Genesis (Extinction Book 1)

by Nading, Miranda

  “It has to be buried, or it would have been picked up by satellites. As for the noise, it’s just not possible that no one has heard it yet. I think I was getting bleed from it before we ever crossed over land. I just filtered it and kept going until it got too loud to doubt what I was hearing.”

  Still pinned at the wrists and ankles, she worked her hands under her butt until she could get them in front of her. Sitting up, resting her head on her knees, she asked, “You’re positive it wasn’t natural?”

  “I’m not positive of anything. I’d need to hear it again, run it through the systems, but I’d bet a paycheck on it.”

  Freeing her feet went faster, but it took several tries before her legs held her weight. There was nothing she could do about her wrists, no way to bend them that would allow her access to the knot.

  She trapped the end of the twine under her bare foot and worked her hand down the line, wrapping the length of it around one hand. She held it in her fist while she felt around in the darkness. It didn’t take long to run into what felt like bars. Continuing the search, she asked, “Are you up?”

  “Working on it.”

  “The cell feels small, no furniture, no plumbing. Nothing.”

  After a moment, Eagle answered back. “Same here. 8 X 8, none of the amenities of home. I’m going to complain to the hotel manager.”

  “Let me know how that works out for you.”

  As they talked, Mel tried to follow the sound of his voice. When her fingers touched flesh, she jerked them back before her brain caught up. When she found Eagle’s hands again, she latched on. Marines or no, the comforting feel of living flesh in this dark nightmare was overwhelming.

  Leaning her head against the bars, his forehead found hers and neither spoke for several long moments. For Mel, she was afraid her voice would betray her. Uttering a single word would bring tears that she could not afford. Maybe later, when the situation either improved… or got worse, she would remove the leash on her emotions. Until then, she refused to breakdown.

  When they withdrew from each other, they took turns reaching through the bars to untie each other’s wrists. It was awkward and required several contortioned attempts. Except for still being locked in what amounted to a prison cell, they were finally free.

  “They got us in here somehow,” Eagle said at last. “We need to find the doors.”

  “All right. You look for the lock and I’ll see if I can find something useful on the floor.”

  “It’s gross down there.” The laughter in his voice was well concealed, but she still heard it. “Want me to do the dirty work?”

  “Please,” Mel laughed. “Remember the spider in the latrine on the Garrote? You’re too much of a girl.”

  “I’ve got your girl right here,” he snorted. “But if you insist.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Since her bare feet had touched nothing inside the cell, she moved to the next wall of bars and got down on her knees. Despite her taunt to Eagle, she had to screw up her courage to reach through the bars, much less to fish around in the two inches of stagnant water on the floor.

  Her eyes searched the darkness around her as her hand felt for anything loose that they might use to jimmie the locks. Since regaining consciousness, there had been no other sound except for those they made. No light, no wind. For all intents and purposes, they were alone. “Let’s keep it that way,” she whispered.

  “Found it. Facing your cell, it’s at my 8 o’clock. Just above waist high.”

  Turning her body to mimic his direction, it put the lock right above her head. She slid her hands up the bars and felt the bars next to them until she found two joined by a metal box. On the outside, she found the large keyhole. “Please tell me you know how to pick locks.”

  “Used to break into my neighbor’s house all the time, swap his whiskey with water. At least until he caught on. This is different though.”

  Back on her knees, Mel resumed her search. “A lock is a lock, right? Same premise?”

  “Lord, I hope—”

  Light, blinding after being trapped in darkness for so long, filled the room. Mel dropped her head and turned away to protect her eyes but the damage was done. Even as she tried to adjust, dark circles swam in her field of vision.

  Footsteps, slow and measured, slapped at the water covering the rock floor. Mel tried to work out how many, but the sound of their hard steps after the tomb-like stillness was daunting.

  As the sound grew closer, someone began to clap, slowly, as if counting the measure for a piece of music. Mel thought it more likely the person was mocking their efforts at escape and forced her eyes towards the bright lights.

  One man, American, stood amid a half circle of Chinese soldiers. His face was scarred on one side. Looked almost melted. Nevertheless, she recognized her childhood sweetheart turned tormentor. “Bishop.”

  “That was quite entertaining, Melanie,” he smiled, but the scar twisted it, turning it into a rictus grin. “You look like shit.”

  “Well.” She laughed despite the flood of fear-induced adrenaline brought on by Bishop’s presence. “At least I can take a shower. What the hell happened to your face?”

  The smile vanished and Bishop turned to the officer next to him, nodding his head. As two soldiers stepped forward, the key flashing toward the lock, Mel backed up to the other side of the cell. Releasing one end of the twine, she let it hang limp behind her back, waiting.

  The only chance she had of helping Eagle was to behave, acquiesce. To a point. There was no way she was going to willingly let Bishop put his hands on her.

  When the soldiers were in her cell, they moved to either side in an attempt to force her between them. One lunged. She ducked and spun under his arms, bringing the twine up and wrapping it around his neck like a garrote.

  As soon as it passed his chin she put her knee in the man’s back, crossed her hands behind his head and pulled it tight even as she backed into a corner to keep him between her and the other soldier.

  A shot rang out, deafening in the rock chamber, followed by a scream. Surprised by the sudden sound, she turned to see Eagle doubled up on the floor, his hands working hard to staunch the flow of blood from his gut.

  Screaming, she shoved the choking man out of her way and rushed for the door. Two steps in, hands grabbed at her clothes, skin, and hair, bearing her down to the floor. Knees in her back pinned her there while the hand gripping her hair shoved her face in the water.

  Though shallow, the water was deep enough to cover her nose and mouth. Unprepared, she fought to get her face turned enough to get air and only succeeded in choking on the foul water as her arms were wrenched behind her back and cuffed.

  Using her arms as handles, they yanked her up. A brief glimpse of Eagle as they began dragging her out of her cell was all it took to renew her efforts. His eyes, blazing with rage, were on her. One hand still tried to hold back the flow of his life’s blood while the other clawed at the rock floor. Dying, dragging himself across the floor, Eagle was still trying to help her.

  Mel kicked out with her feet, shoving her body to the side to slam her captors into the bars, trying to break free. Just as their grip failed, another shot echoed through the chamber.

  Mel froze. In the silence that followed, she knew the kid was dead.

  Whether it was an attempt to remember how to breathe or an effort to scream, she didn’t know, but her mouth hung open, working to do something, anything. Closing her eyes tight, she turned her head toward Eagle’s body and had to force herself to open them, to bear witness.

  Footsteps, moving to stand in front of her, pulled her attention forward. When she looked up at Bishop there was no fear, no rage. Ice cold hatred settled over her. If he had pulled a gun and aimed it at her forehead, it would not have raised her emotional temperature a single degree.

  She knew it was a transient comfort. Everything is eventual. Fleeting. If she lived through the night, she would have to face Eagle’s death. For the moment
, she let the emptiness in, wrapped that cold around herself as she would a warm blanket in winter.

  “Your disappearing act sixteen years ago may have been forgiven,” Bishop spoke softly, as if to a child as he knelt in front of her. “But it has not been forgotten. It is time for a new tour of duty, Melanie. One that can earn back his favor. Changes are coming; choices will have to be made. The question you need to ask yourself now, is do you have anything left to live for? If you do not give yourself over to him without hesitation, without holding back, you will not survive what’s coming. No matter how special he seems to think you are.”

  8

  Mittie Kate peeled out of her fur-lined winter gear and tossed it onto the foot of her hotel bed. She watched Ling pull out his pad and walk the room long enough to get the slight nod that meant his pad had picked up electronic signatures that shouldn’t have been there.

  The bastards had bugged the room.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she told whoever was listening. Once in the bathroom, she cranked up the water. Pulling a cigarette from her bag on the counter, she sat on the toilet with the lid down and waited.

  “I thought you quit smoking?” Ling asked as he flipped on the overhead fan and took a seat on the duvet across from her.

  “Some days require a sedative,” she smiled and stood up long enough to toss the cigarette in the toilet. “Besides, at this point, I don’t think cigarettes are going to have time to kill me.”

  “We’ve been in tighter places, my old friend,” Ling smiled and continued to work his pad. “There are two bugs. Audio only, but I have drawn the curtains just in case.”

  “Might as well be ten. They know who we are, why didn’t they arrest us?”

  “If they arrest us or kill us, Max and the others will go to ground. If that happens, they lose the upper hand.”

  “Better to follow us until they have all their eggs gathered, eh?”

  “That would be my assumption.”

  Mittie leaned back on the commode and closed her eyes. “We have a safe house in Moscow.”

  “I do not believe it would be wise to go there. If we can make it to Ulan Bator, I have contacts that can get us into Beijing and onto a flight back to the U.S.”

  “Do you think China is the best option? Considering our agent has already been compromised. In that very city, I might add.”

  Ling put his pad away and leaned forward. “They would expect us to head for Moscow. We have never shown the slightest interest in the Gobi Desert, that makes it safer than heading west. They severed the bio-readings from Nikoli’s monitor for a reason. They are pushing us. We cannot head in the direction that they push.”

  “All right,” she sighed. “The Gobi it is. Let me know when you have a route planned.”

  “It is already done. I have also purchased two tickets for the Trans-Siberian rail. It departs in one hour. We leave here in half an hour, on foot. Traveling light. Once I am sure we are not being followed, we will split off and take two separate entrances. Use your drop phone at the automated kiosk to check in and head for the cabin. If I tell you to put your hood up, keep it up until you are inside.”

  “What would you have done if I had refused to go to Ulan?”

  “I would have made you a cup of tea.”

  “I’ve had your tea, Ling. Drugging me is not fair play.”

  “As you are so fond of saying, all is fair in love and war.”

  “And which is this?”

  “There cannot be one without the other.”

  “All right, Confucius,” she laughed, “show me the route, the entrances, all of it. If we get separated I want to know where I’m going.”

  Ling showed her everything, including where to go if she got to Ulan Bator without him. She studied the map while he unbraided her hair and did a quick die and style job at the sink. When he was done, her grey hair was gone, auburn waves fell down her back and drifted over her shoulders. Adept fingers applied makeup to cover the truth of her age. Although it wouldn’t hold up under close scrutiny, at first glance she looked twenty years younger.

  “What costume do you get to wear?”

  “Any attempt I make to conceal my Asian features will only draw eyes to me.” He led the way into the main room of the suite and pulled two vacuum bags from under the bed.

  As soon as the seal was broken, the bags filled out, growing to four times their original size. New furs, silver instead of sable, puffed up to fill the space as air rushed inside. Once in their new clothes, Ling pulled out a second phone and set it up for background noise. “My turn for the shower.”

  After cranking the water back up, they slipped into the hallway and down to a service stairwell. As long as they weren’t spotted leaving, the shower would buy them, at most, forty five minutes. Fifteen more than they needed.

  They left the hotel through a back door that dumped them into an alley. With Ling concealed behind his hood and Mittie Kate letting the crisp Siberian wind blow through her hair, they remained in the labyrinth of alleys. Constant glances over their shoulders reassured them they weren’t followed until they were across the street from the Trans-Siberian station.

  With a quick squeeze of her hand, Ling turned to head back to take a route that would lead him to another entrance of the station and Mittie Kate crossed the street with all the confidence she could muster. Ninety percent of getting away with something right under someone’s nose was to look as if you belonged where you were and acted like you knew what you were doing.

  Pulling up the boarding pass on her phone, she flashed it in front of the screen on the kiosk and was surprised when it worked the first time. Slipping through the rails, she didn’t look back until she was boarding the train.

  It took all the self-control she had not to trip over the step or slow down as she watched men in dark greatcoats file through the entrances, their eyes scanning the crowds. When one grabbed an old woman walking by and spun her around, to compare her face with something he held in his hand, she knew their shower ruse had been discovered.

  Keeping her head down under the pretense of studying her boarding pass to find her cabin, she passed several soldiers without being molested. Inside their cabin compartment, she took a seat across from the door to wait for Ling.

  When the train lurched forward and started crawling down the tracks, she cried out and moved for the door. Despite their talk, despite Ling’s instructions, she couldn’t leave without him. He had been such an intimate part of her life for too long. She had to get off the train, had to find him.

  She threw the door open, intent on finding the nearest exit when a hand grabbed the back of her coat, hair and all, and shoved her back inside the private room. With the curtains drawn, Ling dropped the hood on his parka and turned. His eyes were ablaze, and he looked like it took a sheer act of will to keep from chewing her a new one.

  Mittie Kate ignored both and threw herself into his arms. After a moment, he softened against her and pulled her tighter to him. Whispering into her hair, he asked, “How can I protect you when you have such poor impulse control?”

  “I thought they had you.”

  “Almost, but if you would have left the train, they would certainly have had you. Do you have any idea how many men I would have had to kill to get you back?”

  “No more than you could handle.”

  “True,” he laughed. “But we would have missed our train.”

  9

  “This feels like a guilty pleasure.” Eve grinned over the top of a fully loaded slice of New York’s finest deep dish pizza. “The semester’s just started and we’re already skipping homework.”

  Ryan rubbed the top of her head and left the living room to replace his beer. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Eve about the doom and gloom discussion he’d had with Adam and Cedric. Nor could he lie to her face. It was easier to do it from the kitchen. “Well, Peanut, some days just require a little recharge, that’s all.”

  In the doorway he
leaned against the jamb, sipping his beer and watching her. They had already worked their way through all of the Laurel and Hardy episodes. On the TV, Abbott and Costello were working hard to give the Wolfman the slip. Eve giggled, just as she had the first time they pulled a marathon when she was a little girl.

  When she looked up, her smile faded. “Is there anything you want to talk about, Dad?”

  Shaking his head, not trusting himself to speak, he made the pretense of taking another drink. “Just enjoying an evening with my best gal. I’ll be right back.”

  Before she could respond, he headed for the hallway and his bedroom. Another glance at the hidden cell phone showed Mel had remained silent. He sent the next picture of Eve and slipped it back into his drawer.

  Eve trusted him. That was the rub of it. She trusted him and he was lying to her. Trusting her with the information wasn’t the issue. She didn’t talk to anyone enough to spill it, nor was she so childish as to use it as gossip to make herself look cooler with her new friends.

  Fragile, vulnerable. When he looked at her, sitting on the couch in her jammies, scarfing pizza and watching black and white slapstick, that’s what he saw. She would be furious if he said so. The fact that she still looked like a little kid at sixteen was the one thing in her self-image that even a father’s love couldn’t fix. Especially now that she was old enough to start thinking about boys.

  No matter how he looked at it, she was still his little girl. Protecting her, cherishing her, that was his job. Telling her about the satellite images felt as if it would be soiling that somehow. He didn’t want her feeling the way he did, all knotted up inside. Terrified and helpless.

  He needed to talk to someone.

  “Another fine mess you’ve gotten me into, Mel.”

  Grabbing his personal cell phone off the nightstand, he punched in Marcus’ number. Since leaving the lab, he’d been torn on whether or not to call the old man. Now, he was convinced if he didn’t talk to someone, keeping the knowledge in would eat him alive.