NB953
HELSINKI, FINLAND
THIS CAN’T BE happening, Director Lahti thought. It must be some sort of test.
The directorate either dead or captured? Impossible.
If not a test, it must be a ruse by the rebels to trick Project members into giving up.
Of course. That had to be it.
He shook his head in disgust. How transparent could they be? The membership would never set down its guns and give up.
Overhead, the lights began to pulse white and red, indicating an alarm of the highest order. Oddly, the siren that should be accompanying the display was silent.
“The air!” someone said. “He’s turned the circulators off!”
Lahti listened. The ever-present hum of the air circulators had stopped.
Everyone flew out of their seats and ran down the hall toward the elevators, but when the first few reached them, someone shouted, “They’re not working! There’s no power!”
NB953, unlike many of the other bases, also had a stairway to the surface, but the bio-scanner outside the door wouldn’t recognize anyone’s palm print.
This isn’t a ruse or a test, Lahti realized.
Dear God.
NB016
“THAT SHOULD BE enough,” Ash said. “Those of you belowground should be noticing shortly that your air systems are coming back online. Your exits, though, will remain sealed until the end of my broadcast.
“Which brings me to my last point, as far as you are all concerned. There is no comparison in the history of man for the genocide you have committed. Every single death falls on each of your shoulders. We now possess a directory of all Project personnel that includes photos and more personal information than you probably thought the Project knew about you. Soon we will hunt you down, each and every one of you, and you will pay for what you have been a part of.
“If I were you, I would run as far and as fast as I could to the most secluded location I could find, and never come within a hundred miles of another living soul for the rest of my life. I doubt that will be enough for you to escape your fate, but there’s always a chance.”
Ash leaned back against the desk and smiled. “My apologies to the rest of you. I’m sure all of that was pretty confusing. But the story I promised you should clear it up.”
Even condensing things, it took Ash nearly two hours to tell the tale of Project Eden. He talked of the test outbreak in California the previous spring that had taken his wife’s life and sent him and his children underground. He described how the Project sent shipping containers full of the Sage Flu virus around the world, and how the plot was almost foiled before it could begin at Bluebird. He took personal responsibility for the failure to stop it.
He told of the Resistance, of Matt and Billy and all the others who had sacrificed their lives to stop the Project. He talked of Isabella Island and the survival stations that were anything but, and of the destruction of NB219 in New Mexico.
“There’s a base they called Dream Sky,” he said. “The Project filled it with survivors, but it’s not like the stations many of you probably went to for help.” A pause. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
The shot changed to one from inside a ward at Dream Sky. The camera panned across the room full of occupied beds. Unlike when Ash had first seen the wards, those lying there were now awake. The camera came to rest on a close shot of one of the patients, a prominent physician that many would recognize from her role as the former Danish prime minister.
“I am Dr. Nina Clausen,” the woman said, her voice surprisingly strong given her ordeal. “I and the twelve hundred other scientists, doctors, scholars, and engineers who have been held at Dream Sky against our will are like you. The only difference is that we have just learned what happened, and that most of the people we knew are dead.”
She described Dream Sky and its purpose. Chloe was nearby, ready to take over if Dr. Clausen didn’t have enough energy to finish, but the former prime minister showed no signs of getting tired until the end.
When she was done, Ash took over again, bringing the story up to date by telling of the coordinated effort across the world against the Project, and the taking of NB016.
“For most of you, this is the first time you’ve learned what’s really been going on. But there are even more out there who aren’t watching right now. I ask that you spread the word. Tell them what we have told you. If they can get to a working television, they can watch this message. We’ll be putting it on a loop and playing it for as long as necessary.
“So, where do we go from here?” He smiled. “It’s not a question for me alone to answer. We will all be a part of deciding our future.”
He paused for several seconds. “The one thing I do know is that if the human race is to continue, it will begin with all of us coming together.”
February 11th
World Population
700,405,916
31
A CELEBRATION WAS held at Ward Mountain a month after Ash made his broadcast to the world. It would have occurred sooner, but Project Eden forces had fought back in several locations, trying to retake what had been lost. Ash had felt it necessary to stay at NB016 so he could help coordinate efforts and ensure that those left fighting for the Project didn’t gain a toehold they could use to rise again. After things settled down, he had left Powell in charge and returned to his children in Nevada.
The day was surprisingly pleasant for midwinter in the desert, so the festivities began with a barbecue outside. Not only were all the base residents there, but the survivors living in Ely—those from Isabella Island and several other groups that’d joined them in the past few weeks—were bused in.
“I suggest the corn bread,” Brandon said as he, Josie, and Ash worked their way through the buffet line. “Had to go all over the place to find enough boxes of mix.”
“You went?” Ash said, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure, why not?” Brandon said.
“Bonnie and Jim from supply went with him,” Josie said.
Brandon frowned at her. “Only because no one’s supposed to go out alone.” He glanced at his dad. “I could have done it by myself, though.”
Ash had no doubt his son could have. Though both his kids still had several years to go before they reached eighteen, what they’d lived through since the night their mother had died had forced them to grow up fast. He’d like to think that now Brandon and Josie could go back to being children again, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Just because they no longer had to worry about the Project didn’t mean life was suddenly going to be easy. In fact, Ash was pretty sure it was only going to get harder.
Chloe had saved them seats at one of the picnic tables that had been set up. Also there were Rachel, Pax, Robert, and Estella.
Food was eaten, toasts were made, and alcohol consumed.
“I talked to Sanjay this morning,” Rachel announced. “He wanted me to tell everyone that he and Kusum and their friends wish they could be here with us.”
“How’s he doing?” Ash asked.
“Still a bit weak. But the doctors expect a full recovery.”
“Glad to hear that. I’d, um, I’d like to go see him.”
Josie’s fork paused midway to her mouth as she turned to her father.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere without you and your brother.”
“You’re not the only one who wants to go,” Rachel said. “We’ll get something arranged soon.”
The rest of the meal was accompanied by stories, all greeted with laughter and nods and moments of quiet reflection. At some point, music began playing and people danced.
“Come on, Dad,” Josie said, pulling at Ash’s arm.
“I don’t know, sweetie. I’m not a very good dancer.”
She motioned at the crowd on the makeshift dance floor. “Neither is Pax, but he’s out there.”
“Go on, coward,” Chloe said, pushing at his back. “D
ance with your daughter. In fact…” She stood up and grabbed Brandon’s hand. “How about you and me showing them how it’s done?”
As Chloe and his son walked off, Ash relented, and was glad he did.
Sometime later, as the sun neared the horizon and the air cooled, Ash was standing alone, looking out into the vast nothingness, when he heard people approach.
“Dreaming of winning the lotto?” Chloe said.
“Always.”
When he turned, he saw she was with a younger woman of twenty or so.
“Wanted to introduce you to someone,” Chloe said. “This is Belinda Ramsey. She’s one of the people who escaped from the Chicago survival station.”
Ash held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
As they shook, she said, “It’s an honor to meet you, Captain.”
“Belinda’s a writer,” Chloe told him. “She’s volunteered to document everything that’s happened.”
“Ah, right,” Ash said. “My kids told me about you. Said you asked them a lot of questions.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the job,” Belinda said, with an embarrassed smile. “They were very nice to put up with me, and very helpful.”
“So you’re going to write the history, is that it?”
“Pretty much. I was, um, hoping I could schedule some time with you?” she said.
“You should talk to Chloe. She knows more than I do.”
“She’s already hit me up,” Chloe said. “We’re talking in the morning. That does not get you out of it, though.”
“Okay, okay,” Ash said. “I’d be happy to talk to you, Belinda. Can you give me a couple of days, though?”
“Of course. No problem. Whenever you can. I can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate that.” She turned to walk away as if she feared staying there longer would give him time to change his mind, but then she stopped and pulled a flat manila envelope out of her bag. After a few hesitant seconds, she held it out to him. “Here.”
Taking the envelope, he asked, “What’s this?”
“After talking to your kids, I had an idea of where to start the story. It’s still a rough draft, but if you have time to read it, that would be great. You can tell me if it’s even close. If not, don’t worry about it.”
This time she left without stopping.
“She’s got a lot of enthusiasm,” Chloe said once they were alone.
“I can see it,” he agreed.
She looked at him. “You all right?”
“No. Are you?”
She shook her head.
She took his hand and squeezed it, then let go and walked back to the others.
He had no doubt she was experiencing the same feelings he was. There was a lot of work ahead, hard and difficult work. At least in the fight with Project Eden their mission had been straightforward—destroy or be destroyed.
Restarting a civilization? There was no simple roadmap for that.
His mind was starting to spiral into the same worried loop it had been in before Chloe and Belinda walked up. To stop it before it consumed him, he opened Belinda’s envelope and pulled out a small stack of paper from inside.
He looked at the top sheet, intending on reading only a paragraph or two, but as he began, he knew he wouldn’t stop until he read every word.
A cry woke him from his sleep.
A young cry.
A girl’s cry.
FROM THE AUTHOR
What a wild ride we have been on! I thank you so much for taking it with me.
When I was writing Sick, I had no idea that the tale of the Sage Flu would turn into more than just that one book. But the story begged for a sequel, and from the messages I received from many readers, you wanted one, too.
At that point, I thought perhaps the Project Eden saga would last three books, maybe four. But seven? It was the story that drove everything, showing me in each book there was more to be told. I was only the conduit, I guess. It has been an adventure for sure. There are so many storylines and characters that showed up unexpectedly that then became featured parts of the series.
What interests me about stories such as these is how they explore the ways people react in the face of unexpected circumstances. And what better unexpected circumstance than an apocalyptic event? It is in these moments of disaster that we are at our best and worst, and these kinds of stories make us wonder how we would react in similar situations. It’s something that has fascinated me since I was a teen reading such disaster novels as Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle’s Lucifer’s Hammer, Robert A. Heinlein’s Farnham’s Freehold, and Robert Merle’s Malevil, just to name a few. With the recent explosion of successful extinction-event novels, it’s clear other authors and readers share this fascination.
But wait, you say, the story of the Sage Flu isn’t finished. The whole world still hangs in the balance.
To that, I say, you’re not wrong. There are hundreds of stories in this universe that could still be told, some of which I might undertake at some point (no promises). But the story of Project Eden’s attempt to lead the new world is done. Project Eden, or at least how we’ve come to know it, has been gutted and left to die. Its story is finished.
What happens next? Well, maybe we’ll see.
Brett Battles
Los Angeles
October 2014
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brett Battles is a Barry Award-winning author of over twenty novels, including the Jonathan Quinn series, the Logan Harper series, and the time-hopping novel Rewinder. He’s also the coauthor, with Robert Gregory Browne, of the Alexandra Poe series. You can learn more at his website: brettbattles.com
ALSO BY BRETT BATTLES
THE JONATHAN QUINN THRILLERS
Novels
BECOMING QUINN
THE CLEANER
THE DECEIVED
SHADOW OF BETRAYAL (U.S.)/THE UNWANTED (U.K.)
THE SILENCED
THE DESTROYED
THE COLLECTED
THE ENRAGED
THE DISCARDED
Short Stories
“Just Another Job”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“Off the Clock”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“The Assignment”—An Orlando Story
“Lesson Plan”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“Quick Study”—An Orlando Story
THE LOGAN HARPER THRILLERS
LITTLE GIRL GONE
EVERY PRECIOUS THING
THE PROJECT EDEN THRILLERS
SICK
EXIT NINE
PALE HORSE
ASHES
EDEN RISING
DREAM SKY
DOWN
THE ALEXANDRA POE THRILLERS
COWRITTEN WITH ROBERT GREGORY BROWNE
POE
TAKEDOWN
STANDALONES
Novels
THE PULL OF GRAVITY
NO RETURN
REWINDER
Short Stories
“Perfect Gentleman”
For Younger Readers
THE TROUBLE FAMILY CHRONICLES
HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE
Table of Contents
Praise for the Project Eden Thrillers
DOWN
DOWN Copyright © 2014 by Brett Battles
What Came Before
January 8th
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January 9th
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February 11th
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br /> FROM THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY BRETT BATTLES
Table of Contents
Praise for the Project Eden Thrillers
DOWN
DOWN Copyright © 2014 by Brett Battles
What Came Before
January 8th
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January 9th
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February 11th
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FROM THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY BRETT BATTLES
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