by A. G. Riddle
David looked around, thinking, and then said, “There’s a chamber with tubes; it goes on for miles. I bet that’s where they’re going.” A plan formed in his mind. He wouldn’t put her in danger again. “You stay—”
Kate shook her head. “No.” She walked to the dead man who had run out of her room and picked up his machine gun. She stared at David. “I’m coming. And I get a gun this time. I’m not asking.”
David exhaled.
Patrick looked from Kate to David. “I take it this has been a recurring discussion?”
“Yeah, it’s uh, been a weird week.” David focused on Kate. “You’re not going out there—”
“I can’t stay here. You know it.”
David resisted, his mind searching for a counter argument.
Patrick looked between them, seeming to understand that something unsaid was going on.
“Unless we stop what’s about to happen, I won’t be safe anywhere, this room included. You need my help. We need to get those children and get out of this structure. Neither of you know them.”
She was right. David knew it. But sending her out there, taking that chance, seemed unbearable to him.
“You have to let me go with you, David. I know what you’re afraid of.” Kate’s eyes scanned him, waiting for a reaction. “We have to do this. The past is the past.”
David nodded slowly. The fear was still there, but it was different somehow. Knowing that she accepted the risk, that she believed in him and was going along with him, as his partner; it changed things.
David walked over to Kate and handed her a pistol. “The Luger is less likely to jam. It’s loaded and ready to go. Just point and shoot. It holds eight rounds; you’ll have plenty. Stay behind us.”
133
Dorian held a hand up for the five soldiers behind him to halt. He peeked around the corner. Two dead soldiers, one on each side of the door. Had they come out or gone in? Out, hopefully. He stuck his head out again. Another dead body, at the corner of the hall—he was running toward them. They had come out.
“Clear,” he called, and the men and his father spread out in the hall, checking the dead men.
Dorian bent down to the kids. “Oh,” he corralled them toward him, away from the dead men. “Don’t pay attention to them, they’re just playing dead. It’s another game. Now it’s time for the race. Remember, run as fast as you can. The first one to the end of this room gets a huge prize!”
His father worked the glass panel beside the giant double doors. They spread open silently, and Dorian shoved the children through just as the first shots rang out. Two of their five men fell instantly. Dorian lunged and covered his father, but he was too late. The bullet struck Konrad’s arm and threw him to the ground.
Dorian pulled his father back behind the door as the remaining three soldiers retreated behind the other side of the doorframe. Dorian tore his father’s shirtsleeve and inspected the wound quickly. The older man pushed his hands away. “It’s a flesh wound, Dieter. Don’t be emotional. Stay focused.” He drew his pistol and peered around the doorframe. Shots scraped the metal above his head.
Dorian pressed him to the wall. “Papa, go out the way I came. One of us must get out. I will cover you.”
“We must stay—”
Dorian pulled his father to his feet. “I will finish them and then follow you.” He shoved him into the hall and fired rapid-fire blasts from the submachine gun until it clicked empty.
His father had cleared the corridor. Dorian had saved him.
He slumped back into the wall. A smile spread across his face.
134
David looked back at Patrick. “We have to go around. We can’t get past them—not without superior numbers or explosives.”
“This corridor must connect with where we entered the tombs. The kids were running. Maybe we can catch them,” Patrick said.
David looked around, as if searching for another way. “Agree. You two go. I’ll keep Sloane and his men here.”
Kate poked her head between them. “David, no.”
“This is what we’re doing, Kate,” David’s voice was flat, cold, final.
She stared him in the eyes for a long moment, then looked away. “What about the bombs?”
David nodded toward Patrick. “Your dad has a plan for that.”
Comprehension slowly broke over Patrick’s face.
Kate turned to him. “You do?”
“Yes, I do. Now let’s move.”
Kate followed her father through another entrance to the tombs just as the children crossed the aisle ahead of them.
“Adi! Surya!” Kate screamed.
The boys stopped their sprint, almost falling over. She ran to them and looked at the time on the pack. 00:32:01. 00:32:00. 00:31:59.
“How are you going to disable—?”
“Trust me, Katherine,” her father said, tugging at her arm.
From the direction they had come, Kate heard the sound of automatic gunfire. David. Fighting the rest of them—alone. She wanted so much to go back, but the children, the bombs. Her father was tugging at her arm again, and she found herself putting one foot in front of the other, marching quickly away from the gunfire.
135
David heard Kate shout for the children. He chanced a look around the corner. Had the Nazis heard it, too? The soldiers at the door were taking off into the massive chamber. He couldn’t let them reach Kate. He stepped toward the doors and fired—empty. He dropped the gun and grabbed the last submachine gun from the fallen Nazi, firing at the two running men, mowing them down. Only one plus Dorian left.
The last soldier peeked around the corner, and David nailed him with a blast of shots that caught him in the head. It had been a trap. The runners were the bait; they had hoped David would panic and run quickly into the tombs after them—giving the sniper an easy shot.
One left—Dorian. David didn’t hear any footsteps. Somewhere deep in the tombs, a set of doors slammed shut. Kate, Patrick, and the children were out. He should back away, follow them. He stopped, just before the door. He would have to run to catch up to them. But he stood there. 9/11 was a long time ago. He had Kate. And he had the Immari to fight. The outbreak.
Where would Sloane be? Somewhere deep in the tombs, hiding, waiting, watching the entrance. David could wait him out a bit. Or… He shook his head as if shaking off the thought.
He took a couple of steps back, still holding the submachine gun at the ready, and when no one emerged, he turned from the door and started down the corridor at full speed.
The first shots tore through David’s back and exited through his chest, hurling him into the wall and then onto the floor face first. More bullets hit his limp body on the floor, raking over his legs.
Footfalls. A hand, turning him over.
David pulled the trigger of the pistol twice. The bullets ripped through the jeer on Dorian’s face, blowing brain and bone out of the back of his head, painting the ceiling red and gray.
A bittersweet smile crossed David’s lips as he blew out his last breath.
136
Konrad latched the helmet on the suit and waited for the portal to open. The metal doors parted with a loud boom, revealing a massive ice cathedral very similar to the one he had crossed almost three months ago—or seventy-five years ago. If this one was the same, there would be a Bell hanging just outside, above the entrance. The Bell on the other side of the structure had been turned off when Konrad had crossed—it hadn’t so much as flickered as he and his men marched under it and into the tombs. But they had turned that Bell on from inside; he knew that now.
The control systems inside the structure were complex, and he and his men had tried to access a system they thought was hibernation control. It turned out to be the controls for a weather satellite. Kane had actually downed the satellite, somewhere in America, he believed, possibly in New Mexico. Whatever he did triggered some sort of anti-intrusion routine. It locked them out of the systems and activa
ted the Bell, killing the men on his sub.
None of the control systems had worked since then. Until today.
He wondered if they had already removed the Bell outside, or if the reactivation of the computers meant it was disabled. There was also another possibility: maybe the Bell would only attack people trying to enter, not exit.
If it was still on, he would have to move fast to get clear of it.
Kane took a tentative step out of the decontamination chamber. His eyes were adjusting, and he could see a cluster of soft lights, like tiny stars glowing in a mound of snow, just under a mangled metal cage.
There was something else: a metal basket, hanging from a thick cord. Yes, that was it—his escape route, even if the Bell activated.
Kane took another step, clearing the portal doors. Above him, a loud rumble reverberated through the space and echoed in his suit, maybe even his bones.
There was a Bell. And it was thundering to life.
137
Kate tugged at the pack on Adi’s back. Finally, it came free. 00:01:53. She turned to Surya. The black goo was eating away at the straps on his backpack as well. They were almost free. Kate’s father pulled the boy away from the straps and shoved him toward her. He motioned toward the second of six doors. “Go, Katherine. I’ll take care of this.”
“No. Tell me. How?” She searched his face, wondering how he could disable the bombs.
He sighed and nodded toward the door. “When the Atlanteans exited the Gibraltar structure, they set the portal up to be a one-way escape hatch to this structure in Antarctica. But the structure here was shut down; that’s why I couldn’t get back. But if I’m right, the activation of the systems here will allow Atlanteans to pass back through it. You have Atlantean DNA. You were incubated in the tubes. It will work for you. Now this is important—when you get to the other side, you’ll be in Gibraltar, in a control room. Don’t touch anything. You must leave the portal open, so that I can follow you through. I need to close the portal… permanently. This bomb can’t explode here in Antarctica.”
Kate stared at him, trying to comprehend.
“When you get to the other side, you must get to the surface and as far away as you can. You’ll have about three hundred and sixty minutes—six hours. A minute here is three hundred and sixty minutes there. Do you understand?” Her father’s voice was firm.
A tear fell from Kate’s face. She finally understood. She hugged him for three long seconds, but when she tried to pull away, she found that her father was holding her tight. She wrapped her arms around him.
“I made so many mistakes, Katherine. I was trying to protect you and your mother…” His voice broke.
Kate leaned back and looked him in the eyes. “I read the journal, Dad. I know why you did it, all of it. I understand. And I love you.”
“I love you too, very much.”
138
Konrad felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead as the thump-thump-thump of the Bell above grew louder.
Through the glass of the helmet, an image emerged, as if a miniature version of the person were sitting inside the glass. The gray-haired man was sitting in an office, behind a large wooden desk with an Immari flag behind him. There was a map of the world on the wall, but it was different somehow, all wrong. And the man’s face… Konrad knew him.
“Mallory!” Konrad cried out. “Help me—”
“Of course, Konrad. There’s a syringe sitting on the basket. Inject yourself.”
Konrad bounded forward, desperately trying to reach the basket. He fell twice, then again. He decided that he couldn’t run in the suit, so he waddled awkwardly, making the best speed he could as the Bell droned louder each second. “What’s in the syringe?”
“Something we’re working on. You should hurry, Konrad.”
Konrad reached the basket and picked up the large syringe. “Take me up, Mallory. Forget this science experiment.”
“We can’t take the risk. Inject yourself, Konrad. It’s your only chance.”
Konrad flipped open the metal case and eyed the syringe for a second as the Bell beat louder. There was something else running down his face. He saw the red reflection in the glass of the helmet. How long did he have? Konrad snatched the syringe, pulled the plastic cover off the needle, and plunged it through his suit into his arm. The case must have been some sort of warming device, but the liquid was still freezing as it flowed into his veins. “I’ve done it, now lift me up.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Konrad.”
Konrad felt wetness on his arms. It wasn’t sweat. The Bell thundered louder. He felt strange, weak inside. “What have you done to me?”
Mallory leaned back in the chair, a satisfied look on his face. “Do you remember giving me that tour of the camp where you were testing the Bell? It was the early thirties, I don’t remember exactly when, but I do remember your speech—what you said to the workers to convince them to do those terrible things. I had wondered how you would pull it off. You said, ‘This is hideous work, but these people are giving their lives so that we can understand the Bell, so that we can save and purify the human race. Their sacrifice is needed. Their sacrifice will be remembered. The few die so the many can survive.’” Mallory shook his head. “I was so impressed, so enamored with you then. That was before you put me in a tube for forty years, before you took my life. I was loyal. I played second fiddle for so many years, and look at how you repaid me. I won’t give you a second chance.”
“You can’t kill me. I am the Immari. They will never stand for it.” Konrad fell to his knees. He could feel the Bell beating in his heart, ripping him to shreds from the inside out.
“You aren’t the Immari, Konrad. You’re a science experiment. You’re a sacrifice.” Mallory shuffled some papers, then said something to someone off screen. He listened for a moment. “Good news, Konrad. We’re getting data from the suit. It should give us everything we need. We have a fetus with sustained Atlantis Gene activation—it’s actually the child of Patrick’s daughter and Dieter. Talk about irony. Anyway, the trouble is, we needed a genome of the same genetic stock before Atlantis Gene activation. A parent, ideally. We also needed to track and test that genome as the Bell attacked it in order to understand exactly which genes and epigenetic factors are involved. As you’ll remember, it’s a lot of effort to disassemble a Bell, and then there’s the whole power issue.” Mallory waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. “So, we figured we’d just keep this Bell active, prep a syringe with the gene-tracking therapy, and wait for you to walk out. I was never very good at speeches, not as good as you, but I was good at figuring out what people would do. And you’re very predictable, Konrad.”
Konrad spit blood as he fell face forward into the ice.
“I guess this is goodbye, old friend. As I said, your sacrifice will be remembered.” As Mallory finished, a man ran into the office. Mallory listened and then looked confused. “Gibraltar? When?”
139
Kate held her breath as the portal door slid open. It was just as her father had said: a control room with tons of glass consoles. But there was someone there: a guard, leaning on a stool and reading a magazine.
At the sight of Kate and the two boys, he gawked for a brief moment, then returned the stool to its four legs and scrambled to his feet. A magazine with a nude woman on the cover drifted to the floor as the guard grabbed an automatic rifle that had been leaning against the wall and pointed it at Kate. “Don’t move, Dr. Warner.” His face was hard. He pulled his shoulder close to his mouth and said, “This is Mills, Chamber Seven. I’ve got them, Warner and both boys. Request assistance.”
Within ten seconds, there were two more guards in the room. They searched all three of them with a brief pat-down. The soldier in charge smiled as he pocketed the pistol from Kate. “Come with us,” he said.
140
Mallory Craig paced in his office, waiting for news. He looked up when the Immari agent entered. “We got the biometric data fr
om Kane’s suit. Dr. Chang is analyzing it, but he says he needs the body.”
“Fine, get him the body. Where are we on Gibraltar?”
“They have Warner and the two children.”
“Which Warner?” Mallory snapped.
“The woman.”
What was Mallory missing?
“You want us to—”
“Has anyone else come out?”
“No.”
Mallory sat down at the desk and began scribbling feverishly. When he had finished, he stood, stuffed the letter into an envelope, and scribbled an address on the outside. “I need you to deliver this.”
“What about Dr. Warner?”
Mallory looked out the window and thought. Had Vale and her father died in the tombs? “Hold the woman there. We need to interrogate her. And triple the guard on that room. Tell them I’m on my way.”
141
Kate held the boys close to her side as they followed the men down a series of corridors. Behind them, a familiar voice called out. “Stop.”
Kate and the guards turned to the man, who was accompanied by two guards as well. They wore uniforms with a flag Kate had never seen. Below it were two block letters in a square [II].
“I’ll take her from here,” Martin Grey said.
“No can do, sir. Chairman Craig’s orders.” Her lead captor stepped forward, squaring with Martin and his men.
Kate almost gasped as she took in Martin’s appearance. His hair was wild and unkempt, he hadn’t shaved in… months? He probably hadn’t showered in just as long. His long hair and beard, combined with the ragged, worn look in his eyes, was a sharp contrast to the clarity and softness of his voice. “I understand. You have your orders, Captain. I wonder, before you take them, if I could see the children. It’s a research request, something we urgently need.” Before the man could answer, Martin stepped forward and knelt at the children. He gathered them with his arms and held them close to him, covering their eyes and ears as muzzle flashes and the sound of gunshots filled the cramped corridor.
