fail to help a little boy so clearly in distress? "Do you have a blanket in your car? We're freezing."
Her scolding snapped him out of it. "Yes, wait, I think I do. Stay there. I'll be right back."
He trotted toward the parked vehicle.
"Dov'è mia madre?" asked the child in a whisper.
Without even thinking, Charlie replied, "Non lo so, ma la troveremo." She hugged him tight. "We will find your mother, I promise."
She found a weathered Adirondack chair and huddled with the boy in her lap. His tunic felt rough under her fingers and appeared to be hand sewn. He had deep brown eyes and a thin face, which made him appear malnourished. As they rested there, she combed her fingers through his long locks in a soothing gesture.
"Looks like you made a new friend, Petty Officer." Commander Orr arrived and handed her a silver emergency blanket.
"Am I happy to see you, sir. Thank you." She wrapped the boy in it and set him in the chair. "Aspetta qui."
"No!" The child reached for her.
She disentangled her arm from his grasp. "I left my clothes over there, sir." The sleeveless blouse she'd chosen to wear provided little cover, and now that she'd recovered some from the shock of what had happened, she wanted to be a little more presentable before the rest of the team arrived.
The commander nodded. "Go ahead. I can take care of the little tyke." He kept his gaze on the child and ignored her state of undress.
"Let me grab your clothes," Demarco offered. "Here, you can put this on." He handed her a plaid shirt. "From my go-bag."
The wind picked up and blew against her naked legs. "Thank you." She slipped into the shirt, which covered her to mid-thigh.
"So Demarco told me the boy was inside the pod? Is that correct?" The commander tucked the blanket around the child who seemed fascinated by its shiny, silver exterior.
"I saw the pod in the river and swam out to it. I thought if it had just landed there could be a chance a live alien might be inside." She relived the moment the boy had appeared in the open hatch. "Instead, it was him." She rubbed her temples. "I don't understand, sir. I thought we were seeking aliens and alien tech. But he's no alien. He's a human boy."
"I'm trying to wrap my mind around it, too, Petty Officer," said the commander. "Everything we've learned so far led us to believe these were unidentified objects—things not of this world. The samples we've collected, the writing—"
"Here." Demarco returned with her shoes and jeans. His demeanor had cooled.
"Thanks." She quickly donned her pants and slipped on her shoes.
The boy, fascinated, watched her dress.
"You said something to him earlier...what language was that?" Demarco asked.
"When you went to your car he asked me, 'Dov'è mia madre.' It's Italian for 'Where's my mother.'"
"You know Russian and Italian?" Commander Orr asked.
"I was a linguistics major, so I learned a little bit of everything, really."
The commander put his hands on his hips. "So what is an Italian boy doing in an alien pod in the middle of the Occoquan River?"
"The pod. It's gone," Lieutenant Kellerman said as he approached the rest of the team unaware of the passenger they tended to. "Dammit. I thought this time we'd collect some really good samples."
"We found something better than the pod," Charlie said, kneeling next to the boy. She ruffled his drying hair. "This little bugger."
Orr had found a small tin of mints in his pocket and had handed it to the child, who liked to slide the box open and closed more than he liked the mints inside. He leaned his head against Charlie's leg as she stood next to the chair.
Kellerman stopped dead in his tracks. "Someone going to explain what's going on?"
"I'd love to hear the story, too," Chief Ricard said, the next of the team to arrive. "I left my wife stranded at the movies. She practically smacked me when I told her I had to leave. I don't see a pod." He threw up his hands. "Shit. Was it a false alarm?"
Demarco paced on the rocky shore.
Why did he seem so aggravated? The discovery of the boy opened up a whole new track of exploration.
"Petty Officer Cutter, can you please tell everyone what happened? Then we can decide what our next steps should be. Theories. Ideas. I'll take any of it."
"Theories?" Cole Kellerman raised a brow. "What happened?"
"When Demarco and I arrived—"
"Wait," interrupted Ricard, "you and Demarco came together?" He shifted his gaze from Charlie to the special agent. "I think I'd rather hear that story first."
"Chief, that's a most inappropriate comment," Orr scolded. "Please, Petty Officer, continue."
Great. The last thing she needed was gossip going around the office about her and Demarco. Ugh. "As I was saying, we reached the end of the road, and I could see a pod glowing in the distance. Quite deep in the water at the mouth of the bay." She pointed in the direction of the pod location. "So I swam for it."
"Wow." Kellerman's eyes widened and his mouth went slack.
"She's a hot dog in the pool," the commander added. "Saw it for myself."
Charlie cleared her throat. "Anyway, I swam out there thinking an alien could be inside and might need help. A hatch opened and out he came." She knelt beside the boy.
The child pulled his attention away from the tin of mints and smiled at her. "Grazie, signora."
"Wait a second." The chief gave his head a shake. "You're telling me this kid—" He pointed at the little boy dwarfed by the large chair. "—came out of a pod?"
For a few beats no one spoke.
He walked over to the commander. "You've got to be shitting me if you believe this story, sir."
Charlie stood. "Hey, are you calling me a liar?" She crossed to the two men. "That boy was inside the pod. Whatever we are dealing with here, it's not aliens. That's what I know. He's a human boy inside a pod. Whoever told you that these things were from outer space is wrong. Dead wrong. The whole thing didn't make a lot of sense to me from the beginning, but I was brought on the team to do a job."
Chief Ricard met her with equal emotion. "So you're telling me this whole time you knew it wasn't aliens, but never said anything? You've been with A Group for a week, and now you think you have all the answers." He stepped between her and Orr to block the commander's view of Cutter. "She’s lying to you, sir. I don't know what her angle is, but she's lying. We've been on this shit since last year, and some of the data we have defies explanation. This has to be alien tech...maybe she wants some sort of attention or something. I don't get it. But I don't believe one word of it."
Kellerman approached and stood abreast of Charlie. "I believe her." He gave her a reassuring smile.
"Thanks, Cole."
"Does it really matter if you believe her or not, Chief?" Kellerman said. "The pod sank. There's nothing to collect. All we have is Petty Officer Cutter's story and a child with no parents. Shouldn't we at least give Dr. Stern a call and ask her to meet us at the office? The boy is the only evidence we have to test."
Charlie felt a tug on her pants. She looked down, and the boy had left the chair. The emergency blanket twisted around his small body. "Signora?"
Charlie threw a harsh gaze at the scowling chief and knelt so she would be at the boy's eye level. "Sí?"
"Where's Mama?" he said in perfect unaccented English.
Commander Orr jerked his head back. "Yes, I'll give Dr. Stern a call." He pulled out his cell. "Maybe she'll know what we're dealing with here." He stared mystified at the bilingual boy who'd landed in their care and then wandered away from the group to talk to the doctor.
