7G

by Debbie Kump

  “My God, it’s steep,” Alyssa muttered, noticing the close proximity of the contour lines. Off the west coast of Florida, the shallow waters of the continental shelf spread far into the Caribbean Sea. But here at their current location off southeast Florida, the shelf hugged the coastline…while the sea floor plummeted down the continental slope toward the abyssal plain. She wouldn’t have to worry about a shock wave rippling through the hull of sub when it collided with the benthic sediment on the sea floor. Not when the floor dropped thousands of feet.

  Thousands, Alyssa thought grimly.

  In training, they’d told her that escape was limited to depths above 600 feet. Alyssa hunched over the light table, tracing her finger along their current trajectory, wondering how deep they could dive. “Five hundred, five-twenty–” she murmured to herself. But before she reached five hundred forty feet in depth, her finger ran across a black splotch that pooled over the area. Dark like India ink. Smearing it across the paper affixed to the light table, she realized it wasn’t marker. Marker wasn’t sticky.

  As Alyssa rubbed the substance off on the back of her pant leg, she accidentally bumped into a figure collapsed upon the table. His head lolled to one side, smearing blood across his features. Alyssa swore under her breath as she stared in shock at the submariner. His insignia signified an officer. But with his eyes glazed in the blackened substance, they were unrecognizable.

  Yet something about his bloodstained face seemed uncannily familiar. Before Alyssa could make the connection, she noticed the name embroidered upon the patch across his chest.

  HIDALGO.

  “No. No,” Alyssa moaned, backing away in horror. “It can’t be!”

  Not Justin. It wasn’t fair! He had such a promising future, a future she had hoped to share with him. And she never even had a chance to say goodbye. Their brief conversation in the hallway on her way to Quarantine was the last time she ever saw him…alive. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  Making a vow to locate his family, she slipped off the dolphin fish pin centered above his left breast pocket, studying the distinguished submariner badge in her hand. The gold-plated bronze pin depicted two dolphin fish–with rectangular heads, bulbous eyes, and tails curled over their backs–rising out of the water, flanking the starboard and port sides of a submarine’s bow and conning tower. She glanced down at her own uniform with the same design embroidered in silk.

  Justin was respectable. He deserved recognition for the ultimate sacrifice he gave his country…buried beneath a white marble headstone at Arlington National Cemetery.

  They all deserved that much.

  And that would never happen unless she managed to escape.

  With one last glance at Justin, Alyssa realized the time had come. She stowed his pin in her pocket for safekeeping and squared her shoulders, renewing her resolve to get out of here.

  Now.

  Or like the other 138 seamen aboard, the Siren would become her sunken tomb as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Horace T. Ross Library, Southern Florida State University

  Erik Weber woke to sunlight streaming through the blinds of the library windows. How long had he been here? And why didn’t they wake him when the library closed? They did close for the night, didn’t they? Erik couldn’t say for sure; he’d never pulled an all-nighter before. Not for studying, at least.

  Wiping the spittle from his the corner of his mouth, he stretched to work the kinks out of his neck and back, then ran his fingers through his disheveled sandy blonde hair. At least he felt better rested for confronting Rachael. No, not confronting, he reminded himself. That would immediately put her on the defensive. He’d better find a new angle or he’d never mend their relationship. He loved her, right? So why not start off with an apology? For what he did wrong. The problem was he still didn’t know what he’d done to drive her away in the first place. Okay, so leave it vague and play it by ear. Whatever it takes, he reminded himself. Whatever it takes.

  Satisfied with his plan, he pushed the chair backwards to leave. Glancing around the library, he noticed that the other Friday night library geeks had fallen asleep at their desks, too. “So much for turbo-studying,” he chuckled under his breath as he exited the room.

  Erik was mildly surprised to find the library clerk’s desk empty as he passed. Didn’t they always have someone manning this station? Then again, with budget cuts across campus, they couldn’t afford to hire two people for the same shift. Even the clerk’s gotta take a whiz sometimes.

  Pushing open the heavy double doors to leave, Erik peeked over his shoulder. His skin prickled as he spotted a shoe sticking out from behind the clerk’s desk. Erik let the door swing closed and wandered back for a better look.

  The same library clerk from last night lay unconscious behind the clerk’s desk. “You okay?” Erik asked, kneeling beside his inert body. His pockmarked face lay covered with thick, black hair. Erik nudged the kid’s shoulders, trying to rouse him. Nothing. Then he shook him more forcefully. A few strands of the kid’s hair slid off his face, revealing glassy eyes smothered in flaky, dried blood.

  Erik realized why the clerk was unresponsive.

  He was dead.

  Mute from shock, Erik backed away. He should probably tell someone like Campus Security or something. But his fingerprints were all over the kid. Would they detain Erik as a suspect, thinking that he had killed this kid?

  Heart racing, Erik fled the library steps. He had a good alibi. He’d fallen asleep and found the kid this morning. The blood was old so it must’ve happened hours ago.

  Then he remembered something. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming here. In fact, he wasn’t sure the other two people in the library could vouch for him ever being there. And his only witness lay dead on the floor.

  Erik finally understood how people could be wrongly accused of a crime.

  Enveloped in tunnel vision, Erik raced across the Arts Quad, trying to piece together the sequence of events. He’d only gone there to escape Rachael’s incessant texting and take a short nap. And now look what happened! This wasn’t how he’d planned to win Rachael back. She’d probably hate him even more after he told her. But at the moment, he needed her logic and reason. She’d know what he should do. She’d believe he was innocent, wouldn’t she?

  “Of course she will,” Erik convinced himself as he sped down the hill to their dorm.

  With his brain in overdrive, Erik didn’t notice the eerie stillness that hung over the university campus, even for a Saturday morning. He saw a few undergrads lying on the grass near the dorm entrance. Probably passed out, Erik figured as his nervous fingers fumbled with the key to their dorm. It wasn’t the first time.

  Flying down the hall, Erik stopped in front of Rachael’s single room and rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting for an answer. He knocked louder this time, not caring if he woke up anyone else. This was urgent.

  “Where is she?” Erik muttered as he knocked a third time. “You don’t think–?”

  Visions of Rachael with that tall, muscular, D-1 football player filled his head. But she had a single room. Wouldn’t she just bring him back here? Unless she was afraid of bumping into Erik.

  Erik’s heart filled with a new sense of dread. His head tipped forward, hitting her wooden door. Time to face the fact that she’d spent the night in another guy’s room. Not only had he officially lost her, he had to face the consequences of the dead clerk alone.

  Erik’s feet wobbled beneath him. He gripped her doorknob to steady himself. Strangely, the doorknob turned.

  She’s here! Erik thought as renewed hope filled his soul. As a running joke, Erik liked to tease her about ritually locking her room. Rachael never left her door open, claiming it was instinct for her to lock up whenever she left. She was from New York.

  “Rachael?” he asked, slowly opening the door. Sure enough, she was sprawled across the bed, still dressed in her clothes from last night. Erik felt a slight pang of guilt for
not being there to ensure she got home safely. It reminded him of the first time he walked her home from the Sigma Delt party.

  Then Erik spotted him: the football player. He lay crashed out, his large frame squeezed into her little chair. Though he slept facing the wall, Erik recognized him immediately. So she’d brought the guy back here last night after all.

  Before he woke either of them, Erik turned to leave and tripped over a pillow lying near her desk.

  A pillow? Erik didn’t want to know how that’d gotten on the floor. Filled with dismay, he stepped back into the hall, taking one last glimpse of the scene, though he knew he’d never forget it.

  His head drooped as he closed the door behind him. Then he noticed something else lying on the floor by the pillow…a sleeping bag.

  A sleeping bag? Why would Rachael pull out a sleeping bag for her new boyfriend?

  Erik creaked open the door again, his eyes trained on the guy. Long rays of morning sunlight touched a golden charm dangling from the kid’s neck. “At least he’s a sound sleeper,” Erik muttered as he tiptoed closer to look at the charm. It was one of those customized new MUDEs for 7G. The kind of mobile uplink you’d wear around your neck to keep your pockets free.

  Erik bent closer, squinting at the writing that read J ME. Sure, lots of people personalized their new MUDEs with logos of their favorite sports teams, brand names, clip art, even engraved photos. But J ME? That’s more like something off a designer license plate, Erik thought as he repeated the phrase again and again in his head.

  Then it hit him.

  “Oh, no,” Erik moaned. How dense could he be? Rachael’d said her prefrosh cousin, Jamie, was coming up for the weekend. All this time he’d simply assumed Jamie was a girl. Not some tall, athletic guy that looked nothing like her.

  “I’m so sorry, Rachael,” he apologized, hugging her in her sleep as he whispered in her ear. “I had no idea.” He pulled her close, grateful to have her back. There’d never been another guy. No cheating, either. How could he have been such an idiot to not listen to her, to grow so jealous over nothing? Well, there’d be plenty of time to mend the past. Heck, maybe she’d enjoy a good laugh over his naiveté.

  Infused with relief, Erik tightened his embrace, only Rachael didn’t move. Now that he thought about it, Erik hadn’t seen her chest rise and fall as she slumbered, had he?

  Suddenly, Erik’s face darkened. “Rachael?” he breathed as he rolled her slumbering body to face him.

  Her head drooped to one side, settling against her shoulder. Her typically vivacious blue eyes were filmed over and caked with blood, lifelessly staring at nothing in particular.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Not Rachael, too!

  In an instant, Erik felt his world viciously stripped from him. And to think she died believing he was mad at her. That he didn’t love her anymore. Erik crumpled to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

  For long minutes, Erik sobbed uncontrollably, unable to think. He’d already forgotten about the dead clerk lying on the floor of the Ross Library, covered in his fingerprints. So was Rachael, for that matter. Yet Erik no longer cared if they charged him for the murders. Nothing seemed important anymore.

  But somewhere in the back of his mind, Erik realized that her cousin, Jamie, didn’t know. He still slept soundly on the couch. “How can he sleep at a time like this?!” Erik exclaimed.

  Gathering himself to his feet, fury built inside of Erik. What had they done last night? And why hadn’t Jamie stopped Rachael before she got hurt? Worse than hurt, Erik.

  Dead.

  Erik’s body shook with mounting rage. Yet not all of it was directed at Jamie. Guilt weighed heavily upon Erik’s conscience. If only he’d apologized yesterday, then he would’ve prevented this from happening. He could’ve been there when she went out to keep an eye on her. She would still be alive.

  Torn between pummeling Jamie and cursing his own soul for the remainder of his miserable existence, Erik crossed the small dorm room in three swift steps. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists, letting his nails dig deep into his skin. “Still, I’ve gotta tell him,” Erik fumed as he reached out, planning to shake Jamie senseless. Grabbing the kid’s shoulder, Erik yanked hard, spinning Jamie to face him.

  “Oh. My. God.” Erik swore loudly as he staggered backwards, unable to find his feet. How could this be?

  The kid’s eyes were blackened with blood. Just like Rachael’s.

  Erik’s initial shock was soon replaced with an urgent need to respond. His body tensed suddenly as logic flooded his brain. Regardless of what had happened to them last night, he must call 911 immediately. Only when his eyes darted to the side to activate the virtual keyboard, it was gone. Habitually, he tapped the back pocket of his jeans, but the mobile uplink was missing, too.

  All of a sudden, Erik recalled last night’s events in startling clarity. Of course–he had left his MUDE and DOTS back on his desk. Flying down the hall to his room, he slammed open the door.

  Only to find his roommate, Lucas Smith, face down on the floor…in a puddle of his own blood.

  Erik screamed in shock. His hands trembled as he clutched the corner of the desk for support. It wasn’t like he and Lucas were best of friends. But still, he wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Call for help. Call for help, he reminded himself, though his body felt incapable of moving.

  He remembered the school shootings he’d heard about in the past. Waves of violence had swept the country as copycatting disgruntled teens pulled the trigger on their bullying classmates and then on themselves in a final act of revenge. But this was worse. This was indiscriminant. There were no bullet wounds. No gunman slinking around the dorm, either. Besides, that didn’t explain the library clerk, dead halfway across campus.

  So what could’ve caused this? Erik shook his head, trying to focus. Though right now, the cause was unimportant. It only mattered that he got help. Spotting his old MUDE and DOTS lying on his desk, he realized he still hadn’t called 911.

  Lucid once more, Erik reached for an eye DOT, plucking it from the case. But as he lifted the circular disc to place on his pupil, he felt the DOT pulsate on his fingertip.

  “Quit shaking”, he scolded himself as he steadied his trembling hand for a second attempt.

  While lifting the lens to his eyeball, it vibrated off his finger and onto the floor. Erik dropped to his knees, swearing under his breath as he searched for the lens on the carpet in vain. “I don’t have time for this,” Erik grumbled as he rose to his feet to try the second DOT lens. But it too began to pulsate oddly upon his fingertip. He gripped it tightly, raising it toward his eye. Yet, something didn’t seem right. Erik paused for a second with the DOT poised millimeters from his face. A wave of dizziness passed over him. As pressure mounted inside his eyeball, his head screamed in agony.

  Erik pulled the lens away, studying it in his hand. Yet even when he held as still as possible considering the traumatic circumstances he’d witnessed, the lens appeared blurry. As if resonating at a high frequency, like a tuning fork touching the surface of a glass of water.

  Forget the eye DOTS, Erik thought, setting the lens back in the case. Maybe he could call 911 with his ear DOTS alone. But when he placed one of the circular sticker electronics near his right ear, a deafening ringing sound filled his head. Erik swooned, dropping the ear DOT as he doubled over. He clamped one palm over his ear to alleviate the pain, but it was of no use. The ringing persisted. Then Erik felt a trickle of liquid seep down his cheek. What is that? he wondered, wiping it clean.

  “Ahhh!” Erik shrieked as he stared at the blood smeared across his palm. Blood and ringing…this could not be good. Sure, Erik’s ears had rung after some of the rock concerts he’d seen on campus, but nothing like this. Holding his hand by his right ear, he snapped his fingers together, but could barely hear the noise. Infuriated, he snapped again and again. Still, the snap was hardly audible, like cotton balls plugged his entire ear canal.

  As Er
ik lashed out to sweep his MUDE and DOTS off the desk, his hand froze in midair. He thought of Jamie’s bling MUDE dangling out of his shirt. Then he blinked, a connection suddenly registering in his mind.

  Last night was The Conversion. The National Upgrade to 7G Network.

  He slammed his fist against the desk. It couldn’t be, could it? Don’t be ludicrous, Erik. He paused. Was it even possible?

  That the new upgrade to 7G actually caused this wave of death?

  Consumed with a sudden urge to flee the dorm, he stumbled outside. An unnerving quiet filled the air–and not just from Erik’s impaired hearing. Rounding the corner of his dorm, he found more bodies collapsed upon the sidewalks and the path to the dining hall. Familiar faces of people he knew from classes and parties, intramurals and meals. All their faces blemished with the same telltale stains of blood. Everywhere he turned, everyone was dead.

  Except for Erik.

  And if everyone on campus was dead, that meant…

  A new wave of fear gripped Erik. He raced down the street, toward Kristen’s apartment.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Erik Weber threw open the door to his sister’s apartment, shouting her name. He barreled through the entryway. Inside his head, his screams sounded lopsided, muted on the right. And the apartment oddly silent.

  Where could she be? Erik remembered she’d been feeling sick. Surely she’d be here…unless she went to Dr. Greene’s office. He’d planned to unveil his new breakthrough last night, hadn’t he?

  Biting his lip, Erik tentatively opened each bedroom door, finding all the rooms vacant. “Figures,” he muttered, “the place is too quiet.” She probably wasn’t home.