The Atlantis Plague (52 page)

“Why? What did you think I could do?”

“Save lives. I saw what kind of man you were. I knew what you would do. And you did something else, something more: you led me to a cure.”

“You couldn’t have known,” David said.

“No. I had no idea. For the first time in thirteen thousand years, my part of the ship was near land. I could escape. The world I found horrified me, especially the Immari. I am, however, a scientist and a pragmatist. I was not aware of Continuity at this point. From what I could see, the Immari were conducting the most advanced genetic experiments. I joined them, hoping to use their knowledge, to find a cure.”

“Your cure. It’s a fake, isn’t it?”

“It is quite real.”

“What does it do?” David demanded.

Janus glanced at the stone box that lay at the edge of the soft yellow light from the cube. “It corrects a mistake, an act I failed to stop a very long time ago.”

“Speak English.”

Janus ignored David’s order. He simply stared at the box. “The alpha was the last piece I needed. I can’t believe they saved it across the ages.”

“Last piece of what?”

“A therapy that will roll back all of our genetic updates—everything, including the Atlantis Gene. The remaining humans on this planet will be as they were when we found them.”

CHAPTER 92

Somewhere off the coast of Italy

Dorian’s last jab had hit Kate in the heart, he knew it. He knew her. She was so vulnerable, so easy to manipulate. He could play her like a piano.

Her eyes were closed now, but he knew she was thinking of him.

He leaned his head back against the seat cushion, and the helicopter faded away, as if he were falling down a well. He couldn’t stop the memory.

He stood in a room with seven doors. He held a rifle.

A door opened, and someone wearing an environmental suit ran in carrying another person. Dorian fired at the limp body the runner was carrying. The blast ripped it to pieces and threw both of them back against the doors.

The live one squirmed, struggling to hold the dead body. Dorian closed the distance and raised his rifle. The figure rose. Dorian fired, hitting the suit dead in the middle, but his target was already through another door. He had escaped.

Dorian considered pursuing. He ran back to the control panel and worked it with his fingers. No. His enemy was in a part of the ship in Gibraltar that offered no escape. Serves him right—an eternity in a tomb below the sea.

Dorian manipulated the controls, programming one of the portal doors to take him to the scientists’ deep-space vessel. He had the genetic therapy he needed to complete the transformation. Once he had the ship, he would have revenge for his people.

The control panel froze. Dorian stared at it. The scientists had locked their vessel down. Very clever. They were quite smart; but he was smarter.

He walked out of the room with the bank of doors and down the hallway. Dorian knew this hallway. He had seen it before. A door hissed open.

The same room. Three suits hung here now, and there were three cases on the small bench.

He put on a suit and took two of the cases.

He stalked out of the room, to a lab. He programmed the cases, then picked up a silver cylinder that contained the final therapy.

He donned the suit and exited the ship.

The area outside was an ice cathedral, just as he had seen before.

He set the case down and tapped a few places on his arm, on a control panel built into the suit. Slowly, the case changed. It seemed to flow together, and then the silver-white fluid that had been an alloy swirled at the ground and moved higher, swaying back and forth, like a cobra emerging from a basket. Two arms separated from the silver column, then clashed together. Tendrils reached across until the glowing door was complete. Instinctively, Dorian knew what it was: a wormhole. A gateway to the exact point he needed to reach.

Dorian stepped through.

He stood on a mountaintop. No, it was more than a mountain. A volcano. Tidal waves of liquid rock burned and churned below. A tropical paradise spread out across the islands that surrounded it.

He held the cylinder out, then dropped it into the soup of liquid rock.

What was this?

His mind seemed to answer.
A backup plan. If I fail—if I’m trapped on the scientists’ vessel—the genetic transformation will still go forward.
It would only be a matter of time before the volcano erupted, shooting the therapy into the air and then raining it down around the world.

He set the other case down and it formed another door. He stepped through it.

He emerged on the bridge of the scientists’ vessel. It was buried of course, but he could quickly remedy that.

He accessed the controls, turning the ship’s systems on one by one. He turned his head.

Did he feel…

The air… it was draining. Yes, he could feel it now.

Dorian had known that it was a risk—that the scientist could try to trap or kill him, but he had no choice but to take the risk. Waiting would have served no purpose. He tried to focus on the crisis at hand.

How long did he have?

He raced out of the bridge. His mind combed through the options.

The shuttle bay. No. He had nowhere to go. The ship was at least two hundred meters below the surface, maybe more. What was protocol?

Did they have any portal-making technology on board? Were they allowed to carry it? Even if they did, he would never find it.

EVA suits. Yes, a suit would have oxygen.

He could feel the air growing thinner by the second. He stopped and pressed his hand against the wall, activating a ship map. EVA suits. Where would they be? Near an airlock.

His breath grew raspy.

He swallowed, but he couldn’t quite get it down.

He worked the map. He needed another option. Medical. It was close.

He stumbled down the hall. The doors parted, and he collapsed inside.

A bank of six shimmering glass tubes spread out before him.

He crawled.

How fitting, he thought. To spend eternity in a tube, far below the surface. That is my fate. I cannot escape it. I will never greet death, never fulfill my destiny. My army will never rise, and I will never rest.

The tube opened.

He crawled inside.

Dorian was again in the helicopter. The wind blew across his face, and the roar of the rotor blades thumped in his ears.

For the first time, it all made sense. The pieces fit together; the entire picture was clear.

The portal in Germany. It led to the ship, to Ares. Brilliant.

Kate. She had the Atlantean scientist’s memories. She could unlock the ship and free Ares. Together, Ares and Dorian could complete their work on Earth and transport their army to the final war. Victory would come soon after.

Dorian stared at Kate. She sat across from him, her eyes closed.

Ares’ words echoed in his mind.
She’s the key to everything. But you must wait. At some point very soon, she will acquire a piece of information—a code. That code is the key to freeing me. You must capture her after she has the code and bring her to me.

Dorian marveled at Ares’ genius. The realization, the full appreciation of the Atlantean’s plan struck him. He felt… awe. Dorian finally felt as though he had an equal. No, a superior. But Ares was something more. Dorian knew it now: Ares had designed the entire process partly for him—for Dorian’s own growth. The charade in Antarctica, his challenge to find Kate Warner. It was as though Ares was… mentoring Dorian. But it was even more than that. Ares was more than a mentor to him. Dorian had a part of Ares inside of him, his memories and more—his desires, his unrealized dreams.

A father. That was the most apt term. That’s what Ares was to him.

And they would be together again soon.

Dorian tried to imagine their reunion, what he would say, what Ares would say. And after… what else did Ares have left to teach him? What would Dorian learn about himself? He knew it now. That was his true desire—to finally unravel the greatest mystery of all: how he had come to be what he was.

Ares and the answers waited beyond the portal. They would reach it soon.

CHAPTER 93

CDC
Atlanta, Georgia

Paul Brenner opened the door and walked to his nephew’s bedside. The boy was still.

“How do you feel?”

The boy looked up at him. He started to speak, but no words came.
What’s happening to him?
Paul wondered.

He checked the vitals. All normal. Physically, the boy had made a miraculous recovery.

Paul rubbed his temples.
What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I think straight?
His mind seemed to be in a fog, a cloud of confusion he couldn’t escape.

David tried to wrap his mind around Janus’s words. “You’re taking us back to the stone ages? You’re…
devolving
us?”

“I’m making you safe. Have you not understood a word I’ve said? An enemy of unimaginable strength is hunting my people. You have some of us inside of you. Regression, devolution is the only chance you have. It will save your species.”

“Assuming we’re even the same species. Look, we’re not going back. I don’t accept this.”

“I respect that, Mr. Vale. Indeed, that’s why I chose you—you fight for your own kind, you sacrifice for them. You follow the Human Code. But it betrays you in this moment. You just heard the history of your world and your species. Those primates that came down from the trees and sought sustenance on the savannas, they were survivors. Ask the chimpanzees and gorillas how they feel about their choice to remain in the trees. It was easier there, but those who ventured out, who chose the hard road, actually grew stronger, adapted, and evolved—the few who survived. The tribes that marched to the sea during Toba, they were survivors too. That is the defining trait of your species. This is how you will survive this trial.” Janus jerked his head toward the tunnel. “The cube is through—”

David grabbed a lantern. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“It has been for a very long time, Mr. Vale.”

David had led Janus and Milo out of the tunnel, toward the rays of sunlight that cut across the tunnel opening. The glowing yellow cube hovered just beyond the newly carved entrance.

David crossed the threshold first. He swept the room with his assault rifle. Nothing moved. In the corner, a pool of blood spread out. David crept toward it, fearing what he would see.

Kamau. Knife wound to the chest.

David bent and pressed his fingers to the African’s neck. He felt the cold skin before the lack of a pulse. Still, he held it there, waiting, refusing to believe it.

Janus and Milo both stared at the scene. Apparently neither knew what to say.

Finally, David rose and walked over to Kate’s computer. He closed it and stuffed it and the other equipment in the backpack. “Let’s move out.”

Outside the building, David led the group back to the square. Their helicopter was gone.

He turned to Janus. “What’s the plan? We can’t beat them to Germany—they’re too far ahead of us.”