Frequent Traveller

Frequent Traveller

By Pandora Poikilos

Copyright 2011 by Pandora Poikilos. Smashwords edition.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

With utmost love and appreciation to

My father, Andrew K (Jr.) … for the beat in my heart and peace in my mind

Tanty … for being a constant through the changing scenes of my life

Datin Dr.Vasantha Kumari Willie … for asking me the most important question, ‘Who are you?’ and for listening to me as I sort peace from pieces

SL Clark and Sonia … for giving me the opportunity to find my voice in the ever-changing world of publishing

For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

Table of Contents

Prologue

Xiamen, China

Oahu, Hawaii

Kathmandu, Nepal

Queensland, Australia

Antigua, Caribbean

Stockholm, Sweden

Edinburgh, Scotland

Nuerburg, Germany

Uden, Netherlands

Penang, Malaysia

Venice, Italy

Guarapari, Brazil

Mumbai, India

Jakarta, Indonesia

Hanoi, Vietnam

Zanzibar, United Republic of Tanzania

Rabaul, Papua New Guinea

Bodensee, Germany

London, England

Dublin, Ireland

Washington DC, USA

Tokyo, Japan

Fianarantsoa, Madagascar

Yacuiba, Bolivia

Chiang Mai, Thailand

Epilogue - Isle of Man

PROLOGUE

31 October 1997

The last of autumn had come and gone leaving bare tree trunks, roads cluttered with leaves and a blowing chill in the air. Yet, as the moonlight shone bright, the scene was eerily captivating. Beyond the trees, a narrow trunk road led to a big concrete building lined with grilled doors and windows, the only hint of life for miles. Inside, the moonlit view of winter's welcome was wasted on its occupants. Cramped in a tiny concrete cell with six other people, a red-haired teenager watched as a rat darted across the floor. She thought about how it had made its way into the cell and if only she was that small so she could find a way out with it.

What were its concerns? Did it have family to go back to? A colony? Would they be angry if it showed up with no food?

To the best of her memory it had been two years, maybe a little more, since she had seen the outside world. Day and night were recognisable to her by the small grilled square space above her head. She could tell it was winter with the chill, but days and dates were not important to her anymore. Everyday was the same.

A cold bath in a common bathroom with at least five other people watching; the same thick cotton pants and blouse, which were changed every two weeks or so; small talk with the others in the cell; food shoved in through the bars; drinking water served in plastic packets – that was life now. Sleep rarely came on a hard wooden board or when howling pain sounded from someone whose mind or body had given up in this hell.

But tonight was different. She heard a loud metal clanging sound as the front grill slid open and her name was shouted out. She took her eyes off the rat and gathered her thoughts. Her heart started racing at what was to come.

Her cell door slid open and she heard loud whispers coming from the other cells. So few people ever left, let alone at this hour. A hand pulled her forward and gripped her shoulders as another placed handcuffs on her wrists and metal leg braces on her ankles. Twice before this had happened and each time, she felt like a cow herded off for slaughter.

‘You are always so much trouble,’ the voice barked at her.

Once the handcuffs and leg braces were locked, she was shoved and made to walk small mincing steps, limited by the chains, down a long dark corridor.

She was taken into a dimly lit and malodorous room, no smaller than her cell, and told to stand in the corner with her head bowed. Long minutes passed before she heard heavy footsteps at the door. As it swung open, a giant-like man approached her.

He stared straight into her eyes and spoke, ‘Today is your lucky day. If you do what I say, you are free. And if you don't, you'll live here until you die. You'll become ugly, old, and nobody will want to look at you. And when you die, still nobody will want you.’

His breath smelled foul, a combination of rotten apples and coffee. She felt like throwing up right in his face. Instead, she whimpered and tried to turn away, doing her best not to offend him. He moved in closer and let out a horrible gruff laugh as he jabbed his elbow into her belly. He pushed her shoulders down and motioned for her to sit on the floor. She could see the floor was stained.

Dark pools of liquids marred the cement and small pieces of paper were strewn in some corners. This place had probably never seen a wash, let alone a good sweep, but she knew disobeying her captor at this point was detrimental so she obeyed. This was the kind of hell where you lost your dignity as a human being and received worse treatment than an animal. Slowly she slid down, her back pressed against the wall, and sat on the floor, her legs stretched so the metal leg braces cut less into her skin.

‘You will have a new name. Your past will be erased. Do not run or ... I will find you!’ He laughed, the tone so menacing, Cathy winced.

He knew she was terrified of him and what the future held. This gave him cruel pleasure. Power was always the best topping when you could look at a girl like this one and know you held the rest of her life in your hands.

‘Are you ready?’ he barked.

With a lock of red hair loose on her face, giving her just enough of a shadow to shed a secret tear or two, she nodded. She felt broken. No longer sure if this was truly a way out of this hell or a ticket to one worse than this. She waited.

He pulled up a chair and sat in front of her. His shoes rested on her legs.

‘Your name will be Catherine Dixon ...’

XIAMEN, CHINA

March 2007

Once awarded the prestigious title of ‘the most suitable city to live in’, Xiamen is located on the southeast coast of the People's Republic of China and enjoys a breezy seaside climate. Previously ruled by the Ming Dynasty, the literal translation of Xiamen is said to be ‘The Gate of the Grand Mansion’. Historically, it had suffered many blows, first at the hands of the Portuguese, the British and then the Japanese during World War II.

In recent years, however, it is not foreigners who have given Xiamen a bad name; instead its own locals have brought it down. In 2002, it was uncovered that Xiamen housed the largest corruption scandal in China's history, which included a brothel, bribes to officers in the public sector and smuggling. However, that has not deterred it from strengthening economic ties with more than one hundred countries around the world. It is also ranked as one of the top twenty ports in the world.

Aside from its flourishing economy, this city is well-known for Gulangyu, known as Piano Island to the locals and the Wushipu Oil Painting Village, which houses more than four thousand local painters. They use the facilities in this area to master their fine skills in oil painting. Each artist is given the creative freedom to explore a variety of specifications and styles. They also have the opportunity to sell their goods to at least two hundred different enterprises within the area.

It was on a narrow road in this village that a lone traveller was seen bundled up in a black jacket, trying to find shelter from the rain. He seemed lost among the locals who far outnumbered him. Yet, as he stood still, he carried a sense of familiarity about the area. It was past 7.00pm and the weather took a turn for the worst. What was usually a lucrative time for the villagers, who sold their goods at the bustling night market, was now drastically transformed to puddles of water and people hurrying home or into restaurants for dinner to get away from the elements.

Furtively, he glanced around. It was pouring and the street vendors hurriedly packed up their carts. It made the man clutch his paper bag even closer to himself as he observed the people around him bustling about their business. One more day and people would never ignore him in this manner. He would have the world at his feet. He would rule over all creation, man and animal alike. The Creator. That was what they would call him. As he pulled the hood of his jacket closer around his face, Anthony snickered and lost himself in the crowd.

He headed to his hotel suite at the luxurious MoonStar Xiamen. Since he had stayed at the property before and loved the way they welcomed him, it seemed the best choice. At every corner of the hotel, the staff went out of their way to greet him and addressed him as ‘Mr’ or ‘Sir’. It made him feel important like they already knew that he would be the one to change the world one day. And even as he put the final touches to Experiment Creation, he cherished the privacy they offered him. No unwanted interruptions at his door. Wake up calls right on time, not even a minute late. Everyone was at his beck and call. Yes, this was only the beginning to being King.

Even as Anthony stepped into the lobby, the Concierge awaited him with a towel.

‘No umbrella, Mr Borda? You must be freezing. Would you like a fresh pot of coffee delivered to your room, Sir?’ greeted the Concierge as Anthony stepped into the hotel lobby.

He shook his head and smiled. ‘No, a hot shower then some food and I will be fine. Thank you.’

He handed the towel back to the Concierge and walked to the elevators, his stride a little faster than before. The final few ingredients his experiment needed were in the paper bag. Tomorrow, even this hotel lobby would be transformed. As he was about to step into the elevator, he watched a beautiful redhead step out. Her smile was as bright and cheery as Christmas morning. Her presence was warm and so very inviting.

She acknowledged him with a friendly nod and cheerfully said, ‘Enjoy your stay with us, Mr Borda.’

‘Tomorrow, I'll have her by my side. I'll make her an offer she can't refuse and she'll change the world with me,’ he muttered as he arrived at his floor.

He opened the door to the suite, which had been his home for more than three weeks now. He looked at the table where he had placed his microscope. Next to it stood twelve six-inch canisters. He did not waste time changing into dry clothes.

Instead, he hurriedly opened the brown paper bag he clutched and distributed its contents evenly into the dozen canisters. He carefully stored each one in the mini-bar, undressed and lay naked on the bed. For almost eighteen years he had waited for this moment and now he needed rest.

‘Plenty of time to savour royal fame in the morning,’ he mumbled. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to slide into a deep sleep.

By 6.00am the next morning, Anthony was all dressed and ready to put his plan into action. His thoughts strayed again to the beautiful redhead he had seen by the elevator.

‘Today she will be mine,’ he said to himself.

Anthony deliberately took a long time to open each canister. Of the twelve, he expected at least three would have the correct colouring for his experiment to succeed, but all he really needed was one. When he got the perfect mixture at canister number eight, relief washed all over him.

Years and years ago, Karl Reichart and Neil Shibun got it right and today, it was his moment.

He replaced the lid and made his way down to the breakfast buffet. A few drops of the light green liquid into the food and beverages at the coffee house and Experiment Creation would be a roaring success. Once and for all, he would prove to the world that human DNA did contain traces of reptile DNA, which would enable humans to become reptiles once again.

As he made a hasty approach to the coffee pot, he smirked when he thought of how his former colleagues had laughed at him when they read his thesis. But nothing shut a person’s mouth more than solid proof and today he would provide it.

Only a few of the hotel staff milled around and this made it easy for him to dash around the food counter. Anthony sprinkled the liquid into the food and cereal trays. A traditional Chinese breakfast of Dim Sum, yam cakes and soup noodles was laid out and there was, of course, the usual Western corner plus various action stalls serving local delicacies. Seventy dishes, the banner outside boasted, one of the biggest breakfast selections in town and all the more for Anthony to experiment with.

He set about taking portions of the food for himself first then sprinkled the liquid from the canister. He had to be calm and seated to watch them change. The opportunity of a lifetime was upon him and nothing was worth the distraction. Because each human DNA was different, each person who consumed the liquid would react differently to the reptilian DNA. Chances of having two people becoming the same fish were highly unlikely. In some cases, he only expected a half-change.

‘I wonder if she would look like a mermaid,’ he murmured as his mind wandered to the red haired woman again.

‘Such beauty.’

As he munched his cereal, Anthony saw a harried businessman pour a cup of coffee while ordering eggs and pork noodles from an action stall. More than twenty minutes passed. A few more guests staggered in, but Anthony's eyes were transfixed on the businessman. And then, slowly, the change started. Anthony saw the man's eyes open in wonder as he looked at the back of his hands. Within seconds he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Scales grew on his skin; pinkish orange scales that made him look like a huge slab of walking salmon.

Anthony watched, his heart beating so fast he was unable to breathe. Even as he continued to observe, the businessman forced himself up only to realise his fingers were now webbed and his feet were wobbly.

The Creator was one step closer to his lifelong dream. Anthony heard a loud scream and when he turned, he could have jumped for joy. Queuing up for cereal, a lady could not control her tongue. In true lizard-like fashion, it kept snapping in and out with rapid succession, adjusting itself and trying to get a feel for the food in the bowl. In pure glee, Anthony stood up and stretched his arms wide open as he screamed.

Scattered around him, he saw people with fins, scales and long tails. He had done it. Finally, he alone had reversed human evolution.

In the distance, he saw a figure falling to the ground amidst the commotion. It was her. The red-haired woman, his queen, and she looked even more beautiful than ever. He was right; such beauty could only come from a mermaid. The mystical creature and water spirit of the Assyrian Sea. He ran to her side, knelt down and lifted her head up, breathing in that wonderful smell of mandarins. He heard another loud thud and Anthony was convinced that it was the sound of victory.

‘I do not understand how you people let it get to this state?’ Cathy Dixon's loud voice rang out in the suite.

On the bed, she peered as closely as she could at Mr Anthony Borda, the hotel guest who had overdosed on Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, or better known on the streets as LSD. When it had happened was anybody's guess. Suspicion grew when the Concierge informed Front Office that they had not seen him in two days. Only then did the Front Office Manager order his associates to check the guest's suite.

‘One day, three days, ten days I can understand. But when a guest doesn't request anything for three weeks there must be something wrong, wouldn't you think?’

Cathy looked around the wrecked suite. No longer recognisable as one of their own guest rooms, the floor was littered with clothes and empty food cartons. The bathtub had been used as a toilet bowl and rubbish bin. It was a horrid mess combined with faeces and waste beyond recognition. Cathy could have sworn she saw a maggot or two. The smashed pieces of a glass table were strewn all over the floor.

Taking a big gulp, Cathy tied her thick red hair into a bun and started to