The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(31)

I.I. Immari International. This was an Immari Army uniform.

On the left side of the collar, a silver bird spread out—the insignia of a lieutenant colonel’s rank.

David tossed the uniform back on the bench. He was naked, and he’d rather stay that way than put the uniform on.

He walked over to the control station and waved his hand over it. Kate’s father had learned to work these Atlantean control stations. For him, a blue and green light would emanate and interact with his hand, but this control station was dark and dead. David pressed his fingers to it, but it gave no reaction.

He glanced back and forth between the doors. There was nothing like being a rat in a cage. He walked to the closest door and stood for a moment, but it didn’t slide open. He ran his hand over the panel beside it. Dead. He flattened his hands on the gray metal and pushed, but it didn’t move. It was sealed shut, like the bulkhead door in a submarine.

He tried the same routine on the opposite door but got the same result. He was trapped. How much air did he have? How long could he last before he starved to death?

He sat on the bench in silence, alone with only his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, they always drifted to Kate. David wondered where she was at that very moment. He prayed she was safe. If not, his sacrifice would be for nothing.

He thought about their one night together in Gibraltar, how his entire world had felt complete in that moment, for the first time in twelve years. Then he had awoken to find her gone. He forgave her for that; she had been trying to save him. But he had made another mistake: letting her out of his sight again in Antarctica when he had stayed behind to hold off Dorian and his men.

David decided he wouldn’t let that happen again. If he ever got out of this room, he would find Kate, wherever she was in whatever was left of the world, and he would never let her out of his sight again.





CHAPTER 29


Marbella, Spain


Kate had awoken in the dark confines of a semi trailer filled to the brim with people, packed in like a fresh catch on the way to a fish market at the pier. Or at least, that was what it smelled like: sweat and fish. People coughed and elbowed as the trailer bounced incessantly. The truck pulling it must have been doing top speed through Marbella’s bumpy streets.

Kate wanted to find Martin, but she could barely see a few feet in front of her. She settled for sitting quietly against the wall in a less-crowded section of the trailer, near the front, far away from the double doors at the end.

The truck slowed, stopped for a few seconds, and continued on, barely creeping this time. Then it came to an abrupt halt and its air brakes squeaked loudly. The rumbling engine died a few seconds later.

A wave of panic seemed to sweep the trailer’s inhabitants. They were all on their feet and rushing the door a split second before it opened.

The light from the setting sun revealed the scene beyond. Kate stood there, taking it in, letting the people flow around her.

The two blue Orchid flags that had hung on the fence were simply charred remains. The Immari had left the remnants hanging, perhaps as a symbol, a sign of their triumph. They had placed their own black flag on each side of the camp’s entrance. Immari soldiers in black uniforms paced in the guard tower above—the one that hadn’t been completely destroyed.

The trailer was emptying quickly now. Kate’s mind grasped for a plan. She slipped the backpack off her shoulders and unzipped it. The pack had some kind of heavy lining. Fire and waterproof? Would it hide the items inside from detection by the Immari? Probably not. Kate surveyed the contents: a handgun, the laptop, a sat phone, and the thermos-like device Martin had placed the sample in. She took the gun out. She couldn’t shoot her way out of here; in fact, she wasn’t sure she could shoot the gun at all. She needed a better plan, and if she was caught with the gun… She slid it into the darkened corner. She needed to keep the other equipment—Martin had saved it; it must be essential to finding the cure.

Martin had also told her what would happen next: the Immari would sort everyone. The dying would be left to die. The survivors could either pledge or perish.

She had a choice to make.





CHAPTER 30


Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC)

Atlanta, Georgia


Dr. Paul Brenner paced in front of the screens that covered the wall. The world map they displayed was covered with red dots: one for each Orchid district. A number floated above every point: the Orchid failure rate for that district. Since the outbreak, Orchid had been ineffective for roughly 0.3% of those infected. Now the numbers were climbing. In one district in Germany, almost one percent of the inhabitants were now dying from the plague, with no way to delay the eventual outcome: genetic transformation for a few, and for most—about ninety percent of people—death.

They had seen temporary, localized Orchid failures, but that had been due to formulation issues—manufacturing. This was global. If it was another… Paul resisted even thinking the word mutation; but if it was…

“Roll it back,” Paul said. “Show Orchid failure rates one hour ago, two hours ago. Keep stepping back an hour until they stabilize.”

Paul watched the numbers gradually decrease, then level out. “Stop right there.” He glanced at the time.

He walked to his station in the large conference room and rifled through a stack of papers. What had happened then? Had the Immari released a mutated virus—one Orchid couldn’t stop? That was their plan, or at least that was the working theory. He focused on the memos regarding Immari activity. One caught his eye. He checked the time. It was close. He scanned it.