by A. G. Riddle
“Okay, stop right there. No more scientific mumbo jumbo. You and I have to talk.”
Kate drew back. “So talk. You don’t need a formal invitation.”
“You left me.”
“What?”
“Gibraltar. I trusted you—”
“Can I just remind you that you had been shot—three times? Keegan was going to kill you.”
“He didn’t.”
“I made a deal with him—”
“No, you didn’t. He needed me. He wanted me to kill Sloane. He was playing us both. You should have come to me—”
“Are you serious? David, you could barely walk. Keegan told me the house was crawling with his men—Immari agents. And they were his men, weren’t they?”
“They were—”
“And what would you have done? You were surrounded—”
“I wouldn’t have lied to you. I wouldn’t have slept with you and left in the night.”
Rage coursed through Kate. She fought to regain her composure. “I never lied to you—”
“You didn’t trust me. You didn’t talk to me—”
“I saved your life.” Kate stood and shook her head. “I did what I did. It’s done.”
“Would you do it again?”
Kate resisted the urge to answer.
“Answer me!”
She stared at him, and he glared back at her. He was so different. Yet, it was still the man she had…
“Yes, David. I’d do it again. You’re here. I’m here. We’re both alive.” There was something else she wanted to say, but she couldn’t do it, not while he was looking at her like that, with those cold dead eyes.
“I won’t have anyone under my command who doesn’t trust me.”
Kate exploded. “Under your command?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, that’s convenient, because I’m not looking to join the army or whatever the hell you’re running around here.”
There was a knock on the door, and to Kate, it felt like water to a dying man. She opened her mouth, but David cut her off.
“It’s a bad time—”
“It’s Kamau. It’s urgent, David.”
David and Kate each replaced the sheets that they had held with clothes. They dressed with their backs to each other. David glanced at her coldly, courteously, and when she nodded, he opened the door.
“David—” Kamau began.
“What—”
“The old man.”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
David glanced back at Kate, his face changed, the hardness instantly gone. She saw sympathy, and the man she had fallen in love with. The exhilaration fought against the hurt she felt at hearing Kamau’s news. Then there was the shock: Martin’s face was burned, but he wasn’t that badly injured. Had Chang’s plague treatment failed suddenly? What would Kate do without him? She had never thanked him. What were her last words to him?
“Thank you for… telling us,” David said.
“You need to come now, David. Arm yourself.”
“What?”
Kamau glanced around, making sure they were alone. “I believe someone murdered him.”
Martin lay peacefully on the white leather couch in the enclosed living space of the upper deck.
Everyone was there: Kate, David, Kamau, Shaw, and the two scientists: Chang and the European scientist, who had finally introduced himself as Dr. Arthur Janus. Kate stared at Martin for a moment before crossing the room to kneel at his side. She tried to keep her emotions in check. He was the closest thing she’d had to a father. He hadn’t been up to the job, but he had certainly tried. And for some reason, that made it even harder for Kate. She tried to clear her head. She had to focus.
Kamau’s words echoed in her mind: I believe he was murdered.
She didn’t see any signs of a struggle. Kate checked his fingernails. No skin, no blood. There were a few bruises, but nothing Kate thought was more recent than the injuries from their escape from the plague barge. Martin looked the same as when Kamau had pulled him from the water. She looked up at the African, her eyes asking, are you sure?
He tilted his head slightly.
Kate felt Martin’s neck. Yes… She moved his head a little, testing its range of motion. Someone had broken his neck… Kate felt her airway constrict. Whoever had done it was in this room, staring at her right now.
“Kate, I’m very sorry about Martin,” Shaw began. “I truly am, but we have to get off this boat and be on our way. You’re not safe here.”
Had Shaw seen it too? Did he know?
“She’s not going anywhere,” David said.
“She is,” Shaw insisted. “Now tell me where you’re taking us, and I’ll make arrangements for someone to retrieve us.”
David ignored him. He took a step toward Kate.
Shaw grabbed his arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
David spun and pushed him, almost forcing Shaw to the floor. “Touch me again, and I’ll throw you off the back of the boat.”
“Why wait? You can give it a go right now.”
Kamau stepped behind David, letting Shaw know it would be two to one.
Kate rushed between the three men. “Okay, that’s enough of the testosterone show.”
She grabbed David’s arm and dragged him away.
58
Northern Morocco
“Thank you, sir, for saving me,” the pilot said.
Dorian tore off a piece of the overcooked meat with his knife and scarfed it down. “Don’t mention it. I’m serious. To anyone.”
The pilot hesitated. “Yes, sir.”
They ate in silence for a bit, until the best of the meat was gone.
“This reminds me of camping with my dad when I was a kid.”
Dorian wished the sappy jerk would shut up or pass out. He looked at the man’s wound again, at the signs of infection. He would definitely lose the leg… if he made it to morning. Something about that thought made Dorian respond. “My father wasn’t into… camping, per se.”
The helicopter pilot began to speak, but Dorian continued.
“He was in the military. He took a great deal of pride in that. And his interests in Immari International, of course, though when I was young it was more like a club he was in, a social commitment. It didn’t become a preoccupation until later. About the only thing we ever did together was attend military parades. At the first one, I knew what I wanted to be. Seeing the Kaiser’s men all lined up in rows, marching in rhythm, the beat of the music in my chest.”
“Amazing, sir. You knew even then that you wanted to be a soldier?”
Dorian had told his father that night. I want to march at the front, Papa. Please buy me a trumpet. I will be the best trumpet player in all the Kaiser’s army. Dorian’s rebirth in the tubes had removed the scars from his legs and lower back, but he could still remember the beating his father had given him. This is what the world does to trumpet players, Dieter.
“Yes. I knew it even then. A soldier…”
But when had he known it, become what he was? That day in 1986 when he had emerged from the tube. He was different. He was Ares. It was true. It was so clear now. But— “Wait. Sir, did you say the Kaiser’s army?”
“I did. It’s… a long story. Now button up and get some rest. That’s an order.”
Dorian had stayed up half the night and only slept a few hours, but he felt incredibly refreshed when he awoke. The first rays of sunlight were emerging in the east, and here and there, the forest was coming to life.
Dorian had also awoken with an idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He needed to act fast for it to have any chance at success.
He crept over to the pilot. His breathing was shallow. The wound continued to seep blood onto the forest floor, spreading a black and crimson pool around him. He twitched periodically.
Dorian paced away from him and sat on a rock for a long while, listening, trying to get a direct
ion. When he was sure, he checked his gun and set off.
From the bushes, Dorian could see two of the Berber tribesmen. One slept on the ground; the other, likely an officer, in a tent. He was pretty sure there were only two; only two horses were tied to a tree nearby.
At the smoldering fire, lay a large machete. Dorian would use it. Gunfire would draw attention, and there was no need for it. Two sleeping Berber tribesmen would be no problem.
Dorian kicked the horse again. It glided through the forest. At the camp, he would make the call first, moving up the extraction time. How fast could he and the pilot get there on the horses? A better question: how long did the man have? Dorian wished he knew. That would be the deadline. The horses would save the pilot’s life. He kicked the horse again, and it responded. He pulled the other behind him by the reins, and it matched their pace. Amazing animals.
At the camp, Dorian slowed and dismounted before the horses stopped.
“Hey! Get up.”
Dorian made for the satellite phone.
There was no answer from the pilot.
Dorian stopped. No. He turned. He knew what he saw, yet he ran to his comrade. He held two fingers to his neck. Dorian felt the cold skin long before he knew there was no pulse, but he held his fingers there for a second, staring at the closed eyes.
Rage pulsed through him. He almost kicked the man’s body. He wanted to fall to his knees and punch him in the face—for dying, for stringing him along, for… everything. He stood, and the horses erupted, backing away from him. One neighed and jumped. Stupid, smelly beasts. He turned to strike one of them, but they were out of reach. It didn’t matter. He would ride one to death, then mount the other and follow suit.
He raced to the sat phone.
“Fleet Ops.”
“Give me Captain Williams.”
“Identify yourself.”
“Who the hell do you think this is?! How many wrong number calls do you get these days? Put Williams on, or I will split you down the middle when I get out of this hellhole!”
“St-stand by, s-sir.”
Two seconds passed.
“Williams—”
“Change of schedule. I will be at the LZ in less than an hour.”
“We can be there—”
“In less than an hour! One hour or less. They can develop photos that fast, you sure as hell better get your ass down here. If I have to make my own way back to the fleet, your lifespan plummets, Captain.”
Dorian heard the captain screaming to scramble helicopters.
“We’ll… be there, sir.”
“The girl—”
“We’re taking good care of her—”
“Get rid of her.”
“You want—”
“I don’t care where she goes, she just better be gone when I get back.”
Dorian disconnected the line.
He mounted the closest horse and kicked it as hard as he could.
59
Somewhere off the coast of Ceuta
Mediterranean Sea
“Shaw killed him,” David said flatly.
Kate cringed and glanced at the closed door of their stateroom. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why? He knows he did it. He knows I know it.”
Kate looked him in the eyes. He was so angry. She could see it in his body, hear it in his voice, but she could also feel it—on a more basic level, as if some part of her was in him and vice versa. The anger seemed to rise off of him and seep into her, like heat off an asphalt highway. She felt it infecting her, felt herself digging in against him, subconsciously readying for another fight. Everything was spinning out of control. She had to stop it, had to start somewhere. Kate made a decision: she would start with David. She needed him, wanted him, couldn’t do this without him… wouldn’t do this without him.
David was pacing the room, thinking—dark thoughts, Kate felt it. She held her hand out and waited for him to walk into it. Without a word, she guided him to the bed and sat him down. She knelt in front of him.
“I want you to talk to me. Will you?” She took his face in her hands.
David still looked down, avoiding her. “I’ll zip-tie them all, Kamau too, just for good measure. We’ll set them out somewhere. It doesn’t matter where. Be more food for the two of us. Then I need to get in touch with the British and Americans.” He shook his head. “Sloane’s fleet is off the coast of Morocco. Why haven’t they hit it yet? Why wait? We could end the war quickly. Are they out of fuel? Jet maybe but they have nuclear subs—tons of them. We take ’em out, then we start rounding up the Immari camps, do war trials on site. Do it quick.”
“David—”
He was still looking away from her. “It sounds harsh, I know, but it’s the only way. Maybe this is what it’s all about: the plague. It’s the ultimate test. The Rapture, the day of reckoning where people are exposed for what they truly are. You should have seen what they were doing, Kate. Yes, it’s a test, an opportunity—to purge the world of anyone with no morals, no values, no compassion for their fellow man.”
“People are desperate, they’re not themselves—”
“No, I think the plague reveals what they really are, whether they help the less fortunate or whether they turn and desert their own kind, leave them to die. And now we know who they are. We round up every Immari and Immari sympathizer and wipe them out. The world after will be a better place. A peaceful place, a world where people care about each other. No war, no hunger, no—”
“David. David. This isn’t you.”
He looked at her for the first time. “Well, maybe this is the new me. That’s sort of an inside joke.”
Kate gritted her teeth. She wanted to smack him. “You sound like someone else I know. He wants to reduce the world’s population, eliminate people that don’t fit his view of the ideal human.”
“Well… maybe Sloane had the right idea, just the wrong execution. Pun intended.”
Kate was ready to explode. She closed her eyes. She had to turn the argument, redirect, draw him out so she could figure out what had happened to him, why he had changed. Focus on the facts. She heard David mumbling in the background.
“I mean if there was a problem with the subs, they could just launch some cruise missiles if they—”
“I know why they aren’t attacking the Immari fleet.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’ll tell you, but you have to tell me what happened to you.”
“Me? Nothing. Just another day at the office.”
“I’m serious.”
“Well, let’s see… where to start… Sloane killed me—twice, actually.” He held his shirt up. “See, no more scars.”
The skin was smooth, like a newborn. Kate hadn’t noticed it before, when they were… With every bit of willpower she had, she fought the urge to draw away from him. What was he? “I… don’t understand.”
“Join the club. Heard enough?”
“Tell me everything.”
“Okay, after the second death of David Vale, I of course woke up in a mysterious Atlantean structure, which, you know, makes total sense. There was only one way out, like a rat in a maze. Said maze dumped me out in the hills above Ceuta.” He stared, as if remembering it. “It was horrifying. It was a burned-out wasteland. The sum of all my fears, everything I had fought to stop: the Immari, Toba Protocol, right there in front of me, in all its horror. My total failure. Seeing it was surreal. The Immari patrols captured me, took me inside the base. Then I saw what it was, what they were doing there.”
Kate nodded. “And you decided to fight them.”
“No. Not at first, and I’m ashamed of that. Very ashamed of that. My first impulse was to escape the camp and find you.” He looked at her, and in that fraction of a second, she saw the man she had fallen in love with. He was strong and vulnerable, and… David.
He glanced away from her. “But I had no idea where you were, no clue where to start. That’s when I decided to fight, to take the b
ase.”
“David, it’s changed you somehow.”
“Before today, I had killed hundreds of people—hell, I don’t even know how many. Most were bad guys trying to kill me or my team at the time—well, except the ones I shot with a sniper rifle but same general principle. Ceuta was different. Different than following orders. I drew up the plan, sold some men on my plan, and when the hour came, I pushed the button that killed thousands of soldiers and plunged that place into war. It was my carnage, and I thought it was just, that they deserved it. And I want to finish the fight. I feel the impulse burning inside me like a fire. I want more. I want to wipe them all out, now, while we can.”
Kate understood. Her leaving him in Gibraltar, his decision to fight in Ceuta. His wounds wouldn’t heal overnight, and his rage wouldn’t fade anytime soon. But there was an opening, a window she could slip through to get to him. David fidgeted on the bed. He was vulnerable now, and she sensed that her next words would determine what happened to “them” and perhaps the fate of many others. She spoke quietly. “I need your help, David.”
He turned his head but said nothing.
“In the next forty-eight hours, ninety percent of the world’s population is going to die.”
“What?”
“The plague, it has mutated. There was an explosion in Germany—”
“Sloane. He carried a case out of the structure in Antarctica.”
“Whatever was in that case emitted a radiation signature that swept the globe. The radiation changed the plague. There’s no defense against it now. Orchid has failed. Every nation on earth is facing widespread infection and death. They’re collapsing. But I think I can find a cure. Martin was working with an underground consortium, Continuity. It includes the people at the CDC. I think he was close to finding a cure. I have his notes, but I need your help.”
“You think—”
“There’s something else. Something I have to say. I’m in love with you, David, and I’m sorry I hurt you by leaving in Gibraltar. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Keegan. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. It won’t happen again. No matter what happens, from here on out, you and I will finish this together. And for the record, I don’t care how many times you’ve died or what scars you do or don’t have.”