Aquarius

By Marty Drago

Lucy is a London girl in a foreign land, as she is whisked away to Florida by an uncle she's never met.Her normal life turns upside down when she magically decodes a file found in her dead parents' house.She hires a detective to help her uncover her parents' secret life.Luke discovers he has a strange connection to Lucy along with 210 others.They reveal their births were part of a project that wants them back! Unfortunately so does their enemy. The world is thrown into war when world leaders and bankers erase paper money from the system and bring in compulsory human microchipping.As rebels go underground, so Project Blueprint surfaces.The 212 all follow their own journey to a place they have all shared in their dreams-A crater in the desert. Here they discover their purpose-To bring down corrupt governments and end their wars. What they didn't expect is who they would be up against, and what would become their allies.This is Lucy's story of how they woke the world from its sleep.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781291473919

Book preview

Aquarius

Aquarius

Marty Drago

Published by Scruffy Dog Books 2013

First Edition

Copyright © By Marty Drago

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-291-47391-9

[e-mail]

Aquarius

Marty Drago

Published by Scruffy Dog Books 2013

First Edition

Copyright © By Marty Drago

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-291-47391-9

[e-mail]

Prologue

Prologue

Farewell

The Journey

You Learn Something New Every Day

Knock Knock-Who’s There?

Follow the Breadcrumbs

Californ-I-A

Playing Spy

Dream a Little Dream of Me

New Allies

Our New Home

Enlightenment

Covert Ops

The Fabricated Bureau of Investigation

Lost and Found

Yuma’s Road Trip

Business as Usual

Shoot to Kill

The Aquarian Dawn

The Rescue Mission

One Small Step for Kane

The Shift

The Devil You Know

Know Thy Enemy

It’s A Big Boat

Aquarian’s Eve

The Age of Aquarius Begins

The Rise and Fall

The Rise and Fall

The Mole

Humanity Restored

Seeing the Light

Prologue

Our World is a tiny scratch on the face of the universe. It makes you think that we’re quite irrelevant, but I know things now that will soon change our tiny planet. Things so big, that mankind will take a leap forward into discovery. The truth of how we came to ‘be’, will come to light.  

Ignorance is bliss? 

No way. Ignorance is repressed information that we have a right to know. Our existence is based on lies, as you will soon find out. The dawn of a new age has already started, and I, Lucy Moore of sound mind and body, will tell you why. 

Many people lost their lives along the path to the truth, and more will yet. Some knew what they were getting into, but others were just innocent victims. You might believe that loss of life is a part of war. Or you might be totally against the fight, but the fact remains-At my time of writing, we are still at war. I don’t just mean the public face of war, where the elite use terrorism and dictatorship as an excuse to control the human race. The real war still hides in the shadows-The war to save the human race.

So I’ll just let you into my little secret. Not all of us are the human race…

That was how my journal began.

Farewell

My journey of discovery began at my parents’ funeral-Maria and Edward. It was January and damn cold, but then England of lately was always cold. I hate the cold. The police had blamed the icy road for causing the car to spin out of control and into the river. I had wished then I was with them in that stupid little Fiat, as I believed I was now alone in the world. I was sadly single, in a dead end office job, and left with a two bedroom house that belonged to the local council.

My father had worked for a car company, making components for most of his life. It paid the bills and a bit more, so I can’t grumble about my childhood. I was spoilt and didn’t go without. My mother had been a housewife and a good mum to her only daughter. I was just sad that there was nothing for them to be proud of me for.

I was thirty when they were killed, and far too young to lose my only family. Like I said, I was alone then. I hadn’t really known my grandparents as both sides had lived in the good old US of A, but anyway, they were all gone by then too.

As far as I can remember, we left America when I was six years old. Both my parents grew up in New York, so London was their first choice for a new home, preferring the city life. I had no idea why they upped and left their hometown, but they had their reasons.

The only people at the graveside that day were our neighbours, Terry and Matt, and I could never figure out if they were gay lovers or just flat mates, as they were always joined at the hip. Both were very manly though, and I could have easily have fallen for Matt, if I’d have been able to get five minutes alone with him!  They were good neighbours though and had been, for as long as I could remember. They helped me with all the funeral arrangements as I was in such a mess after the accident.

We all hugged after the ceremony and I invited them back to my lonely house though I had no wake planned, but they declined as they had other engagements. Plenty of flowers had been sent by my work colleagues which was nice of them. The job was rubbish, but the staff that worked in our small building company were sincere folk.

When Matt and Terry drove away, I sat myself on the gravestone next to the hole in the ground where my parents lay. The smell of the bouquets filled the crisp winter air, and the colours brightened up the dismal scene. I spared a thought for the poor soul that had been laid to rest below my ass, and picked up a bunch of flowers from my hoard, to place on the abandoned mess.

I took the time to read the cards on all of them, so I’d at least know who to send thank you cards to the next day. There was Millie from accounts, bless her, and Gill from reception, and a few others that had chipped in for a larger wreath.

The last card I picked out was from the flowers I’d left on the abandoned grave.

‘To Lucy’, it read on the outside. Then I opened it to read the inside.

‘You are not who you think you are. They were not your parents. The truth starts here.’

‘Huh?’ I said to myself rather loudly. It was hard to take in what it meant, but I instantly looked around for witnesses. I was deeply confused at the time, and it kind of freaked me out when I read it a second time, to make sure I’d read it right the first time!

In the distance was a man leaning with one foot on an old tree. He wore a drab long rain coat and a brown hat. He looked up at me then back down to the grass as if he was waiting for someone. He didn’t seem interested in me spying on him, so I ignored him.

I didn’t know why anyone would write such a strange statement on a funeral bouquet. It was like having hate mail, but my family had no enemies, nor did I. I decided to take the flowers and the card home, replacing them with another bouquet for the abandoned grave.

The walk home was about twenty minutes, not because it was that far, but because I took my time avoiding the icy spots on the pavement. The slow pace gave me time to reflect and mope, whilst listening to depressing music on my Samsung phone.

As I reached my front door, I could see a few more cards half stuffed through the letter box. When I opened the door, I stepped over another pile. It seemed a lot, until I realised there was a package underneath. I grabbed them all, and sat on the sofa going through them individually. All but one of them had postage stamps, with only a brown envelope that had been hand delivered, along with the jiffy bag, which just had my name written on it.

Leaving the jiffy until last, I opened the brown envelope. Inside was a postcard from Florida. This is what it read:

‘Dearest Lucy, I am your Uncle Neil, your mother’s brother. I am sorry for your loss. I believe your parents were murdered. I know this will be hard to take in, but I have sent you a separate package with instructions you MUST follow if you are to find out the truth. Trust no one. God speed, Uncle Neil.xxx’

Well that was a shock to the system!

Firstly, I’d never heard of an Uncle Neil, and the thought of my parents lying to me for thirty years was quite sickening. A million negative thoughts ran through my head, as I tried to understand what the heck was going on!

Of course I waited no longer and ripped open the jiffy bag. The contents fell to the floor and I got another shock when I saw a ticket to Miami, a key and a wad of dollars!

What the fuck?

Then I found another letter.

‘The key opens the door to your parents’ other house in Fort Lauderdale. 907. There you will find what you are looking for. I will try to contact you, but if I cannot, then good luck with your quest for the truth.’

What bloody truth?

Yesterday I was a lone London girl with no savings, and now I was standing in my hall with a thousand dollars and a key to a house in Florida, my house!

The flight was for the next day, so I didn’t have time to dilly dally and make up my mind, whether I was going or not. It was a definitive yes, so I had to pack quick and get some sleep, if that was at all possible. I grabbed a bag and stuffed in some summer and winter clothes. I had no idea what the weather was like. The furthest my parents had taken me was Cornwall, and I couldn’t even understand the language then. Even more odd, was the fact that my parents had kept my passport up to date, with no intention of me going anywhere abroad!

As I lay in bed that night, my mind kept going over the day. It was too surreal. Was it all a joke? I mean, the money and post card had been hand delivered, so could have arrived by courier. Or maybe it had been delivered by a work friend on some plot to add a bit of excitement to my life?

Life had been so ordinary, so black and white. I once went along to a psychic for a laugh with Millie from accounts. Though I didn’t believe in any of that stuff, the woman had been accurate with Millie, but me-I don’t know. I turned onto my side as my thoughts went over that night some months ago. It’s true you don’t really take in what you are told until something happens, and I guess the shock of my parents’ death triggered it off.

Madame Bindi, or whatever her name was, spoke of a journey I would be taking. She failed to mention anything else of importance which was why I forgot her babble. From what I could recall, the only thing that made sense to me now was the mention of a weird feeling I would be getting in my head, and to check it out with the doctor. She kept going on about my health and Millie was fretting I was going to get a brain tumour. I just laughed but thinking about it then in bed, I had been experiencing exactly that for the past few weeks.

It was a weird feeling like fingers creeping across my head. It had happened a few times before and after the accident. I closed my eyes and started to drift, trying not to worry. If it was my turn to keel over then at least I’d be reunited with my mum and dad. I was almost away with the fairies until I thought a spider had crawled into my hair, and I shot up and shook my head. There was no spider-Just that creeping feeling niggling for a minute or so, before letting me relax again.

I put it down to stress and the fact that the psychic’s words were on my mind. Either way, I wasn’t going to let it ruin the chance for a holiday in Florida, so I tried my best to rest my tumour ridden brain damaged head.

The Journey

As usual, I was running late. I had never been on a plane before, but had learned a lot from reality TV, knowing that if you were late for your flight, it would certainly leave without you. So I showered at warp speed and got dressed in whatever I could find first, which was jeans and a shirt.

I stuffed the money in my leather jacket that I was proud of finding in a charity shop for less than the price of a packet of fags-Not that I smoked, but half of my work pals did and always complained about the rising cost of getting cancer by choice.

Before leaving my council house, I had to take a last look around. It was so bland and boring. Things were hanging off of the wall where the council had failed to finish what they’d started, and had the cheek to send us a satisfaction survey for the work not done!

Well, good riddance to it all, I thought, and slammed the door behind me, carrying a modest bag only half full. Matt the hunky neighbour, was sitting in his car waiting for his bum chum, whom I bumped into on my rush out.

‘Hi Lucy. Going away to clear your head?’ Terry said in his sympathetic voice, noticing my bag.

‘Yeah, something like that. See ya.’ I didn’t have time to explain, nor did I wish to, but Matt intervened, calling from his lowered window.

‘You look like you’re in a rush. Want a lift?’

Hmm, now him I had time for. I couldn’t help glaring at his perfect stubble and ‘kiss me’ shaped lips. ‘Not unless you’re going to Heathrow?’

‘Actually yes we are. Terry’s working there this week. It’s usually Gatwick but duty calls elsewhere.’

‘That’s terrific!’ Coincidence I guessed. I didn’t give a hoot what Terry did for a living, but sitting next to Matt was a bonus. That was until Terry went for the front seat, and I got lumbered with the back.

Matt drove over the speed limit along the motorway which made me feel a tad uncomfortable as my father was always a careful driver. Thinking back, I did now wonder if they had been murdered. He was so into safety, always pressing me to wear a belt in the back, and going on about how precious life was and how special I was.

I was later to find out what he really meant.

The boys wished me a safe journey and even showed me the way, bless them. I flew with a British airline which was comforting. The last thing I wanted thrown in my face was a greasy yank burger on a long haul American flight, but that was just me stereotyping. I’m sure it would have been healthy and substantial.

Sitting beside me in the window seat was an elderly American man. We got chatting and he seemed very friendly, going on about his grandchildren in London and missing his wife. He asked me why and where I was heading, and to be honest, I didn’t even know what on Earth I was doing!

After hours of restless sleep and in between feeding my face, the pilot announced we were ready to land. As I looked out of the tiny port hole of a window, I glanced at the palm trees and sighed. It was a far cry from freezing London, and much more welcoming, but I was still a stranger in a foreign land. I had no friends except an uncle I had never heard of, who technically wasn’t even my uncle if my parents had adopted me.

The kind old man helped me into a cab and directed me to the address I was given by my Uncle Neil. I was exhausted and fell asleep again until I felt the cab come to a halt at my destination.

‘That’s thirty dollars please ma’am.’

‘Great thanks.’ I counted out the right money, and he helped me with my bag to the door.

‘Have a nice day ma'am,’ said the driver, and left me to it.

Well so far, everyone had been very helpful. It was almost as if I had been expected, and like I said before, if I had known what I know now, then I would have guessed right.

I was half expecting the key to not fit, and find someone jump from the bushes and say, ‘You’ve been framed,’ but the neighbourhood was quiet. As I opened the door, it smelt musky-Proof that no one had been living here for a long time.

First impressions were ‘nice one mum n dad. Thanks for the house!’ It was spacious and I fancied myself living in a place like this, but it was so far from the comfort of friends and nice neighbours. For now though, it would be home, so I got myself acquainted with it, and did a search.

The bedroom had a fresh modern decor and the bed looked like it had been made yesterday, which felt weird. It had my mother’s touch which helped me settle in, and the wine rack in the kitchen had my father’s touch, which prompted me to open a bottle-If I could just find an opener...

I scouted the kitchen drawers, but my mind wavered off the wine when I found another letter, addressed to me.

‘My darling daughter, Lucy.’

Oh well, I thought. This is where I start to get really freaked.

‘If you are reading this then your safety is compromised, and we are dead. You probably know now that we are not your birth parents, but we loved you with all our heart and did our best to protect you. We cannot begin to tell you how important the project was to us all, and to keep you hidden from the others.’

I was a project? I fretted, but there was still far too much I didn’t understand. What others?

The letter went on about Uncle Neil, and I wondered if he would try to contact me here, but by now it was dark, and I needed to rest and clear my head. In the morning I would do a thorough search and get to the bottom of this mystery, if it killed me!

I climbed into the largest bed I’d ever laid eyes upon and slept like a log in a coma. I never felt the insects feasting on me all night, until I awoke in the morning with a body full of bites. Day one, and I’d already learned to keep the window closed!

It was around twenty degrees which was the warmer end of the scale for that time of year, but hey, if it had been ten degrees, it would have been better than home. I showered in a cool spray to calm the bites and dressed in jeans and a light top. My long black hair wasn’t wet for long as the warm air dried it out. I hadn’t bought any sun cream, as there had been no time, but I had olive skin so wasn’t too worried about burning in the winter sun. It was another revelation when I remembered how pale my parents’ skin had been.

The reality of being an adopted child was hitting home. It was time to carry on snooping in my own house to dig for some information.

I started in the bedroom, and stripped the wardrobes of its drawers, but found nothing apart from some eighties clothes. Then I went back into the kitchen. I found recent telephone bills, and a few photographs of my fake parents at a black tie event with another couple. On the back of a photo were two names- Boris and Madeline. I wasn’t a detective and had no idea where I was going to head from here, but my next find would decide for me.

My fake parents must have known I would grow up dumb and found easy hiding places for me to discover what I needed. My father used to hide a bottle of open wine between the sofa cushions, so that’s where I went next.

Sure enough, I found yet another envelope. Inside was a letter, a business card and a bank debit card.

‘Lucy, there are people watching over you, but the others will soon follow if they realise who you are. We’re so sorry you had to find out like this, but we just could not risk you knowing what you are, or leave any trace here in case they found the house. And now it is important that you do know who you are. Enclosed is the number of someone you can trust. The account has enough to pay him what you need to uncover the truth. Good luck. x’

The business card was from a detective agency. ‘Albert Harris of Fort Lauderdale.’ It was all so carefully planned how everything was so easy to work out. Obviously the landline was still functioning as the bills were paid according to the recent letters, and it was just as well, because I didn’t have a clue how to work a mobile phone abroad.

I called the number on the card and waited as the very different dialling tone did a few rings. Then a man answered.

‘Harris, how can I help?’

‘Albert?’

‘God no, my father’s been dead for a few years. I’m his son. Was it a private detective you wanted, or my father?’

‘Oh I’m really sorry, I don’t know. It’s a long story.’

He used his smart detective work to figure out I wasn’t local. ‘You’re British.’

‘Yes, look, I’m really lost here, and I need help. My parents left me your number, but it says your father’s name on the card.’

‘It must be an old one. What are your parents’ names?’

‘They died in a car crash last week, but their names were Maria and Edward Moore.’

The line went silent, and I was stumped for words myself. I waited for a reply but it never came. ‘Hello?’ The line was still open and I could hear a rustling at the other end, then the man must have picked up the phone again.

‘Lucy Moore?’

‘How do you know my name?’

‘I think we should meet.’

‘How about here?’

And so it was done. Luke would be my knight in shining armour, coming to shed some light on the mystery that was my life.

You Learn Something New Every Day

By lunchtime I was starving, but the cupboards were empty apart from a few tins of something I had not seen in England before, and wasn’t about to try. Luke arrived at 1pm, and he was a sight to relish-Enough to drop my feelings for Matt. My appetite for food took a back seat to my appetite for him, as I blushed in his presence.

‘You must be Lucy,’ Luke smiled, and I beamed back at him.

‘Yes.’ I tried to focus. ‘I’ve got so many questions.’

‘Good, coz I’ve got lunch. You like noodles?’

Thank the gods he didn’t get burgers. ‘Yes, great. Come in and sit down.’

Luke was tanned, toned and very American. It was like talking to a movie star, not a detective at all. I must have looked like a tramp, or bum in his neck of the woods, but he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he had a girlfriend. Who am I kidding? Of course he had a girlfriend. Jeez!

Luke handed me a box of noodles and a plastic fork. I thanked the gods again for not handing me chopsticks. That would have been a disaster.

‘I never thought you’d ever turn up.’

‘How do you know my family then?’ I asked.

‘My father did. Before he was killed, he gave me a letter. It’s addressed to you, but he told me your parents’ names. He said if anything happened to him and you turned up, then I should give you this. I never dreamed you would!’

Yet another letter, and Luke was no more wised up on the mystery than I was. ‘I’ve been itching to know what it’s all about Lucy. I hope you can help me out.’

I shrugged. ‘You’re supposed to be the detective!’

As I opened the letter, we both held our breath. I noticed the different handwriting, and the name signed at the bottom.  

‘It’s from your father.’ We were both surprised.

Then I read aloud. ‘Lucy, there is much to say. I was hoping to tell you myself, but if you are reading this, then I am dead too. Your parents adopted you from a company called Blueprint. They were intrigued but curious of its motives, so they came to me for help. If you’re sitting in your parents’ house then tell Luke to look in the same place his grandma left her will. My file will be there. Luke can pick up where I left off. Be careful, both of you. The closer you get to the truth, the more danger you will be in.’

‘Who the hell are my real parents? The KGB?’

‘I have no idea, but I do know where the file is.’

Luke ran upstairs to the bedroom, and dragged the bed away from the wall. By the time I had reached him, he had pulled back the dusty carpet, and was prising up the floorboards with his fingers.

‘Do you have a knife or