by Maira Dawn
“Okay, meet ya out there.”
Sonora’s gaze absently trailed down the long hallway painted with colorful cartoon sea creatures and huge water bubbles from floor to ceiling. Her favorite was the family of pink seahorses swimming right beside the women’s restroom door. It still drew her eye, and she tapped on them as she passed.
At the mirror, Sonora fluffed her hair and tried to rub the sadness from her eyes. She glanced around the room and frowned. Pulling her map out of her purse, she opened it and ran her finger around the drawn building. Something wasn’t right.
Sonora walked out to the hallway and examined it again. A blue octopus with large, round eyes happily bounced on waves near the men’s restroom, and a couple of dolphins faced her from the turn in the hallway. On her left should be an outside wall. She examined it closer. It was covered by a massive, painted whale, a light blue face with a bright, white mouth and eyes, but it gradually faded away to almost black on its tail. It was designed to draw the eye to the colorful face.
She examined the darker part of the animal. There was a door there! One she’d never seen before almost flush with the rest of the wall. A glance at the ceiling showed no cameras, and a quick look to the right and left revealed no one in the area.
Sonora grabbed and turned the black doorknob as she huffed a quick breath. The door easily swung open. She stepped through it, quickly closing it behind her.
Inside, it was almost pitch black. Sonora pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and tapped it for a flashlight.
Her heart dropped when she saw only brooms and mops. A cleaning closet. Of course. As she turned to leave, something struck her. Everything was so new. She ran a hand over the shelved supplies and the mop bucket. Dust. This was staged. Why would someone fake a closet?
Sonora turned her flashlight off. In the darkness, she could see a thin ribbon of light along the floor of the back wall. Her eyebrows arched. That shouldn’t be there. Turning her light back on, she reexamined the wall, running her hand around it. Her heart sped up. The wall didn’t feel right.
She scanned the wall but found no knob, so she pushed on it. There was a slight movement. Sonora held her breath and pushed it harder. It popped open, letting a sliver of light in.
She stilled, worried someone on the other side would question her. When she heard nothing, she released the breath she held. Sonora stepped toward the hidden door and grabbed its edge, then stopped.
She should call her grandfather. After the phone rang and rang, she pushed it into her pocket. He was always letting the thing die on him. Sonora threw a glance over her shoulder. She’d take a peek on the other side. Ian could be right there.
Sonora slowly pulled the door open enough to look around. Dark offices lined an empty hallway. Disappointed, she looked down at her map again. Had she only stumbled onto an unused administration area?
But, it wasn’t on the map.
The place looked and felt vacant. Sonora became bolder. Her soft steps echoed as she moved into the empty hallway.
Offices and more offices on either side of her, all deserted. Some of the unlit rooms held shadowy, haphazardly stacked furniture. Chairs on chairs, or desks with a few old audio/video carts in the mix.
Sonora tiptoed up and peered into the closest office. She made out several glass cases. Most were empty, but a few still contained dusty artifacts.
Sonora stared over her shoulder at the door she’d come through. After walking back to it, she pushed it closed. No one was here. She was at least going to look around.
She twisted right and left, trying to decide which way to go. Her gaze caught on a small sign attached to the wall. White lettering, and an arrow, on a black background boldly proclaimed labs to be to the right.
Sonora pulled in a massive breath and squared her shoulders. Then, that’s the way she would go.
Thirty
Changes
Chapter Thirty
The needle slid into Ian's arm smoothly and painlessly, at odds with the danger it contained. Ian didn't know what to expect. Would any change instantaneous, or would it take time? If there even was a change.
From the number of times Devon had wound the straps around his arms, it seemed he was worried about some sort of aggression. Ian hoped any hostility was taken out on the scientist.
His mind swirled with any possible changes. Ian didn't know anything about the Spanish Flu or Rabies, or what the combination could mean for him or anyone else.
Ian's brain fogged, and he shook his head to clear it. "What changes?"
It took considerable effort for him to form the words but talking was good. He didn't want to get lost in any drug-induced delirium. Ian barked a laugh. How would he know if he were delirious?
"He speaks!" Devon said. "I'm impressed. The amount of sedative it takes to keep your kind under is amazing, and yet you continue to fight the effects." Devon adjusted his surgical mask and laced his green-gloved fingers, putting his hands on his crossed knee. "To answer your question, we really don't know. You're the closest thing to a human subject on whom this virus has been tested, but I can tell you what we expect based on our animal trials. And since, from your DNA, you appear to be part animal, how would that be?"
Ian inwardly groaned but gave a sloppy nod.
Devon peered into the cage. "Hanging on by a thread, aren't you?" He chuckled. "Did you know that the rabies virus actually seems intelligent? The virus needs to spread by saliva. So, to do that, it rewires the brain to be aggressive, to bite and tear the flesh of other people or animals so that it can be passed on and live. It will continue to do that victim after victim, each one becoming a mindless tearing machine to keep it alive."
"Only humans," Ian said.
"Only humans? And not Atlantians? Quite right, it seems. So far, anyway. I guess we will soon know for sure."
Devon adjusted the white cloth mask tighter to his face. "The thing about rabies is, or has been, is that despite all the biting, its scope is rather limited. There are only so many victims one can infect. But, merged with this flu, make it airborne, now that's another matter. I believe that is what they're trying to achieve, because airborne, this virus would be a mighty thing."
Vincent made a sound of disgust.
"Really, Vincent," Devon said without looking at him. "You are a disappointment today." Devon gingerly picked up the small, mostly full vial and held it to the light. He turned it as if it were a jewel and watched the light sparkle off it. "Airborne—all it takes is a whiff of air—a breath from a passing stranger, a cough—to infect an entire room. What a thing of beauty."
Devon set the vial on a small wheeled metal table in front of him. "And if you're going to use a flu pandemic to bind with rabies, why not use the worst one known to man? Changes? Oh, there will be so many. Confusion, aggression, seizures, stiffening of the limbs until they are useless, possible coma, death."
Ian tightened his arm and leg muscles. Where they changing yet? He thought not, but he couldn't trust his own mind. His stomach soured. What if this was the one human disease Atlantians could catch?
"That's just from the Rabies part of it. From the other part, let's see." Devon put a hand to his chin. "The 1918 Killer Flu. At first, your typical garden variety flu symptoms, but then many, many people developed a pneumonia attack. It came on so fast they turned blue and suffocated from the bloody foam filling their lungs.
"I suppose for someone like you, a being who breathes less often, that part will take longer. I hope none of this worries you." Devon laughed.
Ian took a deep breath, filling every part of his lungs. It did worry him, but he wasn't going to let Devon know that.
From across the room, Vince stared at Devon. "Why do you have to taunt him? Isn't it what you’re doing bad enough?"
Devon laughed. "Half the fun is seeing the look on their faces."
"You're a cruel man."
Devon scoffed. "This is my lab. You need to remember that." He examined Vince. "It's nice to see som
e backbone, though. I've often wondered what kind of man your father was to have raised such a weak-willed son."
Vince flushed red. "If you want to tear me apart, fine! But you leave my father out of it. He was a good man, a great man." The assistant walked to Devon and leaned over him, grabbing the edge of the metal table. He wrapped his fingers around it so tightly his knuckles whitened. "You will stop!"
Ian's gaze darted from one man to the other as Devon's jaw hardened, and he jumped from his seat. He threw out a hand, slapping the younger man and catching his surgical mask, ripping it off.
Vince reared back, tightening his hand around the little table. It lifted off its wheel, tipping. The small disease-filled vial skittered across the table's surface until it reached the lipped edge. Until Vince released the table and took a step away from Devon.
The cart gave a rattling thump as the wheels hit the floor, and it righted itself. The glass vial slid back from the edge to the middle of the table.
"You sicken me!" Vince turned for the door.
Devon grabbed the back of Vince's shirt, bunching it in his fist and pulling him backward. The younger man stumbled, almost losing his footing. He flung out his hands, yelling when they hit the table, tipping it again. There was a clatter of glass and metal. Then a tiny chink, chink, chink as the vial gained speed and made its way up and over the edge of the table.
Devon's eyes widened. He pulled Vince away from the falling vial. The three watched the glass tube tumble toward the ground. Ian wasn't sure if it was the drugs or not, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
It struck the floor at an angle, and by some strange chance, bounced. But if some would call it luck, it ended there.
When the vial came down again, it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The thin, deadly liquid ran over the floor and settled into the cracks of the tile.
Devon clamped a gloved hand over his mouth, despite the mask he wore. He turned and ran for the door.
Ian's hazy gaze sharpened as he looked at the stuff. He glanced at Vince, who stared at the puddle on the floor, rooted in place. The assistant quickly retied the cloth mask hanging down his chest back onto his face.
"Go," the Atlantian said.
Vincent shook his head. "I can get you out. It's what I promised."
"Not with that between us." Ian tipped his head to the floor. "I have only just inhaled. It will be some time before I must breathe again. Go get protection for yourself, then release me."
Vince glanced from the liquid to Ian. "Okay, but I'll be back as soon as I am better prepared."
Vince took a step backward and turned. The table's wheel caught on his pant leg, and the unexpected weight tripped him. Vince threw his hands in front of him as he tumbled to the floor. He gasped and shuddered as the serum splashed against the palms of his hands and soaked his shirt.
Thirty-One
Time
Chapter Thirty-One
Vince stood at the sink, scrubbing his hands with a ferocity rivaling a flea-bitten dog. "Is this it? Did I breathe enough to kill me? Does it soak through the skin? Is this the plague that will kill all humankind?"
"I don't know," Ian said. "I only know it is coming and soon. I don't exactly know what it is. Does this have the potential to destroy like that?"
"Rabies already kills more than sixty-thousand people a year. And that is with a terrible delivery system. If it is airborne... Yes. Yes, it most definitely could."
"It seemed they didn't know it would work."
"Oh, they were pretty sure it would work, or they wouldn't bother testing it on you. Your people are immune to everything. Believe me, if it exists, we tried it. This disease was made to kill you, which means it will kill us."
"If it is the one, you must do something."
Vince turned away from the sink and raised his eyebrows. "Me? What can I do?"
"I don't know. What can you do?"
Vince shook his head and shrugged as he pulled a long face. "I have no power, no pull in this company. All I can do is clean up this mess and bar the door. But first, let me get you out of there."
Vince lowered himself to the floor, careful to avoid the liquid still covering it. With trembling fingers, he worked at the first band fastening Ian to the bars. The ribbed bands resisted the assistant's pull, and Ian winced as it dug into his flesh.
"Sorry, man."
Ian shook his head. "Do what you must to release me." When Vince pulled harder, Ian grunted in pain.
Vince glanced at him with concern and continued at his work. "Ian, I just want to say… you probably won't believe it, but I've always admired your people. You're amazing. Perfectly made, or as perfect as human-like life forms come anyway. I wouldn't ever have hurt any of you if it wasn't for them."
Ian's voice hardened. "You did. Many times over."
"We—we had to know—had to find out for the greater good." Vince squeezed his eyes shut. "It was my job. I was only doing what I was told."
"And so you killed," Ian shook his head. "The first thing any human thinks of doing. The last resort for a sane Atlantian. You could have just asked. I'm sure our scientists would answer all your questions."
Vince's jaw dropped. It clearly had never crossed his mind. Had it crossed anyone’s? "You have scientists?" he asked.
"How little you know. We are far more advanced than you if this lab is your average."
"Wow. I never thought…" Vince was done with the first restraint. He moved to the second one, his fingers steadier. The shock of his fall into the viral soup was wearing off.
The knot challenged Vince, but bit by bit, he loosened it. He tried swallowing a deep tickle starting in his throat. But instead, it built to a cough. At first light and breathy, it quickly turned to a wet hacking sound bending Vince in two.
When it was over, he straightened. Almost breathless, he stared at Ian with large, round eyes. "It's nothing, right? An anomaly?"
He touched his mask, reaching behind his head for the ties to remove it to find what Ian already knew was there. A scarlet-red spot of blood marred blinding whiteness of the cloth.
"I'm sorry," Ian said.
"No. No. This quick? It can't be. Maybe History has the cure. Maybe we could get it."
Ian stared at him. "Or you could save the rest of your people, your family, with the time you have left."
"How? Besides, it is contained here in this room."
"Is it?"
Vince paled. "I don't… I don't know. Is this the only vial?" He glanced at the door. "Devon ran out. Was he infected?" He ran a hand over his face. "How can I save all mankind when I can't even save myself? I can't think about this! I can only think of getting you out of here."
Vincent's phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he continued to work the thick knots. After a while, he sighed in irritation and stood. "Let me see if we have something that will cut these. It’s taking so long."
After searching the drawers and not finding anything suitable, he picked up the scalpel. Though small, it was the sharpest knife they had.
Vincent settled in beside Ian again and went to work. It went quicker but sawing through them still took time as he found they had small wires running through them. He finished the second one when the phone buzzed again, then chimed.
When he started on the third and final restraint on Ian's right arm, he commanded Siri to play the message. It was Nick. Vince's face brightened at the sound of his brother's voice.
"What is it?” Ian said.
"I think I know what—who will save us!"
"If you know, you must do it."
Vincent nodded as he sped up his pace at cutting the band. "My brother. He's a physicist. He studies—uhm—alternative means of travel."
"What do you mean?"
Vince gave a weak laugh. "Nick studies wormholes, cosmic strings, things like that." He waved away Ian's confusion. "I'd hardly believe it either, but I'm sitting here with someone who shouldn't exist. A person who had foreign DNA passed down from
his ancestors, who comes from a sunken city. If I'm studying this phenomenon, who is to say Nick isn't studying another? It's really no more outrageous than my own."
Ian scowled. "What do you chatter about?"
Vince nervously looked at Ian. "Well, kind of like—travel through time?"
Ian tore away the last of the band as he reached through the bars and grabbed Vince's shoulder. His face bright. "Your brother. Is he the Traveler?"
Vince tried to move back, but Ian held on, so he didn't get far. "The Traveler? I don't know." He drew in a sharp breath. "But you mean you know about time travel?"
"Who does not? If your brother can help, if he is the Traveler, you must go to him."
"Huh," Vince rocked back on his heels. A tickle, rougher this time, worked its way up to his throat, and he fell into another coughing spasm.
Ian watched Vince before letting his gaze roam the cage he was in. His expression firmed with resolve. If it meant the fulfillment of their vow, he would die here. When Vince's coughing passed, he said, "You must go."
"I have to get you out. I promised."
"I do not want to be insensitive to your dilemma, but you have limited time. You must go and find your brother. Tell him everything. You must do it now before it is too late."
The two men stared at each other for a moment before Vincent handed Ian the scalpel and the keys to his prison. "Can you get out?"
"I will do my best."
"Devon said you could. At least, he was always worried you could."
"That explains his over-exuberance with the restraints." Ian gave a woeful chuckle.
"It explains a lot of things."
Vincent stood and retrieved another surgical mask. Maybe it would help stop him from spreading it to others. He turned to leave the room, then faced Ian again. "Wait. Exactly what does this Traveler do?"
"He gives us the cure."