by A. G. Riddle
The soldiers led them through a series of corridors that ended in a round room made from iron different from the Atlantis structure. This section of the structure was new. And manmade. In the middle of the room, a steel ladder hung out of a large round pipe. It reminded Kate of a manhole that led out of a sewer.
“What’s going on, Martin? What’s happened to you?”
“I’ve been waiting here, hiding for almost two months, hoping you and your father would come out. We’ll talk in the submersible. Get in. Craig is probably on his way by now.”
CHAPTER 151
Patrick stepped through the portal, into the control room. There were at least a dozen guards in the room and at the back, behind all of them, a familiar face. For once, Patrick was actually glad to see the man who had given him a tour of the tunnels almost a hundred years ago. A man who had changed his destiny. A man who could have let the Immari die in 1978, when he was awakened, but instead chose to rebuild the monstrous organization.
Mallory Craig’s words so many years ago ran through Patrick’s head. The call. The lure. The trap. “Patrick. There’s been an accident…”
Craig nodded to a man in a white coat who was holding a syringe. “Get the sample.”
Patrick raised the pistol and pointed it at the white-coated man, stopping him in his tracks.
A small smile spread across Patrick’s face. “Mallory. I guess it’s true then. The meek shall inherit the Earth.”
Craig’s face changed. “I’m not half as meek as you think—”
“Can you withstand a nuclear blast? How about two?”
CHAPTER 152
One by one, Kate, Martin, the children, and Martin’s men climbed the ladder into the sub. Thirty minutes later, the sub rose through the waters of the Bay of Gibraltar. It was a small sub with no sub-compartments, and when it surfaced, Martin instructed the soldiers to “head out into the Atlantic, and watch your speed, they’re patrolling the straits.” He motioned for Kate to follow him up another steel ladder that led to the oval lookout deck on top of the sub.
Kate walked to the solid steel half wall and leaned against the rail, next to Martin. The wind was cooler now, much cooler than yesterday in Gibraltar. Not yesterday. How long had she been in the tombs? Something else was different. Gibraltar. It was dark.
“Why aren’t there any lights in Gibraltar?” Kate asked.
Martin turned. His unshaven, unkempt appearance still mildly unnerved her. “Evacuated.”
“Why?”
“It’s a Protectorate of the Immari Imperium.”
“Immari Imperium?”
“You’ve been gone for two months, Kate. The world has changed. And not for the better.”
Kate continued searching the coastline. Gibraltar was dark, but so was Northern Africa. All the glittering lights she’d seen on that balcony last night, the night when David had caught her…
Kate stood for a while without saying anything. Finally she did see some lights, moving at the coast. Or was it a city? No, the lights were moving. “The lights in Northern Africa…”
“There are no lights in Northern Africa.”
Kate pointed at the faint twinkling lights. “They’re right—”
“A plague barge.”
“Plague?”
“The Atlantis Plague,” Martin said. He sighed, suddenly looking even more exhausted. “We’ll get to all that.” He leaned against the rail and gazed toward Gibraltar. “I had hoped to see your father again. But this… this is an end he would have liked.” He continued before Kate could speak. “Your father was a very remorseful man. He blamed himself for your mother’s death. And for leading the Immari into the city of Atlantis. A death, to save your life, to save the Atlanteans, and to keep the Immari from accessing the portal he found, to keep them out of the structure in Antarctica… it’s fitting for him. He would want to die in Gibraltar. Your mother died in Gibraltar.”
As if on cue, a geyser of water and light rose into the air and a sonic boom broke over the sky and echoed in her chest.
Martin put his arm around her. “We must get below. The wave will be here soon. We have to dive.”
Kate took one last look back. Through the light of the blast, she saw the Rock of Gibraltar crumbling, but not all of it. One last shard still held on, rising just above the water line.
CHAPTER 153
The lab tech walked into Dr. Shen Chang’s office. “Sir, we didn’t receive any data from Gibraltar.”
“The blast interrupted it?”
“No. The transmission never began. They never got a sample from Pierce. But we’ve had another break. Craig left a letter. He wouldn’t let Pierce bury Helena Barton’s body for a reason — Craig actually kept it in case it could be useful some day. It’s in a locker in San—”
“Have you gotten a sample?”
The tech nodded. “We’re running it through the simulation with the fetus and the data from Kane now. We’re not sure if it will work since—”
Chang tossed the tablet on his desk. “How soon will we know?”
“We’re not sure—” the tech’s phone buzzed. “Actually, it’s in.” He looked up. “We’ve found the Atlantis Gene.”
EPILOGUE
David opened his eyes. The view was distorted. A white haze. The curve of glass. He was inside a tube. His eyes were adjusting, as if he were waking up from a deep sleep. He could see his body now. He was naked. His skin was smooth — too smooth. The chest and shoulder wounds were gone. As were the scars on his arms and chest, where the burning pieces of metal and rock from the collapsing buildings had dug into him so long ago.
The white fog was clearing now, and he looked out of the tube. To his left, a light shone into the vast chamber. It was the light from the corridor… the corridor where he had retreated and Dorian had shot him. Killed him. David strained to see. There he was. His limp body, lying there in a pool of blood. There was another body lying across him.
David looked away from the scene, trying to comprehend it. To his right, as far as he could see, up and down, right and left, were tubes. They were all asleep. Except for him. And there was one more. One more set of eyes scanning the distance beyond. Directly across from him. He wanted to lean closer to see them, but he couldn’t move. He waited. A cloud of mist passed, and he saw the eyes and the face in the other tube. Dorian Sloane.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Hello and thank you for reading. This is my first novel, and I truly hope you’ve enjoyed it. As a new author, I’m especially interested in getting your feedback, learning what you liked and didn’t, and growing professionally. Please feel free to email me: [email protected].
I’ve learned so many things in releasing this book. Perhaps the biggest surprise has been how hard it is to get discovered on Amazon. New authors (like your narrator) and debut novels (like the one you’re reading) are relegated to a dark, dusty, undisturbed aisle in the Amazon store — a place where pretty much no one can find them. It’s not so bad back here. I mean, it’s quiet, peaceful, a few bugs crawling around, nothing I can’t handle. But… it would be nice to venture out, maybe to one of the lighted aisles where more readers browse. The only way to do that is to get reviews; it’s just how Amazon works. You get reviews, they let you out. So, if you’re willing to write a review, I would really appreciate it. Just remember, with every keystroke of your review, you’re liberating this indie author.
Click here to review The Atlantis Gene.
What’s next for Kate Warner, David Vale, and Dorian Sloane?
The Atlantis Plague.
Find out more at: AtlantisGene.com/Next
Thanks again for reading,
-A.G.
PS: the web site also has a “Fact vs Fiction behind The Atlantis Gene” section that explores the science and history in the novel.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Where do I start?
At home, I suppose. To Anna, for everything. Specifically for reading my first draft and making invaluable sugg
estions. And generally for living with me for the past two years as I wondered whether I was drilling a dry well and why the bottle of Balvenie was always empty (it turns out it did not have a hairline crack). I love you.
I imagine every young man who writes a novel owes a huge thank you to his mother, but for me, it’s even more so. I’m very lucky. To have parents who always supported me and to have a mother who spent 20 years teaching eighth grade English (ah-hem, Language Arts now) at Crest Middle School in Shelby, North Carolina. Thanks Mom, for reading my manuscript, for performing outstanding editing work, and for always believing in your children, inside and outside of the classroom.
From here the list gets longer, and I risk leaving someone out. I don’t want to take that chance, so to everyone who has had a hand in this, my first novel, and helped me along the way, I say thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A.G. Riddle spent ten years starting and running internet companies before retiring to focus on his true passion: writing fiction. He lives in Durham, North Carolina and would love to hear from you: AGRiddle.com
