by A. G. Riddle
“Who?”
“You will meet them soon enough. They will arrive here, and they will need our help, now and even more in the future. You must be prepared.”
Milo considered this for a moment. Somehow, it excited him. He felt filled with purpose. “What must I do?”
“A great dragon pursues them. Their respite will be brief. The dragon will find them and breathe fire down upon us. You must build a chariot for the sky to carry them away. They must survive.”
“Wait, there’s a dragon? It’s coming here?!”
Qian shook his head. “Milo, it is a metaphor. I don’t know what will come, but we must be ready. And you must prepare for the journey after that.”
Milo had spent the following weeks building a basket—for the chariot that would carry these people away from the dragon. He had thought it was all a diversion—something Qian had made up to keep him from pestering the older monks. But then they had come—Dr. Kate and Mr. David—just as Qian had said. Mr. David was just as Milo had seen him before: at death’s door. But Dr. Kate had healed him.
Qian’s other prediction had come true as well. The dragon had come, flying through the air and breathing fire, and Dr. Kate and Mr. David had barely escaped. Milo was again at the top of the mountain, staring up at the basket he had built. It hung from a massive balloon, one of many floating toward the horizon, away from the burning monastery below him. They had known—the older monks. They had taken only one younger monk. Milo. They had not run from their fate. “It is written,” Qian had said. But who wrote it?
Milo opened the second book, The First Tribes of Humanity: A History. He understood this book even less. It was written in an ancient language Qian had made him learn. Milo had been thrilled to learn English, but this language was different—far more difficult. And the text… what did it mean?
“When you know the answer, only then will your journey begin,” Qian had said.
“If you know the answer, why not just tell me?” Milo asked, smiling. “We can save some time, and I can take off in the balloon and be there soon—”
“Milo!” Qian steadied himself against the table. “The journey is the destination. Finding the answers for yourself, achieving understanding, is part of your journey. There are no shortcuts along the path.”
“Oh. Right.”
By the time Milo reached what was left of Tel Aviv, he thought he understood the books. And he had changed, because of what he had seen, and the things he had done to survive.
He found a fishing vessel he thought would take him.
“What do you want, kid?”
“Passage,” Milo answered.
“Where you headed?”
“West.”
“Got anything to trade?”
“Only my willingness to work hard. And… the greatest story you ever heard.”
The fisherman eyed him suspiciously. “All right, get on the boat.”
65
Somewhere off the coast of Ceuta
Mediterranean Sea
David stared at the two sets of lights on the water for another second. “Kamau!” he shouted.
Within seconds, the tall African appeared in the saloon, covered in sweat and grease.
“Get us underway,” David said.
“To where?” Shaw cried.
David turned to him. “Kill all the lights on the boat.” To Kamau he said, “Make our heading away from those lights.” David pointed out the window. “Best speed.”
“Jesus,” Shaw said. He ran out of the saloon. The lights throughout the boat went out.
David retrieved the binoculars from the cockpit and focused on the lights on the water. Just as the boats came into focus, they cut their lights. Through the moonlight, David couldn’t make out any markings on the boats or even what type, but one thing was certain: they had cut their lights the second Shaw had killed theirs.
David felt the yacht lurch forward, and they were underway.
Shaw returned to the saloon. “They cut their lights—”
“I saw it.”
“They’re following us.”
David ignored him. He said to Kamau, who was standing in the doorway, “Bring the map. Mark our position.”
“Let me make the call, David. My government can airlift us out of here. It’s our only way out. You know it,” Shaw said.
Kamau returned with the map and spread it out on the coffee table, covering Martin’s notes. He pointed at a dot in the water between Spain and Morocco. “We’re here.”
David’s mind raced.
“Fine,” Shaw said flatly. “I’ll say it. Someone killed Martin.”
Every set of eyes in the room went to Shaw. “We all know it. There are three doctors and three soldiers in this room; we all know enough to know that he was murdered. One of us killed him. It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Kate. So I propose the following: Kate locks herself in the master stateroom with all the guns. We five gentlemen remain here in the upper deck until the SAS soldiers get here. That ensures Kate’s safety.” He focused on David. “Which is our priority, I believe.”
David read Kate’s body language, which was subtle but said: not a bad idea. And it was a good idea: if Shaw could be trusted. But if he had killed Martin, it would be the perfect trap. Disarm everyone, call in whomever he’s working with and easily capture Kate.
David pointed to a small dot on the map. “What is this?”
“Isla de Alborán,” Kamau said.
“You said in Ceuta that the Immari had taken control of the islands in the Mediterranean.”
“Yes. They have Alborán as well. It is a very small outpost.”
“How small?”
“Tiny. The entire island is less than a tenth of a square kilometer. That would be… maybe fifteen or twenty acres. There is a lighthouse and a building with maybe six guards. A helipad with two large helicopters. No significant defenses…” He seemed to read David’s mind. “But… it would be difficult to take with only two people.” His eyes cut to Shaw, almost involuntarily.
“Defenses?” David asked.
“Yes, some. A few fixed artillery batteries. We’d have to figure that out. The outpost mainly serves as air support to Immari ships that run into trouble—rescue, fending off pirates.”
“The helicopters are long range?”
“Yes, definitely. There was discussion of having them support the invasion of southern Spain, but they were held back.”
David nodded. If they could take the outpost at Alborán, they could fly anywhere.
Shaw finally broke. “You can’t be serious. You have the option of being airlifted out of here, and your choice is to assault an Immari outpost? It’s ludicrous.”
David folded up the map. “It’s what we’re doing. This isn’t a discussion.” He handed the map to Kamau. “Set our course.”
Shaw simply stood there.
“David,” Kate began. The I need to speak with you look was the only cue David needed. He followed her downstairs to their stateroom.
She closed the door gently behind him. “I’m sorry, but I think we have to—”
“I want you to trust me, Kate. Let me do this.” He waited for her.
Slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”
“We’ll reach Alborán inside five hours—assuming whoever is chasing us doesn’t catch us first. We need to figure out who killed Martin before we get there.”
“I agree. But first, I want us to decipher the rest of Martin’s code, then I want to call Continuity and relay our findings. If… something bad happens at Alborán, at least they will have our research. Hopefully they can find a cure.”
This was her deal: David would help her work on a cure, and she would go along with his plan—and trust him. Tradeoffs, compromises, trust. This was turning into a real relationship. I’m good with that. I like that. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Dorian rolled over in bed. “Enter.”
The door to his room opened, and a shy sailor inched in. He held out
a closed envelope.
Dorian snatched it and ripped it open.
Where the hell are you?
Warner close to deciphering code.
Our destination is Isla de Alborán.
ETA 5 hours.
Be there.
Be ready.
66
Mediterranean Sea
When David and Kate returned to the saloon, the two scientists were there waiting for them, sitting side by side on the white leather couches, placid expressions on their faces, as if the world weren’t dying from a global pandemic, and they hadn’t just been accused of murder. David had to marvel at them. He wasn’t sure if he felt envy or sheer surprise at their composure.
“We are ready to resume. If you are, of course,” Janus said.
Kate and David sat in club chairs adjacent to the couch.
The wood-paneled, glass-accented room was lit only by three candles on the coffee table now, and the feeling had changed from a science conference to a late-night sleepover.
David turned the paper with Martin’s code around on the coffee table, positioning it to face the others as if it were a Ouija board.
Everyone took a moment to reread the note.
PIE = Immaru?
535…1257 = Second Toba? New Delivery System?
Adam => Flood/A$ Falls => Toba 2 => KBW
Alpha => Missed Delta? => Delta => Omega
70K YA => 12.5K YA => 535…1257 => 1918…1978
Missing Alpha Leads to Treasure of Atlantis?
“Several items still confuse me,” David said. “I believe the first two lines are simply notes—one about PIE. As we discussed, I’m quite certain Martin believed the Immaru were the PIE, Proto-Indo-Europeans, or at least a descendant group. The other note refers to an event in 535 and again in 1257. I know what it is, and I’ll explain that in a moment. Then the three lines are a chronology—a time line that overlaps and corresponds to the Tibetan tapestry Kate saw at the Immaru monastery. But I believe Martin’s chronology may be incomplete. Let’s take it step by step.”
David pointed at the word Adam. “Adam, Alpha, 70K YA.”
“In research,” Kate said, “the alpha signifies the first person in a clinical trial—the first to receive a test therapy.”
“Yes,” David said. “I think Adam is the first human who received the Atlantis Gene. That’s the event in the flood of fire in the tapestry, and the first major event in Martin’s chronology. The next is the Flood, A$ Falls, 12,500 years ago. I believe A$ is shorthand for Atlantis. So Flood, Atlantis Falls. When I was in the Atlantis structure in Gibraltar, there was a chamber with a series of… holomovies. I believe they showed this event—the fall of Atlantis at the foot of the Rock of Gibraltar. In the movie, the Atlantean ship hovered just above the water, then set down on the coast, just outside a prehistoric megalithic settlement. Two Atlanteans in suits exited the craft and interrupted a prehistoric tribal ritual, saving a Neanderthal. As soon as they returned to the ship, it was hit by a tidal wave that drove it inland, destroying the ancient city. As the water pulled the ship back out to sea, explosions rocked it, destroying the ship.”
“Where it lay buried for almost thirteen thousand years, until 1918, when my father helped the Immari find it,” Kate said.
“Exactly. The puzzling part is the notation: Missing Delta?”
“Delta signifies change,” Kate said. “‘Missing Delta’… So a change didn’t happen?”
“If we piece together Martin’s code, the tapestry, and what I saw that night in Gibraltar… In the first two floods on the tapestry, the Atlanteans interact directly with humans. Saving them or warning them. This implies a direct relationship.”
Kate sat back in her chair. “What if the Atlanteans were somehow guiding human evolution? Like an experiment with periodic intervention—and that intervention failed to happen 12,500 years ago because of the ship’s explosion: the fall of Atlantis.”
“I believe that’s what Martin thought.” A thought struck David; did he have the other piece of the puzzle?
In Antarctica, when David was in the tube, the Atlantean had released Dorian first—given him a head start. The Atlantean had watched David and Dorian fight to the death, as if he knew the outcome, as if the Atlantean were simply waiting for his champion to triumph—Dorian.
David had died a second time in Antarctica. But unlike his first death, he hadn’t resurrected in Antarctica. He had awoken in the Atlantis structure in Gibraltar—a section at the base of Jebel Musa in Morocco. Someone had made David resurrect there. Another Atlantean? David had noticed another damaged suit on the floor of the resurrection room. He tried to think back to the holomovie. Neither of the suits had been damaged during the events, he was sure of it.
Yet, the fact was undeniable: another Atlantean had brought him back—after Dorian and the Atlantean in Antarctica had killed him.
Another faction? One clearly wanted him dead. The other had saved him.
David was now sure of two things. One, that the Atlanteans were waging some sort of civil war. And two, that there was no way he was telling Kate or the two scientists what had happened to him.
“I have a theory,” David said. “I believe what I witnessed—the Atlantis disaster—wasn’t a natural phenomenon. I think it was an attack.”
“By whom?” Chang asked.
“I don’t know,” David said. “But what if there were two factions of Atlanteans or a traitor, someone who sabotaged the ship, preventing some intervention? I mean look at the broad arc of human history. All the major stuff happened in the last thirteen thousand years—agriculture, cities, writing, you name it. The population chart explodes around this time. It coincides with the end of the glacial maximum and warmer weather, but…”
Janus leaned forward. “I find your ‘missing intervention’ theory intriguing. I see one hole, however. The next step in the chronology: ‘535…1257, Toba 2, Delta’—that implies a change did happen then—recently. And from the videos, you say the ship was destroyed.”
David nodded. “I think those two Atlanteans must have died in Gibraltar. It’s the only explanation. I think whoever killed them facilitated the change in 535.”
Janus nodded. “Which leads me to my conclusion: if an Atlantean intervened in 535—another delta, as you say—where are they? If they have the power to control human evolution, where are they hiding?”
David pondered the question. He didn’t have an answer, and it was, in truth, a very good question. The fact that he had advanced so many ideas made him feel a little defensive, as if he had to keep throwing out more possibilities to corroborate his theory. He felt himself tensing a bit, readying for battle.
Dr. Chang set his teacup down. “I too find it a valid question. However, I would like to hear more about the actual event—Toba 2, in 535 or is it 1257? Was Dr. Grey uncertain on the actual date?”
The question brought David back, made him focus. “No. I don’t think so. I believe the dates are the beginning and end of a period, marked by two specific events.”
“What period?” Janus asked.
“The dark ages in Europe.”
“And two… events?”
“Volcanos and then plagues,” David said. “One that ushered in the dark ages, another that led Europe out. There’s strong evidence that the first outbreak—in 535—was linked to a massive volcano near mount Toba in Indonesia.” He thought for a second. “You could think of it as a sort of Second Toba Catastrophe.”
“I would have heard about a Second Toba Catastrophe,” Kate said.
David smiled. Him, telling her about a volcano that changed the fate of humanity. “It’s not well known,” he said, echoing her words to him in Jakarta when she had first told him about the Toba Catastrophe Theory.
“Touché,” Kate said.
“What we know is this: in 535, temperatures around the world dropped rapidly. We’re talking about an eighteen-month-long winter—a harsh, bitter winter with very little sunlight. This is wh
at was described in historical records. It’s actually the most severe climate event in recorded history. In China, snow fell in August. Throughout Europe, crops were lost and famine ensued.”
“A volcanic winter.”
“Yes. The historical accounts across Asia and Europe attest to it. Ice core samples confirm it, and tree-ring evidence from Scandinavia and western Europe also reveals a huge reduction in tree growth in the years 536 to 542, not recovering fully until the 550s. But it wasn’t the years-long winter that plunged humanity into darkness, it was the plague that followed—the worst pandemic in known history.”
“The Plague of Justinian,” Kate whispered. “In terms of casualty rates, it was the worst catastrophe in recorded history. But I don’t see how it could be connected to a volcanic eruption. And wait, tell me again how you know all this?”
“It might be hard for you to believe, but I was this close to a PhD. My thesis was on the origins and impact of the Dark Ages in Europe.” He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged theatrically. “I’m more than a pretty face and a skinny waist, you know.”
Kate shook her head, her face somewhere between embarrassment and disbelief. “I stand corrected. Please continue.”
“Here’s what we know: up to a third of the eastern Mediterranean’s population died in the outbreak. The Eastern Roman Empire was devastated. The capital, Constantinople, went from a city of half a million to less than a hundred thousand after the plague. They named the plague after the Roman Emperor Justinian. It’s hard to exaggerate the carnage of this plague. It was like nothing the world had ever seen. Some victims would take days to die. Others became ill and died within minutes. On the streets, bodies were simply stacked up. The smell of death was everywhere. In Constantinople, the emperor ordered the dead be buried at sea.” David’s mind flashed to Ceuta. He focused. “But there were too many of them. Dead bodies were dangerous in ancient cities. So the emperor ordered that mass graves be dug outside the city. Bodies of the dead were burned there. The historical record says that they stopped counting after three hundred thousand.”
