Connexion : The Atlantis Project, Book.1 Page 2

  “Help! Help me!”

  He recognized the voice immediately. In a sudden, impulsive movement, he tried to get up, and then thought better of it. One false move and his Jacques’ neck could snap, putting an end to their miserable existence.

  “I’m over here.”

  “Charlie? Is that you?”

  It was Clementine’s voice coming from behind her counter. Her haggard face was streaked with long runs of blood, but the cloud of dust still hanging in the air meant Charlie could not see her.

  “Yes. Come and help me. Jacques is unconscious and I can’t move. He’s still breathing.”

  “Keep talking to me. Don’t stop! I’m going to try and follow the sound of your voice.”

  “I don’t want to die, Clementine. Not today. Not like this. I’m afraid for Jacques.”

  “Don’t be silly. He’s going to live. You’re going to live, too.” Her voice thick with tears, the young woman searched for words to reassure him.

  “What about the others?”

  “The others…”

  Clementine picked her way through the bodies. Charlie listened in silence to her sobs and frightened cries each time she came into contact with one of her dead, mutilated clients or friends. With his head on the side, he couldn’t see her coming. He could only hear her and it was not until she put her hand on his shoulder that at last he could see her face, twisted with fear.

  “They’re all dead, Charlie. All of them.”

  “And Michel?”

  “He’s gone, too. I’m sorry.”

  She fell to her knees beside him. Charlie could not do anything for her. Once again, he found himself reduced to helplessness. He could only use words to help her get a grip on reality. Words, mere words, when he would have liked to hold her and pull her out of all this horror, carry her far away from here, take her under his wing.

  “And you? You’re not injured?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “But you’re bleeding?”

  Clementine brushed her hand over her face and looked at the mixture of blood and dust that covered her fingers.

  “It’s nothing serious; at least I don’t think so.”

  “We’re going to be okay, Clementine. Leave us here. Go find some help.”

  Outside, smoke stretched as far as the eye could see in the city. Absolute silence reigned, and bodies were strewn all over the pavement. Through the window she could see Charlie watching her carefully, slumped amidst the debris with Jacques. From this distance she could not see if he was crying too, but the scene was unbearable. She turned on her heels, went back into what was left of her bar and made her way toward him, determinedly. A smile crept across Charlie’s face. From that moment on, she would never leave him alone again. He said nothing, and neither did she. He simply let her maneuver him, which she did very gently. Charlie helped her as best he could, but Jacques’ inert body made the operation difficult. Once he was upright, they managed to find their balance, and Clementine took them in her arms before bursting into tears again. He was remembering Michel’s sentence, “You know, I believe we never can tell what life has in store for us.” For now, nothing else existed; all that mattered was this moment and everything it meant to him. For the first time, a young woman was crying in his arms. Maybe he was going to die soon, but she was here, pressed against him. She had come back to get him, get them. In a soft, calm voice, he whispered in her ear.

  “Pull yourself together. We need to go now. Thank you. Thank you, Clementine.”

  Regaining her composure, she began to walk slowly, with Charlie leaning on her, doing his best to lighten his weight. He had tremendous difficulty moving without Jacques’ help but, forgetting their physical pain, they managed to keep moving onward for nearly an hour without saying a single word. Around them, nothing seemed to move. The atmosphere was strange, as if all these corpses were not real, as if it were a bad dream that would soon come to an end. It had to. Oh, Jacques! Why did you have to leave me now? thought Charlie.

  Clementine finally broke the silence.

  “What has happened?”

  “I don’t know, Clementine. I have no more idea than you. What could have caused such a disaster? Maybe some sort of attack or industrial accident, unless war has broken out. I don’t really care. I just want to get my brother to hospital. That’s all that matters for now.”

  “We’ve been walking for almost an hour and I still haven’t seen a single survivor.”

  “Let’s keep looking. We have to get out of this hellhole eventually. Let’s stop thinking and just keep moving forward.”

  “Sorry, Charlie. I just don’t think I can handle it. I…” She did not have time to finish her sentence. The muffled drone of a helicopter flying over the street had just interrupted her.

  “At last! We’re saved! We’re saved, Charlie. We’re saved!”

  She shouted as loudly as she could in its direction, frantically waving her arms. The aircraft, which had just flown past them, finally turned back. A man clad in a white jumpsuit and gas mask, called to them, megaphone in hand.

  “Stay where you are! We will inform emergency services of your position. They will come and collect you as soon as possible.”

  The helicopter continued on its way without further ado. Charlie and Clementine sat down side by side, patiently awaiting their rescuers. Relieved, she put her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder. For his part, he was impatient and edgy, anxious to have Jacques treated as soon as possible. Clementine was holding him tenderly, which was what he had always dreamed of, but again, happiness eluded him.

  Once more, an imposing silence fell. The cloud of dust was beginning to dissipate, and the sun finally made an appearance through the thick cloud cover. An old pigeon with straggly feathers landed on the sidewalk, right next to them. It wandered around for a moment, and then flew away again. A few seconds later, a voice spoke in Charlie’s head.

  “Are you worried about me?”

  I’m going crazy, he thought.

  “No, Charlie. You’re not crazy; it’s me, your brother.”

  Charlie turned to look at Jacques, but his head was still immobile, showing no sign of life. Petrified, he turned quickly toward Clementine again. His heart was racing at a terrifying rate, an all-too-familiar sensation.

  “Talk to me. I don’t feel at all well. I can hear Jacques’ voice. Something’s wrong. I know it. I’m losing my mind! Please, tell me something, anything, but say it quickly. I’m going to pass out!” Charlie was spilling the words out at top speed.

  “What’s wrong, Charlie? Don’t panic, you’re still in shock, that’s all. Everything’s going to be okay, you’ll see. The doctors will bring him back to us and everything will be like it was before. Calm down. The ambulance can’t be far off now.”

  But the voice in Charlie’s head spoke again, “Don’t be scared, Charlie. I don’t know how all this happened, but I’ve just come to, and thanks to you, I’m still alive, even if we don’t have control of my muscles again yet. Hang in there. I need your help now more than ever.”

  In the distance, the echo of ambulance sirens could be heard, and a fleet of vehicles rapidly invaded the street. One pulled up in front of them. Two paramedics got out.

  “You are going to be fine, now. Come with us. Are you alone? Have you come across any other survivors?”

  “No,” replied Clementine, “no one.”

  “Take care of my brother first, he’s unconscious.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. You’re going to be fine. Let me put this mask on you. We’re going to put you on oxygen until we reach the hospital, where you’ll be treated as soon as possible.”

  “Give the mask to him. I’m fine.”

  “We have enough masks for all of you.”

  Charlie lay down on the stretcher and relaxed. Clementine sat beside him as the ambulance took off, its siren screaming. Through the window they could see the streets running past, with survivors here and there, coming out o
f the buildings, one by one. The further they drove, the more people they saw in the streets. At last they came to a zone which had not been touched by the disaster, where life seemed to be carrying on as usual. For now, Charlie was calm, relieved. He was letting himself be carried like a baby, pretty much as he had always done, once again entrusting his life to the hands of unknown strangers. They were taking care of everything, and everything would work out, as always.

  “You see, Clementine, we’re going to make it.”

  “Who are you talking to, Jacques?” he answered under his breath. “She can’t hear you. Just relax, wait and see.”

  Charlie fell asleep, lying on the stretcher; while Clementine, sitting nearby, watched over them as she would have her own children if she had had any.

  2 TAKING OFF

  Jacques had woken up the day before, a little confused, but apparently in relatively good health. He had pulled out of a strange sort of coma – generalized motor paralysis –which had impeded all voluntary movement, including eye movement. They had already been in hospital for over a week. The loss of consciousness in and of itself had been quite brief, only a few hours, but the doctors did not know about that. Charlie preferred to keep silent on that point, worried that they would think he was crazy, or treat him like a guinea-pig, two scenarios which his past made him fear more than anything. For the first time since their admission to the hospital, they were allowed to step outside, accompanied by Clementine. Their actual return home was not planned for several more days yet. They would have to wait a little longer, while the doctors watched for possible symptoms of post traumatic stress syndrome; symptoms which, they were told, could sometimes be delayed. What “home”, anyway? Did they still have one? They had not the slightest idea. At best, they would find an apartment covered in that fine dust which infiltrated everywhere and even made its way into the middle of wardrobes and clothes. An apartment which they would need to set straight quickly, but with whose help? Michel was dead, now. The same was almost certainly true of the rest of their friends; friends, or rather contacts, who could already have been counted on the fingers of one hand and who would no longer be counted at all. Only Clementine was left, but for how much longer?

  The three of them sat in silence in front of the hospital, attentively observing the constant coming and going of ambulances to the Emergency Room. A little further on, life seemed to have returned to normal in the city. People walked with hurried steps, eyes averted, without speaking; they only looked at each other or smiled when absolutely necessary. Two nurses were smoking in front of the entrance to the maternity department. Ambulance horns and sirens filled the air once again, but the deathly silence which had reigned following the terrifying noise of the explosion, lingered in their minds. It had been a leaden silence; the streets emptied of all human life for mile upon mile; a dead, petrified town; the timeless experience would be forever engraved in their memory. Today, at last, they were resurfacing in an inhabited, living, noisy world, which seemed strange, or rather, foreign, as if they no longer really belonged in it. They remained silent, fluctuating between the impression of a return to normal, which should have been reassuring; and the anxiety of having lost everything, of having to rebuild, without knowing where or how to begin. They felt more alone than ever, after years spent trying so hard to be accepted, building up piece by piece, one by one, a small but precious social network, which had just collapsed in a few seconds, like a crude house of cards. It was Charlie who broke the silence first.

  “Well! What now? What shall we do?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe we could start by asking those two nurses for a cigarette, and then we could take some time to think things over.”

  “Leave it to me, I’ll ask them for you. They’re more likely to give me one, and the doctors specifically said you were to avoid all physical effort for a few more days.” Clementine stood up, before adding, “You must realize that smoking is not exactly recommended for people in your state.”

  “What is recommended for our state?”

  “What about you, Charlie? You don’t mind?”

  “No, go ahead, let him have his smoke. I think I may even join him in his vice, if it comes to that.”

  But Clementine did not have time to act. An army vehicle and a black limousine pulled up in front of them. Three uniformed men and a woman in plain clothes got out. The young woman, a pretty, athletic brunette with short hair, spoke in a polite but firm tone.

  “My name is Hanna. I work for the French Secret Service. Please get your belongings together as quickly as possible and come with me.”

  “Actually, we are wearing all our belongings, I’m afraid.”

  “Very well, in that case, let’s not waste any more time.”

  “I think there must be some mistake. I fail to see how we could be of any use to you. And for the time being, we are under strict orders not to leave the hospital.”

  “There is no possible mistake, sir.”

  “What about Clementine?”

  “She will be coming with you. We have a few questions to ask you, and then you will be free to go home. The medical staff will be informed of your departure. There’s no need to worry about that, we will take care of it. Now, let’s be on our way, if you please!”

  They followed Hanna to the car and got into the back seat, while the young woman took her seat next to the driver. A two-way mirror separated the front of the limousine from the back seat, so that for the duration of the trip their only view was their own reflection. Profound silence reigned in the vehicle, barely broken by the vibrations of the road and the dull roar of the engine. Even Jacques did not dare to break the silence. The image of the twins and Clementine in the mirror only served to add to the strangeness of the situation, as they had nowhere else to look. After a few minutes, Hanna’s voice came over the speakers.

  “We will be arriving soon.”

  “She could be a little more forthcoming. I wonder what interest they could really have in questioning us.”

  “They’re probably recording the testimonies of all the survivors for their inquiry.”

  If he could have, Charlie would have liked to answer Jacques without speaking audibly, too, but this new gift was one of the rare things which they did not share.

  It was Clementine’s turn to speak.

  “Do you think they’ll really let us go as soon as they’ve finished questioning us?”

  “Of course! Don’t worry. It’s just an interview to help with their inquiry.”

  Jacques spoke aloud, “How should he know?”

  “Oh, because you know something about it, do you?”

  “No more than you do. But if I were you, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  After several long minutes the vehicle finally came to a stop. The right rear door opened, letting in a blinding light. The features of Hanna’s face were backlit.

  “Here we are. You can get out.”

  Clementine went first. The tension had just risen another notch, becoming almost tangible. They were walking over the grounds of a small aero-club, and just in front of them was a chrome-colored jet, marked with the initials E.T.I.

  “Climb aboard, please.”

  “Wait a minute! What’s all this about? We were just supposed to answer a few questions about the accident. Where are you taking us?”

  “Don’t worry, Jacques. You can trust me. We will tell you more once we’ve arrived.”

  “Now things are getting seriously complicated. We’re going to have to stick together. I don’t like that woman at all!”

  Charlie answered him in a whisper, “Thanks for telling me, but for once in our lives, something exciting is happening! Just enjoy the moment. I get the impression that the time has finally come for you do something worthwhile.”

  “I admit that the prospect of boarding a Secret Service plane is quite exciting, but…”

  It was obvious that Clementine did not share that opinion. Charlie noticed her reluctance immediately, b
ut could not imagine continuing without her.

  “Come on, Clementine,” he said quickly and firmly. “I don’t think they’re really giving us any choice.”

  Charlie, who was not usually inclined to venture off the beaten track, suddenly felt strangely exhilarated. It was probably his taste for the theatrical coming to the fore. Perhaps too, he simply did not want to look back. The interior of the plane was very spacious and comfortable. Muted opera music made for a relaxed atmosphere and soon an attractive hostess approached them.

  “Please be seated and fasten your seatbelts during take-off. I’ll be along shortly with some refreshments for you.”

  “Thank you. It won’t be a long flight, I presume?”

  The hostess, still smiling, ignored Charlie’s question and returned to the front of the aircraft where she took a seat and fastened her safety belt. There she remained, facing them, with a fixed smile; carefully adopting an elegant posture, back straight and shoulders back. Clementine was silent. She did not seem particularly relaxed, but rather resigned to following an imposed plan of action. Besides, she knew that they needed her now more than ever. Their self-assurance and confident talk were for appearances; a façade that served to hide acute fragility and, she thought, a naivety that made them an easy, defenseless prey. She did not know what awaited them but she would be there to face it with them, with all the skills and devices that a woman is capable of using in her relationships.

  While Charlie was focused on the take-off, both nervous and fascinated by this new experience, Jacques was carefully observing the magnificent hostess, with her impassive face, like a wax statue whose smile has been permanently sculpted. After a few seconds, the plane’s blinds were lowered, preventing Charlie from continuing his contemplation. The young woman roused herself to bring them cold drinks and snacks. Twenty minutes later, the three companions fell into a deep sleep, induced by the sedatives she had carefully placed in their glasses and which quickly took effect.

  …Jacques was sitting beside a charming young lady reading a women’s magazine. She had her legs crossed and her head down, so he could not make out her face. He was wearing a black suit, and had a small, metallic briefcase handcuffed to his arm. They were both in the front row of what vaguely resembled a commercial airliner, apart from the plane’s gigantic dimensions. Behind them, were hundreds of rows of passengers, as far as the eye could see. Jacques could not see the people’s faces clearly, any more than he could see the features of the young woman seated beside him. The plane’s windows were huge, too, but their opaque glass only let in a very filtered, bluish light, creating an eerie atmosphere. Nevertheless, Jacques was not frightened; simply surprised to find himself there without knowing where he really was. Something else was bothering him. He felt deep down that something was missing. He felt lighter and especially free, despite the strange, enclosed space in which he found himself. He could not explain it; it was simply a feeling that, in a split second, became his primary concern.