Altar of Eden (28 page)

Lorna sat with the children as muffled gunfire continued. Trapped here, she had to bide her time. She didn’t know which side of the fire-fight she should be rooting for: the devil she knew or the pirates who were attacking.

Suddenly all of the children went tense and glanced toward the dayroom’s main door, as if responding to a signal beyond her senses. They were all on their feet at once, rising like a startled flock of crows.

Their manner set her on edge, their tension contagious.

A loud
bang
drew Lorna’s attention to the exit. She recognized it as the outer anteroom door slamming shut.

Someone was coming.

The children retreated toward the back. She got caught in the flow of them and followed. Or maybe she was dragged. Small hands clutched her pant legs and drew her with them.

They reached the dark room with its rows of locking cribs. As they passed the threshold Lorna caught a glimpse of the inner anteroom door swinging open. But she didn’t see who entered as she ducked away.

The apprehension of the children continued to keep her heart pounding, her senses sharp.

A voice called out. “Where the hell are you?”

It was Connor. Something in his voice pushed her heart into her throat. Along with exasperation, she heard a distinct threat. The children continued to draw her away, as if they sensed the same, tapping into some empathic connection.

Lorna held her breath and continued with them. But there was nowhere to hide in the nursery, not unless she wanted to cram herself into one of the cribs.

At last, the tide of bodies reached the center of the room, and fingers released her. The children scattered in all directions, moving with surprising speed, obeying a cue beyond her. They ducked behind and under the heavy steel cribs.

Lorna followed their example, seeking what shelter she could. She dropped to a knee behind a crib but kept an eye on the doorway. A couple of children hid under the crib with her. They shifted their tiny bodies next to her, trembling with fear.

Connor crossed past the door’s threshold and headed to check on the bathroom first. She saw his hand drop to a holstered pistol at his waist. His thumb broke the snap securing the gun.

“Don’t make this any more difficult than necessary!” he shouted. “Come out and I’ll make this quick and painless.”

She remained where she was. It was all she could do. There was nowhere else to run.

JACK MOVED THROUGH
the forest, heading down the hillside toward the sandbar that connected the two islands. Mack and Bruce continued to flank him. Farther out and ahead, he caught glimpses of shadowy shapes, some small, some large, a living mass flowing downhill, gathering momentum and growing in number. All headed toward the sandbar.

At last the forest broke apart into a scatter of palms and stretches of sand. Light shone brighter here, glinting sharply off the water as the sun sat on the horizon.

A figure detached from the shadows ahead. It was the creature who had confronted Jack earlier, distinguishable by his missing ear and scarred face. An arm pointed toward the open beach.

Jack shifted forward and joined him. He immediately recognized the source of the creature’s distress.

A tall fence wrapped in concertina wire blocked the way ahead. Jack noted a generator on the far side.

Electrified,
he wagered.

Movement drew his attention beyond the fence to the other island. Only now did he note the raft beached over there. Figures hid in the shadows on the far side—but were they friend or foe?

There was only one way to find out.

As he stepped into the open he noted smears of crimson across the sand on that side, like bodies had been dragged away. The plan of attack had been for Randy to rendezvous at the land bridge. The Zodiac looked like the one from the Thibodeauxs’ boat, but it had been shot up.

Had anyone survived?

Jack moved from shadow into sunlight, exposing himself. He kept his weapon at his shoulder, wary, ready to leap back. A call shouted at him. “Jack!”

Randy stumbled into view across the way, waving a rifle over his head. Jack lowered his own weapon.

Thank God.

His relief was short-lived. A growling roar rose to the right. A small two-man jet boat tore around the shoulder of the island and shot toward the land bridge. The soldier in the passenger seat stood with an assault rifle balanced on the windshield.

The muzzle flashed, and rounds chewed across the sand toward Jack’s toes. He fled back into the shelter of the forest. Across the fence, Randy did the same.

As Jack ducked away a second jet boat roared in from the other direction, joining its partner. The two boats—one on each side of the land bridge—sped back and forth, sweeping a tight patrol, making it impossible to pass.

As Jack stared at the two sharks out there, he felt his plan falling apart. Someone already knew about this attempted backdoor assault. They were dropping the ax, cutting off access, splitting their teams. The element of surprise was now gone.

That thought raised a new fear.

Lorna’s survival depended on a speedy extraction. Delay meant death. His fingers tightened on his shotgun.

Was he already too late?

LORNA STAYED HIDDEN
behind the crib. Fear sharpened her breathing. She heard Connor bang open the door to the bathroom off the dayroom, searching for her.

It wouldn’t be long until he came to check in the nursery.

As she struggled for some recourse a squeal suddenly erupted out in the dayroom, bright with terror.

Connor cursed harshly. “Fucking monkeys . . .”

Her heart clenched. The bastard must have found one of the children hiding out there. The squeal turned into a cry of pain. Beyond the doorway, Connor appeared again. He held aloft a small boy by his neck. The child struggled and strangled, legs kicking, his mouth frozen open in a cry of pain and panic.

Lorna felt the two children clutched to her side tremble violently, sharing the boy’s terror and pain.

Out in the dayroom, Connor pointed his pistol at the boy’s belly. “Come out now, or I’ll make this monkey suffer for you!”

Stunned by such cruelty, Lorna was too shocked to react.

Connor shifted out of view, still searching for her. “Now or never!”

Lorna couldn’t let the boy die for her. She had to stop this, even if it meant her own life. She began to push up—but small hands gripped hers and held her down. There was an urgency to their attention beyond mere fear of being abandoned.

They moved her hand to the legs of the raised crib. She felt casters at the bottom, wheels to help rearrange the cradles as necessary.

It took her a moment to understand.

She flipped the locks on the casters and moved to the back of the crib. Pushing with her legs, she shouldered into it. It took some effort to get it moving. Constructed of steel—more a cage on wheels—the crib was heavy and unwieldy. Wheels squeaked, but she called out to cover the noise.

“I’m coming! Don’t shoot!”

She dug in with her toes and maneuvered the crib out of its line and got it wheeling down the center of the room toward the door. She fought for more speed. As if sensing her need, small bodies crawled out of hiding and hurried to the crib. Hands grabbed the steel legs and helped her push with surprising strength.

A part of Lorna’s mind struggled to understand. On her own, she would never have thought to use the crib as a battering ram. But fear was a powerful motivator, and necessity the mother of all invention. Run all that through the combined intellect of the frightened children and this means of defense arose.

As they worked together the crib sped even faster.

Connor appeared again, facing the nursery door.

Lorna shot out of the room with her battering ram, pushing with all her strength, a prayer frozen on her lips. Connor’s eyes widened in surprise. Unable to get out of the way, he tossed the boy aside and fired wildly at her.

She ducked as rounds ricocheted off the crib’s steel front. Then the battering ram struck Connor square in the chest. His body went flying, arms wide. He landed on his back, and his pistol skittered across the linoleum floor.

Lorna didn’t stop. She rammed the crib forward, keeping its momentum going and smashed it into Connor yet again. As the front casters hit his sprawled body she heaved up and sent the crib crashing down on top of him.

She dove to the side and retrieved his pistol. It felt heavy and hot, but the weight helped center her. She kept it pointed at Connor, but he wasn’t moving, except for a twitch in one arm.

She searched around.

It took her a moment to realize she was free—and armed.

The children gathered to one side, eyes wide upon her. She read the hope there, along with the residual fear. She couldn’t abandon them.

“Let’s go,” she said and headed toward the door.

The children flocked behind her, trusting her fully.

She prayed it wasn’t misplaced.

“What’s your plan from here?” Bennett asked.

Good question,
Duncan thought. He shook his head, still calculating, struggling to wrap his mind around the strange nature of this assault. He felt control slipping away from him.

Duncan stood with Bennett in front of the bank of monitors in the security nest. Someone had thrown a blanket over the dead technician’s body. Another computer expert was attempting to bring up the other feeds. On the monitor in front of them, Duncan continued to watch video from the camera posted between the islands.

Two jet boats were patrolling either side of the land bridge. Duncan had ordered the boats into position after spotting the Cajun from the bayou. It was lucky he did. Moments ago he had watched a figure appear on the
opposite
side of the fence, stepping from the forest onto the spit of sand.

The impossibility of it still jarred him.

From the clothing and gear, it had to be one of the men he’d spotted earlier in the forest. Somehow the man had survived his overland route to reach the land bridge. How was that even possible?

An answer came as the computer technician slid out from beneath the console. He wiped his hands as he stood up. “The computer should reboot the tracking software in a moment.”

As promised, a neighboring dark screen went blue, then a map of the other island pixelated into view.

“Give it a second to start picking up the tracking signatures,” the tech added.

As they watched, small red blips began to blink into existence as each tracking tag came online, marking the location of each animal over there. More and more bloomed on screen.

Duncan swore.

Bennett glanced to him, then back to the computer monitor. “That can’t be good.”

Rather than their usual random distribution around the island’s landmarks, all of the blips clustered at the base of the land bridge. The entire menagerie had converged there. Duncan could only think of one reason why.

“They’re going to try to break through the barrier.”

“And you don’t know who that stranger is?” Bennett asked. “The one out there with them.”

“No.” And the man’s survival confounded him. “But he’s got to be working with that group from the Zodiac. I wager this is all a private attempt to rescue Dr. Polk.”

It was the only thing that made sense. Duncan had already explained to Bennett about the Cajun in the ball cap.

“If they had any real government backing,” Duncan continued, “there’d be a stronger response. Warships and helicopters. In some ways, I think this is just a fishing expedition. To see if Dr. Polk is still alive. But who knows how long that will last? A government response could already be mustering.”

“What do you recommend?”

“A scorched-earth policy.”

Bennett’s eyes widened. He glanced to Duncan for clarification.

“If these bastards know about Lost Eden Cay, others will, too. We’ve lost control. We’re now too exposed. We have to accept that reality and deal with it aggressively.”

“How aggressively?”

“We evacuate, burn both islands to the bedrock, kill everyone still out there. Leave no trace. With no trail back to us, we can start again somewhere else. It’ll be a setback, but we won’t be dead in the water.”

Bennett sighed with a note of resignation. He turned to the blasted windows that overlooked the cove and mumbled.
“ ‘So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden.’ ”

Duncan pressed him. “Sir?”

Another sigh followed. “I see your point. We don’t have any choice. After all the problems here, a clean start might be good. Malik is already securing the last of our viral samples and all his records. We can be ready and at the helipad in fifteen minutes.”

“Better make that ten,” Duncan warned.

“What about Dr. Polk?”

“I’ve already taken care of that problem.”

Bennett looked resigned, but he’d get over it. Duncan was paid big money to make the hard decisions and carry them out.

“What’s the immediate plan of action?” Bennett asked, changing the subject.

Duncan nodded to the video feed. “To close that back door. To make sure we have no more surprises during our evacuation. I have a team headed down to ambush the group from the Zodiac. The bastards will be pinned down against the fence and the jet boats.”

“What about the other side?”

Duncan stared at the cluster of red blips on the computer monitor. It was time to put an end to Malik’s failed experiment, to raze it to the ground. As a precaution, he’d seeded the entire island with napalm charges. Over a hundred. The resulting firestorm would destroy all life in a matter of minutes. And anyone who tried to escape would be picked off by the sharpshooters in the jet boats.

Reaching to a pocket, Duncan removed a radio transmitter. He’d taken it from his office safe before coming up here. Two buttons glowed on the unit.

One was tuned to the buried charges on the other island.

The second would ignite a pair of massive bombs built into the infrastructure of the villa: one in the upper building, the other in the subterranean lab. With the blast equivalent to forty-four tons of TNT, the bombs would blow the top off the island, literally wiping it from the map.

But that would have to wait.

He flipped the trigger guard over the
first
button.

Bennett gaped at the transmitter. “What? You’re blowing up the other island
now?
”

“No time like the present.”

Duncan pressed the button.

That takes care of one problem.