The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2

by Brett Battles

“Well, there are a few others who try to help keep things in order,” he said.

  “Perhaps you should have them join us.”

  Robert suddenly felt very uncomfortable. “Why?”

  “There are some things we need to discuss.”

  NOT WANTING TO cause any unnecessary concern among the rest of the island’s survivors, Robert decided the meeting would be held in Dominic’s apartment, located in a part of the resort few others ever went.

  In addition to Renee, Robert asked Enrique Vasquel and Chuck Tyler—the two people who’d been helping him and Renee the most—to attend the meeting. Ivonne, Helena, and de Coster were joined by the older man who had ridden in the back of the plane with them.

  “Are we talking about how we’re getting off the island?” Chuck asked. “I assume that’s why we’re here.”

  “Perhaps I should introduce our colleague first,” Ivonne said, motioning to the man from the plane.

  “No need to be so formal,” the man said. “Name’s Richard Paxton, but you all can call me Pax. And it’s a damn pleasure to meet you. What you’ve all done here is pretty amazing. I am definitely impressed.”

  “Um, thanks,” Robert said. “I’m a little confused, though. Ivonne made it sound like there was something important you guys needed to talk to us about.”

  “There is,” Pax said. “And it starts with an apology. Robert, my friends here and I, we have deceived you. We are not, nor have ever been, associated with the United Nations.”

  A stunned silence.

  “I know that’s a bit of a surprise, but—”

  “If you’re not the UN, then who are you?” Robert blurted out.

  “Screw that,” Chuck said, clamping a hand over the bandage covering his inoculation. “What the hell did you put into us?”

  “The vaccine for the Sage Flu,” Ivonne said. “We didn’t lie about that.”

  Chuck rose out of his chair, clearly not believing her. “Jesus! Maybe you’re wondering how we’re still alive. Maybe that’s why you took our blood. Maybe you think we can save you!”

  “Hold on,” Pax said. “No need to get all riled up. First off, as you can see, we’re not sick, either.”

  Chuck’s face twisted into a grimace. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you’re just not showing signs yet.”

  “Secondly,” Pax went on, “taking your blood would tell us nothing. There are too many people alive here for all of you to be naturally immune. You’re still breathing because you’ve kept the sick away. That’s it.”

  “You’re talking bullshit,” Chuck said.

  He walked quickly to the door and pulled it open. Standing right outside were the two pilots.

  “Out of my way,” Chuck said.

  “Best if you go back inside and finish listening to our friends first,” the larger of the two pilots said.

  “Or what?”

  “Now, Chuck, nobody wants any trouble here,” Pax said. “We’re just talking. Come on back and have a seat. Afterward, you can run around and shout that the sky is falling to your heart’s content. You have my word on that.”

  “Your word?” Chuck scoffed.

  The friendly smile Pax had been wearing disappeared. “My word.”

  Robert rose to his feet. “Chuck, come on back. It’s better to hear what they have to say than not, don’t you think?”

  “What are they going to tell us that’ll be worth listening to?”

  “Well, we won’t know until they’re done, will we? I promise you, if I think it’s all bullshit, I’ll be the first to say you were right, and then you and I can escort them back to their plane and kick them out of here. Deal?”

  Chuck considered Robert’s suggestion for a moment. He shot a glance at the blocked door, and then, his face hardening, he returned to his seat. “All right,” he said, his gaze now fixed on Pax. “Tell us what the hell’s going on.”

  “Thank you,” Pax said. “I appreciate you giving us the time.” He said nothing for a moment, looking at Robert and his friends. “Yes, we did lie about being with the UN, but we’re not the only ones who have done that. You see, there is no UN anymore, not since the flu hit.”

  “But that’s not true,” Renee said. “The message on TV, on the radio. The secretary general.”

  “Gustavo Di Sarsina,” Pax said.

  “Yes!”

  “I watched the video myself last night on my trip south. Pretty convincing. The thing is, Di Sarsina is not the secretary general, and the message is not from the UN.”

  “Oh, come on!” Chuck said.

  “He said there are survival stations,” Renee argued. “Places people can go.”

  “He’s right about the latter, but calling them survival stations is a bit disingenuous,” Pax said. “It’s a long story, if you’re willing to listen.”

  “We’ve got time,” Robert said.

  US 101

  CENTRAL COAST OF CALIFORNIA

  10:44 AM PST

  MARTINA AND HER friends had been on the road for over an hour. The temperature was cool but not unbearable, the sky clear and wide. The freeway north of Paso Robles consisted of two ribbons of asphalt, each two lanes wide. One was for northbound traffic and the other for south, with about a thirty-foot-wide strip of grass between them.

  The four travelers had already come across several accidents, the worst of which had forced them to ride off the road to get around it. So, in the interest of not dying, they were once more keeping their speed down to forty miles an hour. It wouldn’t get them anywhere fast, but by Martina’s figuring, they would still make San Mateo before nightfall.

  They had just come over a small rise when the sun glinted off something in the distance.

  Glass, probably, Martina thought, either another accident or an abandoned car at the side of the freeway. A few moments later it winked out, masked by the undulating road. She’d almost forgotten about it when the glint appeared again, only it had shifted position. A different car? Or…

  Was it moving?

  She slowed.

  The glint shimmered and dipped.

  It was moving.

  Martina let her bike roll to a stop.

  “What’s up?” Noreen asked as she and the others stopped next to Martina.

  “I think there’s a car heading this way.”

  They all looked down the road.

  “I don’t see anything,” Riley said.

  “It was there a moment ago,” Martina said.

  “That sun reflection?” Craig asked.

  “You saw it, too?”

  “For a second, but it disappeared pretty quick. You saw it moving?”

  “I think so,” Martina said.

  Riley cocked her head. “You hear that?”

  Martina and the others listened. Above the sound of their idling bikes was a low whine.

  “That’s an engine,” Craig said. “I’m sure it is. I think you’re right.”

  “Should we try to flag them down?” Riley asked.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Noreen said. “The only other person we’ve come across shot at us. Maybe this guy will try to ram us with his car.”

  “She’s right,” Martina said. “We have to be careful. Maybe we should stay right here and watch it drive by. We can get a look at whoever’s inside. If they seem okay, we can catch up to them and get their attention. If not, we keep going on our way.”

  The others seemed to like this idea.

  After killing their engines, they climbed off their bikes and walked over to the shoulder so they’d have a better look when the car drove by.

  It wasn’t long before Martina could see the approaching vehicle was red. It looked more like a truck than a sedan, but it was still too far away for her to tell. Maybe an SUV or a station wagon?

  It disappeared into a dip, and when it came up again, it was considerably closer.

  Not a station wagon or an SUV.

  It was a Jeep. A red Jeep.

  Not unlike Ben
’s red Jeep.

  A few seconds later, Martina realized it didn’t have just a passing similarity to Ben’s Jeep. It looked almost identical, and a few seconds after that she thought, Not almost.

  She whipped around and raced back to her bike.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  She wasn’t sure which one of them had yelled at her, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was Ben, and that he was right there on the other side of the road. She fired up her bike and raced onto the grass separating the lanes.

  When she reached the southbound side, she stopped and began waving both arms over her head. “Ben!” she yelled. “Ben!”

  Behind her, one of the other bikes pulled up.

  “What the hell, Martina?” Noreen asked.

  “That’s Ben’s Jeep,” Martina said, her gaze still on the approaching vehicle. “I know it is!”

  The Jeep was only a few moments away now, but given that it hadn’t started to slow, she realized Ben hadn’t seen her yet. She stood up, one foot on the ground, the other on the bike’s footrest, and waved again. “Ben! It’s me!”

  That did it. The Jeep began to decelerate.

  “It’s him,” Martina said to Noreen, a huge smile on her face. “It’s Ben.”

  She was starting to hop off her bike when the Jeep sped up again.

  She waved her arms faster. “Hey, Ben! Stop! It’s me!”

  As the vehicle blew past her, she realized two things: first, it was indeed Ben’s Jeep, the license number and the dent in the front fender being proof of that; and second, the person behind the wheel wasn’t Ben.

  The driver—a woman with wild brown hair—glanced stone faced at Martina before looking back to the road. Martina had met a few of Ben’s friends, but this woman wasn’t one of them.

  But whoever she was, Martina was certain the woman knew where Ben was.

  Without thinking twice about it, she fishtailed into the southbound lanes and raced after the Jeep.

  Twenty-Seven

  NEW MEXICO

  12:57 PM MST

  MATT KNEW HE and his team had caught a break. Bad weather was coming—there was no missing the wall of gray clouds following them southward—but so far they had been able to stay ahead of the storm and make excellent time.

  As the town of Alamogordo came into view, Matt said, “We’ll stop here for a bit.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hiller said. He’d taken over driving Matt’s Humvee. “Any place in particular?”

  Matt checked his notes. “East on 10th Street. Should be a big market four or five blocks in on the left.”

  “Got it.”

  Matt shifted in his seat and looked out the side window at an ocean of shrubs and dirt. Though it had been a long time since he’d been in this part of the country, it looked exactly the same.

  How naïve he’d been back then, enough to become a member of Project Eden without fully understanding what the organization’s real mission was. He had been an engineer, working on what he then considered a dream job, helping to build secret underground facilities throughout North America.

  It had been interesting.

  It had been cool.

  It had been a huge mistake.

  Plumbing, that had been his specialty. He’d spent six years of his life overseeing the installation of pipes and vents and toilets and sinks and showers.

  The horror he helped create.

  The unimaginable he helped bring about.

  There was no forgiving his participation. It didn’t matter that as soon as he and several close friends who were also members figured out what was truly going on, they began planning how to get out. Nor did it matter that Matt had dedicated every moment of his life since to fighting Project Eden.

  Blame for the deaths of the billions lay at the hands of anyone who had ever helped the Project.

  Lay at his hands.

  He knew nothing he could do would ever change that, knew he wasn’t fighting Project Eden to right his own sins. He was fighting them because he had to, because not to fight wasn’t an option.

  His convictions could only take him so far, though. The resistance organization he’d built to combat the Project had achieved no more than minor victories at best. Even the destruction of Bluebird had not stopped the Project from unleashing its genocidal pandemic.

  But as he’d told Ash, eliminating the previous directorate was a start.

  And now Matt had a chance to add to that.

  And by God, it was a chance he would take.

  THEY PARKED THEIR vehicles near the entrance to the Lowe’s Marketplace grocery store. Matt tasked his men with checking inside and stocking up on any useful supplies.

  “Hiller,” he said, before the team leader could walk off with the others.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’d like you to come with me.”

  With Hiller beside him, Matt limped his way toward the gas station at the opposite end of the parking lot. Three long days of riding had stiffened up his leg more than usual, and left him with a dull, constant ache radiating from his knee.

  If Rachel had been there, she wouldn’t have let him even leave the truck.

  His sister. His beautiful, loyal, wonderful sister. What a mess of her life he’d made. She hadn’t been part of the Project, hadn’t known anything about it. He had let her believe he was dead for nearly a year, but it had been the only way to ensure that the Project forgot about him.

  And what did he do when he finally contacted her? Pulled her into his madness.

  Yet one more thing I’ll never be forgiven for.

  As they neared the station, he told Hiller, “Stay here and make sure no one disturbs me.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hiller said.

  Matt walked past the pumps, pulled the satellite phone out of his pocket, and checked his watch. The correct window of time had just opened up, but, to be safe, he waited another thirty seconds before dialing the number.

  The line was answered after half a ring.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me,” Matt said.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” C8 said. “Like why the hell you think you need to come here yourself?”

  “Because you can’t do what I can.”

  A pause. “It’s an unnecessary risk,” the man said.

  “Not to me.”

  C8, like most of the Resistance’s other moles, was not someone who’d infiltrated the Project from the outside as Matt had always portrayed it, but a man who’d been a member since when Matt himself had been a part of the organization.

  “When will you be here?” C8 asked.

  “I’m an hour away right now.”

  “What?”

  “I told you I was coming.”

  “I know…I just…I thought…”

  “This is an opportunity we can’t afford to miss.”

  “I realize that.”

  “So you can get me inside?”

  A slight hesitation. “Yes.”

  “Tonight?”

  A much longer pause. “Yes.”

  “Where do I meet you?”

  MATT WALKED BACK to Hiller, the sat phone once more in his pocket.

  “Everything all right, sir?” Hiller asked.

  “Yes. All good.”

  As Hiller turned to head back to the others, Matt put a hand on his arm.

  “One moment,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. If your leg’s bothering you too much, I can go get the truck and bring it over.”

  “Thank you, no. I actually need to talk to you.”

  “Of course,” Hiller said. “What can I help you with?”

  “We’re going to stay here in Alamogordo for a little while.”

  Hiller’s brow furrowed. “What about Las Cruces?”

  “We’ll get there, but not until it’s dark,” Matt said. “We won’t go together, however. I’ll leave first. You and the rest of the men will follow twenty minutes behind me.”

  “You’re going
alone, sir? I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t understand because you haven’t been given all the details. And I’m afraid it’ll have to stay that way for now.” He gave Hiller the directions to a shopping center in the south side of the city. “You’ll wait there in case you’re needed.”

  Hiller was clearly uncomfortable with the plan.

  “This is a unique opportunity,” Matt explained. “But one that needs to be handled in a very specific way.”

  “With you going in alone.”

  “Correct.”

  “Sir, I can’t lie to you. I don’t like this. Have you talked this plan over with anyone?”

  Matt appreciated the kid’s concern, but it was a waste of time. Taking a harsher tone, he said, “If I have or have not talked to anyone about this, it is not your concern. This is what we will be doing. Understood?”

  A reluctant “yes, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Matt said. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ve been at this fight a lot longer than you, so don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

  “I wasn’t trying to suggest—”

  “I know you weren’t.” Matt made a show of looking around the parking lot. “Now, while we’re waiting for the sun to go down, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I need a car.”

  THE CLEAR ROADS were a blessing and a curse. Back in the snows of Colorado and Wyoming, following Matt’s group would have been a simple matter of keeping eyes on his vehicle’s tire tracks, but in New Mexico, where the snow was only now threatening to fall, there were no ruts to show the way. So while Ash and the others could travel quickly, they had no idea if the convoy was still in front of them.

  “Why don’t you call him?” Gardiner said.

  “Do you really think he’d tell us where he is?” Chloe asked.

  “Maybe someone else will answer.”

  “Not if I know Matt,” she said. “Hell, he probably turned the damn phone off.”

  “What about Rachel?” Josie suggested.

  “Who’s Rachel?” Ginny asked.

  “Matt’s sister,” Brandon told her.

  “Maybe she knows where he is,” Josie added.

  “I doubt it,” Chloe said.