The Doomsday Box (6 page)

His consciousness expanded to take in part of the town. There was a heavy-metal beat coming from a building down the road.

Michael's eyes rolled back as he slid to the floor, then closed as he reached it. His body began to twitch, then shake, then convulse violently. A moan escaped his lips, but Michael did not hear it. His head began to pound against the carpet with dull, sickly thuds, in perfect time to the rock music playing in the distant building.

I
t was almost impossible to hear above the noise of the auger, which screeched, rattled, shook, and boomed like constant thunder, so Fuchsia ignored the shouted conversations and entertained herself by surreptitiously watching Danny. He wasn't a conventionally handsome boy—Michael was far better-looking—but he had nice eyes and a cheeky grin. Fuchsia sneezed. There was a lot of dust in the tunnel and it tickled her sinuses. She pulled a little handkerchief from her sleeve, dabbed her nose, and looked around.

Despite Opal's all-clear, the nice colonel had brought in a small contingent of troops wearing battle gear and ear protectors, who were standing at ease just behind the head of the auger. The colonel himself was up in the cabin of the machine, beside the operator. Both were wearing hard hats and earmuffs. Danny was standing with Mr. Carradine well to the rear, where the sound was at a lower level. Opal and Michael were beside them, holding hands, which was sweet, although Michael looked a little off-color, Fuchsia thought, or maybe just tired or worried or something. Perhaps they'd had a fight and made up. Danny happened to glance in Fuchsia's direction, and she gave him a smile and a little wave.

The machine operator pulled a lever, and all the noise and vibration suddenly stopped, leaving Fuchsia with a ringing in her ears. The colonel climbed out of the cabin and dropped to the ground. He walked to his men and said something Fuchsia couldn't hear, which caused them to fan out in a semicircle, rifles at the ready. Mr. Carradine moved to join him, leaving the others where they were. Fuchsia took a casual step or two forward, so she was standing beside Danny. “What do you think is happening?” she asked him.

“Might be close to a breakthrough,” Danny told her.

Mr. Carradine rejoined them. “I need you up front, Opal,” he announced. “They're about to make the final thrust. The rest of you want to come too?”

“Just try to stop us,” Michael said.

“You'll want these,” Mr. Carradine said, handing out military-style ear protectors. “Bad enough up here, but it gets
really
noisy down there. Put them on before the auger starts up again. Opal, I want you to confirm the chamber is still exactly as you saw it—probably will be, but no sense in taking chances. The rest of you”—he smiled—“you're just along for the ride. Stand clear of the soldiers and try not to get in anybody's way.”

The earmuffs reduced the sound level, but even so, the noise was so extreme that Fuchsia knew she'd have to move away again if it went on much longer. But then there was a massive cracking sound and the colonel, now on the ground, was signaling to the auger driver. The great machine reversed and rumbled slowly backward. It moved a long way up the tunnel, then cut its engine again. Fuchsia stared.

The auger had broken through one complete wall of the buried chamber. Despite the damage, the electricity supply still functioned and there were strip lights glowing from the ceiling inside. The chamber contained banks of computerized machinery, much of it very old-fashioned in design. Thick cables snaked toward two enormous upright metal slabs, each close on six feet thick, that ran from floor to ceiling. Between them—

Fuchsia suddenly felt sick. Between them was something that should not have existed, a roiling, pulsing
nothingness,
blacker than black, deeper than the universe and utterly, completely alien. She was looking at the rift in space-time, torn open by the metal slabs that had to be Project Rainbow's giant magnets. Her sole reaction was naked fear. She could not for an instant imagine how anyone would voluntarily enter that hideous space between the slabs. Yet she was certain Rainbow operatives must have done so in the course of their experiments . . . and probably would again, now that the chamber was reopened. It was a terrifying thought.

“Wow!” exclaimed a voice beside her. Danny.

Fuchsia fought down the urge to vomit and, with a massive effort, dragged her gaze away from the rift. She found she was shaking and took deep yoga breaths to steady herself. Beside her, Danny, Opal, Michael, the colonel, and Mr. Carradine were all staring, entranced, at the rift.

“So this is it, Mr. Carradine,” the colonel said.

Carradine nodded.

“I'm supposed to check that the machinery is still working.”

“Then you'd better do so, Colonel,” Carradine said.

The colonel sniffed. “Thought you might like to do that for me, seeing as . . .” He let the sentence trail.

Carradine shrugged. “Okay.” He walked over to the banks of equipment that flanked the rift itself and began to throw a sequence of switches. A humming sound filled the chamber, and a series of dials lit up.

He's done this before
, Fuchsia thought.

“Seems to be running normally,” Carradine murmured.

Fuchsia caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to find the rift had changed texture and was glowing slightly. On the floor between the magnetic pillars was a small plastic box that she was certain hadn't been there before.

The colonel must have spotted it as well, for he muttered, “Where the heck did that come from?” and strode across to pick it up.

“The Cobra!” Carradine whispered, so softly that only Fuchsia could have heard him. “Colonel—” he called anxiously.

The colonel picked up the box.

“—don't open—”

But the colonel was already flicking back the lid. He peered inside and frowned. “Glass vials with some sort of liquid. Three of them are broken.” He reached in and took out a vial for inspection. “Looks like a urine sample.” He glanced across at Carradine. “Did they have some sort of lab down here?”

Carradine said quietly, “Put it back, Colonel, and close the box. Now.”

The colonel stared at him in surprise for a moment, then said, “Right.” He put the vial back and clicked the lid shut. “Best get this to the science boys up top.”

For some reason Fuchsia found herself thinking about the Greek myth of Pandora, who opened a box and released all the evils of the world.

O
pal awoke with a start.

For a long moment she couldn't work out where she was. The room was gloomy, but far from dark—a neon sign outside one window managed to throw a wash of color across the walls despite the curtains. Beyond the foot of her bed, she could see the outline of a television set looming over its own red standby light. Then she remembered: she was in the Montauk Carlton. She turned her head to confirm this and gasped in sudden panic. The space between her bed and the door was filled with alien white figures. Opal opened her mouth to scream.

“Miss Harrington,” said the closest figure, and the only thing that stopped Opal from actually screaming was the fact that it was a woman's voice. “Miss Harrington, are you awake?”

Opal sat bolt upright, holding the bedclothes to her throat. She was wearing only a short silk nightgown and felt extremely vulnerable. “Who are you? What do you want?” A hint of antiseptic wafted into her nostrils.

“Miss Harrington, you need to come with us. You have to get dressed at once.”

“Who are you?” Opal repeated. She reached out and switched on her bedside lamp.

The woman was wearing a white suit of plastic material and some sort of headpiece that covered the whole of her face. Her eyes bored into Opal through transparent goggles. Three other suited figures—men to judge by their size—stood between her and the door. “We're from the Project,” the woman said urgently. “Please, Miss Harrington, you must come with us at once. Have you had close contact with anyone since you left Colonel Saltzman? Anyone in the hotel?”

Frowning, Opal shook her head. “No, I came straight up to my room. What's going on?”

“We can discuss that on the way. We've alerted your father. Now can—”

“My father? What's my father got to do with it?”

But the woman and her companions were already pushing out of the room. “We'll give you privacy to get dressed,” she said, “and talk on the way.”

Opal stared for a moment at the closed door, then got up and headed for the wardrobe. A feeling of dread had settled in her stomach.

As she stepped from the room, they surrounded her and escorted her to the elevator, where another white-suited figure was holding the door. Opal had only the barest impression of the hotel lobby as she was ushered through to startled glances from staff and guests. There was an ambulance on the street outside. Opal stopped dead. “What's this? I'm not sick.” But strong hands gripped her arms and she was frog-marched into the waiting vehicle. The woman and two of her companions climbed in with her.

As the ambulance pulled away, Opal looked from one silent figure to another and fought to keep calm. Eventually she said in her coldest voice, “This has gone far enough. If you want me to cooperate, you will have to tell me what is going on. Otherwise”—she fished her cell phone from her pocket and flicked it open—“I shall place a call to Colonel Saltzman and demand—”

“Colonel Saltzman is dead,” said the woman beside her.

“What?”

“I'm sorry. I don't know any easy way to tell you this. The colonel is dead. Project Rainbow is now under the command of Brigadier General Tudor.”

Opal stared at her, but the headgear made it impossible to read any expression. “Colonel Saltzman can't be dead. I was speaking to him only hours ago.”

“Miss Harrington, I'm Dr. Amory—that's Major Helen Amory, Army Medical Corps, on assignment to Project Rainbow for the duration of the current emergency. Colonel—”

“What current emergency?” Opal interrupted.

“Miss Harrington, you and I will get on far better if you give me a chance to explain. Everyone here is cleared to hear what I have to say, and that may not be the case when we arrive, so I'd suggest you shut up and listen—okay?”

Opal shut up and listened.

“Miss Harrington,” said Helen Amory, “I don't have the security clearance to know what Colonel Saltzman and his people were doing at Project Rainbow, but I've been told you and your friends were flown over from England to help. I also understand the CIA is involved here, as well as the army, maybe other agencies. Now, what I can tell you is this. Colonel Saltzman died just over an hour ago from a highly infectious disease. The disease is bacterial in origin, but resistant to our most powerful antibiotics. We tried seventeen of them on him, singly and in combination, and nothing touched his fever. We were still searching for an effective treatment when he died.”

“He looked completely healthy when I saw him,” Opal said, wide-eyed.

“It's one of the most virulent illnesses I have ever seen. It's also one of the most infectious. Two of the nurses who looked after Colonel Saltzman are now fighting for their lives. One of his military personnel—Captain Alison Woods—was with him when he collapsed. She is now showing early symptoms.”

“I met Captain Woods,” Opal said. “She was in charge of security.”

Dr. Amory glanced out the ambulance window, then turned back to Opal. “We've set up quarantine units in the old underground base. It's only a matter of time before we find an antibiotic that works, of course, but in the meantime we must isolate everyone who's been in contact with the disease.”

“That's where you're taking me?” Opal said, half a question, half a statement.

Helen Amory nodded. “Yes.”

“I don't feel ill,” Opal told her.

“And hopefully you'll stay that way. But it's vital we keep this from spreading, and you and your friends were in contact with the colonel.”

“So you're bringing in the others as well?”

Dr. Amory nodded again. “Yes.”

“Will I be given treatment?” Opal asked.

“Not unless you get ill. We've only managed to set up a few treatment units so far, and they're all in use. The rest of the units are more like hospital wards, I'm afraid. Some of them were jail cells, dating from the time when Rainbow was first established. But we'll make you as comfortable as possible and you'll be fed army food, which isn't nearly as bad as you'd imagine.”

“How long will you keep me isolated?”

“No more than a week,” Helen Amory told her. “Unless you show symptoms.”

“A
week
?” Opal exploded. “I'm supposed to fly home tomorrow—later today.”