The Atlantis Plague (33 page)

David folded up the map. “It’s what we’re doing. This isn’t a discussion.” He handed the map to Kamau. “Set our course.”

Shaw simply stood there.

“David,” Kate began. The
I need to speak with you
look was the only cue David needed. He followed her downstairs to their stateroom.

She closed the door gently behind him. “I’m sorry, but I think we have to—”

“I want you to trust me, Kate. Let me do this.” He waited for her.

Slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”

“We’ll reach Alborán inside five hours—assuming whoever is chasing us doesn’t catch us first. We need to figure out who killed Martin before we get there.”

“I agree. But first, I want us to decipher the rest of Martin’s code, then I want to call Continuity and relay our findings. If… something bad happens at Alborán, at least they will have our research. Hopefully they can find a cure.”

This was her deal: David would help her work on a cure and she would go along with his plan—and trust him. Tradeoffs, compromises, trust. This was turning into a real relationship.
I’m good with that. I like that.
He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Dorian rolled over in bed. “Come.”

The door to his room opened, and a shy sailor inched in. He held out a closed envelope.

Dorian snatched it and ripped it open.

Where the hell are you?

Warner close to deciphering code.

Our destination is Isla de Alborán.

ETA 5 hours.

Be there.

Be ready.

CHAPTER 67

Mediterranean Sea

When David and Kate returned to the saloon, the two scientists were there waiting for them, sitting side by side on the white leather couches, placid expressions on their faces, as if the world weren’t dying from a global pandemic and they hadn’t just been accused of murder. David had to marvel at them. He wasn’t sure if he felt envy or sheer surprise at their composure.

“We are ready to resume. If you are, of course,” Janus said.

Kate and David sat in club chairs adjacent to the couch.

The wood-paneled, glass-accented room was lit only by three candles on the coffee table now, and the ambiance had gone from a well-lighted science conference to a late-night sleepover.

David turned the paper with Martin’s code around on the coffee table, positioning it to face the others as if it were a Ouija board.

Everyone took a moment to reread the note.

PIE = Immaru?

535…1257 = Second Toba? New Delivery System?

Adam => Flood/A$ Falls => Toba 2 => KBW

Alpha => Missed Delta? => Delta => Omega

70K YA => 12.5K YA => 535…1257 => 1918…1979

Missing Alpha Leads to Treasure of Atlantis?

“Several items still confuse me,” David said. “I believe the first two lines are simply notes—one about PIE. As we discussed, I’m quite certain Martin believed the Immaru were the PIE, Proto-Indo-Europeans, or at least a descendant group. The other note refers to an event in 535 and again in 1257. I know what it is, and I’ll explain that in a moment. Then the three lines are a chronology—a time line that overlaps and corresponds to the Tibetan tapestry Kate saw at the Immaru monastery. But I believe Martin’s chronology may be incomplete. Let’s take it step by step.”

David pointed at the word Adam. “Adam, Alpha, 70K YA.”

“In research,” Kate said, “the alpha signifies the first person in a clinical trial—the first to receive a test therapy.”

“Yes,” David said. “I think
Adam
here is the first human that received the Atlantis Gene. That’s the event in the flood of fire in the tapestry and the first major event in Martin’s chronology. The next is the
Flood, A$ Falls
, 12,500 years ago. I believe A$ is shorthand for Atlantis. So
Flood, Atlantis Falls
. When I was in the Atlantis structure in Gibraltar, there was a chamber with a series of… holomovies. I believe they showed this event—the fall of Atlantis at the foot of the Rock of Gibraltar. In the movie, the Atlantean ship hovered just above the water, then set down on the coast, just outside a prehistoric megalithic settlement. Two Atlanteans in suits exited the craft and interrupted a prehistoric tribal ritual, saving a Neanderthal. As soon as they returned to the ship, it was hit by a tidal wave that drove it inland, destroying the ancient city. As the water pulled the ship back out to sea, explosions rocked it, destroying the ship.”

“Where it lay buried for almost thirteen thousand years, until 1918, when my father helped the Immari find it,” Kate said.

“Exactly. The puzzling part is the notation: Missing Delta?”

“Delta signifies change,” Kate said. “‘Missing Delta’… So a change didn’t happen?”

“If we piece together Martin’s code, the tapestry, and what I saw that night in Gibraltar… In the first two floods on the tapestry, the Atlanteans interact directly with humans. Saving them or warning them. This implies a direct relationship.”

Kate sat back in her chair. “What if the Atlanteans were somehow guiding human evolution? Like an experiment with periodic intervention—and that intervention failed to happen 12,500 years ago because of the ship’s explosion: the fall of Atlantis.”

“I believe that’s what Martin thought.” A thought struck David; did he have the other piece of the puzzle?

In Antarctica, when David was in the tube, the Atlantean had released Dorian first—given him a head start. The Atlantean had watched David and Dorian fight to the death, as if he knew the outcome, as if the Atlantean were simply waiting for his champion to triumph—Dorian.

David had died a second time in Antarctica. But unlike his first death, he hadn’t resurrected in Antarctica. He had awoken in the Atlantis structure in Gibraltar—a section at the base of Jebel Musa in Morocco. Someone had made David resurrect there. Another Atlantean? David had noticed another damaged suit on the floor of the resurrection room. He tried to think back to the holomovie. Neither of the suits had been damaged during the events, he was sure of it.

Yet, the fact was undeniable: another Atlantean had brought him back—after Dorian and the Atlantean in Antarctica had killed him.

Another faction? One clearly wanted him dead. The other had saved him.

David was now sure of two things. One, that the Atlanteans were waging some sort of civil war. And two, that there was no way he was telling Kate or the two scientists what had happened to him. It was too… fantastic, even for
him
to believe—and it had happened to him.

“I have a theory,” David said. “I believe what I witnessed—the Atlantis disaster—wasn’t a natural phenomenon. I think it was an attack.”

“By whom?” Chang asked.

“I don’t know,” David said. “But what if there were two factions of Atlanteans—or a traitor, someone who sabotaged the ship, preventing some intervention? I mean look at the broad arc of human history. All the major stuff happened in the last thirteen thousand years—agriculture, cities, writing, you name it. The population chart explodes around this time. It coincides with the end of the glacial maximum and warmer weather, but…”

Janus leaned forward. “I find your ‘missing intervention’ theory intriguing. I see one hole, however. The next step in the chronology: ‘535…1257, Toba 2, Delta’—that implies a change did happen then—recently. And from the videos, you say the ship was destroyed.”

David nodded. “I think those two Atlanteans must have died in Gibraltar. It’s the only explanation. I think whoever killed them facilitated the change in 535.”

Janus nodded. “Which leads me to my conclusion: if an Atlantean intervened in 535—another delta, as you say—where are they? If they have the power to control human evolution, where are they hiding?”

David pondered the question. He didn’t have an answer, and it was, in truth, a very good question. The fact that he had advanced so many ideas made him feel a little defensive, as if he had to keep throwing out more possibilities to corroborate his theory. He felt himself tensing a bit, readying for battle.

Dr. Chang set his teacup down. “I too find it a valid question. However, I would like to hear more about the actual event—Toba 2, in 535, or is it 1257? Was Dr. Grey uncertain on the actual date?”

The question brought David back, made him focus. “No. I don’t think so. I believe the dates are the beginning and end of a period, marked by two specific events.”

“What period?” Janus asked.

“The dark ages in Europe.”

“And two… events?”

“Volcanos and then plagues,” David said. “One that ushered in the dark ages, another that led Europe out. There’s strong evidence that the first outbreak—in 535—was linked to a massive volcano near mount Toba in Indonesia.” He thought for a second. “You could think of it as a sort of
Second Toba Catastrophe
.”

“I would have heard about a Second Toba Catastrophe,” Kate said.

David smiled. Him, telling her about a volcano that changed the fate of humanity. “It’s not well known,” he said, echoing her words to him in Jakarta when she had first told him about the Toba Catastrophe Theory.

“Touché,” Kate said.

“What we know is this: in 535, temperatures around the world dropped rapidly. We’re talking about an eighteen-month-long winter—a harsh, bitter winter with very little sunlight. This is what was described in historical records. It’s actually the most severe climate event in recorded history. In China, snow fell in August. Throughout Europe, crops were lost and famine ensued.”

“A volcanic winter.”

“Yes. The historical accounts across Asia and Europe attest to it. Ice core samples confirm it, and tree-ring evidence from Scandinavia and western Europe also reveals a huge reduction in tree growth in the years 536 to 542, not recovering fully until the 550s. But it wasn’t the years-long winter that plunged humanity into darkness, it was the plague that followed—the worst pandemic in known history.”

“The Plague of Justinian,” Kate whispered. “In terms of casualty rates, it was the worst catastrophe in recorded history. But I don’t see how it could be connected to a volcanic eruption. And wait, tell me again how you know all this?”

“It might be hard for you to believe, but I was
this close
to a PhD. My thesis was on the origins and impact of the Dark Ages in Europe.” He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged theatrically. “I’m more than a pretty face and a skinny waist, you know.”

Kate shook her head, her face somewhere between embarrassment and disbelief. “I stand corrected. Please continue.”

“Here’s what we know: up to a third of the eastern Mediterranean’s population died in the outbreak. The Eastern Roman Empire was devastated. The capital, Constantinople, went from a city of half a million to less than a hundred thousand after the plague. They named the plague after the Roman Emperor Justinian. It’s hard to exaggerate the carnage of this plague. It was like nothing the world had ever seen. Some victims would take days to die. Others became ill and died within minutes. On the streets, bodies were simply stacked up. The smell of death was everywhere. In Constantinople, the emperor ordered the dead be buried at sea.” David’s mind flashed to Ceuta. He focused. “But there were too many of them. Dead bodies were dangerous in ancient cities. So the emperor ordered that mass graves be dug outside the city. Bodies of the dead were burned there. The historical record says that they stopped counting after three hundred thousand.”

None of the scientists said a word. David took a sip of coffee and continued.

“As a historian, this plague is remarkable not because of its mortality, but for how it reshaped the entire world. In many ways, the world we inhabit grew directly out of the events of the sixth century.”

“What do you mean?” Kate asked.

“In the wake of the plague, we see the end of the supercities of the ancient world. Ancient Persia, once a super-nation, crumbles. The Eastern Roman Empire had been close to retaking its western half—the ‘Rome’ everyone talks about. But in the wake of this pandemic, it’s besieged and almost falls. It eventually becomes the Byzantine Empire. We see these falls across the world—mighty empires recede and barbarian tribes actually gain ground. The major lesson from the Plague of Justinian is that the most connected civilizations, the most advanced, those with established international trade routes and supercities: they suffered the most. It was the isolated, simple societies that fared the best. Take sixth-century Britain—it’s a great example. Britain at the time of the plague was dominated by the Romano-British. Based on artifacts, we know they traded with nations as far away as Egypt—that’s where the plague first appeared, by the way, or that was the first account.”

“I don’t understand,” Dr. Chang said.

“The trade routes brought the plague. The British had been at war with several Germanic tribes that had settled their western coast. At the time of the outbreak in the mid-sixth century, these tribes were mostly contained and regarded as barbarians. No one traded with them, and the British mainly refused to intermarry with them. In the wake of the outbreak, these tribes seized the initiative, spreading throughout Britain and eventually taking control. The primary tribes were the Angles and the Saxons. In fact, some believe the legend of King Arthur is a composite of British knights who fought these Angle and Saxon invaders. The fact that people in Britain and around the world speak English—a Germanic language—is because of the plague… and the Angle and Saxon triumph after. It wasn’t just Britain, this happened around the world: advanced civilizations, with cities and population density and established trade routes, fell. The barbarians beyond their gates rose, invaded, and most of the time, just moved on. In cases where the barbarian invaders set up their own government, they were usually sacked a century later by the next roving band of raiders. This was the real end of an era, a time of great cities and civilizations. The Dark Ages came after and they lasted for a very long time—almost a thousand years. It was the greatest reversal of progress in history. In fact, the Dark Ages only really ended after the next major outbreak—”