Vapor (27 page)

“A comet?” Despite our predicament, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s crazy.”

Graham laughed. “Just so you know, major space impacts are rare. We’re talking one every ten thousand years or so.”

Simona smiled condescendingly. “Obviously, you’re only familiar with the American school.”

His laughter died away. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There are two schools of thought on near-Earth objects. American astronomers believe the main threat to Earth lies in Apollo asteroids, which are solid bodies of rock crossing our orbit. They want to map the Apollos and keep an eye on them. Like you, they believe no large objects from space have struck this planet for many thousands of years.”

“You mentioned two schools.” I kept a close eye on the guards, but they kept their distance from us. “What’s the other one?”

“It’s based out of Britain,” she replied. “Unlike the Americans, its proponents believe comets pose the biggest threat to our planet. Comets contain a greater variety of materials, including ice, frozen gas, carbons, and rock. They’re often colored black and thus, are far harder to see in the sky. In addition, since most of their materials break away in mid-air, they don’t leave craters in the same manner as asteroids. The British school believes close encounters with comet fragments occur far more frequently than is commonly thought, perhaps in the neighborhood of one every couple hundred years or so.”

“So, you think a comet hit Earth way back in the 1340s?” Graham looked doubtful. “How can you be so sure without a crater?”

“We don’t have to trust the words of our predecessors alone,” Simona said. “Tree-ring data from Europe and the Americas indicates there was a global environmental downturn during the years of the Black Death. Also, ice core data suggests there were increased amounts of carbon dioxide and ammonia in the air at the time, suggesting ocean turnover. All of this points to a corruption in the atmosphere.”

“Let’s say you’re right,” Graham said. “How in the world does a comet corrupt the atmosphere?”

“The same way a volcano does.” My eyes tightened. “By stuffing it with dust and chemicals.”

“Very good.” Simona nodded. “Multiple sources indicate there was a significant earthquake on January 25, 1348. Other earthquakes soon followed. I believe fragments from Comet Negra, which passed by Earth in 1347, caused those quakes. In other words, our planet was subjected to a comet shower. Now, most of the fragments exploded in the atmosphere, producing ammonium, nitrate, and a whole host of other chemicals. Others collided with the ocean or in remote areas, setting off earthquakes in the process. In any event, the fragments injected large amounts of dust as well as a variety of chemicals into the stratosphere. The chemicals drifted downward, poisoning the breathing air and infecting the drinking water.”

A few uncomfortable moments passed. My brain reeled as I connected the dots between the Black Death and Project Miasma.

Graham glanced at her. “You said the Black Death had symptoms. Buboes, right?”

“That’s right.” My gaze turned to Simona. “How could a corrupted atmosphere cause buboes?”

“First-hand descriptions of the Black Death are far from similar. Symptoms varied from case to case, which is exactly what you’d expect in a corrupted atmosphere.” She rested her hands on her hips. “The corrupted air killed some people. But most importantly, it weakened many others, which made them easy prey for a whole host of diseases. Some of the victims probably did fall prey to bubonic plague. Others succumbed to anthrax. Still others fell to far simpler diseases.”

I tried to find the flaw in her logic. But her theory made a whole lot of sense. A severe corruption of the atmosphere had weakened people. Diseases had run rampant. Writers of the past and present had grouped them together, turning many ailments into the Black Death.

“A comet shower would explain the geographical spread,” I said slowly. “As material descended from the sky, it must’ve first fallen on the northern Mediterranean Sea. Then it branched outward, hitting some areas more than others.”

Simona nodded. “Exactly. If the atmosphere were well mixed, the material would’ve hit everywhere at once. But it’s not well mixed. My research indicates the material fell in concentric circles. That’s why certain cities were spared the Black Death while neighboring ones were devastated by it.”

“Ancient air.” The last big piece clicked into place. “That’s why you needed the reliquary. That’s why you collected those other artifacts, the ones that had been originally sealed in boxes. You’re trying to recreate the exact air quality that existed during the Black Death.”

“Actually, my scientists already recreated it. We call it Miasma.” Simona smiled. “First, they developed specific nanomaterials to mimic the properties of ordinary chemicals, only on a much greater scale. Then they spent many hours researching comets and trying to synthesize a mixture that would approximate the Black Death. But the result—which we call CN-46—was unsatisfying. So, I started funding digs, hoping to find an air sample from the era. That’s how I met Lila. Unfortunately, she didn’t agree with my intentions.”

“You mean she realized you were crazy,” Beverly said.

“I liked Lila. I hated to see her go.” Simona exhaled. “On the bright side, she led me to the reliquary. And to top it off, I even got a chunk of Comet Negra in the bargain.”

I followed her gaze to the dragon statue. And then I realized why the rock had looked so strange to me.

It’s carved out of a meteorite.

I thought about Carrie’s quest to find out what had happened to Saipan’s homeless people. And I thought about Eco-Trek’s capture of Rizzalyn and the other Pagan Nation members. “You tested Miasma on people,” I said slowly. “That’s how you know it works.”

She nodded. “Based on our tests, it’s the real deal. It’s the Black Death, just in a much tighter package.”

A moment of silence fell over us as the gravity of the situation became fully apparent. I recalled Beverly’s work on the Israeli soil samples. The nanomaterial discs—which I now realized were actually CN-46—had begun to experience structural disintegration shortly after their deployment. This allowed the individual nanomaterials to separate from each other. Miasma, I realized, was designed to do the same thing.

Under the guise of geoengineering, Simona planned to pump tons of Miasma aerosols into the upper atmosphere. Those tightly-bounded compounds would break apart, spilling nanomaterials into the air. The nanomaterials, which were equivalent to vast quantities of individual chemicals, would spread out and slowly descend to the earth. In the process, they’d contaminate water supplies. They’d alter the air. Immune systems would falter, break down. Diseases would run rampant.

“You really think you can replicate a global comet shower with your little fleet?” Graham said.

“I’m not just replicating it. I’m improving on it. Miasma aerosols are a miracle of nanotechnology. They allow us to mimic the effects of the Black Death with far less material.” She smiled. “Also, Comet Negra was inefficient, dumping much of its deadly debris over oceans or vacant land. My planes have spent the last year and a half circling the globe, collecting data on how chemicals behave in the atmosphere. We’ve learned about particle stability, the impact of wind currents, and many other things. We’ve already adapted that knowledge for the Miasma dispersal, allowing the aerosols to be specifically targeted for optimal effectiveness.”

“A traditional pandemic would be quickly isolated and stopped,” I said slowly. “But yours will arrive all at once, like a blanket. And since it’s not an actual disease, it can’t be cured.”

She nodded. “Once it’s in the upper atmosphere, it can’t be stopped. My models project that a small amount of Miasma, scattered in aerosol form above a busy city, will kill ten percent of the inhabitants within two weeks. An additional thirty-five to forty-five percent will suffer severely weakened immune systems. They’ll succumb over a period of six months. Altogether, I expect over three billion people to perish within the next year.”

The number was shocking, outrageous. I couldn’t even begin to contemplate it.

Graham shook his head. “You’re a fool.”

She cast him a curious glance. “Oh?”

“You built a model, performed calculations. You think you’ve got everything figured out. But there’s one thing you never took into account.”

“What’s that?”

“Human ingenuity. People like you can’t imagine progress. Instead, you sit around and calculate things as if the world will never change. And that’s just the thing. The world does change, often for the better.” Graham shook his head. “If you kill half the world, you’re killing half the ingenuity as well. And you might end up killing off the very people most capable of saving this planet, if indeed it needs saving.”

“We agree on one thing. Ingenuity will lead to the world’s salvation. But it won’t come from just anyone. It’ll come from me and my scientists.”

“What about morality?” Beverly asked.

Simona looked curious. “What about it?”

“You’re talking about killing billions of innocent people. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“There are no innocent people. All of us, without exception, have embraced industrialization.”

“But people—”

“Are inferior to the natural order,” Simona said, cutting her off. “Nature is perfect. Anything that subverts it is evil.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“It regulates itself, takes care of itself, even evolves on its own merits. Every animal, every plant, every aspect of it plays a role in an established ecosystem. Except, that is, for mankind. We are the fallen ones. We’ve stepped outside nature’s perfection and attempted to remake it in our own image. Miasma will change that. It’ll end industrialization and force us into a new age. We’ll return to our rightful place among animals, among nature.”

“Among billions of dead bodies,” I said.

“Unchecked development will end,” she continued, ignoring me. “Centuries will pass and nature will heal itself. And then all will be right.”

“People will find out you did this. You’ll be remembered as a monster.”

“Perhaps at first,” she replied. “But history has a way of changing things. Abraham Lincoln fought a Civil War that killed over seven hundred thousand people. He was hated in his time, viewed as a bloodthirsty tyrant. But now, we remember him as a demigod. A man who made horrible sacrifices to improve humanity.”

My mind whirled as I thought about the similarities between Simona and myself. Our fathers had both been developers. And we’d both tried to make up for their presumed misdeeds.

I’d taken the viewpoint that the future had already been decided for us. So, I’d increased my focus on saving the past, on trying to salvage artifacts like the ones my father had destroyed.

Simona had taken a decidedly different approach. Rather than plant trees to replace the ones her father had torn down, she’d vowed to change the future. To stop humanity from hurting nature. It was oddly inspiring.

And utterly insane.

Alarm bells blared. Red lights, mounted on the walls, started to flash. Metal shifted inside the lab and clicked loudly.

I ran to the door connecting the lab with the air shower. I yanked it, but a large bolt kept it in place.

“Don’t bother,” Simona called out. “The locks have been electronically activated.”

Slowly, I turned to look at her.

“I enjoyed our chat.” She gave us a sad smile. “Unfortunately, I need to go before more soldiers arrive.”

My eyes widened.

“If you have anything to say to each other, do it now.” She turned to leave. “Because you won’t get another chance.”

“She locked us in here?” Graham’s visage morphed into one of disbelief. “But why?”

I eyed him. “You’d rather she sent her goons in to kill us?”

“No. But why didn’t she?”

Looking through a section of thick glass, I took in the cavern. Moments earlier, Simona had walked into the far left tube. It led north, presumably to Pagan Bay.

Beverly lifted her eyes. “Maybe she’s going to gas us.”

I followed her gaze to the ceiling. A chill ran through me.

Graham gritted his teeth. “Let’s not wait around for it.”

I tried to think. But the blaring alarm caused my head to hurt. Twisting around, I saw the reliquary. My final conversation with Lila blazed a trail across my brain.

“Destroy it. Burn it. Break it. Grind it into pieces. Whatever it takes. Or they’ll die.”

“Who? Who will die?”

“Everyone.”

Why hadn’t I listened to her? Why hadn’t I destroyed it when I had the chance?

I noticed a shadow. Lifting my gaze, I saw Benigno creep out of the far northeastern tube. Stepping quietly, he made a beeline for us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glimpse of light. But it wasn’t one of the red flashing bulbs.

Oh, no.

“Wait,” I yelled. “Get—”

Gunfire ripped out of the northern tube.

Benigno faltered. He spun around. Blood flew out of his chest and stomach. He collapsed to the concrete. A final breath escaped his lungs.

Then he died.