The Atlantis Trilogy Box Set- The Complete Series

by A. G. Riddle

  He cracked his eyes, and upon seeing Kate, drew back. He coughed violently.

  Kate patted him down, searching for the case that held the Orchid pills. It was the only thing she could do, but the case wasn’t on him. He coughed again, arching his back this time. He rolled off the cabinet to lie on the floor, and Kate saw the case—behind him, lying against the cabinet.

  She opened it quickly. One pill. She glanced back at Martin, who was coughing quietly on the floor. He had rationed himself, hoping he might make it a little longer.

  The double doors to the kitchen flew open, and Kate reeled around. Shaw stood there, a sack in his hands. He surveyed Kate and Martin. “Ah, bloody hell.”

  “Help me get him up,” Kate said, as she struggled to right Martin against the cabinet.

  “He’s finished, Kate. We can’t take him out of here like this.”

  Kate grabbed a bottle of water and forced Martin to take the last pill. “What was your plan?”

  He threw the sack at her feet, and Kate saw that it held another Immari Army uniform.

  Shaw shook his head. “I thought we could walk out of here. Maybe if he were in better shape. Immari soldiers don’t look that sick, Kate. He’d paint a target all over us.”

  Martin turned his head and tried to say something, but the words came out in a jumble. The fever was consuming him. Kate used the uniform to wipe some of the sweat off of him. “If he was well, what would you do after we left this building? What’s the plan?”

  “We follow the crowd—the survivors. We get on the plague barge to Ceuta, the main Immari sorting center—”

  “What? We need to get away from the Immari.”

  “We can’t. There’s no way out of here. They’re burning a perimeter around the Orchid district walls—almost a half kilometer.”

  Kate’s thoughts immediately went to the boys, to the couple in the old city. “Are they burning the Old Town district?”

  Shaw seemed confused. “No. Just a defensive perimeter around the camp. They’re turning it into a new processing center. Anyway, by nightfall, the fire will be at the walls, and the plague barge will be here. It’s the only way out.”

  Kate made her decision. “Then we’ll be on it.”

  Shaw opened his mouth, but Kate cut him off. “I’m not asking. There’s a bag in my room. You know where that is?”

  He nodded.

  “Bring it to me. It has the research. Then find some…” She needed to try something to slow the disease progression. Normally, for any other virus, the key would be antivirals and patience. But if this disease behaved the same way it did in 1918, Martin was undergoing an immune system overload. His own body was attacking him. “Bring some steroids.”

  “Steroids?”

  “Tablets.” Kate tried to think of the European names. “Prednisolone, cortisone, methylprednisolone—”

  “Okay, I get the picture.”

  “And we need some food. When the loading starts, we’ll take him out. We’ll say he’s a drunk soldier.”

  Shaw let his head fall back. “This is a really bad idea.” He focused on Kate, and seeing how serious she was, simply turned and walked out. He paused at the door and pointed at the metal bar that had blocked it. “Put that back in the door while I’m gone. And stay quiet.”

  46

  Immari Advance Fleet Alpha

  Near Cape Verde

  Dorian walked onto the ship’s bridge and cringed as all the officers, including the ship’s captain, stopped what they were doing and saluted him.

  “For God’s sake, stop saluting me. I’ll demote the next sailor who salutes me to seaman zero class.” He wasn’t sure if that rank existed, but the looks on the faces around the room told him that his meaning was received. Dorian led the captain aside. “Any update from Operation Genesis?”

  “No, sir.”

  In this case, no news was bad news. The lack of update from his operative told Dorian that his plan to capture Kate Warner was exactly nowhere. He debated changing course.

  The Atlantean had been clear: You must wait until she obtains the code.

  “Do you have new orders, sir?”

  Dorian turned away from him. “No… Stay the course, Captain.”

  “There’s something else, sir.”

  Dorian eyed him.

  “An update from Ceuta. They say the British have mined the Straits of Gibraltar. We won’t be able to pass them.”

  Dorian exhaled and closed his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sir. They’ve sent several ships in. They were hoping to find a way and guide us through, but the Brits sewed it up tight. But, we think there’s some good news.”

  “Good news?”

  “They wouldn’t have mined the straits if they planned to face us off the coast of Spain.”

  The captain’s logic made sense. Options formed in Dorian’s mind, but he wanted to hear the captain’s opinion first. “Options?”

  “Two. We sail north, try to go around the British Isles and find a port in north Germany. We could fight our way south from there. But I advise against it. That’s what the British want. They have to be low on jet fuel, maybe close to out. But their subs and half their destroyers are nuclear; assuming they have enough survivors to operate even some of them, they can field a small fleet. Off the coast of Britain, between their sea and air power, they could take us easily.”

  “And option number two?”

  “We park off the coast of Morocco, fly you to Ceuta on a helicopter, and you sail across the Mediterranean on one of the ships they’ve collected.”

  “Risks?”

  “You’ll have a smaller fleet, with fewer battleships and fewer of our well-trained troops—just what we can fly with you in the five helicopters. You’ll dock in northern Italy and make your way to Germany from there. Reports from the ground are that the Orchid Districts are evacuating across Europe. It’s complete pandemonium. Once you get to Italy, you’ll have no problem.”

  “Why can’t we just fly the whole way? Surely we can find a jet.”

  The captain shook his head. “There are still some air defenses in continental Europe, and they’ve got backup power to last for years. They’re shooting down any unidentified aircraft—several each day.”

  “Ceuta it is, then.”

  When Dorian returned to his stateroom, Johanna was awake and naked, stretched out on the bed, reading an old gossip magazine, for reasons he would never understand.

  He sat on the bed and pulled his boots off. “Haven’t you read that thing two dozen times? Here’s an update: all those idiots are dead and whatever they were doing didn’t matter—even before the plague.”

  “It reminds me of the world before the plague. It’s like revisiting the normal world.”

  “You think that world was normal? You’re crazier than I thought.”

  She tossed the magazine aside and curled into him, gently kissing his exposed ribs where he had just pulled his shirt off. “Rough day at the office, Sir Broods-a-Lot?”

  Dorian pushed her off of him. “You wouldn’t talk to me that way if you knew me better.”

  She smiled innocently. It contrasted sharply with the cruelty on his face. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t know you better. But… I do know how to cheer you up.”

  47

  Immari Operations Base at Ceuta

  Northern Morocco

  From the watchtower, David adjusted the binoculars and waited for the battle to begin. The Immari divisions had been slowly chasing the Berber tribes for the better part of three hours. From his vantage point, David could see the trap they had set—a line of heavy artillery and fortified lines on the far side of a high ridge looking down on a small valley. The Berbers would cross the opposite ridge and descend into the valley soon, then the larger battle would begin. The Immari would win, capturing and killing every Berber in the valley.

  “How are the tribes faring?”

  David turned to see Kamau standing behind him on the pla
tform.

  “Not well. They’re almost in the Immari trap. Where are we?”

  “Eleven men.”

  David nodded.

  “I can widen the net, but the risk grows.”

  “No. We’ll have to make do with eleven.”

  Several hours later, the sound of heavy artillery echoed across the charred field that had been the city of Ceuta. David stood, walked to the edge of the watchtower, and held the binoculars up. The carnage in the valley was near total. On the farthest ridge, a group of riders on horseback charged up the hill toward the big guns camped there, but the Immari shot the horses out from under them, then raked them with automatic gunfire. Behind them, tribesmen fell in waves. David let the binoculars drop to his side, then returned to the bench and waited.

  As the sun set, the Immari procession reached the outer gate. David watched from the guard tower. Major Rukin was the first to reach the gate, and as his jeep sped by, he and David shared a glance. The major’s lips curled slightly, but David simply stared.

  David sat in his room, waiting. He would take one last nap before the final battle began. The next few hours would determine his fate and that of millions more.

  48

  Immari Sorting Camp

  Marbella, Spain

  Kate forced Martin to eat a little more of the candy bar—part of the paltry “buffet” Shaw had rounded up. She held the bottle of water to Martin’s lips, and he drank greedily. He couldn’t seem to get enough water.

  Shaw stood in the corner wearing an expression that said, This is a waste of time and could get us killed. Kate already knew him that well.

  She jerked her head toward the silver double doors. Shaw rolled his eyes and wandered out.

  “Martin, I need to ask you about your notes. I don’t understand them.”

  His head rolled back and forth against the cabinet. “Answers are… dead. Dead and buried. Not among the living…”

  Kate wiped a fresh layer of sweat from his forehead. “Dead and buried? Where? I don’t understand.”

  “Find the turning points. When the genome changes. We searched… not alive. We failed. I failed.”

  Kate closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids. She considered giving him more steroids. She needed answers. But there were risks. She grabbed the bottle of prednisolone.

  The kitchen doors parted, and Shaw stuck his head in. “It’s happening now. We need to move.”

  Kate nodded her assent, and she helped Shaw stand Martin up and escort him out of the building. Past the revolving door, the sight of the camp almost stopped her dead in her tracks. The tower of the survivors spilled people onto the grounds in an endless stream. The palm trees swayed above the unseen masses that flowed below them. Guards were waving flashlights, herding people. A massive cruise ship stood tall at the shore, towering over the coast. Two massive ramps loaded people onto it, as if it were Noah’s Ark.

  “The far ramp,” Shaw said quietly and began tugging Martin.

  Four guards were minding the far ramp, which Kate took to be the Immari loyalist loading point.

  The ship came into focus. The once-white luxury liner now looked derelict, and Kate wondered if it would even float.

  Shaw spoke quickly with the guards, something to the effect of “little too much cough syrup,” and “be right as rain tomorrow.”

  To Kate’s relief, they passed the checkpoint with ease and fell into the throngs of people climbing the ramp. At the top, they exited into a corridor that was closed on both sides but open to the moonlight above. It felt like a cattle stall at a state fair or a rodeo. They weaved endlessly, toward the center of the ship, Shaw leading the way. Twice they had to stop to let Martin catch his breath, standing against the wall as the flow of people snaked around them and filled the hallway beyond. There were doors that led to square compartments along the hallway, and people filled each room as they went.

  “We need to get below, to a cabin. The topside compartments will be an inferno by morning.” He motioned to Martin. “He won’t fare well.”

  At the end of the hall, they descended the stairwell several flights, then worked their way through another set of corridors until they found an empty room. “Stay here, be quiet, and keep the door shut. I’ll knock in three sets of three when I return,” Shaw said.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get supplies,” he said and pulled the door shut before Kate could reply. She slid the latch, locking the door.

  The compartment was completely dark. Kate felt around for a switch but found none. She took the light bar from the backpack and bathed the small space in light. Martin lay against the wall, panting. Kate helped him into the bottom of one of the bunks. This was clearly one of the crew quarters: two bunk beds and a small closet in the center of the room.

  She took the satellite phone out and checked the display. No Service. She needed to go topside to finish her phone call. She needed answers. Her talk with Martin had been less than helpful. The genetic turning points. The answers… dead and buried.

  Kate was utterly exhausted. She stretched out on the bunk opposite Martin. She would close her eyes and rest, just for a moment, just to help her think.

  Periodically, she heard Martin cough. She didn’t know how much time passed, but she thought she felt the massive ship move. Sleep took her sometime later.

  Kate was barefoot, and her feet barely made a sound on the marble floor. Ahead of her, the arched wooden door stood at the end of the long hall. On her right, the same two doors loomed. The first was open: the door where she had seen David. She peered in. Empty. She walked to the second door on the right and pushed it open. The circular room was bathed with light from windows that had been swung open and glass doors that opened onto a terrace. A blue sea spread out below, but there were no boats, just a peninsula of tree-covered mountains and water beyond, as far as she could see.

  The room was sparse, save for a steel and oak-topped drafting table. David sat behind it, on an old iron stool.

  “What are you drawing?” Kate asked.

  “A plan,” he answered without looking up.

  “For what?”

  “Taking a city. Saving lives.” He held up an elaborate drawing of a horse made of wood.

  “You can take over a city with a wooden horse?”

  David set the drawing down and continued working on it. “Happened before…”

  Kate smiled. “Yeah, right.”

  “Happened in Troy.”

  “Oh yeah. I thought Brad Pitt was great in that.”

  He shook his head. He erased a few lines on the drawing. “Like other epic tales, they thought it was just a story until they found scientific evidence of its existence.” He made a few last strokes with his pencil, sat back, and scrutinized the drawing. “I’m mad at you, by the way.”

  “Me?”

  “You left me. In Gibraltar. You didn’t trust me. I could have saved you.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. You were injured—”

  “You should have trusted me. You underestimated me.”

  49

  Immari Operations Base at Ceuta

  Northern Morocco

  Major Rukin poured himself a tall glass of whiskey, drank it down, and collapsed into a chair at the round table just beyond his bed. Slowly, he unbuttoned his tunic, and when it fell free, he poured himself another drink, just as high as the last. It had been a long day, but hopefully it would be his last dealing with those wretched barbarian tribesmen beyond the walls. Good riddance. Killing them all was ideal; killing a few and capturing the rest, just as good. The base was always woefully short of servant staff. And for that matter… where was she? It had been a very long, very stressful day.

  He peeled his sweat-soaked tunic off and shimmied his arms out, letting the tunic fall back to wrap around the chair. He poured a third drink with less care this time, splashing brown liquid onto the table, drank it down, and bent to untie his boots. His feet throbbed, but the sensation had faded as the
drinks had taken effect.

  A loud knock echoed from the door.

  “What?”

  “It’s Kamau.”

  “Come in.”

  Kamau swung the door open, but he didn’t enter. Beside him stood a tall, slender woman Rukin hadn’t seen before. Good. A new girl. Kamau had done well—the woman was older than Rukin’s typical taste, but he was in the mood for something different. Variety was the spice of life. There was something else about her. Her posture. The eyes—strength, not quite defiance. Confidence. No fear. She will learn.

  Rukin stood. “She’ll do.”

  Kamau nodded slightly, pushed the girl at her lower back to usher her in, and closed the door with a click.

  The woman stared at the major, not bothering to take in his enormous quarters.

  “You speak English?”

  She furled her brow and shook her head slightly.

  “No, your lot never does, do they? No matter. We’ll do this caveman style.” He held a hand up, indicating for her to stay, then stepped behind her, pulled the garment off her shoulders, and untied it at her waist.

  The garment dropped silently to the floor, and he spun her around to inspect—

  She was nothing like he expected. She was muscular. Too muscular and her legs and lower torso were dotted with scars—knife wounds, some bullet wounds, others… arrows maybe? Unacceptable. He didn’t want reminders of combat here. He shook his head and paced to the table, making for his radio. Back to the stables with her.

  He felt a strong hand on his arm, and he looked back in shock. Her eyes met his. Feisty. Her confidence had turned to fire. Did she know he had rejected her? Rukin turned, reassessing her now.

  As a smile spread across his face, her other arm flew to him, and her fist crashed into his gut, just below his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him instantly. He fell to his knees and gasped. As he sucked desperately, she kicked his left side, just below his ribcage, rolling him over and sending waves of whiskey up his throat and out his nose and mouth. He gagged and gasped as the liquor burned with each desperate cough. He was drowning in fire. His abs burned and ached from the impacts and his violent heaving.