Maze Master

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear

  “As far as I know.”

  Micah leaned back into his soft pillows again. He felt sick to his stomach. An ingenious form of worldwide cultural cleansing.

  “However,” Cozeba added, “the day you were shot, I ordered that the formula for Yacob’s vaccine be sent out on every open channel we have. It’s been going out three times a day. So far, Norway, England, and France have contacted us saying they’ve received it.”

  That made Micah feel a little better. “Do we know what’s happening in the rest of the world?”

  “We know there are large quarantine zones across Europe and in Russia and China. Every country is desperate. Yacob’s vaccine only targets one strain of the virus, and many countries do not have that strain, so it has little utility, but they were grateful to get it nonetheless.”

  When Micah remained silent, Cozeba nodded and left.

  As the door closed behind him, Micah swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and carefully walked to the window where his clothing lay folded. Getting dressed with only one arm was a challenge, but he managed. While he worked his jeans over his hips, he looked down at the Garden.

  Anna moved through the last survivors with relentless patience, mopping foreheads, speaking to people, tipping cups of water to mouths that barely had the strength to open. He wondered if she’d been the one who’d taken care of Hakari as he’d died. It must have torn her apart. She’d been loyal to him until the very end. And now, she must be taking care of Nadai.

  As the snow fell harder, it covered her shoulders and hair, turning them white.

  Micah shook out his rain poncho. It was the easiest to put on over his sling.

  As he watched Anna, the cold seemed to intensify around him.

  Bravery was such a bizarre, irrational act. It made no sense at all.

  Unless you were there at that moment, watching people die around you. Then it was the only thing that made sense. That’s how she must have felt when she’d stepped into the Garden.

  CHAPTER 61

  Martin lay on the ground in the Garden, staring up at Anna. Snow had settled on her auburn hair and eyelashes.

  She felt his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  “Floaty. Not really here. I’m dying.”

  “You are not dying.”

  “Anna, the truth is I can feel the virus in every joint now. It’s progressing fast.”

  Unlike the pain associated with the common flu, when LucentB reached the joints, it created a numb sensation. His bones felt as hollow as a bird’s. He knew his arms and legs were there, he could vaguely feel them, and still mostly control them, but in the back of his mind he feared he was suffering from phantom limb phenomenon. Maybe he only thought he had arms and legs?

  For days after he’d been vaccinated he’d held out hope. Then he’d begun moving in and out of consciousness. Every time he woke and remembered he had the plague, it felt like the first time: devastating. He couldn’t get used to the idea that he might be seeing his last glimpse of sky and earth. He always had the foolish urge to crawl to his feet and run away, as though he could somehow outdistance death.

  He kept his gaze focused on Anna. “There are things I need to say, and I don’t have long to do it.”

  “Stop being so grim, Martin. Yacob’s vaccine may be the reason your fever is so much higher than the other victims. It’s fighting off the virus.”

  Martin smiled. Given the progression he’d witnessed since he’d arrived in the Garden, he had at most a few hours to live. Maybe a lot less. That knowledge was strangely freeing. He didn’t have to pretend any longer. “I won’t be able to see you soon. My vision is going.”

  “You’re delusional,” she noted in a soft voice, “keep that in mind.”

  “Am I?” He blinked at the sky. The air had a faint hazy shimmer, and every color seemed painfully brighter, like a vivid kaleidoscopic dream. “I haven’t told you I’m Jesus Christ yet, have I?”

  “Not yet, but the day is young.”

  “Speaking of which…” He exhaled a shaky breath and his vision grayed at the edges. “How is Hakari?”

  Grief tightened her expression. She looked across the Garden to the place where she kept hauling and stacking the blanketed bodies of the dead. “He died. I told you. Don’t you remember?”

  “No, I … I don’t.” His memory was failing. Last stage. “I’m sorry, Anna. I know you loved him.”

  “He’s at peace now. I’m grateful for that.”

  Martin started shivering. The woolen blankets piled on top of him did little to protect him from the weather. Of course, in the Garden no one needed protection. Not for long.

  Anna tugged his blankets up to his chin and tucked them around him. “Better?”

  “What are you doing in here, Anna? You shouldn’t be in here. You should leave.”

  “Too late for that.”

  “Get out of here! Let someone with the disease tend the dying. At least go sit in the monitoring tent.” His teeth started to chatter.

  Anna stroked his hair again. It felt good. Not to be dying alone. But he still didn’t want her here.

  “You may not have saved us, Martin, but you probably saved humanity. You and Hakari. If you hadn’t figured out that the inscription was the quantum key code—”

  “Anna, we need to talk about important things.”

  She gave him a nod. “What is it?”

  “The Marham-i-Isa. How long ago did Hakari find it?”

  Their gazes held for a long time, before she said, “Three years ago. The ointment was gone. The jar looked empty, but he took scrapings from the ceramic walls and ran a chemical analysis. Mostly, it was dried blood.”

  “Blood?”

  “Ancient magicians always added parts of themselves to their cures. In this case, it was blood. The blood residue was filled with intact DNA. He used the sequence as the basis for the DNA vaccine.”

  “You mean it’s that ancient blood that heals?”

  “It’s the key. Since we don’t have the actual vaccine, we’ll probably never know how much of a role the blood played.”

  A haunted sensation crept through him.

  Drink ye all of it, for this is my blood.

  Wind flapped Martin’s blanket around him, and the sound resembled the staccato of distant rifle fire.

  “Do you believe it’s Jesus’s blood?”

  She stared out at the wingtips of the sunken aircraft that thrust above the waves. “No. Once I did, but after losing the Marham-i-Isa to Garusovsky … I don’t believe in anything now.”

  Hakari must have worked day and night to analyze it, to twist out the healing genes that spiraled down through the two-thousand-year-old double helix, so he could use them as part of his vaccine. Martin could only imagine the sheer wonder that must have filled the man when he finally saw the DNA analysis of the blood appear on the computer screen in front of him. For the first time in history, someone knew the specific genes that had allowed the Marham-i-Isa to heal the sick in ancient Jerusalem. And at some point, perhaps in a flash of illumination, Hakari realized he could use those same genes to cure the plague that would soon devastate the modern world.

  “If it is His blood, it s-seems unfair.”

  “What does?”

  “The godless communists … have His DNA r-running around their veins … and us God-fearing Americans don’t.”

  She actually laughed.

  He tried to smile, but he was having trouble making his jaws work. It was a horrifying feeling for a man who’d spent his life lecturing. “Promise me.”

  “Anything.” She leaned down closer to him to hear him better.

  “Hazor.”

  “What about Micah?”

  “The w-world … things are going to get … worse. The few people left … they’ll do anything to survive.” He was shivering so badly she had to tuck the blankets around him again. “When you go out there … you’ll need him. He—”

  “I know.”

  When Martin
stopped speaking to concentrate on the wild glitter that filled the air, Anna bowed her head.

  “L-Look at me.”

  Anna lifted her gaze. Her eyes were dry. All trace of emotion gone. She’d wiped it from her face. Martin smiled. She would not burden his last hours with her tears, and he was grateful for it.

  He tried to keep his gaze on her, to draw strength from her face, but he was having trouble controlling his eye muscles. He couldn’t seem to maintain a focus.

  “I love you. Just wanted you to know. Don’t say it back, okay?”

  She reached out and took his hand in a firm grip, as though she knew sensation was slipping away from him, and she wanted him to know she was still there. “Try to sleep, Martin.”

  “No time. I need to look.”

  The gray at the edges of his vision started to swallow up more and more of the sky, closing in on him. Martin fought to keep his eyes open to see the world around him. But he was so very tired. He finally let his lids fall closed and concentrated instead on the feel of Anna’s hand holding his.

  CHAPTER 62

  Micah pulled his hood up before he stepped outside Fort Saint Elmo into the falling snow. As he walked along the well-worn trail that circled the perimeter of the Garden, he protectively held his slung arm against his chest.

  When he reached the spot in the fence closest to Anna, he stopped and waited for her to see him. She was kneeling beside a blond man, speaking softly to him. The man’s skin had that eerie translucence that was the hallmark of LucentB. Nadai? Micah couldn’t tell from this distance, but the thought twisted his gut. He would forever remember the look on Nadai’s face when he’d stepped out of the room to shield Micah with his own body. In the end, he’d been the real savior. He’d figured out the cure. Even if only Russians got to enjoy it.

  Anna finally rose and saw Micah. She walked forward sluggishly, as though it took great effort to put one foot in front of the other.

  His heart swelled. Seeing her alive right now was the best moment in his life.

  Anna stopped three feet away.

  “You look well, Micah.” True warmth filled those words.

  “So far, no symptoms. We’ll see how that goes. You could be taking care of me tomorrow. Have you gotten any sleep in the past twenty-four hours?”

  “A little. Around dawn this morning.” Anna shoved snow-crusted tangles away from her forehead and exhaled hard. “How is everyone else in the fort?”

  “Demoralized because we lost the cure. Counting down their last days.”

  “Yacob’s vaccine should give us a little time.”

  He shoved his right hand deeper into his jeans pocket, straining at his own impotence. “Cozeba says Yacob is leading the vaccine production aboard the Mead. I guess security is extreme.”

  “The medical staff must feel like prisoners of war.”

  “They know the stakes. Just as you did when you walked into the Garden to care for Hakari. He was a great man. I’m sorry I never met him.”

  “I am, too.”

  “How’s Nadai?”

  She shook her head lightly and turned back toward the blond man she’d been speaking with. So that is Nadai.

  “Unconscious now.”

  Anna cautiously took another step closer, and Micah saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes. The scent of stale sweat clung to her clothing. “I heard about Operation Eucharist. How long will it take to produce enough of Yacob’s vaccine to risk a trip back to America?”

  “Cozeba says a month, maybe more.”

  Anna tipped her chin up to watch the snowfall. Flakes clung to her lashes and gathered on her forehead. They were both thinking the same thing. A month. Too long. “I know Cozeba is sending out Yacob’s formula. Any response yet?”

  “Norway, England, and France have confirmed that they received the formula.”

  “Which means they’re working as fast as they can to produce it for the survivors in their countries. That’s something, at least.”

  With the ferocious winds over the past several days, the ships in the harbor had blown together, where they clanged and banged as the waves rocked them against each other.

  A soldier moaned behind Anna, and she half turned to look at the man. The wind had torn away his blanket, and snow was accumulating on his body. He was shivering.

  “Micah, if I’m still alive in a month, tell Cozeba I volunteer for Operation Eucharist.”

  Micah hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his lungs suddenly expanded and relief flooded through him. If she lived.

  “I will.”

  Anna gave him one of those enigmatic smiles. “You didn’t think I’d let you go alone, did you? You need me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Anna turned and walked through the bodies to pull the blanket back over the soldier, then she returned to Nadai’s side where she sat down cross-legged and started speaking softly to him.

  While Micah watched her, he listened to the beads of water drip from the wire. She must want to spend every last moment that she could with Nadai.

  He would come back later.

  Micah trudged up the trail to the fort with his boots crunching snow.

  CHAPTER 63

  As twilight settled over the island of Malta, Anna pulled the blanket over Martin’s dead face and staggered to her feet. Heavy snow was falling now, obliterating the world. The empty ships and half-sunken planes that filled the harbor had vanished into the storm. Even the massive stone walls of the fort had turned hazy and vaguely unreal.

  Cold to the bone, she folded her arms and picked a path through the blanketed bodies. When she reached the fence, she slumped down and leaned her head back against the wire. Snow coated her face like an icy burial shroud.

  Of course, the cold didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered. Except that she had failed. She was alone and she had failed. That’s what hurt. James had taught her everything she needed to know, but she hadn’t understood until too late.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the windows of the fort. People passing by. She hadn’t seen anyone in hours, but someone was still alive. At least she could watch them while she waited for her time to come.

  Footsteps grated on the path that led along the fence.

  “Are you Anna? Anna Asher? The guard said you were Anna.”

  Turning, she saw a young red-haired monk standing with his knees braced, as though preparing to deliver solemn news. A strange expression creased his face.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He clenched his fists at his sides. “I didn’t think you were real. I … Could you come with me, please? There’s something I need to show you. He told me to protect it for Anna Asher. For you, I guess.”

  Frightened by his voice, Anna gripped the fence to help support her legs as she pulled herself to her feet.

  CHAPTER 64

  “There are several dead bodies up here. Be careful,” Brother Stephen said as he led the way down the tunnel with the candle extended in front of him.

  They’d been walking for what seemed like hours, stepping down spiral staircases, snaking around interconnected tunnels, and past magnificent megalithic temples with false bays and doorways hewn entirely out of rock that went nowhere. The deeper they went, the harder it became to breathe—as though the weight of stone was pressing on her lungs. It was like walking through a monument to the dead. Hollow sunken eyes followed them everywhere.

  Brother Stephen stopped and pointed down a new tunnel. “You can go ahead of me now. Just, please wait in the doorway. I don’t want you to scuff the floor. I’ve already ruined some of it. I didn’t mean to. I just—”

  “What’s down there?”

  “A computer and other things. Brace your hand against the wall. Your eyes will adjust as you go. Most of the dead are on the right side of the tunnel.”

  As Anna edged forward, sidestepping the bodies, the stone magnified the sounds of her breathing. At the end of the tunnel, she saw a slightly lighter square to
the right. “Is that it? Is that the bomb shelter?”

  “Yes,” Stephen called.

  Anna veered around a dead man with a pistol still clutched in his fist … and looked in at the dark chamber. She couldn’t see anything in there.

  When Brother Stephen came up behind her, the gleam of his candle filled the room.

  The first thing that caught her attention was the centrifuge filled with tubes of clear liquid that rested on the counter across the room, then the closed laptop on the table. Finally her gaze lowered, and her mouth fell open.

  “What is this?” she whispered, trying to fathom the magnificent double helix looping around the stone floor. Awe expanded her chest. In the candle’s gleam, the octahedronal structure appeared unbelievably delicate and elegant, drawn in blue chalk by a master’s hand. “This entire room … it’s a gigantic representation of a DNA formula. Who drew this?”

  “My brother, Ben Adam. He told me to protect this chamber for you.”

  “But I don’t know Ben Adam.”

  He tiptoed through the chalked images, and went to the laptop on the table. When he opened it and tapped the space bar, the computer sprang to life.

  A blaze of colors—red, blue, green, and yellow—flickered over the jugs of water and packets of food that lined the walls. The geometric shapes on the floor seemed to be dancing.

  “He told me this was the language of God and that you would understand. Do you?”

  Stunned by the figure rotating on the screen, she could not speak. That same image had appeared on Zandra’s screen after they’d entered the quantum key code. She carefully made her way across the floor and sank down in the chair in front of the computer. She couldn’t take her eyes from it.

  “Dear God … it’s the vaccine.”

  As understanding wended its way through her veins, she felt increasingly light-headed. Her gaze lifted from the screen and fixed upon the centrifuge with the three tubes of clear liquid. “What’s in the test tubes?”

  Stephen shoved up his black sleeve to show her a swollen injection site. “My brother filled a needle from one of those tubes and gave me a shot. He said it would protect me from death.”