by Maira Dawn
Sonora trembled as her grandfather helped her into the chair. The buzzing started again, but she ignored it as she sobbed. All she could think of was him. A feeling came over her, as if a close friend or parent steps behind you, and somehow you know it's them.
In a second, her limp body straightened. "It's him! It's Ian!"
Jorah stepped closer to her. "Yes, dear, he is there."
"Can I talk to him somehow?"
"No, little guppy. But Ian can feel emotion. You can send him strength and love."
"Then let's find him!"
Jorah patted her shoulder. "That is what I am here for, but it is not as precise as that."
Sonora flapped her arms. "Then what good is it?"
Blake crouched to her and took her hand. "Sunny, we usually aren't in life or death situations."
"Yes. Yes, of course." Sonora put a hand to the side of her face. "Then what next? How can we find him?"
"Let's see what else is here. Perhaps Ian left something behind," Jorah said.
Sonora stood and yanked open a kitchen drawer. "I'll check these."
Just as she got to the last cupboard, Jorah yelled from the living room, "I found something."
Twenty-One
Disagreements
Chapter 21
Sonora rushed into the living room and found the men hovering around something. She pushed herself through them. Jorah had scattered the papers he'd found across a footstool. The writing was in Atlantian.
Sonora glanced at Ian's father, and he translated, "Ian has written about the possibility of a research lab inside the Marine Center? But he is unsure." Jorah looked up and squinted at her in thought. "What is the Marine Center?"
Sonora frowned in confusion. Why would the Marine Center be mentioned?
Blake grabbed her shoulder and said, "It is a local aquarium and museum. They also study marine animals." Blake shook his head. "But my son-in-law and daughter work there. They would've noticed anything strange."
Sonora agreed, "And I've been in there a million times, Jorah. I've never seen anything weird." She turned to Blake. "Is that where you were, Grandpa?"
"I don't think so, but I was still pretty drugged up when we left. After that, we were on the run for a while. Your grandmother picked this town to settle in."
"What should we do, Jorah?" Sonora said. "We have to hurry. I sense him slipping away from me!"
"He is simply pulling away, perhaps not to worry you," Jorah said. "I sense him still. Reach out the same way you did before."
"I can't. That was so desperate."
"And you are no longer desperate?"
At his soft reminder, tears welled in Sonora's eyes. She stretched out, pulling Ian back. Her forehead glazed with sweat. She glanced at Jorah and nodded. Was it as hard for a full Atlantian as it was for her?
Jorah picked up Ian's notes. "This is where we start."
Blake's brows drew together. "If it's there, it isn't in any part of the official building. If you want, I can go nose around. Sunny and I can get into some of the employee areas."
"No," Jorah said. "That won't be necessary."
"I disagree," Blake said as his eyes narrowed. "It would be the least disruptive, the best way to see if Ian's there."
Jorah stared at Blake. Sonora's gaze darted from Jorah to the guards, to her grandfather, and back to Jorah. Her grandfather had committed some sort of blunder.
"Pup!" Jorah scolded him. "You may look older than me, but you are hardly out of boyhood. It is not up to you to question one of the council."
Blake took a small step back and lowered his gaze. "Of course. I apologize. I only worry—"
Jorah's authoritative voice sounded throughout the room. Grandpa should've stopped already. "You should have worried long ago when you carried another name. Then I would not be standing here, and my son, your friend, would not be captured. These evil ones have no respect for our kind and what we are capable of. Do you think I will let them continue to abuse my son even one more hour if I can stop it? When I have them in my grasp?"
Blake reached out a hand. "Of course, we must get him out as soon as possible. But I know what one Atlantian can do, what I did in my prime. The effects of it still litter the history books. We must be careful. There are good people here too."
Sonora tensed when she saw Jorah's jaw set. Her grandfather had pushed too far.
"Good people will not be harmed. But the evil will stop now," Jorah said, taking a firm step toward Blake. His eyes lit, and his guards stood at attention. "Make no mistake, Atlantis is rising. The world will see its full power."
Blake's jaw dropped. "But, that was never the plan, this—"
Jorah shook his head. "There is no longer a plan. The box is home, but the cure is not. There is only one way to save these vulnerable people you can about. Find the cure. We will come to land and take it."
Blake stepped back, staring at the floor and shaking his head.
Jorah put a hand to his shoulder. "I refuse to allow the death of any more of my men. It has to stop now."
Blake glanced toward Sonora, a question in his eyes. She shrugged. IF this is what it took to rescue Ian, let them come.
Blake shuddered but stood up for the humans he had come to know and love. "With respect, Jorah, I ask that you temper your actions. This work, these people, can be fragile."
"Consider this. If we do not come to land, we do not save the humans. Then they will not be fragile. They will be dead." Jorah waved a dismissive hand at Blake. "The decision has been made. My son and the cure. If we do not succeed, we sink back into the ocean and leave this world to its own destruction."
Blake quieted, and Sonora's stressed eased. Her grandfather had said what he wanted to say. What more was left?
Sonora straightened, feeling like a soldier. "What is my part?"
Jorah smiled. "I commend your willingess. Your part is to stay safe so that my son has someone to return to. Let my army deal with this."
"Your army is going to storm into the Marine Center and demand Ian? That is the plan? I agree with Grandpa on one thing. We know the place, pretty much inside and out. It could help your attack."
Jorah shook his finger at her. "No, I won't have you in danger. Ian would never forgive me. I will bring Ian to you when this is done. I will retrieve more warriors and return tomorrow.”
Sonora watched Jorah's wagging finger. On the one hand, she could understand why he might treat her like a child. How old was he? Like two hundred and fifty? On the other hand, the hot flush of irritation flooding her seemed quite reasonable. But given her grandfather's and Jorah's argument, she didn't want to further upset her soon-to-be father-in-law.
She tipped her head. "I understand. We'll be waiting for you."
After a quick nod, Jorah strode out of the house with his guards. One could only imagine what passersby thought of the three towering men in strange clothing striding to the beach.
Twenty-Two
The Handshake
Chapter Twenty-two
Ian stirred when a scuff of shoes sounded down the hallway. It felt like early morning, very early though with no windows he couldn't be sure if it were still dark.
A squeak of rubber on the shiny tile floor echoed down the hallway. Tennis shoes. It was Vincent.
Ian absently checked the lock on his cage, a constant habit of his. He'd already picked at it several times throughout the night. But he was restless. Last night, Sonora and Jorah came to him stronger than ever. He didn't know what that meant but hoped it meant something.
The lock was secure, as it was each time he checked it. He had examined the bars and seams long ago and found no weakness. Still, Ian couldn't stop himself from running a hand over them, shaking one after another. It was more than a habit now, it was an obsession.
When he was done, he sagged in the corner of his barred room. Most days, the inspection sent him into a downward spiral of despair. But today, a tiny flare of hope continued to burn.
Ian s
cratched at his dry skin. At least today he would get to soak in the small tank. It was something. His heart sank, and he closed his eyes as he remembered last night's mistake. If Devon watched the tape, he would see Ian's defiance. There would be some sort of punishment. He would be happy if it were only another week without the salt tank. He would suffer, but not as much as with Devon's many other imaginative abuses.
He shot a quick glance into the hallway. Unless he could get Vincent to help him.
Ian cringed at Vincent's jaunty whistle. It was a sound he learned long ago to dread. It meant the start of a new tortuous day. He crouched on the balls of his feet, a hand around the bars on each side of the cage. He moved back and forth, longing for a way to flee, but there was no way out.
Even if there was, would he go? Devon constantly threatened Sonora to keep Ian in line. It hung in the air like a menacing cloud.
As horrible as it was for him, the thought of Sonora strapped to that metal table was even more horrifying. Ian would go through anything to keep her safe.
Vincent stood at the door, fumbling with the lock. The sound caused every caged inhabitant to still. Devon's assistant waltzed in and sat a backpack on the hated metal table.
The young man laid out the instruments for the day. Ian tried and failed to stop himself from trembling at the sight of the same thick, long needle plunged into his chest yesterday.
Not that again.
Done with that chore, Vincent started feeding the animals, beginning with the small glass tanks and working his way up to the larger ones. He gave each occupant some slight encouragement, a gentle pet, or spoke a few kind words.
Before he made it to Ian, he returned to his pack and pulled out an apple. "Here you go, Buddy," Vincent said, handing Ian the items one at a time. "Sorry, I had to skip out early yesterday, but I brought you something extra." With a flourish, Vincent pulled an orange out of his jacket pocket and handed both down through the bars, then moved on.
"Thank you," Ian said. He shook. The sound of his own voice surprised him.
Vincent jumped back. Subjects were not allowed to speak. He frowned but continued past the man.
He had nothing to lose now. "My name is not Buddy, it is Ian."
Startled, Vincent turned toward Ian. He looked to the door, then the camera and back at Ian, whispering, "You know you're not allowed to talk! Do you want to be punished? He will be here soon."
Ian hung his head. "It is too late. The tape holds an image of me defying him. He will punish me for that."
"Look, Buddy—"
"Ian."
"Whatever!" Vincent glanced over his shoulder toward the door.
"Ian."
"Fine, Ian! You think you've had it bad? I've seen him do much, much worse." Vincent took a step toward Ian. "I'm just trying to help you."
"I understand. Can you erase the tape?"
"Are you kidding me? No! I shouldn't even be talking to you. Like at all!"
"I don't know how much more I can take. Can you please erase the tape?"
"Oh, you can take a lot more, believe me. I've seen what your kind can take."
To Ian's shame, his eyes flooded with tears. This really would be his life until the end. "How long—how long will I be here?"
"Don't worry, you have months yet. Sometimes, Doc even takes a liking to someone and lets them live years." He patted the cage and moved off. Until he heard the sobs. Then he stopped.
Ian's hands covered his face. He berated himself for being weak, but he was sick over what Vincent had said. Months, years to endure.
The young man returned and kneeled in front of Ian's cage. "Hey, Bud—I mean Ian. Don't."
Ian stared at Vincent. "I beg you to help me. Just this once. Please erase the tape."
Vince pulled in a breath and looked at the camera. If he did that, he could be suspended, maybe even fired. Devon had been known to do that over the smallest infraction. He glanced back at Ian. Of course, that was nothing compared to what that one would get.
Vince rose, went to the backroom, and with a few taps, erased the footage. He turned the power to the system off and went back out to the lab.
"There. All done." He crouched in front of Ian. "I know this sucks but think of all the good you're doing. That has got to mean something, doesn't it?"
Ian raised his head and thanked him for erasing the tape. "Is that what you tell yourself to feel better about what is done in this room? Then I wish I could tell you this would help your people. But it will not. Something is coming for you, for your entire race and nothing done here will stop it."
Ian's rusty voice brought an eeriness to his words. "A disease stalks you. One you bring upon yourselves. Atlantians were tasked with saving you, but there will be no saving now. See, I was the one to race for the cure, but here I sit caught in a cage. You will die, you will all die horrible deaths."
Vince's eyes widened further and further as cold fingers trailed through him. He tried to dismiss Ian's words. Just another fanatical belief in the end of the world. But when he tried to move away, the Atlantian's story held him entranced.
Ian's voice strengthened. "We are a people of fathers and mothers and children. We have homes and gardens and pets. We have happy days and sad days and dreams. We all come from the same source. We are all the same."
Vince cleared his throat and looked away. This was why the subjects weren't allowed to talk because it reminded the workers they were still people. Real people.
"Vince, I can stop the disease. Let me save humankind."
"How do I know this disease is real?"
"Do you deny there could be a disease capable of killing all humankind?"
Vince had worked in many labs. He knew exactly what kind of diseases were out there, and there were plenty of deadly ones. "Tell me more."
Ian kept an eye on the entrance as he told Vincent everything, from the moment the Traveler had shown up at their door to the day the council sent him on the mission for the cure. He explained the box, its secret drawer, and the loss of the remedy for human survival.
Vincent was quiet for a moment. Was it farfetched? Yes. But he would have thought the same about the existence of Atlantians before this all began, and here one of them sat. So, not impossible.
If it were true, letting this one—Ian—go would save the world. If it were not true, another of them would come along. Devon could take his anger out on that one.
Vincent rubbed his chin and stared at Ian. The soft scratch of whiskers filled the quietness. "If you're lying, just trying to get away, then I have to warn you the one who comes after you will pay for it in ways you cannot imagine."
Ian’s voice became firm. “Atlantians do not lie."
"Um. I guess we will see." Vincent looked over his shoulder as tension tightened his stomach. Was he really going to do this?
He ran a hand over his face. He had too. Every disgusting thing about this job flooded over him when the man had told Vince his name. Ian.
How did he defend himself? What story made this okay?
There is a man, a man who lives in a cage where I work. Every day we take him out and do brutal experiments on him. Without pity, without remorse. We—I stuff him back in the cramped box every night and whistle as I go home.
A sob racked Vince's body. What had he become? Devon called them abominations, but we were the monsters. He'd let this man go and walk out with him. Never come back.
"Give me a minute. I'll get the keys, and I think we have some scrubs that will fit you, at least kinda. If you go roaming out there with just your shorts on, you'll be noticed right away."
Ian reached through the bars and grabbed Vince's hand. He was trembling. "Thank you!"
Vince twisted his hand in Ian's and shook it, like one does when meeting a new friend, sealing their agreement. Both men smiled until they heard shoes tapping down the hallway toward the open lab door.
Twenty-Three
Even This Wrong
Chapter 23
S
onora jerked awake, shocked she’d drifted to sleep at all. Last night, after being ordered to wait for Jorah’s army, neither one had been happy. They were quiet for a moment as they watched the Atlantians walk away.
She’d made a face and tipped her head. “Grandpa?”
Blake didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the men. “I know.”
Sonora had smiled. She figured he’d be on her side. For different reasons, of course. For Blake, there was less chance of anyone getting hurt if he could quietly check out the Marine Center. For Sonora, tomorrow was too long to wait. It gave them the same goal, but her hopes were soon dashed.
Sonora had grabbed her grandfather’s forearm. “So, we can go tonight?”
He shook his head. “It’s locked up too tight.”
“But you got in for the Artifact.”
“Yes, but since then we can be sure they replaced the alarm and are on high alert.”
“First thing in the morning, then, as soon as they open.”
“Definitely first thing.”
So, Sonora tried sleeping, but mostly just tossed and turned. Now sensing Ian, she wondered how she missed it before. He seemed to come and go. Panicked, she’d try to find him as she stilled her racing heart. She didn’t know how this worked. Was he asleep, or was something terrible happening?
Her fitful sleep had apparently deepened. She jumped from the bed and pushed her curtains aside. Still early then. That was good.
Raw with nerves, Sonora pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on a t-shirt, then scurried downstairs to the kitchen. As the Keurig did its thing, she shoved a protein bar into her back pocket, pulled out two to-go cups, and filled them with coffee.
As she stepped out of the door, she looked at her grandfather’s house. He stood outside, waiting for her.
As they drove to the Marine Center, Blake outlined the plan. “We act like tourists, so we don’t attract attention. Remember, there are cameras everywhere. Let’s check out a few exhibits and ask the employees we know for some behind the scenes tours.”