The Atlantis Gene: A Thriller

by A. G. Riddle

  I search the bodies, hoping to see one in particular. But Rutger isn’t here.

  I rub my face. I’ve got to focus. Got to get home. Helena.

  The electric car is gone. I’m weak, tired, and hungry, and at that moment, I’m not sure I will ever see daylight again, but I put one foot in front of the other and start the arduous trek out of the mine. I pump my legs as hard as they’ll go and brace for the pain, but it never touches me. I’m driven to get out of this place by a strength and fire I didn’t know I possessed.

  The mine flies by in a flash, and I see the light as I hike out of the last turn of the spiral. They’ve covered the entrance to the tunnel with a white tent, or a plastic sheet of some type.

  I brush the flap aside, and I’m surrounded by soldiers in gas masks and strange plastic suits. I wrestle free, but they tackle me and hold me to the floor. From the ground, I see a tall soldier stride over. Even through the bulky suit, I know who it is. Konrad Kane.

  One of my captors looks up at him and speaks through the mask in a muffled voice. “He just walked out, sir.”

  “Bring him,” Kane says in a deep, disembodied voice.

  The men drag me deeper into the warehouse, to a series of six white tents that remind me of a field hospital. The first tent has row after row of cots, all covered in white sheets. I hear screams in the next tent. Helena.

  I struggle at the men at my sides, but I’m too weak, from lack of food, from the walk out, and from whatever the tube did to me. They hold me tight, but I continue to fight.

  I can hear her clearly now, at the end of the tent, behind a white curtain. I lunge for her, but the soldiers jerk me back, walking me down the row so I get a good look at the people lying dead on the skinny cots. Horror spreads over me. Lord Barton and my mother-in-law are here. Rutger. Kane’s wife. All dead. And there are others, people I don’t recognize. Scientists. Soldiers. Nurses. We pass a bed with a boy, Kane’s son. Dietrich? Dieter?

  I can hear the doctors talking to Helena, and, as we move past the edge of the curtain, I see them swarming around her, injecting her with something, and holding her down.

  The men hold me as I struggle. Kane turns to me. “I want you to see this, Pierce. You can watch her die like I watched Rutger and Marie die.”

  They drag me closer. “What happened?” I say.

  “You unleashed hell, Pierce. You could have helped us. Whatever is down there killed Rutger and half his men. The ones who managed to make it back to the surface were diseased. A plague beyond anything we could imagine. It’s devastated Gibraltar and is moving through Spain.” He pulls the white curtain back farther, revealing the entire scene: Helena tossing in a bed surrounded by three men and two women working feverishly.

  I push the guards off me, and Kane holds a hand up to stop them from chasing me. I run to her, brush her hair back, and kiss her cheek, then her mouth. She’s burning up. Feeling her boiling skin terrifies me, and she must see it. She reaches out and caresses my face. “It’s ok, Patrick. It’s only the flu. Spanish Flu. It will pass.”

  I look up at the doctor. His eyes dart to the ground.

  A tear wells in my eye and rolls slowly onto my cheek. Helena brushes it away. “I’m so glad you’re safe. They told me you were killed in a mining accident, trying to save the Moroccans who worked for you.” She holds my face in her hand. “So brave.”

  She jerks a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress the cough that shakes her whole body and the rolling hospital bed. She holds her swollen belly with the other hand, trying to keep herself from hitting the rails at the side of the bed. The cough continues for what feels like eternity. It sounds like her lungs are tearing apart.

  I hold her shoulders down. “Helena…”

  “I forgive you. For not telling me. I know you did it for me.”

  “Don’t forgive me, please don’t.”

  Another round of coughing racks her and the doctors push me out of the way. They give her oxygen, but it doesn’t seem to help.

  I watch. And I cry. And Kane watches me. She kicks and fights and when her body goes limp, I turn to Kane and my voice is flat, lifeless, almost like his voice that comes from the mask. Then and there, in that makeshift Immari hospital, I make a deal with the devil.

  The tears rolled down Kate’s face. She closed her eyes, and she wasn’t in the bed with David in Tibet. She was back in San Francisco, on a cold night five years ago, in a hospital bed. A gurney. They were rushing her out of the ambulance and through the hospital. Doctors and nurses shouted around her, and she was yelling at them, but they wouldn’t listen to her. She grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Save the baby, if it’s between me and the baby, save—”

  The doctor pulled away from her and shouted at the burly man pushing the gurney. “OR two. Stat!”

  They wheeled her faster, and the mask was over her mouth, and she fought to stay awake.

  She awoke to a large, empty hospital room. She hurt all over. There were several tubes running from her arm. She reached quickly for her stomach, but she knew before her hands made contact. She pulled the gown back to reveal the long ugly scar. She buried her head in her hands and cried, for how long she didn’t know.

  “Dr. Warner?”

  Kate looked up, startled. Hopeful. A shy nurse stood before her. “My baby?” Kate said, her voice cracking.

  The nurse’s eyes drifted down, focusing on her feet.

  Kate crumbled back in the bed. The tears came in sheets now.

  “Ma’am, we weren’t sure, there’s no in-case-of-emergency on file, should, is there anyone we should call? A… father.”

  A flash of rage stemmed the tide of tears. The seven-month romance, the dinners, the charm. The internet entrepreneur who seemed to have it all, almost too good to be true. Not almost. The accident, the apparently faulty birth control. His disappearing act. Her decision.

  “No, there’s no one to call.”

  David hugged her tight and brushed the tears from her eyes.

  “I’m not usually emotional,” Kate said, through the sobs. “It’s just, I… when I was in…”

  “I know.” He wiped a new wave of tears from her cheek. “The scar. It’s ok.” He took the journal from her hand. “That’s enough reading for tonight. Let’s get some rest.” He pulled her down beside him, and they drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 94

  Situation Room

  Clocktower HQ

  New Delhi, India

  “Sir, we’re pretty sure we’ve found them,” the tech said.

  “How sure?” Dorian asked.

  “The two-man team on the ground, some locals told them a train came through this region.” The tech used a laser pointer to circle an area of mountains and forests on the giant screen. “The tracks are supposed to be abandoned, so it couldn’t have been cargo. And the drones spotted a monastery not far from there.”

  “How far out are the drones now?”

  The tech punched some keys on the laptop. “A few hours—”

  “How? Jesus, we were right on top of them!”

  “I’m sorry, sir, they had to refuel. They can be in the air again within the hour. But— it’s dark now. The sat image is from earlier. It will be—”

  “Do the drones have infrared?”

  The tech worked the keyboard. “No. What should—”

  “Do any of the drones nearby have infrared?” Dorian snapped.

  “Stand by.” Images from the computer reflected in the technician’s glasses. “Yes, a little farther out, but they can reach the target.”

  “Launch them.”

  Another tech ran into the command center. “We just got an eyes-only from the Antarctica operation. They’ve found an entrance.”

  Dorian leaned back in the chair. “Verified?”

  “They’re confirming now, but the depth and dimensions are right.”

  “Are the portable nukes ready?” Dorian asked.

  “Yes. Dr. Chase reports they have been retrofitted to slide inside
a backpack.” The skinny man held up a sheaf of printed pages too thick to be stapled. “Chase actually sent a rather detailed report—”

  “Shred it.”

  The man tucked the report back under his arm. “And Dr. Grey called; he wants to talk with you about precautions at the site.”

  “I’m sure. Tell him we’ll talk when I get there. I’m leaving now.” Dorian rose to leave the room.

  “There’s something else, sir. Infection rates are climbing in Southeast Asia, Australia, and America.”

  “Is anyone working on it yet?”

  “No, we don’t think so. Or, they think it’s just a new flu strain.”

  CHAPTER 95

  Kate opened her sleepy eyes and studied the alcove. It wasn’t night, but it wasn’t quite morning. The first rays of sunrise peaked through the large window in the alcove, and she turned away from them, putting them off, ignoring the coming of morning. She nestled her head closer to David’s and closed her eyes.

  “I know you’re awake,” he said.

  “No I’m not.” She tucked her head down and lay very still.

  He laughed. “You’re talking to me.”

  “I’m talking in my sleep.”

  David sat up in the small bed. He looked at her for a long moment, then brushed the hair out of her face. She opened her eyes and looked into his eyes. She hoped he would lean closer and—

  “Kate, you have to go.”

  She dreaded the argument, but she wouldn’t compromise. She wouldn’t leave him. But before she could object, Milo appeared, as if out of thin air. He wore his usual cheerful expression, but below it, on his face and in his posture, were the unmistakable signs of exhaustion.

  “Good morning, Dr. Kate, Mr. David. You must come with Milo.”

  David turned to him. “Give us a minute, Milo.”

  The youth stepped closer to them. “A minute we do not have, Mr. David. Qian says it is time.”

  “Time for what?” David asked.

  Kate sat up.

  “Time to go. Time for,” Milo raised his eyebrows, “escape plan. Milo’s project.”

  David cocked his head. “Escape plan?”

  It was an alternative, or at the very least, a delay of Kate’s ongoing argument with David, and she took the opening. She ran to the cupboard and gathered up bottles of antibiotics and pain pills. Milo held a small cloth sack at her side, and she dumped the bottles in it as well as the small journal. She stepped from the cupboard, but returned and grabbed some gauze, bandages, and tape, just in case. “Thank you, Milo.”

  Behind her, Kate heard David plant his feet on the ground and almost instantly collapse. Kate reached him just in time to break his fall. She dipped her hand in the bag, fished out a pain pill and an antibiotic, and stuffed them in his mouth before he could object. He dry swallowed the pills as Kate practically dragged him out of the room and into the open-air wooden corridor.

  The sun was coming up quickly now, and just beyond the boardwalk floor of the corridor, Kate saw parachutes looming over the mountain. No, they weren’t parachutes, they were hot air balloons. There were three of them. She cocked her head and examined the first balloon. Its top was green and brown. A sort of camouflage scene. It was… trees, a forest. So curious.

  The sound. The buzzing. It was close. David turned to her. “The drones.” He pushed her out from under his arm where she had supported him. “Get to the balloon.”

  “David,” Kate started.

  “NO. Do it.” He took Milo by the arm. “My gun. The one I came here with, the first time. Do you have it?”

  Milo nodded. “We have all your things—”

  “Bring it, and hurry. I have to get to high ground. Meet me on the observation deck.”

  Kate thought he might turn to her one last time and… but he was gone, hobbling through the monastery, then struggling up a stone staircase set in the mountainside.

  Kate glanced between the balloons and David, but he was already gone. The staircase was empty.

  She hurried down the boardwalk which ended at a spiral staircase made of wood. At the bottom of the stairs, the giant balloons came into view. There were five monks there on the lower platform, waiting for her, waving to her. At the sight of her, two of the monks jumped into the first balloon, released a rope, and pushed away from the platform. The balloon floated away from the mountain as the monks motioned to get her attention. They worked the cords and flame that controlled the balloon, showing her how to operate it. One of the men nodded to her, then pulled a rope that released one of the sacks at the side of the basket, and they rose quickly into the sky, drifting farther away from the mountain. It was beautiful, the serenity of the flight, the colors — reds and yellow with patches of blue and green. It sailed out over the plateau, like a giant butterfly taking flight.

  The other two monks were in the second butterfly balloon, ready to go, but they didn’t cast off. They seemed to be waiting for her. The fifth monk motioned for her to get in the third balloon, the one with the forest scene on top. Kate realized that the bottom side was a cloud scene — blue and white. From below, at the right distance, a drone would see only sky above. If the drone was flying above the balloon, it would only see forest. It was very clever.

  She climbed in the cloud and forest balloon. The second butterfly balloon cast off ahead of her and the last monk left standing on the platform pulled two ropes on her basket, releasing the bags and sending her balloon into the air. The balloon ascended silently, like a surreal dream. Kate turned and across the plateau, she saw dozens, no hundreds of balloons, in a panorama of color and beauty, all rising into the sky, the sunrise bathing them in light. Every monastery must have released balloons.

  Kate’s balloon was rising faster now, leaving the wooden launching platform and the monastery behind.

  David.

  Kate grabbed the cords that controlled the balloon just as an explosion rocked the balloon. The side of the mountain seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. The balloon shuddered. Wood and stone flew through the air. Smoke, fire, and ashes floated, filling the space between Kate’s balloon and the monastery.

  She couldn’t see anything. But the balloon seemed ok; the drone’s missile had hit the mountain below her and on the opposite side of the monastery. She fought at the controls. She was rising fast now. Too fast. Then another sound. A gunshot — from above.

  CHAPTER 96

  The shot missed. The drone had fired the first of its two missiles a second before David had pulled the trigger. That instant loss of weight had propelled the drone through the air slightly faster, past the bullet from David’s sniper rifle.

  He chambered another round and tried to find the drone again. Where was it? The smoke rose in thick plumes now. The monastery was almost consumed with flames, and the trees below it had caught fire as well. The green branches burned black, blocking David’s entire view. He stood with a grimace, but his legs responded. The pain pill was working. He had to get to a better vantage point. He turned and was shocked to see Milo sitting in the corner of the wooden observation deck, his legs crossed, his eyes closed. His breathing was shallow and rhythmic.

  David grabbed the young man by the shoulder. “Milo, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Seeking the stillness within, Mr.—”

  David pulled him up with his good arm and practically threw him against the mountain. “Seek it at the top of the mountain.” David pointed, and when Milo turned back, David spun the youth around and pushed him toward the mountain again. “You climb and keep climbing, Milo, no matter what happens. Go. I mean it.”

  Milo reluctantly dug a hand into a jagged opening in the mountain, and David watched for a second as he moved up the wall of rock.

  David returned his focus to the observation deck. He walked to the edge of the deck and waited. Then it came — a break in the smoke. He knelt and peered through the scope and without a single adjustment, he saw the drone. No, it was a different drone; this one still had it
s full complement of two rockets. How many were there? David didn’t hesitate this time. He sucked a breath in, held it, and squeezed the trigger slowly. The drone exploded and a tiny stream of smoke streaked the sky as the drone fell to the ground.

  David searched the sky for the other drone, but he couldn’t see it. It must be on the other side. He rose to his feet and hobbled across the wooden platform. Through the smoke, a colorful form rose, a scene of sky and trees, parting the black clouds. The balloon. Kate. His eyes met hers just as the mountain exploded below him. Half the platform disappeared in an instant, throwing him off balance. The gun fell from David’s hands and clanged loudly on the rocks as it fell toward the burning monastery. He crawled to the other side of the platform as the boards crumbled and broke free one-by-one. The entire monastery was coming down. The other drone had fired its last missile, and it was a death blow.

  The balloon had been rocked, but it was still there, 15 or 20 feet away, swaying wildly. The last of the platform was collapsing quickly now.

  David got to his feet and jumped for it. As he cleared the monastery, his forward motion stopped, and he seemed to hang in the air, and just as quickly, he was falling. Kate reached for him, and he could almost touch her hand, but he missed it, and he plunged to the ground. He almost hit the bottom of the basket, but he twisted at the last minute, catching something — a rope — with his good arm. He had stopped falling, but he swung listlessly from side to side. He tried to grab the rope with his legs, but the pain from the wound was too much. He dangled there, hanging by one hand, his legs kicking back and forth as if he were running in the sky.

  Fire — below him. He felt the heat creeping up his legs and now his body, getting closer every second. He was dragging the balloon down into the carnage. Kate was above him, trying to pull the rope up, but she couldn’t — his weight plus the sandbag was too much. He had to let go. From this height, it would be a quick death.

  Kate disappeared from the edge of the basket, and David heard a whoosh as a sand bag fell to the ground. Their descent stabilized, but they were still drifting lower, into the flames. He was sweating now. The balloon’s material wouldn’t last long in this heat.

  “Kate, I can’t climb!” Even through the pain pill, the agony of the chest and shoulder wound were overtaking him. He closed his eyes. Let go, his mind said, and as soon as words formed in his mind, something smacked him in the face — literally. He snapped his eyes open to find a rope — without a sandbag — dangling in his face.

  “Grab it,” Kate yelled down to him.

  He quickly moved his single-hand grip from the rope holding the sandbag to the new rope. He lost three or four feet in the exchange, but Kate quickly made it up as she began pulling him up toward the basket. David was 6’1”, around 180 pounds. He couldn’t understand how she was doing it, where the strength had come from, but Kate kept putting one hand over the other, pulling, using the side of the basket as a pulley. After what seemed like an eternity, he was eye-level with the top of the basket, and he lunged, grabbing it with his good arm and thrusting himself into the basket, falling on top of her.

  She was drenched in sweat from the exertion, and he was dripping from the heat of the fire. His face was four inches from hers, and he stared into her eyes. He could feel her breathing on his face. He pressed into her, moving closer to her mouth.

  Just before he reached her, she grabbed him and rolled him off of her, onto his back.

  David closed his eyes. “I’m sorry—”

  “No, it’s, I felt it. You’re bleeding, your bandages ripped.” Kate pulled his shirt back and began working on the wound.