The Seventh Plague

by James Rollins

“Can you tell me what happened?” Kat asked. “You were hallucinating quite dramatically?”

  “It’s foggy. I remember bits and pieces mostly. My feet burning in sand. The stench of dead animals.” She shook her head. “But there at the end, just before I collapsed, I saw stronger images. It was like I was seeing through two sets of eyes. I could see the storm here, but also another, looming above a blood-red Nile. It felt so real—as real as the ice and snow here.”

  Kat glanced toward the tent flap. The weather had abruptly calmed. The lightning and hailstorm about to sweep over the camp had died away. It coincided with Safia collapsing to the snow, as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  “Rory—and his father, too, for that matter—believed that your infection by that microbe could have been the source of those dreams, that the organism was replaying past patterns it had been imprinted with. Carrying forward memories, thoughts, maybe even personalities. And possibly tracing all the way back to ancient Egypt.”

  Kat wondered if the storm’s energy had enhanced that effect, possibly explaining why Safia remembered the last hallucinations more vividly.

  Safia shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember much.”

  “When you were hallucinating, Rory asked your name in ancient Egyptian Coptic. You answered in the same language, saying your name was Sabah.”

  This clearly surprised her. “That’s the name of the mummy on the throne.” She touched her face, clearly also remembering how she had become infected in the first place.

  “And you’re feeling better now?”

  “I am.”

  After her sudden collapse, they had gotten her inside. She woke shortly thereafter, seeming much better. Her fever had definitely broken, her temperature returning to normal. Kat wondered if she had simply recovered or if her sudden recuperation had something to do with all the electricity in the air. She wanted to run tests on Safia as soon as possible.

  Which raised another question.

  With as much time as has passed, how come Rory and I are still fine?

  They were missing something important.

  The tent flap stirred and Rory pushed inside. His eyes were puffy.

  “Anton?” Kat asked.

  He shook his head and sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged, plainly not wanting to be alone. He looked shell-shocked and dazed. She imagined his loss had not fully hit him yet.

  “I’m sorry,” Safia said.

  Kat could not find her way to sympathy yet, but the man had tried to save Safia, throwing himself between her and the shooter. So she tolerated his presence.

  Rory took a deep breath. “I need you to know . . . I never got a chance to tell you.”

  “What?” Kat asked.

  “You left me to study the topographic map of the mummy’s tattoos.” He glanced over to Safia. “The scan was impressive, and I used your method for converting the Egyptian hieroglyphs into early Hebrew. I made some progress before . . .”

  He waved toward where Anton had died.

  “Go on,” Kat pressed. “What did you learn?”

  “The mummy was the cure.”

  Kat stood up. “What?”

  “Or the body at least was carrying it, along with a load of the pathogenic microbe in her skull. But I still don’t understand. My father had her tissues tested. Over and over again. He found nothing except what would make you sick, certainly nothing that would cure you.” Rory scowled. “He missed something.”

  He waved to Safia. “But that’s why she’s better. Whatever she was exposed to acted like a live-virus vaccine. Made her a little feverish in the process, but in the end harmless.”

  “You got that all from the mummy’s tattoos?”

  “I had to infer much. And there’s still more to translate. But I’m also pretty sure that’s why we never got sick. The cure must have also made Safia harmless, attenuating the load of the pathogen she was exposed to in the lab.”

  Kat stared at Safia. “Then maybe we can use her blood or spinal fluid and develop a cure . . . ?”

  Rory sighed and shook his head. “For some reason, it doesn’t work that way. That much was clear. There is only one cure and one way to obtain it. Directly from the source.” He stared over at Kat. “And we burned it to ash.”

  Kat pictured the failsafe at the lab, remembered the roaring rush of fire.

  The cure is gone.

  27

  June 3, 10:56 P.M. CAT

  Akagera National Park, Rwanda

  The trumpeting of the elephants continued throughout the canyons, echoing off the walls, trebling and quadrupling in volume.

  Concerned by the strange behavior and afraid to aggravate the herd further, Gray kept his group gathered and quiet in the elephant graveyard. He could readily enough guess what had triggered this dramatic display. In the middle of the small canyon, the ancient white-skinned matriarch stared blindly up, as if she could sense the dazzle of the equatorial aurora dancing across the night sky.

  Finally, the commotion began to subside. While ribbons and waves of shimmering energy still washed over the stars, it seemed to be fading, too.

  Noah let out a breath, as if the guide had been holding it all this time. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” He waved to the skies but also stared toward the grand dame sharing the canyon. “And I doubt this group has ever been this vocal. Especially for such a shy and secretive herd. Their chorus must have been heard for a hundred miles.”

  Roho had stuck close to Noah during all of this. The cub clearly did not appreciate this musical display.

  Neither did another. Kowalski rubbed his ears and popped his jaw. “I may never hear right again.”

  To the side, Derek held Jane’s hand. “But did you notice their song? It didn’t sound angry or distressed . . .”

  “Almost sorrowful,” Jane murmured. “Like the entire herd had suddenly remembered something that tore at their hearts.”

  Noah nodded. “She’s right. I’ve listened to elephants mourning the passing of members of their herd. This reminded me of that.”

  “But what could they be remembering?” Derek looked to the skies. “I doubt any of them would have witnessed an aurora at the equator, not in their lifetimes.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t their lifetimes.” Gray eyed Jane and Roho. He pictured the old elephant drawing the two out, as if she had recognized them, possibly confusing the pair with another from long ago. “Maybe it’s a much older memory, one tied to a great tragedy that has echoed over millennia.”

  Derek still seemed dubious, clearly guessing Gray was referencing their prior talk. “You’re suggesting from the time another woman and lion arrived on their doorstep.”

  “After a great flood washed the microbe out of this valley and poisoned the Nile.” Gray stared up. “If that ancient flood was triggered by atmospheric changes following the volcanic explosion of Thera, as you imagined before, it could have been accompanied by a localized aurora.”

  Jane followed his gaze to the shimmering sky. “We know Thera exploded with a force never seen before, but how could it change the sky?”

  “Because ash plumes are full of energy, crackling with lightning. If all that cataclysmic energy was exploded upward by Thera, it could have created an aurora in the ionosphere over this region.” He listened as the last mournful trumpet ended. “And these great beasts remembered . . . along with all the death that followed.”

  Noah stared across the canyon. “If you’re right, maybe that also explains the purpose behind the painted forest. The multitudes of glowing colors, the shimmering reflection in the water, even the movement as their decorated bodies shifted among the trees. Could they have been trying to evoke some memory of an aurora? Was that the origin of their ritual?”

  Gray recalled how the very air under that painted bower had seemed sacred, full of reverence. “And then we arrived at that ceremony with a woman and a lion in tow. Perhaps that’s why they so readily accepted us.”

&
nbsp; Noah nodded. “Merging our arrival with an ancient memory, one full of heartache and grief.”

  Jane stared over to the old queen. “It makes you wonder if they knew, even back then, what was unleashed from their valley. Maybe they allowed the Egyptians to build that wall—a wall the elephants could have easily taken down if they had wanted to—then taught the newcomers the cure in order to make amends.”

  Gray remembered the elder taking Jane by the hand and possibly trying to do the same, an echo of another time.

  “But what have we learned?” Jane asked. “I don’t understand.”

  Gray had begun to get an inkling, but it seemed that would have to wait. As if responding to some unseen signal from the matriarchal queen or just agitated by the fading sky, the big bull had returned. He stared at their group and tossed his head, grunting and baring his tusks in a clearly aggressive posture.

  “Looks like we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Kowalski said, “and are being shown the door.”

  Respecting their wishes, Gray waved them forward. They skirted past the matriarch’s guardian and headed back down the fissure. No one spoke, each lost in the mysteries and wonders of the last hours. As they reached the greater canyon and headed through it, Gray stared around the enclosed valley, lit by the fading aurora, trying to imagine Egyptians arriving here, discovering this place.

  “Look,” Derek said, pointing toward the grotto and the small pond it sheltered.

  The water’s surface glowed a blushing crimson, but it wasn’t a reflection of the colony of fireflies roosting across the scalloped overhang. Instead, it came from the depths of the pond itself.

  “It must be responding to the energy in the air,” Gray said.

  Derek turned to him, his eyes wide. “Maybe you were right before.” He gazed out at the elephants. “Maybe it was this same energy that gave rise to that melancholy chorus from before, stirring up those ancient memories, stoked by the fire of what they carry in their skulls.”

  And now it was ending.

  Gray watched the glow receding in the water, fading with the aurora, too. He felt a deep sense of peace—which was a mistake.

  A single gunshot made them all turn.

  Seichan’s voice crackled in his radio earpiece. “Look up! We’re under attack!”

  Gray studied the skies, not seeing anything at first. Then he noted dark shadows falling swiftly against the stars. As they reached the level of the cliffs, parachutes snapped wide.

  Gunfire crackled from above.

  Rounds shredded through the trees and ripped into the ground all around them.

  Gray realized his helmet lamp was still lit, a beacon for the gunfire. He flicked it off, got the others moving, and waved them toward the shelter of the cliffs.

  “Get into cover! Hide!” He pointed to Kowalski. “Keep them safe!”

  “How—?”

  “Figure it out!”

  Gray grabbed what he needed from them and headed away. He glanced toward the canyon entrance, toward the shield wall built by ancient Egyptians. He wanted to radio Seichan, but he feared the enemy would overhear.

  He willed her silently instead.

  Watch your back.

  11:09 P.M.

  From atop the wall, Seichan noted Gray’s lamp go dark.

  She prayed he was all right, while cursing herself for not recognizing the threat sooner. For the past two hours, she had stayed posted here, using the vantage of the dike’s height to watch the valley on one side and the path leading here on the other. She had focused most of her attention on that dark fissure through the cliffs, guarding their team’s only exit.

  So she had failed to spot the figures falling through the sky until it was too late. The only reason she was alerted was the faintest rumble of a plane engine, heard as the deafening chorus of the elephants ended. With her paranoia running high, she had searched the skies and spotted the specks plummeting toward the canyon.

  She had fired a warning shot for Gray, while radioing him.

  It was all she could do to help him and the others.

  With the alarm now raised, she ran atop the wall to the ramp. She was tempted to take the path to the right that led into the valley, to add her firepower to the battle about to begin, but she pictured a pale face marred by a black sun.

  That’s what you want me to do, don’t you?

  She suspected that was the purpose behind this aerial attack, to keep everyone’s attention in the canyon. She had counted five parachutes, but she knew there was still another threat. Back in the Sudan, the pale assassin had sent a team underground, while setting up an ambush outside, guarding all exits.

  And it had almost worked.

  Seichan pictured the blazing desert sun, being trapped on the side of a dune, watching the rider aim her rifle, imagining that savage smile hidden under the scarf.

  Reaching the ramp, Seichan turned left and headed into the fissure.

  Not this time, bitch.

  11:11 P.M.

  Valya chose a spot well back in the woods, close to where the forest was flooded.

  This will do.

  Ten minutes ago, she had landed outside the cliffs as the crackle of gunfire echoed from the distant canyons. Still, she didn’t rush and calmly folded her parachute.

  While drifting down out of the skies, she hadn’t come alone. The Raven UAV had circled wide around her. She used its infrared optics to scan the last of the fissure and the surrounding forest, spying for any hidden dangers.

  She wanted no more surprises.

  Once safely on the ground, she moved to this vantage, which gave her an unobstructed view to the mouth of the fissure. She discovered a nest of boulders, the perfect sniper’s roost. So she set up her camp, rolling out a dark blanket behind the cover of the rocks. She dropped to her belly, balancing her Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun atop its small tripod. Equipped with a night sight and a silencer, it would be nearly impossible for an enemy to spot her position.

  She lined up three of her extra magazines on the blanket next to her, but kept a reserve tucked into her belt, in case she needed to move fast.

  Last, she positioned the portable receiver near her elbow, masked from direct view of the canyon by one of the boulders. A glance allowed her to continue to spy from above.

  Satisfied, she lowered her eye to her sights and waited. A fresh spate of gunfire echoed to her. She didn’t know what was happening, as she had demanded radio silence from Kruger’s team until the canyon was secured.

  Still, she did know one thing for certain.

  She’ll come for me.

  11:13 P.M.

  With rounds sparking from the rocks around him, Gray ducked into the tight fissure that led to the graveyard. He took a hard turn at the first jag. Once out of direct view of the canyon, he shifted one of the helmets to the crook of his elbow and thumbed off its lamp. He did the same to the one on his head and the one held in his other arm.

  He had borrowed the additional two helmets from Jane and Derek.

  A bullet ricocheted around the turn in the fissure, setting him to running again.

  My trick seemed to have worked . . . but how well?

  After Kowalski had headed away with the others for the canyon wall, Gray had sprinted the opposite direction, hoping to lure the enemy to chase him—at least long enough for the others to reach cover. To bait his lure, Gray had taken the helmets and clicked on the lamps. He was sure the five-man assault team had come with night-vision gear, so the three lights should be flaming torches in the shadowy canyon. He hoped their glare would hide the fact that only one man hid within that blaze. He wanted the enemy to believe Gray’s team was still with him and come after the fleeing targets with a majority of their strength.

  He sprinted the rest of the way to the graveyard, nearly bouncing off the walls to keep ahead of whoever was taking potshots at him. At last, he burst back into the smaller canyon, his boots crunching through the crushed bones.

  He clicked the three helme
t lamps back on and flung them in all directions as he worked across the space. Only the queen was still here, plainly on edge from the spatter of gunfire, but not so panicked as to squint her old eyes at Gray’s strange antics.

  Wanting her out of harm’s way—this isn’t your fight—he shooed her toward the back of the canyon, waving his arms. “Heeyah! Get over there now! C’mon.”

  She took this as an affront, raising her trunk as if in disgust at his rudeness, but she did lumber around and slowly work farther back.

  Good enough.

  Gray glanced to the three scattered lamps, wanting them to confuse whoever came, to divide their attention. Satisfied, he hurried to one of the stacks of branches over moldering bones and burrowed his way undercover, facing the cavern entrance, SIG Sauer in hand.

  It didn’t take long.

  A shadow shifted within the fissure, cautious. The assailant popped his head out and did a fast sweep, then ducked back. He had exposed himself only for a second. Hidden again, he was likely strategizing how to proceed, analyzing the information from his mental snapshot of the canyon.

  Guy’s good.

  Gray listened, ears straining, and realized one other detail about his adversary.

  The man had come alone.

  The fact that he hadn’t been fooled into dragging his teammates along with him told Gray this was likely the team’s leader, probably the same one who had hunted them in the Sudanese tomb. If so, the bastard would want revenge.

  Gray tightened his jaw, worried about his friends.

  11:18 P.M.

  Derek crouched at the back of the grotto.

  After separating from Gray, their group had fled to the canyon wall. The best hiding place was also the most dangerous. The toxic pond had gone dark again, but the small cave that sheltered half of it remained lit by the firefly colony nesting in the vegetation that covered its roof. Derek had hoped the flickering bioluminescence would negate the enemy’s night-vision advantage. He knew even this much light would blind the sensitive gear.

  So they carefully circled the bank of the pond to the back of the grotto. There they found a low cave, one big enough to hide everyone in their group, except for the hulking form of Kowalski. He hadn’t minded, telling them to lie low while he dealt with the enemy. He left them with a disconcerting grin and some final words.