Rise of the Phoenix Read online

  Stunned, Sara called to her friend, “Amanda…..Amanda!”

  Reaching to roll Amanda over, she was shocked and grief-stricken to see that Amanda’s face had been shredded by the glass that struck her, penetrating through her eyes into her brain. Getting up, Sara frantically ran out of the control room down a narrow corridor, towards the emergency exit. She noticed that much of the plant was already ablaze. Smoke and the smell of burning rubber caused her to choke uncontrollably.

  The corridor floor began to rumble violently. Looking back, Sara saw a wall of flames rushing towards her, blasting doors off their hinges and blowing furniture and other materials into the corridor. With every breath, she took her lungs burned from the skyrocketing temperatures of the inferno that were now upon her. Overcome by heat and toxic fumes, Sara dropped to her knees and screamed as the burning gasses incinerated her flesh in seconds before engulfing what remained of the plant in its fiery grip.

  Miami-Ground Zero….the bombardment had lasted nearly ten minutes, but for those that witnessed it, it seemed like an eternity.

  Chapter 1

  EVERGLADES KEEPS ITS OWN

  June 25, Present Day

  8:15 am EST

  South of the Chekika campgrounds in the Florida Everglades, Arslan Nezaket awoke in his father’s private summer cabin. Made entirely of locust wood, the log cabin was a simple, thirty by forty foot rectangle with a wrap-around porch. The view from the cabin’s huge five foot by five-foot square windows was mesmerizing. The cabin sat on multiple stone columns which raised it nearly four feet off the ground's surface. A narrow dirt driveway connected to the nearest road, a good half-mile away, and led to a cobblestone parking pad.

  Arslan's bedroom sat at the front of the cabin. Sunlight filtered through the soft muslin drapes, allowing a bright glow to highlight the banners on the wall that bore his father’s insignia.

  Just as any other day, the young boy grabbed his green-hued cargo pants and his red and white flannel shirt and headed for the bathroom. The mirror reflected an image of an adolescent boy, his head full of curly black hair which was dark as coal.

  While he moved the toothbrush across his teeth, he stopped and took his free hand to rub his chin. He tried to picture the day that he would have a thick black beard like his father. His father always told him that a beard was a sign of maturity and adulthood. He felt around for any signs of emerging hair, hoping for stubble. The only thing he could locate was a fresh pimple. Normally the pimple would have bothered him but today it did not matter, for today was a special day: it was his thirteenth birthday, and that meant today he became an adult.

  As he entered the kitchen, his thoughts centered on wondering if his father had planned anything to celebrate his birthday. Arslan smiled at the six foot, two-inch giant. This giant named Gamze failed to notice his son’s smile; he was sitting at a table drinking coffee, staring out a window that overlooked the densely overgrown forest. From his appearance alone, anyone would know that Arslan’s father was an important and powerful man. Arslan heard it said that his father’s company controlled the Turkish government, and the older he became, the more Arslan believe it. Gamze had not yet noticed his son standing in the kitchen doorway, but a slight creak in the floor notified him of Arslan's arrival.

  “Good morning, my son,” Gamze said, in a deep, resonant voice.

  “Good morning, father.”

  “How long have you been standing there, my son?” he asked a polite smile moving across his face.

  “Not long.”

  “Well don’t just stand there, come here!” Gamze patted the table, prompting Arslan to head towards his father. Although Arslan was tall for his age, he still felt short compared to his father. Placing both his hands upon Arslan's shoulders, Gamze looked into his son’s eyes for a few moments before reaching back with one hand to grab something. He presented Arslan with a cupcake adorned with a single candle at its center. Arslan could not have wished for more because he was with his father and that was enough. All the young boy could do was smile back at his father.

  “Happy Birthday!” Gamze cheered. “Here take this.” He pulled a silver object as big as his hand from under the table.

  “A digital camcorder!” Arslan exclaimed, excitement written all over his face.

  Gamze stretched out his giant palm and handed the object of Arslan's delight to him. Arslan gratefully accepted. The camcorder was already out of the box, charged and ready for action.

  “Yes. A video recorder,” Gamze confirmed, “the world is about to change before your very eyes, and you don’t want to miss it, my son! Now go and make sure it works while I take care of some business.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Arslan replied as he wrapped his arms around his father, the large smiles never leaving either one of their faces.

  With the camera in hand, Arslan did what any other thirteen year old would do after receiving a new toy; he ran outside to use it. Gamze held his smile until Arslan left the room then returning to his normal stern, authoritative look. With the snap of his fingers, three men promptly entered the room and pulled out various documents to discuss the business of the day.

  Outside, Arslan began filming the Everglades. Although this was not his permanent home, Arslan enjoyed the quietness this retreat provided; the sounds of local wildlife singing their songs soothed his spirit. Arslan was somewhat different than most young boys his age; he enjoyed the sternly structured life established by his militaristic father. Arslan felt that such structure had enabled him to enjoy the moments growing up that most young men would classify as being lonely.

  A man truly develops when he is capable of being alone: it is then that he learns of himself and learns of patience, Arslan recalled his father saying.

  Arslan’s father was everything to him. He was also the only family he had. Years ago his mother had been killed in a bombing that destroyed their mountain home. His father routinely spoke of how the conspirators were never brought to justice. Arslan knew that his father had raised him the best he could, teaching him to be hard, strong and independent. But none of that mattered when he lost himself in nature.

  Arslan loved the richness of the animals and vegetation in the Everglades. He had only been in the country for three weeks, but he had been on the internet almost non-stop, looking up everything he could find about the area he knew he would be traveling to. When he arrived three weeks ago, he went about seeing how much of the wildlife he had learned about he could find in the real life Everglades. Arslan even enjoyed the humidity of the area, not because it was comfortable but because it was different than Aydin, his hometown in Turkey, and that by itself was interesting.

  The city of Aydin was situated among rocky, rolling hills, where trees and grass were scarce and the climate hot and dry climate to match, making wildlife nocturnal and thus rarely seen.

  Aydin had recently been built up as a bustling tourist center with luxurious hotels that provided beautiful views of the Mediterranean Sea. Although a relatively modern and contemporary place, Aydin's history reached all the way back to the Chalcolithic Age. The region of Aydin had been influenced throughout the ages by early Egyptian, Greek, Persian, Roman and Byzantine influences and later, the Ottoman Empire. Greek Culture was most influential in the development of the region, and the site of Didyma remained popular amongst tourist.

  Didyma was a sacred site that housed a temple dedicated to the god Apollo, constructed during the Greco-Roman era. Though tourists seemed to love the intricacy of the temple, all that the temple offered to Arslan anymore was lifeless stones. Gamze had often taken Arslan to the temple when he was young, where he would spend many hours playing amongst its large columns, but Arslan, now older and wiser, felt that he had experienced all there was to experience at the temple, and it no longer met the boy’s thirst for adventure.

  The barrenness of his home furthered Arslan’s desire to better enjoy the scenery of the Everglades while he could; to soak up as much life as possible to make up for the
years of dry land and cold stones. The Everglades provided a whole new world to explore. He had spent weeks discovering the area. His mind raced with anticipation of documenting all of his favorite secluded areas, the many species of animals he had identified and the beauty of the vegetation that flourished in this habitat.

  Wonderful! He thought as he pressed ‘record’ and began viewing his surroundings through the camera’s glass eye.

  ۞۞۞۞

  Arslan lost track of the time filming his surroundings, but he felt that it was about time to get back to the house. How long has it been? He thought to himself. One hour? Two?

  Heading back, he spotted a roseate spoonbill patiently wading through a murky, shallow body of water, searching for its next meal. Arslan paused to record the bird, struck by the realization that the brackish water surrounding it could not taint the spoonbill’s beautiful pink plumage. After a few minutes of recording the spoonbill, the movement of an osprey flying overhead caught his attention and he moved his camera to capture the Osprey landing in its nest, high above in a nearby tree top. With its white feathers shining brilliantly in the morning sun, Arslan found himself awestruck by the osprey’s majestic appearance. It seemed to Arslan that nature had come to life, as if on cue. He weaved through the bushes to get a better view of the bird. Arslan was by no means a hunter, but some of the men who guarded his father had shown him a few tricks for navigating the dense forest of the Everglades when he has first arrived. He recorded the nature around him for a while longer, until he reminded himself that he had to get back to check in with his father.

  As he neared the cabin, Arslan recognized the sound of a car arriving. His father was constantly meeting with people concerning the family business, and he always emphasized that it was important for Arslan not to be seen when meetings were going on at the house. Usually, however, he told Arslan of these meetings in advance so that Arslan had time to find a way to entertain himself for the duration of the meetings. Arslan crouched behind a large bush away from the cabin so as to go unnoticed, but he was close enough to see clearly four men dressed in off-the-rack suits exiting their shiny black sedan. Arslan was easily able to spot the difference between cheap and high-end suits, as his father wore only the best, all of which he acquired through custom orders.

  Four men exited the car; one man, sporting a goatee and a bald head, was obviously the one in charge while the other three men, all clean shaven with military style buzz-cuts, fell in behind. Since his father met with many important people who required bodyguards, Arslan determined that’s exactly what the three buzz-cut men were to the bald guy. The bald man as he made his way toward the front steps of the cabin. Just then, Gamze stepped out of the front door and stood, waiting, on the porch as the men approached. Gamze carefully regarded his visitors before extending his hand. The three bodyguards with the bald man remained behind their leader as he approached Gamze, whose own bodyguards appeared. Arslan took his camera and held it to his face, looking through the lens at the bald man, and saw that he carried two handguns under his jacket. This was obviously more than an ordinary business meeting because only trusted compatriots were allowed to carry weapons in his father’s presence and Arslan did not recognize these people.

  After a brief and somewhat strained greeting, the four new men entered the cabin under the watchful gaze of Gamze to conduct their business. Arslan lowered the camcorder to move around the cabin to peer through the rear windows, which allowed him a clear view of the ongoing meeting. As he watched, he began to feel very uneasy about the entire situation. He could see that his father was displeased, and the men with him did not look at ease. Arslan felt a strange dread build in his stomach, and he slowly raised the camcorder again and pressed the record button to begin filming, not trusting the men with his father.

  Nothing could be heard inside, but the visual of body language and gestures spoke volumes to Arslan. The two leaders sat at opposite ends of the long table, with their guards behind them. Gamze sat with aristocratic formality, a persona of power and command emanating from him while the mysterious man’s posture presented a more lackadaisical, almost unconcerned approach to the meeting. Despite the posture of either of them, the tension inside the cabin was as thick as the humidity outside.

  After watching for several minutes, it was obvious to Arslan the discussion had become hostile. The tension was soaring to the point that the roof might explode. The mysterious man left his seat and casually walked to his father’s side, resting himself on the corner of the table. It seemed that he was trying to instigate the giant, but Gamze sat calmly with his hands crossed in a confident posture. Suddenly Gamze’s facial expression changed, clearly a response to an extreme provocation.

  THUD!

  Gamze forcefully struck the table with his hand and rose to his feet in anger, indicating that he had enough of the stranger’s insolent words. Calmly rising to his own feet, the bald man pulled a pistol out in a smooth motion and placed the barrel between Gamze’s eyes.

  Arslan heard a single deafening Bang! Gamze’s head snapped backward, splattering his bodyguards behind him with blood, bone, and brain. The giant fell in the center of the room, dead. Arslan dropped from the window as the last ring was followed by a hail of gunfire, ending with the sound of three additional thuds hitting the cabin floor.

  Arslan was momentarily paralyzed. What do I do? What do I do? There was no one he could turn to. Although his father had this beautiful house here, he always taught Arslan that the Americans were not to be trusted and that he should avoid any contact with anyone outside of their household. And now they were all dead.

  He could not fight back, so he fled back into the glades. Unable to catch his breath, he took cover behind a bush about thirty feet away and quickly glanced back to see if he had been noticed. Behind the bush, he tried to understand what had happened, but the shock of it forced him to see only disconnected images. He hadn’t even realized that the camera was still recording.

  Inside the cabin, the four surviving men, those who had just arrived minutes ago, began erasing evidence of their presence. The bald man walked into the kitchen and saw an apple on the counter. He felt that he had worked hard enough and had worked up an appetite. His eyes caught a tray of cupcakes on the table. As he moved closer, he saw something covered by the package. He grabbed the cupcakes and read Happy Birthday written on a sheet on the table. The bald man’s face turned red as he cursed to himself.

  He called to his men who quickly entered the kitchen. “Gamze's boy is in-country. You two search this house,” he ordered before pointing at the third bodyguard, “and you search outside.”

  “Sir, this cabin is in the middle of a swamp. It is a lot of space to cover,” the third bodyguard argued. He swallowed hard as his boss made eye contact with him. Contrite, he added, “I’ll bring him back sir.”

  The men scattered to their searches leaving their leader in the kitchen.

  Outside, Arslan could hear a man exiting the cabin with hurried footsteps. Through the foliage, Arslan could see that the bodyguard had his gun drawn; his finger on the trigger and understood that the man was not planning on leaving him alive. He slowly moved further into the Everglades, trying to increase the distance between them without making noise to give away his location.

  While his men searched, their leader moved to watch from the front door with his hands behind his back, assessing the likelihood that someone might have seen them and the damage it would do if they escaped.

  After about seventy-five feet, Arslan stopped to catch his breath; he glanced back and noticed that the man hunting him was unknowingly slowly closing in on him. The daylight did little to help with cover and Arslan slid further behind a tree, frustrated that he was unarmed, unskilled and unprepared to defend himself. The killer was now thirty feet away, and the boy’s mind began to race with every thump of his now pounding heart. He knew his advantage of being hidden decreased the closer the killer got to him.

  What do I do? He tho
ught, asking his father in his mind, wishing his father was there and alive to give both protection and advice.

  25 feet…..

  Should I run?

  20 feet…..

  But he would surely catch me….

  15 feet.

  Suddenly Arslan remembered something and sprinted deeper into the swamp.

  The man bodyguard spotted Arslan retreat running through the bush and instantly gave chase.

  Running through the densely wooded area was not easy for the man. If he crouched down to the boy's height to avoid the worst branches, the boy was able to move faster and increase the gap between them; if he stood up, he closed the gap, but the branches ripped his face to shreds. Better to come back bloody but with the boy, he thought and so he ran upright.

  The boy was agile and obviously knew this place well because he was able to choose paths that were easy for him but difficult for the man. The man had to dodge constantly to avoid trees and tripping. Twigs snapped under his weight, giving the boy a continuous reading of the distance between them. The man grunted like a beast as branches tore at his face, ripping his ear piece out in the process. He thought about grabbing it, but that would mean losing the boy.

  “You know there’s nowhere for you to hide or go. You're all alone in this godforsaken place, with no one to save you! If you stop running, I promise not to hurt you.”

  I don’t believe you, Arslan thought but was too winded to say. As hard as he ran Arslan knew he could not outrun the man, and the gap between them closed slowly.

  12 feet….. “Come here you little Fuck…..”

  10 feet…..Sweat rolled down Arslan’s face into his eyes, stinging them…..

  7 feet…..His heart nearly bursting from his chest…..

  4 feet….. “I’ve got you….”