The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery, #2)(46)

At the front desk, she found the first item she needed: a name badge. Xavier Medina, Vargas Resorts. It wouldn’t matter. She just needed a badge. If they checked it, she was caught already.

She moved past the gift store, and to her relief, a vast restaurant dominated the corner of the building beyond. She waded into the darkened dining room, through the stainless steel double doors, and into the kitchen. The stench was almost unbearable. She pinched her nose and moved deeper into the room. It was dark, too dark. She propped the double doors open with a stool and resumed her search.

In the corner, she found what she needed: a chef’s tunic. She unfolded it. It was soiled: green and red streaks coated the front. She knew she would need to cut it to make it work. She took a butcher knife off the center table and withdrew her hand from her nose long enough to reshape the garment. She turned it inside out and slipped into it. She clipped Xavier’s badge to her newly carved lapel, and surveyed her reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator: white coat, dangling name badge, brunette hair pulled back into a ponytail, gaunt cheeks, and a pale complexion. A single thought ran through her mind: No freaking way this is gonna work. She exhaled deeply and ran a hand through her ponytail. What the hell am I doing?

But what else could she do? She walked quickly out of the kitchen and back to the front desk. Sunlight bathed the lobby through the glass revolving door. Two guards waited beyond. I should take this thing off and go back to my room. She shook her head. What would they do if they caught her? But she couldn’t turn back. She had to do something. She couldn’t sit up there knowing Martin was dying, that the whole world was. She would take this risk. It was her only shot.

She walked to the revolving door and pushed though. The guards stopped talking and focused on her. She walked quickly past them, and they called to her. She looked back and waved. She walked a little faster. Not too fast, not fast enough to be suspicious. Were they following her? Another look back could give her away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate caught a glimpse of something that startled her: lights, on the water. Her hotel room had no view of the coast. She paused just long enough to take it in. The monstrous white ship glittering off the coast moved slowly, but there was no mistaking its destination: Marbella. It looked almost like… yes, a cruise ship, with large guns mounted at the ends. Was it a plague barge? Would the survivors—her included—be rounded up and loaded onto it? She had to get to Martin before it reached the harbor.

Up ahead, a thick column of people formed where the trucks were unloading. The people marched to the tables and processing attendants, with their white coats and mysterious instruments, just as Kate had done yesterday. Would they replay Dorian’s speech? Like the outdoor movie at dusk every night? The thought of him made her angry, steeled her a bit.

She fell in behind a man and a woman, both coughing, hobbling toward the building for the sick.

The four guards were talking amongst themselves, ignoring the endless flow of sick into the building. As Kate reached the revolving door, a guard looked over at her, wrinkled his brow, and stepped toward her. “Hey, what are you—”

Kate pinched Xavier’s badge and held it forward, not letting it unclip from the makeshift lapel. “O-Official business,” she stammered.

She quickly ducked into the revolving door. Official business? God, she was going to get caught. The revolving door spilled her into the lobby, and as her eyes adjusted, Kate took in the scene. Nothing could have prepared her for it.

She almost staggered back, but people were rushing in behind her, pouring into the building.

Bodies were everywhere. Dead, dying, crying, coughing, and everything in between. This was a world without Orchid. And it was happening all across southern Spain—and if Paul Brenner was right, around the world. How many had died already, in the first day? Millions? Another billion? She couldn’t think about that now; she had to focus.

She had seen people flowing into the building, but she had no concept of how many people were here. There were a hundred, at least, here in the lobby, in this confined space. How many in the building? A thousand? Several thousand, maybe? There were thirty floors. She would never find Martin.

Behind her, she saw the guard enter the revolving door. He knew. He was coming after her.

Kate took off, darting through the lobby and into the stairwell. What could she do? Hide here, in the crowded building, then try to get out? If they were going to demolish it, when would it happen?

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she bounded up the stairwell, which was relatively empty. What floor should she try? Below, the stairwell door flew open.

“Stop!” the guard yelled from the bottom floor.

Against her better judgment, Kate peeked over the rail and her eyes met his. He raced up the stairs.

Kate opened the door to the fourth floor, and—

The hallways were filled with people, some lying, others sitting, many already dead. At the sight of her, a woman grabbed her white coat. “You’ve come to help us.”

Kate shook her head and tried to break the woman’s grip, but others crowded around her, all talking at the same time.

Behind her, the door opened again and the guard filled the doorway, his gun drawn. “Okay, turn around. Back away from her.”

The people around her scattered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Kate.

“I’m… taking samples.”