by A. G. Riddle
Martin stepped to a cupboard and took out a satellite phone and two handguns. He held one out to Kate.
“The Immari will try to close the camp,” Martin said as he began filling a backpack. He briefly inspected the thermos-like device from the desk, then stuffed it in the pack, along with several notebooks.
“How do you know?”
Martin continued ransacking the small room, answering her over his shoulder. “They’ve been taking islands in the Mediterranean, testing the perimeter, seeing if the Orchid Nations can or would fight them.”
“Can they?”
The building had stabilized, and Kate wanted to treat Martin’s head wound, but he was scurrying around the room too fast.
“No. The Orchid Alliance is barely hanging on. All their resources—military included—are devoted to Orchid production. Help isn’t coming. We need to get out.” He set an egg-shaped device on the table and twisted the top. It began ticking.
Kate tried to focus. Martin was destroying the office. They weren’t coming back here. She immediately thought of the spa building and the boys. “We need to get Adi and Surya.”
“Kate, we don’t have time. We’ll come back for them—with the SAS troops who are on their way.”
“I’m not leaving them. I won’t,” Kate said with a finality she knew Martin would recognize. He had adopted Kate when she was six, right after her biological father had disappeared, and Martin knew her well enough to know there would be no room for compromise.
He shook his head, a look somewhere between bewilderment and disbelief. “Fine, but you better be ready to use that.” He motioned to the gun. Then he punched the key code to exit the office, paused just long enough to let Kate come out, then keyed a code on the outside to lock the door.
The hallway was filled with smoke, and where the hallway met the kitchen, a fire raged and screams called out in the smoky space. “Is there another exit—”
“No. The decon chamber is the only way,” Martin said as he stepped in front of her. He held up his gun. “We’ll run. Shoot anyone—anyone—that tries to stop you.”
Kate glanced down at the gun, and at that moment, fear gripped her. She had never shot a gun before and she wasn’t sure she could shoot someone. Martin grabbed the gun, pulled the slide back and clicked something. “It’s not complicated. Just point and squeeze.” He turned and dashed toward the smoke- and fire-filled kitchen.
CHAPTER 9
Two Miles Below Immari Operations Base Prism
Antarctica
Dorian strained to see the blurry shape. He couldn’t take a deep breath—only a shallow, ragged breath that made him feel like he was drowning. His body hurt all over. His lungs ached when the air entered them.
The figure came into focus. The Atlantean—standing over him, watching him, waiting… for what?
Dorian tried to speak, but he couldn’t fill his lungs enough. He emitted a scratchy sound and closed his eyes. There was a little more air. He opened his eyes. “What… do you want?”
“I want what you want, Dorian. I want you to save the human race from extinction.”
Dorian squinted at him.
“We’re not what you think we are, Dorian. We would never harm you, the same way a parent would never harm their child.” He nodded. “It’s true. We created you.”
“Bullshit,” Dorian spat at him.
The Atlantean shook his head. “The human genome is far more complex than you currently know. We had a lot of trouble with your language function. Clearly we still have some work to do.”
Dorian was starting to breathe normally now, and he sat up. What did the Atlantean want? Why the charade? He clearly controlled the ship. What could he possibly need Dorian for?
The Atlantean answered him as if Dorian had spoken his thoughts aloud. “Don’t worry about what I want.” On the other side of the room, the heavy doors slid open. “Follow me.”
Dorian got to his feet and thought for a moment. What choice do I have? He can kill me anytime he wants. I’ll play this charade out, wait for an opening.
The Atlantean spoke as he led Dorian down another dimly lit gray-metal corridor. “You amaze me, Dorian. You’re intelligent, yet your hate and fear control you. I mean, think about it logically: we came here on a spaceship that employs concepts in physics your race hasn’t even discovered. You putt around this tiny planet in painted aluminum cans that burn the liquefied remains of ancient reptiles. Do you honestly think you could beat us in a fight?”
Dorian’s mind went to the three hundred nuclear warheads aligned around the outside of the ship.
The Atlantean turned to him. “You think we don’t know what a nuclear bomb is? We were splitting the atom before you were splitting firewood. This ship could withstand the force of every nuclear warhead on this planet. You would do nothing but melt the ice on this continent, flood the world, and end your civilization. Be rational, Dorian. If we wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. You would have been dead tens of thousands of years ago. But we saved you, and we’ve been guiding you ever since.”
The Atlantean had to be lying. Was he trying to talk Dorian out of attacking?
The Atlantean smiled. “And still you don’t believe. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We programmed you this way—to survive, even to attack any threat to your survival.”
Dorian ignored him. He held his arm out, stepped closer, and ran his hand through the Atlantean. “You’re not here.”
“No, I’m not. What you see is my avatar.”
Dorian looked around. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope. “Where are you?”
“We’ll get to that.”
A door slid open, and the Atlantean walked inside.
Dorian surveyed the small room. It looked like a walk-in-closet with a post-apocalyptic theme. Two environmental suits hung on the wall and a shiny silver briefcase sat on the bench below them. His mind began working on an escape plan. He’s not here. He’s a projection. Can I disable him?
“I told you we could do this the easy way or the hard way, Dorian. I’m letting you go. Now put the suit on.”
Dorian eyed the suit, then scanned the room, desperately searching for anything he could use. The door slammed shut, and Dorian felt the air draining. He reached for the suit and began putting it on. In his mind, a plan formed. He took the helmet under his right arm, and the Atlantean motioned to the silver case.
“Take the case.”
Dorian glanced at it.
“What—”
“We’re done talking, Dorian. Take the case and don’t open it. No matter what happens, do not open the case.”
Dorian took the case and followed the Atlantean out of the room and down the corridors, back to the open space where the dead bodies lay. The sliding doors that had slammed shut were open now, and the vast tomb spread out before him. Dorian eyed the open tube David had exited. Both he and Dorian had… “resurrected” in the tubes after their deaths. Would David return again? If so, that could spell trouble. Dorian motioned to David’s empty tube. “What about—”
“I’ve taken care of him. He won’t be back.”
Another thought occurred to Dorian: the time difference. His father had been down here eighty-seven years, but on the inside, only eighty-seven days had passed. The Bell at the perimeter formed a time dilation bubble. One day inside was a year outside. What year would it be out there? How long had he been in the tube? “What year—”
“I’ve also disabled the device you call the Bell. Only a few months have passed. Now go. I won’t tell you again.”
Without another word, Dorian started down the corridor. There was a thin trail of blood—his father’s. To Dorian’s relief, the droplets of blood grew smaller with each step and eventually stopped. We will be together again soon, and we will finish this. His lifelong dream was once again within reach.
In the long decontamination chamber, he saw Kate’s torn suit and the two smaller suits the children from her lab had worn.
Dorian walked to the portal door and secured his helmet. He waited with the case cupped under his right arm.
The three triangular pieces of the portal door twisted open, and Dorian stepped quickly toward them. Just before he crossed the threshold, he tossed the case aside.
An invisible forcefield as hard as a steel wall slammed into him, repelling him backward into the chamber.
“Don’t forget your luggage, Dorian,” the Atlantean’s voice said inside his helmet.
Dorian picked up the shiny case. What choice do I have? I’ll leave the case outside the entrance. It won’t matter. He exited the ship and paused, taking in his surroundings. The scene was much as it had been when he’d walked through the portal initially: an ice chamber with a high ceiling, a mound of snow with a crumpled iron basket and a pile of iron cord, and an approximately ten-foot round ice shaft leading to the surface two miles above. There was something new, however. In the middle of the chamber, just below the ice shaft, three nuclear warheads sat on an iron platform, joined by a bundle of wires. One by one, tiny lights flashed on as the warheads armed.
CHAPTER 10
Orchid District
Marbella, Spain
Kate followed Martin through the burning kitchen into the open dining room—what had been the main hospital wing. The devastation was more vast than she could have imagined. Half of the far wall had been blown away, and people were pouring out of the building, dodging falling debris and trampling the sick and the slow-moving.
Martin dashed into the throngs of people and elbowed his way forward. Kate fought to keep up. She was shocked at Martin’s agility, especially given his head wound.
They cleared the building, and Kate got her first look at the camp—or what was left of it. Massive fires burned along the fence where the guard towers had stood. The fleet of trucks and jeeps spewed thick columns of white and black smoke, a toxic brew of rubber and plastic burning that made Kate choke and cover her nose and mouth with her shirt. The white hotel towers seemed untouched, but at the base of each, an endless flow of people poured out.
The resort grounds were covered. Hordes of people flowed in every direction, frantically searching for an exit, or for safety from the explosions that seemed to go off every few seconds. They almost looked like herds on the savanna, running from an unseen predator, each member simply reacting to the motion beside them.
Martin scanned the perimeter, looking for a way out.
Kate rushed past him and made a beeline for the lead-encased spa building. A small fire burned at one end, but it was otherwise untouched in the assault. Behind her, she heard the explosion from what had been Martin’s office.
Kate reached the door to the spa building and raised her gun to shoot the lock, but Martin was beside her. “Save your bullets.” He swiped his badge at the door and the lock popped open. They raced down the corridors. Kate threw the door to Adi and Surya’s room open, and relief washed over her when she saw the two boys sitting at their desks on opposite sides of the room, writing on their legal pads without a care in the world.
“Boys, we have to go.”
Both ignored her.
She walked to Adi and picked him up. He was thin, but still weighed probably forty-five pounds. Kate strained to hold him up, and he struggled in her arms, reaching desperately for his writing pad. She set him down, handed him the pad, and he settled down considerably. Across the room, she saw Martin following suit with Surya.
They practically dragged the boys out of the building, and this time Martin led Kate across the camp, into the swarming mass of people. Up ahead, a gun battle erupted, scattering the crowd. Through the fleeing people, Kate could see the Spanish troops fighting the group of survivors—a mix of the faces she had seen in the prison cell and the new people that had been brought in. The light blue Orchid flag curled and blew in the wind as it burned above them.
Martin reached into the backpack and handed Kate a green egg with a handle. “Your arm is better than mine,” he said. “If the Spanish lose, we won’t get out.” He pulled the pin, and when Kate realized what it was, she almost dropped it. Martin cupped her hand. “Throw it.”
The stampede around her grew more intense as people slammed into her, tearing Adi’s hand from hers and forcing the small boy to the ground. They would trample him. Kate launched the grenade toward the gate and the sound of the gunfire, then waded into the mob. She pulled Adi into her arms as the heat and sound of the explosion tore through the crowd.
As the smoke went up, the mass of people reversed course, flowing toward the gate. Kate, Martin and the boys fell in and managed to clear the gate just as the sound of gunfire resumed again—this time behind them.
The back of the resort opened onto a small road that joined the main highway. Kate stopped at the sight—it was amazing. Abandoned cars filled the freeway as far as she could see. On both lanes, the cars abruptly stopped near the entrance to the Orchid District. Doors stood open and the streets were strewn with garments, rotten food, and objects Kate couldn’t make out. People had driven here for safety, for the life-saving drug. If Kate, Martin, and the boys could get in one of the first cars, they could get away quickly.
Martin seemed to read her mind. He shook his head. “They siphoned all the gas weeks ago. We need to get to the Old Town. It’s our only chance.”
They continued moving with the crowd, but with each step the concentrated mass got thinner as families and loners broke off, taking their own course away from the coast and the death in the Orchid District. Martin continued to lead as he and Kate tugged the boys along by their hands.
Beyond the freeway, the streets were lined with the hallmarks of any Spanish resort town: beach shops, chain retailers, and hotels. All were empty, and most of the windows had been shattered. The sun had almost set now and the gunfire in the distance still raged, but it had slowed.
As Kate walked, a new sensation gripped her: a smell, slightly sweet yet putrid. Dead bodies. How many would there be out here? Martin’s earlier words echoed through her head: ninety percent die within seventy-two hours. How many had died before the Orchid District had been established here? And what would they find beyond its fence?
They walked a few more blocks in silence, and the streets changed. Asphalt gave way to cobblestones, and the buildings were different too. The shops were smaller and quaint. Art houses, cafes, and gift shops that had sold handmade trinkets dotted the streets. They had fared better than the stores along the main thoroughfare, but there were still signs of the mayhem here: burned-out buildings, abandoned cars, and trash.
Martin stopped to catch his breath at a white plaster wall that held an iron gate—presumably the gate to the Old Town. The rush of adrenaline that had propelled him in the camp seemed to have left him, and Kate thought he looked more haggard than ever—like a drunk the morning after a bender. He put his hands on his knees and drew long breaths.
Kate turned and surveyed the coastline behind them. Marbella’s Old Town sat on a hill, and the vantage point was incredible. Without the columns of smoke, the view of the sun setting over the Mediterranean and the white sand coast would have been breathtaking. Through the smoke, a dozen black objects emerged: a fleet of helicopters. Kate saw them a few seconds before she heard the thump-thump-thump.
She grabbed Adi’s and Surya’s hands and turned to run, but Martin stopped her with an outstretched arm, practically clotheslining her. He wrapped his fingers around her shoulder and corralled her and the boys behind him, putting his body between them and something. Kate peered over his shoulder and saw what it was.
At the cross street ahead, two wolves wandered into the intersection. The animals stood still for a moment, listening, then slowly turned their heads toward Kate, Martin, and the boys. A still, quiet moment seemed to stretch on forever. Then Kate heard the soft sound of paws padding across the stone street. Two more wolves joined the first two, then another joined them, and then three more, making eight in total, all standing in the st
reet, staring.
The largest wolf broke from the pack and strode toward them, never taking his eyes off Martin. A second mangy animal followed close on his heels.
They stopped a few feet from Martin, studying him. Kate’s hands started to shake, and she knew the boys could feel it. Moisture filled the space where their hands met.
Behind them, the thump-thump-thump of the helicopters grew louder.
CHAPTER 11
Two Miles Below Immari Operations Base Prism
Antarctica
Dorian held his arms up, letting the case crash into the hard snow below. What did he expect his Immari comrades to do? He had just walked out wearing an Atlantean suit, holding a mysterious case. He would have already thrown the switch on the nukes.
The visor in the helmet was mirrored—they couldn’t see Dorian’s face inside. He needed some way to communicate with them, some method of sending a message. He scanned the ice room for something he could use. He couldn’t scratch a message in the ice—it was frozen solid. With his hand, he began motioning in the air, writing the letters: D - O - R - I - A - N. A second set of lights on the nukes came on. He traced the letters again. It wasn’t working. He cast a glance around the room, desperately trying to find anything that could—
A body, almost buried in ice, lay against the wall. Dorian rushed to it and punched the ice around it, trying to dig it out. Maybe he could activate the suit’s radio. He wiped the ice from the helmet and instantly reeled back in shock. His father. Rivers of frozen blood framed the face. The cold had preserved him perfectly. They had killed him—left him here to the Bell. Why? Who? Dorian sat there, staring at his father’s dead body. He didn’t care about the bombs anymore.
At the end of the corridor, the sound of steel slamming into ice echoed through the chamber. Dorian turned. Beside the bombs, an iron cage sat waiting for him. The lights on the bombs stayed active, but they didn’t advance.
