by John Bolin
As she walked down the hallway, the Mek stared back at her with blank eyes. Most of them were already in advanced stages of the disease, like Tima. Several lay on the ground, drooling and breathing heavily. Others were pacing back and forth with nervous energy. Alex could see that they were all at different stages of the disease.
In the final cell near the end of the hallway, an odor hit Alex. The overwhelming smell of death. On the floor she saw a dirty sheet covering something lumpy. But too big for a body. She leaned down and peeled back the corner of the sheet.
Children. Unmoving, broken, their very life drained from them.
* * *
Peter found himself looking into the face of a reticulated python[TS5] .
He made himself go still, despite the gunfire. The python’s head floated only inches in front of him, its mouth open and hissing. Peter could smell the rancid meat of its last meal.
He was still inside the hollow trunk of the huge strangler fig tree. Though he was halfway down and hidden, his pursuers had figured out where he’d gone. They riddled the entire length of the trunk with bullets, hoping to get him with a lucky shot.
Peter eased away from the python’s mouth. Bullets struck the trunk below him, poking holes through which green light flowed. He saw a bit of movement below him, though his view was shrouded by a constant rain of dust and pollen and wood chips from the bullets. He could climb back up to a hole he’d passed a minute ago, but not without exposing himself to the gunfire. He had to sit tight.
Bullets echoed in the chamber of the tree. It seemed every animal in the area was screeching and cawing. Peter heard something else, too, a low hum and a clicking sound. Coming from below him.
Peter shifted his leg to look down.
The branch he stood on moved beneath him. He wasn’t only looking at the python, he realized—he was standing on it.
It was the biggest snake Peter had ever seen. Its head was bigger than Peter’s and its body was at least eight inches in diameter. The python’s long body was coiled inside the tree. And he was standing on it.
He tried to kick against it, but the snake was pure muscle, the end of its tail secured to the tree with a vice grip.
“There’s an elevator!” a voice said from below Peter. Peter looked down and saw Linc waving at him from inside the tree. Somehow, he must have managed to climb down the outside of the tree while Peter had distracted the guards.
“What?” Peter said.
Gunfire answered him. The guards must’ve heard their voices and were concentrating their fire on the bottom half of the trunk.
“At the bottom of the tree,” Linc shouted when the firing stopped. “The ground opens up to an elevator shaft. But you’ve got to get down here quick. There are more guys out there.”
Bullets chewed the wood around Peter again as he stood inside the strangler fig tree. Light shone inside through the crisscrossing vines and branches. Linc was right: He had to get out of there quick. He looked down. His eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness, and he could see that it was twenty feet to the ground. He felt something press his leg. The massive snake had already begun to wrap itself around his legs.
“Come on, Pete!” Linc said, “Hurry up and we can ride this thing down.”
With nothing to grab hold of, Peter knew he had only one option. He secured his pistol, kicked free of the snake’s coil, and leapt into the air. As he jumped he extended both hands in front of him and grabbed hold of the snake’s head, pulling it down with him. The sudden jolt of Peter’s weight caused the snake to fall, but its muscular tail managed to slow his descent a bit. Peter released and landed on a metal grate, next to Linc.
They were standing inside the base of the strangler fig, on top of the elevator that had been snugged into the open cavity of the tree. A perfect place to hide. They could hear the chorus of men shouting and the occasional bullet outside. It wouldn’t take long for the guards to get reorganized and find them in here.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Linc said.
Peter grinned. “Let’s get out of here.” He helped Linc lift a heavy square access panel from the metal grate. The roof of the elevator was about ten feet below them. Peter lowered his body down and jumped onto the elevator. Linc followed. Peter grabbed his pistol and carefully lifted the emergency panel from the roof of the elevator, just a crack. No one was inside.
Peter dropped into the elevator and saw a row of five buttons. He turned to Linc. “Where would you hide your weapon of genetic mass destruction?”
“As far underground as I could.”
Peter pushed LL5, and the elevator began to drop. Linc helped him climb back on top of the elevator, and they closed the access panel except for a small crack.
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. Alarms screeched, and Peter watched from above as a guard poked his head around the door but didn’t look up. Bad decision.
Peter dropped on him and rendered him unconscious.
Linc lowered himself beside him, and they stepped out of the elevator. They stood in a concrete and tile hallway from which a series of tunnels stretched out in various directions from the elevator. Two hallways stretched out from the elevators.
“Now, how do we know which way to go?” Peter said.
Bullets pinged against the elevator door. Peter retrieved the guard’s handgun and extra clips and took off.
“Not that way!” Linc said.
Peter looked at Linc. He couldn’t help but notice the bulging veins on Linc’s neck and face. “How did you know?”
“They took me down this hallway when they brought me to that room where you found me,” Linc said, jogging and rubbing his wrist. “Trust me.”
“All right,” Peter said, handing Linc one of the clips. “Lock and load, buddy. I guarantee the entrance to the assembler room is going to be littered with guards.”
Linc looked back at him with a blank stare. “Hey, I’m not Rambo.”
“Just shoot at anything that moves,” Peter said, securing the clip in Linc’s pistol. “And try to keep from getting hit.”
They ran down a long concrete tunnel shoulder to shoulder. In his head, Peter imagined the position of the underground cave and the route they’d taken earlier that led them up to the Indian rooms hollowed in the mountain. He moved forward, trusting his internal compass and Linc’s memory.
As if someone had overheard his thoughts, additional alarms sounded, and Peter saw a glint of steel in the tunnel ahead of them. One of the overhead gates was closing fifty feet away. In the distance, he could hear the same thing happening in echoes beyond them. They were shutting down the place, securing the intruders.
“Let’s move!” Peter shouted, running toward the trundling overhead door.
But he was already too late. No way he’d make it. He spotted two metal folding chairs in the hallway. He snatched one of them and kept running. Linc grabbed the other. Still thirty feet from the door, he slid the chair on the tile floor like a bowler. Linc did the same with his.
The chairs slid toward the lowering door, and Peter and Linc sprinted behind them.
Linc’s chair came in too soon. The back of it struck the bottom lip of the descending door, and it flipped onto the floor and folded flat.
Peter’s chair hit an instant later. The metal door pinned the chair to the floor, pressing on its four legs and already beginning to crush it. A loud whine from the door’s motor sounded, and one of the chair’s legs bent to the ground.
“Slide under, now!”
Peter bent his knee and arched his back as he slid under the grate like he was going for home plate. Linc went headfirst.
Gears ground over Peter’s head, and he heard a pop. The chair collapsed under the weight of the door.
“And he’s safe,” Linc said, catching his breath next to Peter.
Peter edged up the hallway, poked his head around a corner, and saw that they were near the assembler room. He counted a dozen guards standing near the entrance. T
he thick metal doors were shut, and a light was flashing above the doors.
A woman’s voice echoed in the stone hallway. “Assembler active in ten minutes. All personnel must maintain a safe distance.”
“Not that thing again,” Linc said. “I’ve already been here once today, and it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.”
Peter turned to Linc. “We don’t have much choice,” Peter said. “We’re going to have to make a run for it and hope for the best. You’ve got to get underwater and place the charges.”
A guard stepped from the assembler room and shouted to the others. “The Indians are out of lockdown! All of you, get up there now! Find them and kill them if you have to. No one leaves Eden!”
Peter smiled at Linc. “Gator.”
The hallway was filled with the commotion of guards rushing to counter Gator’s actions. No one was looking for Peter and Linc at the moment.
“Keep your head down and move with me,” Peter said. “If there’s a God, let’s just hope he makes us invisible.”
The hallway between them and the double doors to the assembly chamber emptied, and Peter and Linc padded to the doors and slipped through. Two guards were still posted inside the doors, but the men were distracted by commotion on the center island. Peter and Linc managed to dash to the metal cylinders on the beach and crouch down behind one without being noticed. Peter crawled over to where he’d left the scuba gear and was relieved to find it still there. He pulled it back out.
Here we go again, Peter thought. The room seemed darker than it had been earlier. The mercury lights illuminated it in an eerie wash. The chlorine smell was stronger than before. It was cold, and Peter could feel the hairs on his arm standing on end.
The cavern was surprisingly empty. Only a handful of people walked about, white-suited technicians checking gauges and pressing buttons on various machines. Every last guard, it seemed, had been sent to take care of the Indians or find him and Linc.
Peter could hear classical music, but it sounded muffled. It seemed to be coming from four black tube speakers mounted into the ceiling of the cave, just above the center platform. As Peter assessed the room, Linc began putting on the scuba gear, pulling the wet suit over his body.
“I’ve set the timers on the charges for thirty minutes,” Peter said. “As long as you get them along the bottom perimeter of the lagoon, it should work. Just try to spread them out evenly.”
A man with white hair pushed the metal doors open and headed toward the dock in the center of the room. “Prepare the assembler!” The man walked across the dock to the main platform. He stood examining the control console.
Most of the white-suited workers left. Apparently they weren’t to be there when the assembler was activated. They clomped across the dock and out the metal doors where Peter and Linc had come in, leaving only one other person on the center platform. It was the Asian woman Peter recognized from earlier.
“Dr. Khang,” she said, “I urge you to reconsider my calculations.”
All of Peter’s world came into brilliant focus. There was Khang. The murderer. The man whose thugs had killed Bogart. The madman abducting whole tribes and infecting innocent natives with killer viruses. The psycho who was planning to dump deadly pathogens into major bodies of water around the globe—all the while preaching about improving humanity. Here he was, virtually unguarded, and unaware of Peter’s presence.
He turned to Linc. “I’m going after Khang.”
Linc shot a look at him. “You’re what?” He grabbed Peter’s sleeve. “Peter—the plan, remember?”
Peter almost couldn’t tear his eyes off Khang. Finally he looked at Linc, irritated. “What p— Linc, I . . .” He took a deep breath and realized his heart was racing. “The plan. I know. Right, the plan.” He looked back at the central platform and felt some of his higher brain functions returning.
“Pete, are you—”
“I’m fine,” Peter said. “Look, the plan’s still in place. You place those charges, and I’ll keep the assembler off. I’ll do my part. If I happen to end up holding somebody’s head underwater for twenty minutes or so while I keep it off, it’s just gravy, right?”
Linc brought the mask over his eyes. “Fine. Just don’t let him turn the machine on.” He eyed the chute situated at the end of the narrow canal near the side of the cave wall and then grabbed the speargun, hefted the charges over his shoulder, slid into the water, and swam unnoticed into the main lagoon.
Peter looked back at the center platform. He raised his pistol and aimed at the notorious Dr. Khang. It would be a tough pistol shot from here—thirty yards at least. But he was motivated. Anyway, the Asian woman kept moving around, obstructing his shot. Patience and timing.
“The machine is still too untested,” the Asian woman said to Khang. “The results could be catastrophic.”
Khang stood beside her next to the computers and monitors. “There is no other way, Anna. We simply cannot risk the possibility of failure. Those military helicopters will be here any moment.”
Helicopters? Someone attacking Khang? This was getting better by the minute.
“We cannot allow the power of Eden to be lost,” Khang said. “We must release the nanites into the water before the helicopters arrive. If we assemble them and release them now, by the time the choppers arrive there will be no sign of the Peng. We’ll just be a few misunderstood scientists—until the nanites find their prey. Then we’ll be the custodians of a brand new world. Come, Anna, we must engage now. It is worth the risk.” He moved his hands toward the control panel.
It’s now or never.
Peter extended his arm and steadied the pistol with his other hand. Khang’s head danced behind the iron sights. He pulled—
“Drop the gun and turn around,” a voice said behind him. Cold metal pressed against his neck. “Now!”
Peter extended his arms and dropped his pistol. He turned slowly.
It was the tattooed man from the hospital ship and the speedboats. It was Bogart’s killer, the one who’d actually pulled the trigger. Standing there smiling at him.
“I’ll admit,” the man said, “you’ve been an impressive adversary, Peter Zachary. But this is where it ends.”
The man led Peter across the dock and to the platform. When he stepped off the dock, the sound of classical music was suddenly amplified. Peter noticed that the white pods on this platform were closed. On at least one he saw that the red padlock symbol was activated on its keypad. As Peter approached, Khang and Anna and the scientist turned to them in surprise.
“We have a rat in the building, Dr. Khang,” the tattooed man said. “Should I dispose of him now?”
“Ah, the troublesome Peter Zachary,” Khang said, folding his arms and looking at Peter as at a piece of art. “You know, I have to thank you. Before you came I wasn’t sure all my alarm systems worked. But now I know! Raul,” he said to the tattooed man, “I must select a new siren sound, though. That accursed Kaxon can give one a migraine, yes?”
“You’re a dead man, Khang,” Peter said, stepping forward.
Khang laughed, even before Raul grabbed Peter from behind. “Dead?” Khang said. “Of course I’m dead. We’re all dead, Mr. Zachary. The old must step aside for the new. The dead must make way for the living.” He swept his hand across the cavern. “And you have stumbled upon us in time to witness that very moment. Excellent timing. The Garden of Eden is about to be reborn.”
Peter tested Raul’s grip on his arm. It was solid. “Tell me, Khang,” Peter said, “where does killing innocent people fit into your idea of Eden?”
Peter saw a little white mouse poke its head out of Khang’s vest pocket and climb to the man’s shoulder. Creepy.
“I’m not killing innocent people, Mr. Zachary,” Khang said. “I’m ridding the world of defective DNA. I’m ensuring the future of the human race. I’m not a murderer, as you think. I’m a savior.”
Peter smirked. Whatever. He could try to take Khang out right now,
but he knew that Raul was standing behind him and he’d have half a dozen bullets in the back of his skull before he ever reached the guy. Besides, he noticed that Khang had a pistol attached to his side.
“A savior?” Peter said. “You sound more like Hitler.”
Khang laughed as he walked to the control panel. “Hitler had the right idea. He just didn’t have the right technology. That’s not to say he didn’t try, of course.” He adjusted knobs on the control panel.
Computer monitors sprang to life.
“I’m sure you are aware that Hitler had dozens of the world’s finest scientists—men like you, Major Zachary—working nonstop to recreate the Garden of Eden, to find the secret to immortality.”