by A. G. Riddle
Dorian raised the phone to his face. “Captain, I just sent you some coordinates.”
He looked at the pilot, then at his burned feet—feet he could still walk on.
“Sir?”
Dorian’s mind rocked back and forth like a tiny ship on rough seas. The voice was firm now. This world wasn’t built for the weak. Dorian, you are playing the greatest chess game in history. Don’t risk a king to save a pawn.
“I’m here,” Dorian said. “I will be at the extraction point in…”
Don’t—
“…eight hours. Be advised, I have another survivor. If we’re not at those coordinates, the rescue team’s orders are to move into the woods and search for us on a heading bearing four-seven degrees.”
And like that, the voice was gone, silenced. Dorian’s thoughts were his own. He was free. He was… different, or was he the person he was always meant to be? The voice in his ear interrupted his reflection.
“Copy, General. Godspeed.”
“Captain.”
“Sir?”
“The girl in my quarters,” Dorian said.
“Yes, sir. She’s here—”
“Tell her… that I’m all right.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it—”
Dorian ended the call.
Dorian fell back to the ground. He was hungry. He needed to eat, needed his strength, especially with the extra weight he had to carry. He would have to hunt.
In the distance, he heard a low rolling rumble. Thunder? No. It was the beat of horses charging through the forest.
CHAPTER 58
Somewhere off the coast of Ceuta
Mediterranean Sea
For the better part of the last hour, Kate and David hadn’t done any talking, and that made her very happy. They lay there, both naked, in the sheets of the king bed centered in the wood-paneled master stateroom.
It felt almost surreal to her, like they were lying in a luxury hotel room, as if the world outside had been only a bad dream. She felt safe and free, for the first time since… since she could remember.
Kate’s face rested on his chest. She loved listening to his heart, watching his body rise and fall with every breath. She traced her finger around the red burn marks on his chest. It looked like he had been branded. “This one is new,” she said softly.
“Cost of a wooden horse in this screwed-up world.” His voice was serious.
Was it a joke? Kate didn’t get it if it was. She pushed up and looked him in the eyes, hoping for an answer, but he didn’t look at her.
He was different somehow. Harder. More distant. She sensed it when they made love. He was not as gentle as he was in Gibraltar.
She returned her head to his chest, half-hiding. “I had a dream about a wooden horse. Two, actually. You were drawing—”
David pushed her off of him. “I was at a drafting table—”
The shock gripped her. She nodded, hesitating. “Yes… a veranda looked out on a blue bay and a forested peninsula—”
“Impossible…” David whispered. “How?”
Martin’s words echoed in her mind, We believe the Atlantis Gene is connected to a quantum biological process… Subatomic particles, transmitted faster than the speed of light…
Kate had given David a blood transfusion, but that couldn’t have changed his genome, couldn’t have given him the Atlantis Gene, yet there was some connection between them. “I think it has something to do with the Atlantis Gene—it activates some sort of quantum biological link—”
“Okay, stop right there. No more scientific mumbo jumbo. You and I have to talk.”
Kate drew back. “So talk. You don’t need a formal invitation.”
“You left me.”
“What?”
“Gibraltar. I trusted you—”
“Can I just remind you that you had been shot—three times? Keegan was going to kill you.”
“He didn’t.”
“I made a deal with him—”
“No, you didn’t. He needed me. He wanted me to kill Sloane. He was playing us both. You should have come to me—”
“Are you serious? David, you could barely walk. Keegan told me the house was crawling with his men—Immari agents. And they were his men, weren’t they?”
“They were—”
“And what would you have done? You were surrounded—”
“I wouldn’t have lied to you. I wouldn’t have slept with you and left in the night.”
Rage coursed through Kate. She fought to regain her composure. “I never lied to you—”
“You didn’t trust me. You didn’t talk to me—”
“I saved your life.” Kate stood and shook her head. “I did what I did. It’s done.”
“Would you do it again?”
Kate resisted the urge to answer.
“Answer me!”
She stared at him and he glared back at her. He was so different. So… but yet, it was still the man she had… and…
“Yes, David. I’d do it again. You’re here. I’m here. We’re both alive.” There was something else she wanted to say, but she couldn’t do it, not while he was looking at her like that, with those cold dead eyes.
“I won’t have anyone under my command that doesn’t trust me.”
Kate exploded. “Under your command?!”
“That’s right.”
“Well, that’s convenient, because I’m not looking to join the army or whatever the hell you’re running around here.”
A knock on the door came, and to Kate, it felt like water to a dying man. She opened her mouth, but David cut her off.
“It’s a bad time—”
“It’s Kamau. It’s urgent, David.”
David and Kate each replaced the sheets that they had held with clothes. They dressed with their backs to each other. David glanced at her coldly, courteously, and when she nodded, he opened the door.
“David—” Kamau began.
“What—”
“The old man.”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
David glanced back at Kate, his face changed, the hardness instantly gone. She saw sympathy and the man she had fallen in love with. The exhilaration fought against the hurt she felt at hearing Kamau’s news. Then there was the shock: Martin’s face was burned, but he wasn’t that badly injured. Had Chang’s plague treatment failed suddenly? What would Kate do without him? She had never thanked him. What were her last words to him?
“Thank you for… telling us,” David said.
“You need to come now, David. Arm yourself.”
“What?”
Kamau glanced around, making sure they were alone. “I believe someone murdered him.”
Martin lay peacefully on the white leather couch in the enclosed living space of the upper deck.
Everyone was there: Kate, David, Kamau, Shaw, and the two scientists: Chang and the European scientist, who had finally introduced himself as Dr. Arthur Janus. Kate stared at Martin for a moment before crossing the room to kneel at his side. She tried to keep her emotions in check. He was the closest thing she’d had to a father. He hadn’t been up to the job, but he had certainly tried. And for some reason, that made it even harder for Kate. She tried to clear her head. She had to focus.
Kamau’s words echoed in her mind: I believe he was murdered.
She didn’t see any signs of a struggle. Kate checked his fingernails. No skin, no blood. There were a few bruises, but nothing Kate thought was more recent than the injuries from their escape from the plague barge. Martin looked the same as when Kamau had pulled him from the water. She looked up at the African, her eyes asking, are you sure?
He tilted his head slightly.
Kate felt Martin’s neck. Yes… She moved his head a little, testing its range of motion. Someone had broken his neck… Kate felt her airway constrict. Whoever had done it was in this room, staring at her right now.
“Kate, I’m very sorry about Mart
in,” Shaw began. “I truly am, but we have to get off this boat and be on our way. You’re not safe here.”
Had Shaw seen it too? Did he know?
“She’s not going anywhere,” David said.
“She is,” Shaw insisted. “Now tell me where you’re taking us, and I’ll make arrangements for someone to retrieve us.”
David ignored him. He took a step toward Kate.
Shaw grabbed his arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
David spun and pushed him, almost forcing Shaw to the floor. “Touch me again, and I’ll throw you off the back of the boat.”
“Why wait? You can give it a go right now.”
Kamau stepped behind David, letting Shaw know it would be two to one.
Kate rushed between the three men. “Okay, that’s enough of the testosterone show.”
She grabbed David’s arm and dragged him away.
CHAPTER 59
Northern Morocco
“Thank you, sir, for saving me,” the pilot said.
Dorian tore off a piece of the overcooked meat with his knife and scarfed it down. “Don’t mention it. I’m serious. To anyone.”
The pilot hesitated. “Yes, sir.”
They ate in silence for a bit, until the best of the meat was gone.
“This reminds me of camping, when I was a kid, with my dad.”
Dorian wished the sappy jerk would shut up or pass out. He looked at the man’s wound again, at the signs of infection. He would definitely lose the leg… if he made it to morning. Something about that thought made Dorian respond. “My father wasn’t into… camping, per se.”
The helicopter pilot began to speak, but Dorian continued.
“He was in the military. He took a great deal of pride in that. And his interests in Immari International, of course, though when I was young it was more like a club he was in, a social commitment. It didn’t become a preoccupation until later. About the only thing we ever did together was attend military parades. At the first one, I knew what I wanted to be. Seeing the Kaiser’s men all lined up in rows, marching in rhythm, the beat of the music in my chest.”
“Amazing, sir. You knew even then that you wanted to be a soldier?”
Dorian had told his father that night. I want to march at the front, Papa. Please buy me a trumpet. I will be the best trumpet player in all the Kaiser’s army. Dorian’s rebirth in the tubes had removed the scars from his legs and lower back, but he could still remember the beating his father had given him. This is what the world does to trumpet players, Dieter.
“Yes. I knew it even then. A soldier…”
But when had he known it, become what he was? That day in 1986 when he had emerged from the tube. He was different. He was Ares. It was true. It was so clear now. But—
“Wait. Sir, did you say the Kaiser’s army?”
“I did. It’s… a long story. Now button up and get some rest. That’s an order too.”
Dorian had stayed up half the night and only slept a few hours, but he felt incredibly refreshed when he awoke. The first rays of sunlight were emerging in the east, and here and there the forest was coming to life.
Dorian had also awoken with an idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He needed to act fast for it to have any chance at success.
He crept over to the pilot. His breathing was shallow. The wound continued to seep blood onto the forest floor, spreading a black and crimson pool around him. He twitched periodically.
Dorian paced away from him and sat on a rock for a long while, listening, trying to get a direction. When he was sure, he checked his gun and set off.
From the bushes, Dorian could see two of the Berber tribesmen. One slept on the ground; the other, likely an officer, in a tent. He was pretty sure there were only two; only two horses were tied to a tree nearby.
At the smoldering fire lay a large machete. Dorian would use it. Gunfire would draw attention, and there was no need for it. Two sleeping Berber tribesmen would be no problem.
Dorian kicked the horse again. It glided through the forest. At the camp, he would make the call first, moving up the extraction time. How fast could he and the pilot get there on the horses? A better question: how long did the man have? Dorian wished he knew. That would be the deadline. The horses would save the pilot’s life. He kicked the horse again and it responded. He pulled the other behind him by the reins and it matched their pace. Amazing animals.
At the camp, Dorian slowed and dismounted before the horses stopped.
“Hey! Get up.”
Dorian made for the satellite phone.
There was no answer from the pilot.
Dorian stopped. No. He turned. He knew what he saw, yet he ran to his comrade. He held two fingers to his neck. Dorian felt the cold skin long before he knew there was no pulse, but he held his fingers there for a second, staring at the closed eyes.
Dorian stood. Rage pulsed through him. He almost kicked the man’s body. He wanted to fall to his knees and punch him in the face—for dying, for stringing him along, for… everything. He stood again and the horses erupted, backing away from him. One neighed and jumped. Stupid, smelly beasts. He turned to strike one of them, but they were out of reach. It didn’t matter. He would ride one to death, then mount the other and follow suit.
He raced to the sat phone.
“Fleet Ops.”
“Give me Captain Williams.”
“Identify yourself.”
“Who the fuck do you think this is?! How many fucking wrong number calls do you get these days? Put Williams on or I will split you down the middle when I get out of this hellhole!”
“St-stand by, s-sir.”
Two seconds passed.
“Williams—”
“Change of schedule. I will be at the LZ in less than an hour.”
“We can be there—”
“In less than an hour! One hour or less. They can develop photos that fast, you sure as hell better get your ass down here. If I have to make my own way back to the fleet, your lifespan plummets, Captain.”
Dorian heard the captain screaming to scramble helicopters.
“We’ll… be there, sir.”
“The girl—”
“We’re taking good care of her—”
“Get rid of her.”
“You want—”
“I don’t care where she goes, she just better be gone when I get back.”
Dorian disconnected the line.
He mounted the closest horse and kicked it as hard as he could.
CHAPTER 60
Somewhere off the coast of Ceuta
Mediterranean Sea
“Shaw killed him,” David said flatly.
Kate cringed and glanced at the closed door of their stateroom. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why? He knows he did it. He knows I know it.”
Kate looked him in the eyes. He was so angry. She could see it in his body, hear it in his voice, but she could also feel it—on a more basic level, as if some part of her was in him and vice versa. The anger seemed to rise off of him and seep into her, like heat off an asphalt highway. She felt it infecting her, felt herself digging in against him, subconsciously readying for another fight. Everything was spinning out of control. She had to stop it, had to start somewhere. Kate made a decision: she would start with David. She needed him, wanted him, couldn’t do this without him… wouldn’t do this without him.
David was pacing the room, thinking—dark thoughts, Kate felt it. She held her hand out and waited for him to walk into it. Without a word, she guided him to the bed and sat him down. She knelt in front of him.
“I want you to talk to me. Will you?” She took his face in her hands.
David still looked down, avoiding her. “I’ll zip-tie them all, Kamau too, just for good measure. We’ll set them out somewhere. It doesn’t matter where. Be more food for the two of us. Then I need to get in touch with the British and Americans.” He shook his head. “Sloane’s fleet is off the coast of
Morocco. Why the hell haven’t they hit it yet? Why wait? We could end the war quickly. Are they out of fuel? Jet maybe, but they have nuclear subs—tons of them. We take ’em out, then we start rounding up the Immari camps, do war trials on site. Do it quick.”
“David—”
He was still looking away from her. “It sounds harsh, I know, but it’s the only way. Maybe this is what it’s all about: the plague. It’s the ultimate test. The Rapture, the day of reckoning where people are exposed for what they truly are. You should have seen what they were doing, Kate. Yes, it’s a test, an opportunity—to purge the world of anyone with no morals, no values, no compassion for their fellow man.”
“People are desperate, they’re not themselves—”
“No, I think the plague reveals what they really are, whether they throw in and help the less fortunate or whether they turn and desert their own kind, leave them to die. And now we know who they are. We round up every Immari and Immari sympathizer and wipe them out. The world after will be a better place. A peaceful place, a world where people care about each other. No war, no hunger, no—”
“David. David. This isn’t you.”
He looked at her for the first time. “Well, maybe this is the new me. That’s sort of an inside joke.”
Kate gritted her teeth. She wanted to smack him. “You sound like someone else I know. He wants to reduce the world’s population, eliminate people that don’t fit his view of the ideal human.”
