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

On her helmet display, a faint sliver of crimson peeked out from the rock wall. Life signs. She rounded the turn and the dark red spread into a glow of amber, orange, blues and greens. A survivor.

The scientist tapped quickly at her palm controls, switching to normal view. The survivor was female. Her ribs protruded unnaturally, stretching her black skin as if they could rip through with every shallow breath she drew. Below the ribs, the abdomen wasn’t as sunken as the scientist would have expected. She activated the infrared again and confirmed her suspicion. The female was pregnant.

The scientist reached for another sample cylinder but stopped abruptly. Behind her, she heard a sound—footsteps, heavy, like feet dragging on the rock.

She turned her head just in time to see a massive male survivor stumble into the cramped space. He was almost twenty percent taller than the average height of the other male bodies she had seen, and more broad-shouldered. The tribe’s chief? His ribs protruded grotesquely, worse than the female’s. He held a forearm up, shielding his eyes from the lights that shone from the scientist’s helmet. He lurched toward the scientist. He had something in his hand. The scientist reached for her stun baton and staggered backward, away from the female, but the massive man kept coming. The scientist activated the baton, but just before the male reached her, he veered away, collapsing against the wall at the female’s side. He handed her the item in his hand—a mottled, rotten clump of flesh. She bit into it wildly, and he let his head fall back against the rock wall as his eyes closed.

The scientist fought to control her breathing.

Her partner’s voice inside her helmet was crisp, urgent. “Alpha Lander One, I’m reading abnormal vitals. Are you in danger?”

The scientist tapped hastily on her palm control, disabling the suit’s sensors and video feed. “Negative, Lander Two.” She paused. “Possible suit malfunction. Proceeding to collect samples from last known survivors of subspecies 8472.”

She withdrew a cylinder, knelt beside the large male, and placed the cylinder inside the elbow of his right arm. The second it made contact, the male lifted his other arm toward her. He placed his hand on the scientist’s forearm, gripping gently, the only embrace the dying man could manage. Beside him, the female had finished the meal of rotten flesh, likely her last, and looked on through nearly lifeless eyes.

The sample cylinder beeped full once, then again, but the scientist didn’t draw it away. She sat there, frozen. Something was happening to her. Then the male’s hand slipped off her forearm, and his head rolled back against the wall. Before the scientist knew what was happening, she had hoisted the male up, slung him over her shoulder, and placed the female on her other shoulder. The suit’s exoskeleton easily supported the weight, but once she cleared the cave, keeping her balance was more difficult on the ash-covered rocky ridge.

Ten minutes later she crossed the beach and the doors of the ship parted. Inside the ship, she placed the bodies on two rolling stretchers, shed her suit, and quickly moved the survivors to an operating room. She looked over her shoulder, then focused on the workstation. She ran several simulations and began adjusting the algorithms.

Behind her, a voice called out, “What are you doing?”

She whipped around, startled. She hadn’t heard the door open. Her companion stood in the doorway, surveying the room. Confusion, then alarm spread across his face. “Are you—”

“I’m…” Her mind raced. She said the only thing she could. “I’m conducting an experiment.”





PART I:

SECRETS





CHAPTER 1


Orchid District

Marbella, Spain


Dr. Kate Warner watched the woman convulse and strain against the straps of the makeshift operating table. The seizures grew more violent and blood flowed from her mouth and ears.

There was nothing Kate could do for the woman, and that bothered her more than anything. Even during medical school and her residency, Kate had never gotten used to seeing a patient die. She hoped she never would.

She stepped forward, gripped the woman’s left hand, and stood there until the shaking stopped. The woman blew out her last breath as her head rolled to the side.

The room fell silent except for the pitter-patter of blood falling from the table, splattering on the plastic below. The entire room was wrapped in heavy sheet plastic: the walls, the door, every inch of the floor. The room wasn’t an operating room, but it was the closest thing the resort had—a massage room in the spa building. Kate used the table where wealthy tourists had been pampered three months before to conduct experiments she still didn’t understand.

Above her, the low whine of an electric motor broke the silence as the tiny video camera panned away from the woman to face Kate, prompting her, saying: file your report.

Kate jerked her mask down and gently placed the woman’s hand on her abdomen. “Atlantis Plague Trial Alpha-493: Result Negative. Subject Marbella-2918.” Kate eyed the woman, trying to think of a name. They refused to name the subjects, but Kate made up a name for every one of them. It wasn’t like they could punish her for it. Maybe they thought withholding the names would make her job easier. It didn’t. No one deserved to be a number or to die without a name.

Kate cleared her throat. “Subject’s name is Marie Romero. Time of death: approximately 15:14 local time. Suspected cause of death… Cause of death is the same as the last thirty people on this table.”