Eden Rising

by Brett Battles

  “All of you?”

  “Yeah, my whole team.”

  “Thank God. When we lost contact with you, we couldn’t help but think something happened. Where are you?”

  “Should be touching down on your airstrip in about ten minutes.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I hope so. If not, you’re going to have to pick us out of the desert.”

  “I can’t believe it. We’ve really missed you around here.”

  “Been busy, have you?”

  Her tone turned serious. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Well, I guess you can fill me in when we get down.”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you could do us a favor and light up the landing lights, that’d be great.”

  “Of course.”

  Seconds later, a double row of lights popped on in the sea of darkness below them.

  __________

  RACHEL PUSHED OPEN the truck door and hurried toward the plane, making it almost all the way there by the time Pax climbed out.

  They threw their arms around each other, Pax lifting her into the air as they hugged.

  “I can’t believe it’s really you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if we’d ever see you again.”

  “There were a few days there I wasn’t sure about that myself,” he said. He kissed her cheek and set her down, then looked around. “I take it things haven’t exactly been normal around here.”

  She almost laughed. “Oh, Pax, I’ve missed you.”

  She hugged him again, and started walking with him toward the truck.

  “Matt too busy to make it out to say hi?” he asked.

  “He’s not here.”

  She could feel Pax tense.

  “He didn’t—”

  “He’s fine,” she said, cutting him off. “Just out on a mission.”

  “What kind of mission?”

  “I’ll fill you in on everything later.”

  “What about Ash and Chloe? Were they able to make it back?”

  “Yes, both of them.”

  “That’s something, anyway.”

  When they reached the truck, they climbed into the back and waited for the rest of the team to get there. Rachel recognized all but two of the men.

  When she mentioned this to Pax, he said, “No, that’s my mistake.” He waved the men over. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet Ian Lourdes and Frank Kendrick. They work with the research facility that put us up on Amund Ringnes Island.”

  “Researchers?” she asked, confused by why they had come.

  “Pilots,” Pax said.

  Of course. Someone would have had to—

  Pilots.

  “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to met you,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing our friends home. I’m guessing you both are pretty tired.”

  “Exhausted,” Frank said.

  She smiled and asked, “How exhausted?”

  SALINAS, CALIFORNIA

  9:41 PM PST

  IRIS HAD FALLEN asleep within moments of lying down.

  Ben, on the other hand, was wide awake. In what was surely the most eventful couple of weeks in human history, today had been a banner day in his small part of it. Leaving his childhood home, given the current circumstances, would have been traumatic enough, but throw on top of that finding Iris like he had, and then hunting for her after she ran off, was plenty to place the day squarely on top.

  He pushed off his mattress and headed down the carpeted aisle.

  His initial plan had been to find two rooms in a motel, but the first place he checked was full of the dead. Iris, who by that point refused to leave his side, had been so freaked out she wouldn’t even let him check any other motels. Houses seemed to be out of the question, too. So Ben began looking for anyplace they could sleep halfway comfortably.

  “There! There!” Iris had shouted as they were driving around on their search.

  “You don’t have to yell. I’m right here,” he told her.

  But when he looked to see what had caught her attention, he could almost forgive her outburst. A mattress store. Perfect.

  The place turned out to be stocked not only with mattresses, but also sheets and blankets and pillows. It was the jackpot of non-hotel/non-home places to sleep.

  He made his way to the back of the store, grabbed a can of soda out of the machine he’d jimmied earlier, and headed back up front, where he sat down on a bed in the window display.

  Outside it was as dark as he’d ever seen it. Salinas had apparently lost its power. No street lamps, no lit signage, no emergency lights on in buildings. As strange as the darkness was, he had a feeling it would become the norm from now on, so he knew he’d better get used to it.

  He popped open the can and took a sip. The soda was cool, but only because the store itself was cool. That was probably something else he’d have to get used to—not always being able to have a cold drink when he wanted one.

  Or heat. Or air conditioning. Or ice.

  Those were only a few items on the monstrous list of things he’d have to get used to, he thought. The truths and expectations he’d grown up with were gone.

  He stared out into the pitch-black night.

  This is the new reality. This is it.

  LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

  9:53 PM PST

  JILLY PULLED HER blanket tight to her neck. The room was heated, but she was shivering.

  We should have all stayed together, she thought. We should have gone with Martina.

  On the bed below her, Valerie muttered something in her sleep, “taking it time,” or “taking it, Tim,” or maybe something else entirely. Whatever it was, Valerie sounded panicked. She twisted one way and then the other before falling silent again.

  Jilly had no idea if she spoke in her own sleep, but she wouldn’t doubt it.

  From the moment they’d arrived at the survival station set up inside Dodger Stadium, Jilly had had a weird feeling about things. The UN officials they’d met with had given them only kind words and smiles, but something felt off.

  Each girl had been taken into a room and interviewed individually.

  “And you’re from Ridgecrest, too?” Jilly’s interviewer asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Pretty amazing you were all able to survive.”

  “I guess.” On the way to L.A., the girls had decided to keep quiet their belief that they were immune. They didn’t want to chance not being given the vaccine in case they actually needed it. They agreed that if asked whether they’d had the Sage Flu during the spring outbreak, they’d say no.

  “Were you and your friends together the whole time?” the interviewer asked.

  “For the most part.”

  A notation on the page, then, “Did you see any others? Survivors, I mean.”

  The girls hadn’t discussed this point. Should she tell the woman about Martina, Noreen, Riley, and Craig? “I didn’t see anyone,” she said. If the other girls wanted to tell their interviewers about Martina, so be it. She didn’t feel right doing it.

  The questions went on for over half an hour. At the end, Jilly was led through several stadium tunnels and out onto the baseball field, where two identical fenced-in areas were set up. They looked very much like the prisoner-of-war camps she’d seen in history class.

  “Quarantine,” her escort had said. “Just until we’re sure you aren’t showing any signs of the illness. At that point, you’ll be given the vaccine.”

  “And then I’ll be free to go?”

  He looked surprised by her question. “Well, of course, that’s a choice you can make. But we do have relocation zones where we are consolidating survivors. You’d be much happier there.” When she didn’t say anything, he went on. “Anyway, you don’t have to make that decision now.” His friendly smile was back. “There are books and movies inside the barracks building. You’ll find something to occupy your time.”

  But Jilly didn’t read any of the books. She didn�
��t watch any of the movies, either. None of her teammates did. Though they hadn’t discussed it, she sensed they all were feeling the same way she was. That something was wrong here.

  Jilly turned on her side, the uncomfortable thoughts refusing to go away. When sleep finally came, it wasn’t like a wave that pushed her deep beneath the surface, but more like a gentle swell, lapping over her face for a moment or two, but never enough to keep her under for long.

  FROM THE JOURNAL OF BELINDA RAMSEY

  11:57 PM CST

  SO TIRED. WALKED until dark, but have only made it a few miles out of town, I think. I don’t know for sure.

  Found a farm just off the highway. Too scared to go into the house, so am in the barn. Plan was to have something to eat, then figure out where exactly I am. Guess I must have lain down. I don’t remember doing that. But I do remember the last time I checked my watch it was almost 7 p.m., so looks like I’ve been out for about five hours.

  Still exhausted, though. Forcing myself to eat and jot this down. Eyes are already getting heavy again, so am sure I’ll be sleeping soon.

  Until tomorrow.

  January 2nd

  World Population

  961,001,699

  22

  FOR THE FIRST time since 1804, Earth’s human population dipped below one billion.

  23

  MUMBAI, INDIA

  4:41 AM IST

  SANJAY KNEW HIS best chance of getting back inside the Pishon Chem compound unseen was to go while most of the troops stationed at the survival station were spread throughout the city, looking for escaped survivors. He asked Kusum to come with him, knowing he would need someone as backup, and she was the one he trusted most. Besides, she wouldn’t have let him go without her.

  They made record time on their return trip, and worked their way through the neighborhood surrounding the compound until they were once more standing next to the hole at the back wall. They paused there, listening, in case a guard had been stationed on the other side. All was quiet.

  As soon as Sanjay passed underneath the wall, though, his heart sank. Someone had moved a couple of barrels over the hole’s exit. He put his hand on the bottom of one of the barrels and tested its weight.

  Empty.

  He tried the other. Also empty.

  Not quite the disaster he had feared.

  Careful to not tip over the barrels, he inched the first one to the side, and then did the same with the other. After they were out of the way, he poked his head out and looked around. The area was as deserted as it had been when he and Kusum came through earlier.

  He crawled back out the other side. “Okay,” he whispered to Kusum. “Be very careful.”

  She rolled her eyes and waved impatiently for him to go back under.

  After they were in the compound, they put the barrels back in front of the hole. To the casual observer, it would look like the barrels were still in place. Sanjay then led Kusum around the scrap piles and headed toward the administration building.

  The vaccine he had stolen for Kusum and her family had been located in a medical storage room near the first-floor conference room. He thought they must have more of it there. If not…

  No! It is there, he told himself.

  They passed between the dormitory buildings and over to the back entrance to admin.

  “You stay out here,” he whispered to Kusum.

  “Why? So someone walking by can see me?”

  “What? No. Someone needs to keep an eye on things out here. And since I am the one who knows where the vaccine is, I need to be the one who goes inside. There,” he said, pointing at a few parked vehicles a dozen meters away. “Hide behind those cars. You will be fine.”

  __________

  SENIOR MANAGER DETTLING had lost track of how many times he wished someone else had been put in charge of the Mumbai location, but never had he wished it more than after his ass chewing by the principal director.

  Just get me through this so I can help with the rebuilding.

  That’s what he’d been looking forward to. This killing, this culling of humanity, as necessary as he realized it was, still gnawed at his soul.

  This was why he had conspired with the other Pishon managers to hide the real cause of Herr Schmidt’s death. He couldn’t blame that boy Sanjay for shooting the senior manager in the shoulder so he could steal some vaccine for his family, any more than he could blame one of his own people if one were responsible for cutting the holes in the detention-area fences. The possibility of it being an inside job hadn’t occurred to him, but the principal director seemed convinced. Hell, under the right circumstances, Dettling himself might have cut the holes.

  The director wanted a witch hunt, wanted him to serve up whoever had done this—if indeed it was one of Dettling’s people—and undoubtedly pack him off for punishment elsewhere. Dettling didn’t think he could do that. He ran a hand through what was left of his hair, trying to think of some way out of this.

  It was the picture on the wall that provided him the answer. It was a shot of the Pishon Chem managers with several of their Indian team members. A PR picture taken by a local newspaper that probably never had the chance to run it. But it had been important to keep up appearances, so the team had posed, smiling.

  One of the managers in the picture was Bernard Weathersbee. He’d been one of Dettling’s lieutenants until he was severely injured in a truck accident less than twenty-four hours after the spraying had begun. Weathersbee had held on for over a week, but finally succumbed to his injuries yesterday morning.

  Dettling made a quick check of the logs. No, the death had not yet been reported to the directorate.

  He thought for a moment. Yes, it might work. He felt bad blaming his friend, but it was better than pointing the finger at someone who would suffer for it.

  When the escapees were finally caught, Dettling would serve up Weathersbee, saying he’d been killed during the search. Satisfied, he left his office in search of van Assen to help set the plan in motion.

  __________

  AS SANJAY NEARED the conference room, the door across the hall began to open. With nowhere else to go, he slipped inside the unused office he’d just passed.

  Leaving the door open a crack, he watched as Mr. Dettling, one of the Pishon Chem managers Sanjay had known, emerged from the senior manager’s office. If Sanjay had been a few feet farther down the hall, Dettling would have seen him and recognized him for sure.

  Sanjay’s pulse raced.

  Relax, he told himself. You’re almost there.

  He waited to make sure Dettling didn’t immediately come back, then he reentered the hallway and slinked past the empty conference room to the unmarked door of the medical supply room. He tried the knob, hoping it was unlocked, but he wasn’t that lucky. And he couldn’t break into it. Besides the fact the door was sturdy, the noise would draw attention. What he needed was the silver key with the J on it. That’s how he’d gotten in last time.

  He looked back at the senior manager’s office. Had Dettling come from a meeting with the man? Or was it empty, the senior manager attending to business elsewhere? Sanjay had been armed with a gun the previous time he was in the gray-haired man’s presence. He’d even had to shoot the senior manager in the shoulder to convince him to cooperate. Now, the only things he had were the wire cutters he was still carrying and his own two hands.

  You do not need a gun, he told himself.

  The senior manager was old and weak and dismissive. Sanjay could easily get the key from the man. He was sure of it.

  He checked the hallway Dettling had turned down to make sure it was empty, and crossed over to the office. Slowly he pushed the door open, ready to rush in if the manager started to yell.

  But no one was inside.

  Hoping the manager had left his keys behind, Sanjay raced over to the desk. There were no keys sitting on top, so he started pulling open drawers. Nothing in the center drawer or in the top drawers on either side.

&n
bsp; The bottom drawers presented a problem. Both were locked. He finally figured out that if he left the center drawer open, the locks would release. He hit pay dirt in the bottom left drawer. A cardboard box stuffed in the back contained three key rings, each holding a couple dozen keys. The first set he checked had the silver J key, so he didn’t bother with the other two. Putting everything back so no one would know he’d been there, he returned to the hallway.

  The key slipped easily into the medical supply room door, like he knew it would. A turn to the left resulted in a click as the latch pulled away. Sanjay stepped inside, closed the door, and turned on the light.

  He was here. He’d made it.

  Knowing he had precious little time, he hurried over to the glass cabinet where the vaccine had been last time. When he took it then, he’d identified it by its orange tint, the selection confirmed by the look in the senior manager’s eyes. Now, after filling dozens of syringes with the vaccine when he and Kusum had inoculated the others in their group, he had seen more than enough bottles to recognize the drug’s name if he saw it again.

  KV-27a/V/ASH VARIANT.

  He had no idea what it meant, but that wasn’t important.

  Starting on the top shelf, he worked his way to the bottom, checking every item. No vaccine. He moved to the bottom cabinet, but it was empty.

  This is where it was, he told himself. Could I have taken it all?

  He looked around, searching for another cabinet like the ones he’d checked. But he already knew there were no other similar cabinets. As he twisted to the left, his gaze fell on a stack of boxes in the corner that had not been there before. Printed on the side in black was /V/ASH.

  It wasn’t the full name he’d seen on the vials, but part of it.

  He pulled the top box off the stack and set it on the counter. It was just under a half meter square and almost the same high. The seams were sealed with black and yellow striped tape.