The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(11)

“We’ll get to that.”

A door slid open, and the Atlantean walked inside.

Dorian surveyed the small room. It looked like a walk-in-closet with a post-apocalyptic theme. Two environmental suits hung on the wall and a shiny silver briefcase sat on the bench below them. His mind began working on an escape plan. He’s not here. He’s a projection. Can I disable him?

“I told you we could do this the easy way or the hard way, Dorian. I’m letting you go. Now put the suit on.”

Dorian eyed the suit, then scanned the room, desperately searching for anything he could use. The door slammed shut, and Dorian felt the air draining. He reached for the suit and began putting it on. In his mind, a plan formed. He took the helmet under his right arm, and the Atlantean motioned to the silver case.

“Take the case.”

Dorian glanced at it.

“What—”

“We’re done talking, Dorian. Take the case and don’t open it. No matter what happens, do not open the case.”

Dorian took the case and followed the Atlantean out of the room and down the corridors, back to the open space where the dead bodies lay. The sliding doors that had slammed shut were open now, and the vast tomb spread out before him. Dorian eyed the open tube David had exited. Both he and Dorian had… “resurrected” in the tubes after their deaths. Would David return again? If so, that could spell trouble. Dorian motioned to David’s empty tube. “What about—”

“I’ve taken care of him. He won’t be back.”

Another thought occurred to Dorian: the time difference. His father had been down here eighty-seven years, but on the inside, only eighty-seven days had passed. The Bell at the perimeter formed a time dilation bubble. One day inside was a year outside. What year would it be out there? How long had he been in the tube? “What year—”

“I’ve also disabled the device you call the Bell. Only a few months have passed. Now go. I won’t tell you again.”

Without another word, Dorian started down the corridor. There was a thin trail of blood—his father’s. To Dorian’s relief, the droplets of blood grew smaller with each step and eventually stopped. We will be together again soon, and we will finish this. His lifelong dream was once again within reach.

In the long decontamination chamber, he saw Kate’s torn suit and the two smaller suits the children from her lab had worn.

Dorian walked to the portal door and secured his helmet. He waited with the case cupped under his right arm.

The three triangular pieces of the portal door twisted open, and Dorian stepped quickly toward them. Just before he crossed the threshold, he tossed the case aside.

An invisible forcefield as hard as a steel wall slammed into him, repelling him backward into the chamber.

“Don’t forget your luggage, Dorian,” the Atlantean’s voice said inside his helmet.

Dorian picked up the shiny case. What choice do I have? I’ll leave the case outside the entrance. It won’t matter. He exited the ship and paused, taking in his surroundings. The scene was much as it had been when he’d walked through the portal initially: an ice chamber with a high ceiling, a mound of snow with a crumpled iron basket and a pile of iron cord, and an approximately ten-foot round ice shaft leading to the surface two miles above. There was something new, however. In the middle of the chamber, just below the ice shaft, three nuclear warheads sat on an iron platform, joined by a bundle of wires. One by one, tiny lights flashed on as the warheads armed.





CHAPTER 10


Orchid District

Marbella, Spain


Kate followed Martin through the burning kitchen into the open dining room—what had been the main hospital wing. The devastation was more vast than she could have imagined. Half of the far wall had been blown away, and people were pouring out of the building, dodging falling debris and trampling the sick and the slow-moving.

Martin dashed into the throngs of people and elbowed his way forward. Kate fought to keep up. She was shocked at Martin’s agility, especially given his head wound.

They cleared the building, and Kate got her first look at the camp—or what was left of it. Massive fires burned along the fence where the guard towers had stood. The fleet of trucks and jeeps spewed thick columns of white and black smoke, a toxic brew of rubber and plastic burning that made Kate choke and cover her nose and mouth with her shirt. The white hotel towers seemed untouched, but at the base of each, an endless flow of people poured out.

The resort grounds were covered. Hordes of people flowed in every direction, frantically searching for an exit, or for safety from the explosions that seemed to go off every few seconds. They almost looked like herds on the savanna, running from an unseen predator, each member simply reacting to the motion beside them.

Martin scanned the perimeter, looking for a way out.

Kate rushed past him and made a beeline for the lead-encased spa building. A small fire burned at one end, but it was otherwise untouched in the assault. Behind her, she heard the explosion from what had been Martin’s office.

Kate reached the door to the spa building and raised her gun to shoot the lock, but Martin was beside her. “Save your bullets.” He swiped his badge at the door and the lock popped open. They raced down the corridors. Kate threw the door to Adi and Surya’s room open, and relief washed over her when she saw the two boys sitting at their desks on opposite sides of the room, writing on their legal pads without a care in the world.