by A. G. Riddle
“Yes. My mother knows the Citium—and Yuri—better than anyone alive. She’s going to help me. And I’d like your help. No. I want—”
“You want us to be partners?”
“I think there’s no two people in this world who will work harder to find him.”
“You got that right.”
“So what’s it going to be, Avery?”
“Yeah. Count me in, Doc.”
Peyton smiled. “Call me Peyton. There’s one more thing. I need you to make a call for me.”
“What kind of call?”
“An important one. We need the coordinates of the Beagle’s wreckage.”
Ten minutes later, Peyton opened the hatch to her mother’s stateroom.
Lin Shaw looked up from her notebook. “Did you get it?”
Peyton placed the scrap of paper on the desk.
Lin studied the handwritten GPS coordinates as if they were an ancient treasure, thought lost forever.
“You’ve been looking for it for a very long time,” Peyton said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her mother exhaled. Peyton knew the reaction well. She was digging in.
“Mom.”
Lin still said nothing.
“We made a deal.”
“Very well. If you want to know, I’ll have to show you.”
Day 20
final death toll:
31,000,000
Chapter 137
On the deck of the US Coast Guard icebreaker, Peyton breathed in the cool morning air. She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to find her mother approaching.
“It’s time.”
Minutes later, they were in a submersible with two research assistants, drifting toward the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. The four of them donned protective suits, docked with the wreckage of the Beagle, and disembarked.
The dark, frigid tomb gave Peyton the creeps. There was so much history here. This was where her parents had met and fallen in love, and, according to her father’s account, where her brother had been conceived.
The LED lamps on their helmets cut through the dark vessel, revealing it in swaths. Frozen, dead bodies lay on the deck. Others had died in their bunks, a book by their side, covers pulled over them.
In the labs, they found some more recently deceased bodies: members of the Rubicon team that had found the Beagle. They had starved. Conner had sunk the Healy, stranding the team here, to preserve Citium secrets. Peyton wanted to know what was so valuable that it was worth taking the lives of these brave souls.
Rows of doors lined the wall of the lab. They reminded Peyton of cold chambers in a morgue, except these doors each had a small peephole that could be uncovered.
Peyton’s mother moved to a safe on the wall and turned the dial. It clicked open, and she withdrew a set of keys. She turned to the two research assistants, who had brought with them several airtight containers.
“When I place the specimens inside, seal them quickly.”
They acknowledged her orders, and Lin moved to the closest door, opened it, and slid the drawer out, revealing a set of bones. They were human. No—the skull was different, and so was the pelvis.
Lin gently took hold of the skull and placed it in the first container. To the two team members, she said, “Quickly now.”
When the drawer was empty, Lin closed it and used the key to open another.
More bones. Human, but not that of a Homo sapiens sapiens. A prehistoric ancestor, forgotten until now.
The team Lin had brought with her made trip after trip, returning with empty containers, filling them, then leaving to return the specimens to the ship waiting at the surface. Peyton watched in amazement as the chambers were emptied. She counted five different human species in total. The other chambers held other animal species: a large feline, a seal, a porpoise, and many more.
Peyton activated her comm. “Mom, what is this?”
“Let’s speak when we’re done. We have to preserve the samples.”
When the last cold chamber was empty, Lin told the research assistants to wait at the submersible. Then she gestured for Peyton to follow.
They snaked through the dark passageways to a series of cramped offices. Lin pulled open a drawer and rifled through the files. She opened one that was scribbled with German handwriting, then began to read the pages to herself.
“Mom.”
Lin looked up as if she had forgotten her daughter was still there. She seemed almost possessed.
“Whose research is this?” Peyton asked.
Lin said nothing.
“It’s yours, isn’t it? You collected those bones. Why?”
Lin took the folders out of the drawer and piled them on the desk. Finally, she faced Peyton. “Switch to channel seven.”
When they were alone on the comm channel, Lin spoke again.
“Our Citium cell was the original. Committed to the core belief. The founding question, we called it.”
“What question?”
“The question every sentient mind asks itself at one point or another: Why do I exist?”
“The answer’s here on the Beagle?”
“Yes and no. We named the sub the Beagle in honor of another famous ship of the same name.”
“The ship that carried Charles Darwin around the world—when he formed his early beliefs, what became the theory of evolution.”
“That’s right. We believed that Darwin’s theory was only half of the true picture of the nature of humanity—that the full truth was even more shocking.”
“And you found evidence of your theory?”
“Yes. We called our work the Extinction Files. We believed that by studying the genomes of extinct and living species, we could finally unravel the greatest secrets of the human race. What we found was… it was something none of us would ever have imagined.” Lin paused, as if considering what to say next. “But we needed more data to confirm our theory.”
More data, Peyton thought. “In the cordons, they took DNA samples from every patient.”
“I was only told that the data would be collected, not how. Nevertheless, right now, somewhere in a Citium lab, those billions of genetic samples are being sequenced. If we can obtain that data, and combine it with the samples down here, we’ll finally know the truth.”
“What are you telling me, Mom?”
“There’s a code—buried in the human genome. And if our theory is correct, what it leads to will change our very understanding of human existence.”
Epilogue
In the days after the X1-Mandera pandemic ended, the South Australia Relief Alliance, or SARA, was inundated with refugees seeking help. Luckily, they had a new staff member.
Andrew was thankful for the work. It kept him from thinking about what had happened and what he had done. He would never forgive himself, no matter how many patients he treated, how many lives he saved. For the rest of his life, he would carry a debt that could never be repaid.
Charlotte had tried to get him to move on, but he couldn’t. She insisted that time heals all wounds. He wasn’t sure he believed that. But he wanted to.
He stepped into a patient room and closed the door. His prosthetic arm held a simple attachment, his other hand a clipboard with the patient’s name. His own name had been something of a dilemma. Andrew Shaw was technically dead. And if anyone ever came looking, he didn’t want to be found. In that sense, the remote, outback aid camp was the perfect place for him. All there was to do here was work and spend time with Charlotte. They had a lifetime to catch up on.
“Hi,” he said. “My name’s William Moore. I’m the attending physician today. How are you feeling?”
Avery sat in the conference room in the low-rise building in Research Triangle Park, the same room where she had interviewed with Rubicon Ventures so many years before. The same man who had interviewed her back then, David Ward, sat across from her.
“I’m proud of you,” he said.
�
�I’m proud of me too.”
“Seriously, Avery. Listen for a second. What you did was beyond the call of duty. There’s no award this nation confers that even begins to recognize the type of risk you took or the skill you displayed. What I’m trying to tell you is, I know what you did, and everyone up the Rubicon chain of command knows. And we appreciate you.”
Avery fidgeted in her seat, unsure what to say. After a moment, she asked what she’d come here to ask. “My father?”
David nodded. “Was very well taken care of. We had him transferred to the Dean Dome. He’s still there. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming.”
“Thanks.”
David leaned back in his chair. “Can we trust them?”
Avery knew he was asking about Peyton and Lin Shaw. What she didn’t know was what to say. “Time will tell.”
“It would be nice to know ahead of time.”
“I don’t see what option we have.”
David let the chair ease forward. “Lots of people are unhappy about Lin Shaw’s immunity agreement.”
“I don’t blame them. But they’ll have to get over it. We need her.”
“You’re sure?”
“This isn’t over. We don’t know what’s next. It could be worse than the pandemic. We need to start dismantling the Citium. We need somebody who’s been on the inside to do that. We can sort everything else out once we’ve finished this.”
“All right. I can live with that.”
Avery stood, and David walked her out. At the door, his tone softened, “Don’t worry, okay?”
“About what?”
“You know what, Avery. We’re going to do everything we can to find him. Every resource we have is at your disposal. I know what Desmond means to you.”
At the Dean Dome, Avery weaved through the rows of makeshift cubicles. She had waited until she was well enough to pretend she wasn’t in any pain. She didn’t want her father to know—just in case he recognized her.
At his cubicle, she waited at the opening for him to see her. His reaction to her always told her what sort of day he was having. The Alzheimer’s had progressed a lot in the last few years. Good days were becoming more and more rare.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“No,” she said quietly. “I was just coming by to visit. See if you needed anything.”
He glanced around. “No. Think I’m all set.” He scrutinized her face. “You look… Do I know you?”
She walked into the cubicle, scanned it, and found what she was looking for. She pulled out the folding metal chair, sat at the small table, and moved the deck of cards to the middle. “How about a game of Gin Rummy?”
He raised his eyebrows as he sat across from her. “Sure. Why not? It’s my favorite game, actually.”
After the second game, he asked, “So what did you do during the pandemic?”
“Oh, nothing important.”
Peyton sat in the car outside the stately home, waiting for the line to connect.
Millen Thomas was laughing when he answered. “Yeah, hello?” He was distracted—and amused by something.
“Millen. It’s Peyton Shaw.”
She could hear him walking away, exiting a room where people were talking. “Dr. Shaw. How are you?”
“Just fine, Millen. Listen, I’m short on time, so I’ll get right to it. I’m putting together a team for a new type of investigation. It’s not CDC. It’s a cross-sectional group. Are you interested?”
“Uh. Maybe. I don’t know. What kind of investigation?”
“A scientific one. With far-reaching implications.” Peyton waited, but Millen made no response. “It involves animals.”
“What kind of animals?” he asked slowly.
“Extinct ones.”
Peyton could hear a pin drop.
“Millen, are you there?”
“Yeah—yeah, I’m definitely here. When would you need me?”
“Tomorrow.”
Silence again. He exhaled deeply. “Look, I’d like to, but there’s something—there’s someone I need to take care of.”
Peyton smiled. “I understand, Millen. It’s a good choice. A really good choice. Tell Hannah I said hi.”
Peyton got out of the car and walked up to the house. When Elliott opened the door, he didn’t say a word. He merely stepped outside and hugged her. Fifteen minutes later, she sat at the dinner table with Elliott, Rose, Ryan, Sam, and Adam.
Elliott looked at each one of them, then said, “Well, I thought since Thanksgiving got just a little interrupted, a do-over was in order.”
He looked Peyton in the eyes. “One with all of our family. If this year has shown us anything, it’s how much we have to be thankful for.”
Genome
The Final book in The Extinction Files
Prologue
July 17, 1941
Adeline’s family left Berlin in the middle of the night. Her father told her they were going on a vacation, but she knew something was wrong. Her parents were too nervous. Her mother had packed too much—and the wrong things: sentimental items and documents from the safe.
For two days and three nights, they lived on the train. They took their meals in the dining car. Her parents played cards in the afternoon. Her father read her favorite book aloud—Alice in Wonderland. The train cars were crowded, mostly with troops and office workers, but also a few families. The adults looked as nervous as Adeline’s parents.
The train was searched periodically. Stone-faced soldiers demanded their papers. Adeline’s mother always held her breath, but her father’s expression was a mirror of the soldiers’.
The Nazi flag hung from the roof of every train station in France, and soldiers crowded the platforms. The searches grew more frequent, the interrogations longer.
At the Spanish border, Adeline was surprised when her father presented a paper to the soldiers and said, “I am conducting research for the betterment of the Reich.”
The SS officer scanned the paper, then eyed Adeline and her mother. “And why have you brought your wife and child?”
“My wife assists me, and my daughter is only five.”
“I asked why she is here, not her age.”
“She is here out of necessity. She simply could not remain in Berlin alone, and we were unable to find anyone for her to stay with.”
The soldier looked unconvinced.
Adeline’s father sighed. “Obersturmführer, if you would like to take my daughter back to Berlin and babysit her for a month until I return, I invite you to do so. It will aid my research greatly.”
Adeline felt her eyes welling with tears. She turned away so no one could see.
The soldier grunted, and loud clicks followed. The passes being stamped, Adeline assumed.
Her mother relaxed when the train started again. Her father moved over beside Adeline and pulled her into a hug. With his lips brushing her ear, he whispered, “That was just a story to make the mean man go away. You’re the whole reason for our trip, my dear. You’ll see.”
He tried to distract her by reading Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Snow White, and Cinderella.
The train was searched less frequently in Spain. Finally, they disembarked in the small town of Santillana del Mar, just miles from Spain’s northern coast. In the town square, they met up with a dozen men her father said would be helping with his research. Together, they drove out of town, through the countryside, and made camp at the mouth of a cave.
Adeline’s father said it was the Cave of Altamira, and that it was a very important place—a place where messages had been left for them. He and the men spent every spare minute in the cave, only exiting to eat, sleep, and use the restroom.
They had been camping for a week when Adeline’s father woke her one morning, just before dawn. Her mother lay beside her, still asleep in the tent the three of them shared.
“Be quiet, my love,” he whispered.
He led her through the camp, where two men were warming coffee
by the fire. He held a battery-powered lantern to light their way.
At the entrance to the cave, he paused and raised his eyebrows. “Ready?”
Adeline nodded, excited.
The cave wasn’t what she expected. One second the passage was wide and tall, the next it was cramped, requiring her father to stoop, and occasionally to crawl. It twisted and turned and branched at random, as if they were in the roots of a giant tree. But her father seemed to know just which way to go, as if he had a map in his head. Adeline felt like Alice after she had gone down the rabbit hole. She was big, and the world around her had grown small and cramped.
Her father stopped and shined the lamp on a wall. Adeline gasped. Red handprints covered it. Some were merely the silhouette of the hand, as if the artist had spray-painted the wall while holding her hand against it.
“It’s a message,” her father whispered. “They’re saying to us, ‘We were here. And we think the way you do. You are in the right place.’”
Adeline held her hand out to touch the wall, but her father caught her. “You mustn’t touch. The art is too fragile. Come, there’s more.”
A few minutes later, her father stopped and squatted down, his face next to hers. “Look up.”
He pointed the electric lamp at the ceiling, revealing a mural of a herd of dark red animals, the size of cows but with dark fur on their backs and legs.
Adeline was speechless. She felt herself wandering, taking in the vast tableau that seemed to have no end. The animals were detailed. The rolling contours of the cave ceiling made some look three-dimensional. Her father stepped back and swept the beam across the ceiling, casting some of the animals in shadow, making the herd look as if it was moving.
“What are they?” Adeline asked.
“Steppe bison.”
Adeline had never heard of the animal.
“They are all dead now,” her father said. “They have been for a long time. Do you know what it means when every member of a species is dead?”