The Extinction Files Box Set

by A. G. Riddle

  A Marine lieutenant drove. Ward sat in the passenger seat, Desmond and Lin in the back seat, and Peyton and Avery squeezed into the third row.

  The signs for the exits for Norman, Oklahoma, reminded Desmond of Agnes.

  “You want to tell us what the note means?” Ward asked.

  The convoy took the next exit and turned onto Highway 9.

  “No.”

  Ward exhaled heavily. He drew a copy of the note from inside his suit and read it aloud. “It lies in the bend, where blood turned to water and darkness turned to light.”

  Desmond waited. No one spoke. Peyton was the only one in the vehicle who might know what it meant. He could never reveal the details of the cryptic message—that would implicate him in a crime.

  They drove through the outskirts of Noble, the small town he had visited so much as a child. Past the city, Desmond called to the driver, “The turn is up here.”

  They stopped at a gate to a pasture, opened it, and let the armored troop carriers proceed first. When they gave the all-clear, the SUVs moved in.

  Desmond exited, and the group fell in behind him. He knew that he had been here at least twice in his life, although he could only remember the first time. It had been the darkest day of his life—a day when the darkness of his childhood and teens turned to light. That day he had killed a man and buried him here. He had washed the blood off in the Canadian river, letting the fresh, cool water carry away the last drops of evidence. He had driven west afterward, out of Oklahoma, to Silicon Valley. His life turned from darkness to light. He met Peyton a few months later.

  He glanced back and found her staring at him, a look of solidarity that said, I’ll never tell what happened here—and I’m with you, no matter what you find. He took a step forward, then another.

  It was clever: hiding whatever he had here. He was the only person in the world who knew where this was. The exact location was etched in his brain like a bloodstain he couldn’t wash out.

  He paused at the gravesite. Grass had grown over it in the nineteen years since he had dug the hole, but Desmond knew that Dale Epply’s body was there, right under the feet of the FBI and CIA agents surrounding him.

  He walked past it, down to the river where he had cleansed himself. He saw it in the bend, just where the note had said it would be: loose dirt packed in a freshly dug hole, no larger than two feet in diameter at the top.

  “I need a shovel.”

  “Negative, Hughes.” Ward turned to the lieutenant. “Dig it up. Let’s move back. Two-hundred-foot perimeter.”

  Desmond didn’t fight them, he simply waited at the top of the hill.

  The shovel clinked as it hit metal, and the soldier, wearing bomb gear, carefully reached down and used his hands to dig the object out. It was a round coffee can. The plastic lid was duct taped shut.

  “Get the robot!”

  “Ward, it’s not an IED—”

  “How do you know, Hughes? You remember putting it here? Didn’t think so.”

  They watched the robot’s activity on a laptop screen at the back of the Suburban. The robot’s tracks halted just short of the can. Its metal arms extended, gripped the can, and peeled off the tape and the plastic lid. Its camera revealed the can’s contents: a Ziploc bag holding a smartphone.

  “The phone could be a bomb,” Ward said.

  A bomb tech standing beside him worked the robot’s controls remotely. He opened the bag and, with some effort, using the robot’s fingers, turned the sat phone on.

  It wasn’t password protected, and the home screen was unremarkable—except for the icon for the Labyrinth Reality app.

  “This is a Labyrinth location,” Desmond said.

  Ward rubbed his temple. “What do you want to do here?”

  “Really only one thing to do.”

  Desmond started down the hill, but stopped and turned when he heard footsteps behind him.

  “Avery—”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “It could still be a bomb.”

  “I’ll use you as a human shield.”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  Peyton began toward them. Desmond held up his hand, but she kept coming.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Desmond said. “We’ll be right back.”

  “I’m coming too.”

  He glanced at the morning sun for a moment, knowing he was between a rock and a hard place. “All right then.”

  At the robot, he made them stay back ten feet while he picked up the phone. He opened the Labyrinth Reality app, and a prompt asked him if he wanted to join a private Labyrinth or a public space. He clicked private and entered the pass code he had memorized.

  A message appeared.

  Welcome to the Hall of Shadows Private Labyrinth.

  Two icons appeared. To the left was a beast with the head of a bull and the body of a man. To the right was a warrior. And a question written below.

  Declare yourself: Minotaur or Hero

  The first time he had seen this prompt, that night in Berlin, Desmond truly hadn’t known what he was. Now he did. It was fitting for him to answer the question here, in the field where he had buried Dale. He had done a monstrous thing that day—but he had been forced to. It was the same with the Citium. He understood now why he had picked this place. It was a final reminder to himself to stay the course. He might have to do terrible things, but there was light ahead.

  Desmond knew what he was: the hero. He was the man he had hoped he was when he first entered the Labyrinth. And he had hidden Rendition to stop a monster: Yuri. Now it was time to find the Minotaur and slay him.

  He clicked the icon, and another message appeared.

  Searching for entrance…

  And shortly after:

  1 Entrance Located.

  Labyrinth Entrance Reached

  Downloading…

  “It’s starting, isn’t it?” Peyton said. The wind was tugging at her dark hair. Her porcelain face looked so delicate and innocent here in the shade of the copse of trees by the river.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s get back to the convoy,” Avery said.

  They hiked together, out of the woods and up the hill. The sun seemed to grow brighter with each step, as though they were all walking out of the darkness together. All three knew the past now, and their history together, and soon the world would turn to light—or, if they failed, to darkness.

  At the Suburban, the phone buzzed and a message appeared.

  Download Complete

  To Ward, Desmond said, “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “The airport.”

  “Then where?”

  “Hopefully I’ll know by the time we get there.”

  In the memory, Desmond was once again at the hangar in San Carlos. Avery was at his side, fighting for him, arguing that releasing him was their only chance. David Ward led the opposing argument, insisting that letting a criminal go was ill-advised.

  But Avery was tenacious and unrelenting, her verbal volleys as powerful as her serve in the racquetball court. She wore down her opposition, and they finally threw in the towel. She had done it, just like he’d known she could.

  But that meant that if his plan didn’t work, she would share some of the blame—and he needed to shield her from that. Plan for the possibility that he would fail. He took a pad from the table, thought for a moment, and wrote a single line.

  He stood and approached David Ward. “Can I speak with you? In private?”

  The man grunted, but followed Desmond to a corner of the warehouse out of earshot of the other agents.

  “How soon can you build the tunnel?”

  “How should I know, Hughes?”

  “Please do it as soon as you can. I don’t know when I’ll need it.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No. I want you to be there—”

  “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, you know that? Telling me to b
e there like you’re in charge now? Like—”

  “I’m not telling you, Ward. I’m asking you. Please. Be there. I don’t know how this is going to go. But that’s my backup plan. And I need somebody there that I trust.”

  Ward smiled skeptically. “You trust me? You don’t even know me.”

  “True, I don’t. But she trusts you, and I trust her, so I trust you.”

  Ward stared.

  “And she trusts me, which, by the way, is a reason why you should trust me.”

  “I’ve been doing this a while, Hughes. Long enough to see agents fall in love with their marks and get turned around.”

  “She’s not turned around. And I’m not what you think I am. You’ll see that before this is over.” He handed Ward the page. “Here. If I show up in that tunnel, please promise me you’ll give me this. And that you won’t show it to another soul.”

  Ward read the line. “What is this, your favorite poem? A location?”

  “Please. Promise me.”

  “Screw you—”

  “This is part of the deal.”

  “I didn’t like the deal before, why would I agree to more?”

  “Because you know she’ll fight you to the end, and so will I, and deep down, you know this is our best shot. You just don’t like it. I don’t like it either. Promise me, Ward.”

  The agent shook his head and folded the page, then tucked it in his inside coat pocket. “Yeah, I pinky swear.”

  Despite the sarcasm, that was good enough for Desmond. He walked to Avery and said, “You ready?”

  She nodded.

  They drove to her place, and she packed a bag while he paced between the living room and kitchen, talking non-stop, trying to think of anything that might help her.

  “Yuri’s an expert at reading people. If you come into contact with him, don’t lie. If you have to, mix it with truth and be ready to run. Conner’s an expert strategist and tactician. If you go up against him, don’t go for your first plan. Dig deep, reach for something unexpected—”

  Avery leaned her head out of the bedroom. “Des, I know all this. I’ve been studying these guys for years.”

  “Right. Okay. What else? On the ship, whatever you do, don’t contact Rubicon or try to contact me. They’ll be monitoring—”

  She walked out of the bedroom wearing only a pair of slacks and a bra. She gripped him by the shoulders. “Des. Relax.”

  “Relax?”

  “Okay. One of us has training for deep-cover, covert counterintelligence operations. It’s not you.” She looked up at the ceiling as if grasping for the answer. “So that leaves…”

  “Yeah, well, I get that. I just need to be doing something to help.”

  She reached into the bedroom and picked up a duffel bag. “You can carry my bag.”

  He took it from her, his hand closing over hers. Their eyes met.

  “If something happens to you … ”

  She blinked. Her chest rose and fell faster, but her voice was even, almost a whisper. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  He let the bag fall to the floor and slipped his hand behind her neck, into her blond hair, and pulled her close, kissing her with force, his hand moving to her side, up her stomach and under the bra.

  She walked backward, through the minefield of clothes and shoes on her bedroom floor. She was naked by the time she fell into the bed. Sweat formed on their bodies as they rolled, him on top, then her, and finally both face down, her below him, both panting like wild animals, the tension gone.

  “I needed that,” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” she breathed.

  She got up and spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then returned and dressed quickly.

  Somehow, he felt about a million times better: more relaxed, more ready to confront the uncertainty that lay ahead.

  The pier was dark, lit only by the moon and the pole lights, both overpowered by the fog and the dark.

  He parked, but neither opened their doors. He tried to find the words he wanted to say. She looked down at the floorboard and fiddled with the zipper on her North Face jacket.

  “Let’s make a promise.”

  “Des.”

  “Not that kind of promise. A… plan. A date.” He smiled. “Yes, I said it. After this is over, we’re going to go away together. A trip to somewhere neither of us has ever been. No work. No global conspiracies. Just me and you, having fun. And sorting out what we are.”

  She took his hand. “Sorry, but I’d kind of like to keep my options open after this. Never know who I’ll meet on the ship.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “Kidding. It sounds good to me. I could use a slowdown.”

  When Avery had boarded the massive freighter, Desmond drew out his phone and dialed the lead developer for Rendition. He arranged an emergency meeting at a hotel. He couldn’t risk going to the Rendition offices, or those of any Citium company. He called three other developers on the team—everyone who could re-create the technology—and invited them as well. They were the last loose end he had to tie up.

  Chapter 62

  To Yuri’s surprise, the escape from Spain happened without incident. There were no helicopters combing the countryside, and the guards at the Bilbao airport were bribe-able—diamonds still held their sparkle for those of loose morals, especially with governments and their currencies falling out of favor. People were looking for portable wealth, with intrinsic value anywhere they went.

  The call he had waited for, the event that could save his cause, came when he was in the air off the coast of Spain.

  For the first time since he had been working with her, Yuri heard relief in Melissa Whitmeyer’s voice. “Rapture is online.”

  “All capabilities?”

  “Affirmative. They just tested it on subjects here.”

  Yuri took in the view of the ocean below. They had done it. They had control now. Nothing could stop him. It was only a matter of time.

  “Should we take down tier one targets?”

  “No. Not yet. Launch the mesh first. Call me when it’s done.”

  Around the world, warehouses in rural areas rolled up their doors. Auto-launchers rolled out, onto the concrete and asphalt parking lots. They looked like giant rolling scaffolding machines. They were forty-five feet wide, fifty feet tall, and forty feet long, with rubber tires roughly five feet tall, capable of turning independently. Thick steel columns rose into the air at each corner.

  At the site in Lexington, Virginia, a technician used a tablet to drive the giant machine. When it was in place, he pressed a green button, and on three sides of the launcher, partitions descended—thick, white panels that would block the wind. The machine was programmed to track wind movement and turn so that its open side was downwind, the three partitions protecting its fragile contents.

  The technicians inserted the package, and the first balloon began growing inside the launcher. The balloon’s fabric was nearly translucent. As it took shape and reached toward the sky, it looked like a giant jellyfish about to take flight.

  Twenty minutes later, the launcher released the balloon, and it floated free, toward the clouds. Hanging below it was a photovoltaic solar cell and a series of patch antennas capable of connecting to internet devices on the ground.

  The balloons launched one after another every twenty minutes and drifted high into the sky, reaching the stratosphere eleven miles above sea level. They would stay in constant contact with each other and base stations around the world as they circumnavigated the globe. They could stay aloft for over three months, but their job would likely be done long before then. When the Looking Glass event was over, they would make a controlled descent to Earth and be retired, artifacts of the moment when the world changed forever.

  Chapter 63

  In the final memory, Desmond waited nervously in the hotel suite. One by one, the Rendition developers arrived and took a seat in the living room. There were three men and a woman, all in their twenties a
nd thirties, two looking a little sleepy, one wired and still holding a Red Bull, and the last a little tipsy (some of the Rendition team had been taking much-needed down time since the completion).

  “I’m sorry to call you all so late. I had no choice. I believe Rendition may soon be used by someone with all the wrong intentions.”

  The lead developer was an Indian-American named Raghav.

  “Used to do what?” he asked.

  “To hurt people. To control them.”

  The four developers looked confused.

  “How?” Raghav asked.

  Desmond stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you the details right now. Things are in motion. I need you to trust me. And I need your help. It won’t be easy. It may be dangerous. I’m sorry, but I need each of you to answer right now. In or out. Will you help me?”

  Confusion turned to worry.

  The female developer, Melanie Lewis, said, “What exactly are you asking us to do?”

  “We need to move Rendition. And you all need to hide.”

  Melanie shook her head. “Why should we hide?”

  A heavyset developer named Langford sat next to her, drinking his Red Bull. He rolled his eyes. “It’s obvious: when Rendition is gone, they’ll come looking for us.”

  “Hide where?” Raghav asked.

  Desmond sat back down. “That’s the thing.”

  They all waited.

  He searched for the words, rehearsed them in his mind. “It has to be somewhere they won’t think to look. Somewhere safe. Off the grid.”

  Melanie bunched her eyebrows. “Like… what? Alaska?”

  “I was thinking somewhere colder.” Desmond inhaled. “Through Icarus Capital, I invest in a lot of companies. One is called Charter Antarctica. It’s a combination of a cruise ship company and theme park.”