CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The following afternoon, Katherine gives Caden and I a lift home from school. When we reach her house, however, there is already a car parked in the driveway.

"Whose car is that?" Caden asks as Katherine pulls into a spot out front.

"Ethel's," she says with a frown. "Strange. She said she wouldn't be coming over to tutor Sarah today."

"Maybe she changed her mind?" I suggest.

Katherine doesn't say anything – just cuts the engine and swings open the door. We all get out. But we're only halfway to the house when the front door swings open and Ethel bursts out onto the front steps, her long dark hair twisting in its ponytails as its caught in the wind. Her deep blue eyes are wide with urgency.

We all come to stop, surprised by her sudden appearance. Sarah emerges from the house behind her, looking dreadfully afraid. At the same time, Ethel says simply, "Scott's back."

Caden reacts immediately. "He is? Is he here?"

She shakes her head. "No, but you'll see him soon enough. He's called an emergency council meeting."

Now Katherine speaks. "What for? We already have one organised for this Saturday – couldn't it wait until then?"

"I'm afraid not. But there's no time to tell you. We need to go. Now."

-:-:-:-:-

The council meets in the same place as last time, in the shadowed interior of a derelict warehouse. Already there's a large crowd of people waiting and most are already seated in the circular seating arrangement. But despite the crowd, the room is quiet, words spreading amongst the people as whispers. There's an air of trepidation and it circulates the warehouse, filling up my lungs with each breath. If Ethel's sudden appearance and wide-eyed urgency isn't enough to convince me something is up, this certainly is.

Ethel urges us to take a seat. "We need to start. This cannot wait." While she moves off to speak with someone else, we head towards the chairs. Caden scans the crowd for his father as we take whatever seats we can find, but when he sits, I know he hasn't spotted him.

"Maybe he's not here yet."

He looks at me. "No, he's here. I just can't see him."

The whispered conversations around us drop out abruptly as Ethel takes her place at the centre of the ring. "Hello everyone. I apologise for the short notice but this simply could not wait until Saturday. As many of you may know, Scott Jacobsen has been away for the past six months. Before he left, unfortunately, I was unable to disclose his assignment. But now that he's back, I will share with you what he's been doing since November of last year.

"Last year, we discovered an Anarkk facility that until then, we had no knowledge of. We believe it to be a relatively recent development, as we're able to confirm it didn't exist prior to a decade ago, but it is worrying that it took so long for word of it to reach us. The main reason it's so worrying is this: the facility is extensive. Think military base. There's thirteen large multistorey compounds and maybe thirty or so smaller warehouses and buildings. They've got a runway, aeroplane hangar, training grounds and are highly weaponised. The whole place is around 3000 acres and sits out in western New South Wales."

Whispers spread throughout those seated but Ethel quickly quiets them. "The reason I didn't bring this to your attention attention sooner is because I didn't want people rushing in blind before I had the chance to see what we're up against. We didn't know how long it had been operational for, what kind of facilities or equipment it had, how many people were operating from it, and most importantly, we had no idea why it was there. We needed a way to profile it, to learn it inside out. None of that would have been possible without someone on the inside. And that person was Scott."

Again, there's a quiet murmur. To Caden, I whisper, "Did you know?" He simply shakes his head.

Ethel continues. "I couldn't risk telling anyone about this assignment, lest an Anarkk somehow find out and blow Scott's cover. I had to keep it as covert as possible – no one knew except Scott, the Avexyr Commanders and myself. I'll just pull up Scott now to give you a more detailed break-down of the assignment – and what information we've gathered as a result – so we can launch into the reason for this meeting."

Ethel steps away from the centre to take a seat, nodding at another man as he stands. He's tall, with dark brown hair and a strong, muscular build. His face is rugged, weathered by time under the sun, but has still retained some youthfulness. Dressed in combat boots and fatigues, he seems to be straight out of the army. But despite his intimidating physical appearance, his brown eyes are kind and trustworthy. He looks like an officer, a father-figure, a leader – someone who commands respect but will see each person as an individual, someone you know will have the courage to make the best choices and to make them on the behalf of the many. Someone you'd trust your life with.

Beside me, Caden sits a little straighter, and I have to remind myself. This is Caden's father.

"I suppose I'll just jump straight into it. The base out west is the capital of the Anarkk populace in Australia. It's where they head operations, but at the moment, it also doubles as a training facility. They seem to be bringing in anyone they can get their hands on – anyone between the ages of 16 and 35 – and are converting them into recruits. But the strange thing is – at least, it was strange at first – is that not all of their recruits have abilities.

"A couple months ago, I found out that they planned to replicate abilities – that is, extract them from their hosts and duplicate them possibly hundreds or even thousands of times over. They had someone in another branch closer to the city who was going to create a machine capable of performing such a task.

"At that point, I was considering leaving to bring back the news, but there's more than just a potential multiplying and supplying of powers going on here. The whole facility – the recruits, the training grounds, the advanced weaponry, the technology – it's all focused towards one thing: something they're calling Endgame."

There's a least a dozen gasps at that. A word weaves its way through the council – a word I'm starting to fear rather than hate: prophecy. The prophecy – now with a name. Endgame.

"Its why the place was built in the first place," Scott goes on, "why they're bringing in so many people. They're building an army as though they're preparing for war."

The whispers elevate, voices rising. Someone says, "It's happening already?"

Scott simply waits. It takes a minute for conversations to die down, and by then, the whole room is silent in anticipation of what he'll say next. He starts up again. "There doesn't seem to be a date set as of yet, although I don't know for sure. The leaders of Anarkk society seem to be keeping it all under-wraps. Even the general population at the base – sitting at around 700 currently but growing fast – has no clue what Endgame is. They're preparing for something and they don't even know what. The recruits all speak of it as if its some glorious Second Coming of Christ – like a religion, or a cult – but with all the training going on over there, we can at least be certain there'll be a fight.

"Which means we have to start taking actions against them. The Replicator I mentioned before finished construction just last week. It's already been tested and is ready to go – all they need to do is transport it out west to the base so they can start supplying all their recruits with extra abilities. That's our chance. I managed to get my hands on some route maps and plans before I left, detailing the trip, the security measures, all of it. The Replicator leaves the city branch on Saturday morning and won't get to its destination until Saturday afternoon. That's our window. We need to take it, or the force against us will go from problematic to unstoppable."

He pauses, allowing us all a moment to digest the new information. In the silence, I can feel the future charging towards me like a freight train – too fast, too deadly, too inescapable. This morning, everything felt distant. Now my future is getting all mixed up in my present.

"There's a couple more things," Scott says, breaking the quiet. "I have identities on certain leaders in Anarkk society, and I'm afraid they're not going to be easy to hear."

"Go on," Ethel says, curious.

"The city branch of the Anarkk facility is being lead by Patrick Terrell."

The council booms. Suddenly, there are voices on top of voices, gasps and exclamations and shouts. Caden, Sarah, Katherine and I sit in silence. And from across the ring, Ethel's eyes find mine. Don't say anything, they warn. Meaning: no one at the council knows what happened last month at that nondescript office block. Meaning: Ethel and Katherine have been keeping it a secret. But why?

"You mean he was an Anarkk the whole time?" A voice asks. Its owner is a young woman – maybe only twenty-five years of age – with tanned Mediterranean skin.

"Yes," Scott replies over the din. "From what I've found out and seen, I'd say he's been with them for a good while."

"Why haven't we known?" Another person asks.

"Unfortunately, he seems to be very good at playing a part."

"Katherine, he's your brother! How could you not know about this?"

The noise grows until eventually, Ethel has stand up and shout for quiet. A zap of electricity flutters through the air at her voice, splaying outwards like semi-invisible lightning bolts. I feel my hair stiffen with static electricity and have to pat it down before it rises to the ceiling.

Everyone goes silent, a little surprised by the accidental surge of power. Ethel sighs. "Katherine has had her suspicions about Patrick, as have I. But at the time, neither of us were concerned. Patrick – never mind the fact that he's an Anarkk now – Patrick originally was an Avexyr. He was one by birth, and the values that inscribes cannot be taken away – at least we thought they couldn't. It makes perfect sense that this went unnoticed."

She takes a deep breath. "Now, I believe, Scott, you weren't finished yet."

He nods. "Yes. I have another name. The Anarkk leader. The person who heads all of it, not just Australia – the entire world. And who is currently right here in New South Wales." He takes a breath. "It's Keon."

The room is silent – there's no burst of noise this time, no conversations or questions. Instead, emotions travel on the air like radio waves: realisation, shock, fear. Even Ethel's mouth sits agape, the alarm on her face horribly blatant. Ethel, the immortal. Ethel, the woman who brought down half a building and buried dozens of Anarkks in one blast. She's lived for centuries, watched loved ones die and die again, faced countless enemies, and this – this name, this man – is what she's afraid of.

"It's Keon," Scott repeats, and the entire warehouse shivers with silent terror.