Home > The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery #2)(7)

The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery #2)(7)
Author: A.G. Riddle

“Orchid. It’s a lie, isn’t it?”

“No. Orchid is real. It stops the plague, but it only buys us time, and it’s failing. We’re having production problems and people are losing hope.”

“You couldn’t have developed it overnight,” Kate said.

“We didn’t. Orchid was our backup plan—developed by your father, actually. He made us assume that a plague would be unleashed, and forced us to search for a cure in case it ever occurred. We worked on it for decades, but we didn’t make any real progress until we found a cure for HIV.”

“Wait, there’s a cure for HIV?”

“I’ll tell you everything, Kate, I swear it. But I need the sample. And I need you to go back to your room. The SAS team is coming for you tomorrow. They’ll take you to England, to safety.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere. I want to help.”

“And you can. But I need to know that you’re safe.”

“Safe from what?” Kate asked.

“The Immari. There have been rumors that they’ve moved troops into the Mediterranean.”

The radio reports Kate had heard mostly talked of Immari forces being defeated in third-world countries. She hadn’t given much thought to them. “The Immari are a threat?”

“Absolutely. They’ve taken over most of the southern hemisphere.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am.” Martin shook his head. “You don’t understand. When the Atlantis Plague hit, over a billion people were infected within twenty-four hours. The governments that didn’t topple overnight declared martial law. Then the Immari started mopping up the world. They offered a novel solution: a society of survivors—but only the rapidly evolving ones, what they call ‘the chosen.’ They started with the southern hemisphere, with high-population nations near Antarctica. They control Argentina, Chile, South Africa, and a dozen others.”

“What—”

“They’re building an army for the invasion in Antarctica.”

Kate stared at him. It couldn’t be. The BBC reports were so positive. Subconsciously, she pulled the tube from her pocket and handed it to him.

Martin took the tube and swiveled around in the chair. He hit a button on a thermos-like container with a small readout and what looked like a satellite phone attached to the side. The top of the container opened, and Martin dropped the plastic tube inside.

Through the window, the fighting in the camp grew more intense.

“What are you doing?” Kate asked.

“Uploading our results to the network.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “We’re one of several sites. I think we’re close, Kate.”

Explosions in the camp filled the small window, and Kate could feel the rush of heat, even through the wall. Martin punched the keyboard and the screens switched to a view of the camp, then the coast. A group of black helicopters filled the screen. Martin stood a split second before the building shook, throwing Kate to the ground. Her ears rang, and she felt Martin jump on top of her, sheltering her from the rubble falling from the ceiling.

CHAPTER 6

Two Miles Below Immari Operations Base Prism

Antarctica

Dorian had almost reached the dead bodies—and the guns—in the corridor beyond the cavernous chamber. Behind him, he heard David’s naked feet pounding the floor. Dorian thought of jumping, but David tackled him, sending Dorian face first into the floor. A shrill wail filled the space as his bare skin slid across the cold floor.

They came to rest in the drying pool of blood around the dead bodies—their dead bodies. Dorian got the jump on his pursuer. He lifted his blood-soaked body just far enough off the floor to throw an elbow into David’s face.

David reeled back and Dorian seized the opening. He twisted and threw David off of him, then scrambled for the pistol lying six feet away, at the edge of the pool of blood—the same pistol David had killed him with before. He had to reach it; it was his only chance. David was thirty-three, about ten years younger than Dorian, and though Dorian would never admit it aloud, David was easily one of the best hand-to-hand fighters he had ever seen. This was a fight to the death, and without the pistol, Dorian knew he would lose.

Dorian felt David’s fingernails dig into the back of his thigh the instant before the fist slammed into his lower back. Pain shot into his kidneys and swept up his chest, sending waves of nausea that engulfed him. Dorian gagged as the second blow struck higher up, in the middle of his back, directly on his spine. The pain rushing over him almost subsided as he lost sensation in his legs. He collapsed to the floor as David crawled on top of him, preparing to finish him with a blow to the back of the head.

Dorian set his palms on the bloody floor, and with every ounce of strength he could muster, he pushed up, throwing his head back. He connected squarely with David’s chin, sending him off balance.

Dorian collapsed back to the floor and commando-crawled on his elbows, dragging his body through the blood. He had the gun, and he flipped over just as David landed on top of him. Dorian raised the gun, but David grabbed his wrists. He was stronger than Dorian, and he easily overpowered him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Dorian saw the Atlantean pace closer. He stared dispassionately, like a spectator at a dog fight who hadn’t bet on this round.

Dorian tried to think—he had to regain the advantage somehow. He released the tension in his arms and let them fall quickly to the ground. David lunged forward, but held his grip. Dorian twisted the gun in his right hand, pointed it at the Atlantean, and pulled the trigger.

David released Dorian’s left hand and grabbed desperately for the gun with his right. The fool was trying to save the Atlantean, as Dorian hoped he would. Dorian formed a straight wedge with his left hand and drove it into David’s upper abs, paralyzing his diaphragm. David gasped for air and rocked back. Dorian broke David’s grip, raised the gun, and shot him once in the head. Then he turned the gun and shot the Atlantean until the clip was empty.

CHAPTER 7

Two Miles Below Immari Operations Base Prism

Antarctica

The Atlantean stared at Dorian with a look of mild amusement. Dorian’s bullets had gone right through him. Or had his shots missed? Dorian’s eyes went to the other pistol in the chamber.

“You want to try another gun, Dorian? Go ahead. I’ll wait. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dorian froze. This thing knew his name. And it wasn’t afraid.

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