The Atlantis Gene: A Thriller (29 page)

She collapsed back to the floor, took David by the arm and dragged him to the corner, as far away from the door as she could get. She’d given him a shot of antibiotics and cleaned the wounds as best she could. There was nothing left to do. She leaned back against the wall, pulled him into her lap, and put her legs around his to try to keep him warm. His listless head came to rest on her stomach and she ran a hand through his short hair. He was getting colder.

CHAPTER 64

Beyond the windows of the helicopter, the sun was setting on the Tibetan Plateau. Dorian tried to find the facility in the expanse of green forest. It was just a single column of gray and white smoke now, like a campfire in the untouched wilderness.

“The last train is away,” Dmitry said.

“Drones?” Dorian didn’t look away from the window or the column of smoke.

“30 minutes out.” When Dorian said nothing, the man continued, “What now?”

“Stop the trains. Catalog everyone, including the dead bodies. Make sure our men are in full quarantine gear.”

CHAPTER 65

Kate stared out into the black night. A sliver of a moon cast a small twinkle of light over the treetops that rushed by. Or had rushed by. The train was slowing. But there was nothing outside, just forest.

She slid David’s head out of her lap and walked to the door. She leaned out and looked toward the front of the train, then to the rear. They were in the last car and there was nothing on the tracks behind them. Kate turned to go back into the car, and she saw it — through the opposite door, on the track beside them, another train, sitting there as still and dark as the night, almost invisible. And there was something else: dark figures standing on the top of the train. Waiting for what?

The train stopped, and at almost the same instant, she heard the thunder of boots landing on the ceiling. Kate moved back into the shadow of the car just as the soldiers swooped in through the doorway like gymnasts rounding a high bar. They spread out in the room quickly, shining lights in her face and in every corner of the car. They snapped a zip line between the trains and pulled it to test the strength.

A man grabbed Kate, clipped onto the line, and launched out the door toward the second train. Kate looked back. David. But they had him too; another man, right behind her, held David to his chest with one arm like you might carry a sleeping child.

Kate’s captor led her into a dining car and shoved her into a booth. “Wait here,” he said in Chinese-accented English before turning to leave.

The other man brought David in and plopped him down on a couch. Kate rushed to him. He didn’t look any worse, but that wasn’t saying much. He didn’t have long.

Kate looked around. Maybe there was something she could use. The dining car was about 40 feet long, most of it dedicated to booths, but at the far end was a small bar with a soft-drink dispenser, glasses, and liquor.

Kate ran over to the bar and ransacked it. What was she even looking for? She needed a plan. What did David need? Blood. And to get the bullets out. Well, the bullet. The shot to his shoulder had glanced off of him and the one in the leg had gone straight through. There was just one bullet — in his chest. It was buried pretty deep; it must have been the first shot that hit him. She had to face facts: she couldn’t get the bullet out; that would kill him for sure. That left giving him blood. And she could give him blood — Kate was O negative — the universal donor. If… she could get it inside him.

The train lurched, throwing Kate to the floor. They were moving. She got back to her feet as the train jerked forward in gasps and spurts, picking up speed. Out the window, she couldn’t see the other train, the cargo train they had been on. They were taking them in the other direction. Who were they? Kate didn’t care, not right now.

She continued searching the bar. A tube, or— the drink dispenser. She spun the cart around. Clear plastic tubes ran from the taps to black and yellow plastic bags. She ripped a tube out and sized it up. It could work, but the end was flat, it would never puncture a vein. She grabbed a knife and whittled at the end, sharpening it. Would it work? She ran around the car, surveying the rest of the “tools” she had to work with.

Fifteen minutes later, the tube ran from Kate’s arm to David’s. She pumped her fist. The blood flowed. She was so hungry. And sleepy. But she was doing something, and that felt very good.

CHAPTER 66

CNN Breaking News Bulletin
// Blasts reported in Western China; Believed to be an industrial accident at an Immari International research facility; Details are still emerging.

CHAPTER 67

Kate awoke to the chime of bells drifting in through a large picture window above the alcove that held her small twin bed. A cool, crisp, clean mountain wind pushed the white linen drapes out over her bed, almost touching her face.

She reached up to touch the cloth, but drew back in pain. Inside her elbow, her arm was badly bruised. Pools of dark purple and black extended into her forearm and crawled up her bicep.

David.

She looked out at the room, some sort of classroom maybe — it was long and wide with a rustic wooden floor, white plaster walls, and wood beams every ten feet.

She barely remembered getting off the train. It had been late in the night. The men had carried her up endless stairs, into a mountain fortress. She remembered now, a monastery, or a temple.

She started to roll off the bed, but something startled her — movement in the room, a figure rising from the floor. He had been sitting so still she hadn’t seen him. He walked closer, and Kate could see he was young, a teenager. He looked almost like a teenage Dalai Lama; he wore a thick crimson robe that was clasped at one shoulder and extended to his toes, resting just above his leather sandals. His head was shaved. He smiled at her and said eagerly, “Good morning, Dr. Warner.”

She put her feet on the ground. “I’m sorry, you scared me.” She felt lightheaded.

He bowed extravagantly, extending one arm out toward the ground as he bent. “I did not mean to alarm, Madam. I am Milo, at your service.” He spoke each word with care.

“Uh, thank you.” She rubbed her head, trying to focus. “There was a man with me.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Reed.”

Reed?

Milo paced to a table near the bed. “I came to take you to him.” He picked up a large ceramic bowl with two hands and walked back to her, extending it into her face. “But first, breakfast!” He raised his eyebrows as he said it.

Kate reached out to brush the bowl aside, but as she stood, she felt faint. She collapsed back onto the bed, disoriented.

“Breakfast does a Doctor Warner good.” Milo smiled and extended the bowl again.

Kate leaned closer, smelled the thick porridge concoction, and reluctantly took the spoon and tried it. Delicious. Or was it that she was so famished and the ration packs had been so bad? She finished the bowl in seconds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Milo returned the bowl to the table and handed her a thick cloth like a handkerchief. Kate smiled sheepishly and wiped her mouth.

“Now, I’d like to see—”

“Mr. Reed. Of course. Right this way.” Milo led her out of the room and down a long breezeway that connected several structures.

The view was breathtaking. A green plateau spread out before them, reaching to the horizon, interrupted only by several snow-capped mountain ranges. Smoke from several villages emerged from the plateau below. In the distance, something dotted the sides of the mountains — other monasteries, built right into the steep snow-capped slopes.

Kate had to fight the urge to stop and take it all in. Milo slowed to let her catch up.

They turned another corner. Below them, a large square wooden deck overlooked the valleys and mountains below. Twenty or thirty men, all with shaved heads and dressed in crimson robes, sat Indian style, unmoving, staring out into the distance.

Milo turned to Kate. “Morning meditation. Would you like to join?”

“Uh, not today.” Kate mumbled as she fought to look away from the scene.

Milo ushered her into another room where she saw David lying in an alcove similar to the one she’d woken up in. Kate ran to him. She knelt at his bedside and examined him quickly. He was awake, but listless. Antibiotics. He needed more to fight the infection. Unchecked, it would kill him for sure, assuming the septic shock from the bullet in his chest didn’t get him first. She would have to deal with the bullet sooner or later.

First things first. She had left the antibiotics on the train. “Left” when she was abducted. Or rescued? There were so many mysteries at this point.

“Milo, I need some medications, antibiotics—”

The young man motioned her over to a table like the one he’d served her breakfast porridge from. “We assumed as much, Dr. Warner. I have prepared a series of remedies for your use.” He waved a hand over several piles of dirt-ridden roots, a pile of orange powder, and a bundle of mushrooms. He smiled and cocked his head, as if to say
pretty great, huh?

Kate put her hands on her sides. “Milo, these are, um, very helpful, thank you, but I um… I’m afraid his condition is seve—, will require some medi—”

Milo stepped back, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and pointed at her. “Ahhh, I get you good, Dr. Warner!” He threw open the doors to a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet, revealing a bounty of modern medical supplies.

Kate rushed to the cupboard, scanning it row by row. They had a bit of everything: antibiotics, painkillers, anti-fungals, bandages. Where to start? Kate shook her head and smiled warmly at Milo as she sorted through the antibiotics. “Yes, you got me good, Milo.” She read a few labels. Definitely made in Europe, possibly Canada. Some were out of date, but she found some she could use. “Your English is excellent. Where did you learn it?”

“Rosetta Stone.”

Kate glanced over at him skeptically.

Milo’s grin faded as he grew serious. He gazed out the window at the valley below. “They found it in a cave at the base of this mountain. For thirty days and thirty nights, a hundred monks hauled the rocks away, until all that was left was a small passageway. They sent me in — I was the only one who would fit. There, deep in the cave, a yellow light shone down on a stone table, and I found the tablet there. I carried it out that night and earned my robe.” He exhaled deeply when his story was finished.

Kate stood there, holding the antibiotics, not sure what to say.

Milo sprang around to face her, pointing. “Ahh, I get you again, Dr. Warner!” He leaned back in a full body laugh, like an American teenager who’d just pulled a prank they thought was hilarious.

Kate shook her head as she returned to David’s bedside. “Well you’re quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” She popped the top off a bottle of antibiotics.

“Milo is full of life, Dr. Warner, and I am happy to entertain guests.”

Guests? Clearly Milo saw this as an opportunity to make a new friend. Kate smiled at him. “Call me Kate.”

“Yes, of course I will, Dr. Kate.”

“So really, how’d you learn English out here?”

“Rosetta Stone—”

Kate eyed him playfully, but the young man just nodded. “It’s true. I received it in the mail, from an anonymous benefactor — very, very mysterious. And very fortunate for Milo. We don’t get too many visitors. And when they say you speak English, it has to be Milo, no one else speaks English, not as well as Milo. I learned for fun, but look at my luck!”

Kate grabbed a cup of water from the table and helped David wash down a few antibiotic pills. She had selected the broad spectrum antibiotic, and she hoped it would do the job. IV antibiotics in a hospital setting would be ideal. She fed him a large pain pill as well. When he came out of the delirium, the pain would be real, and she wanted to get ahead of it.

What to do next? A thought occurred to her. Rosetta Stone. “Milo, you have a computer?”

“Of course; that’s how we found you.” He raised his eyebrows conspiratorially. “Cryptic email.”

Kate stood. “Email? Can I use—”

Milo bowed. “No, I’m sorry, Dr. Kate. Qian wants to see you. He says as soon as you give the medicine to Mr. Reed, I must bring you to him. He is a very serious man, not funny like Milo. He says he has something to give you.”

CHAPTER 68

Main Auditorium
Indo-Immari Corporate Office
New Delhi, India

The small talk died down as 200 pairs of eyes in the auditorium focused on him, waiting for the reason they had been dragged out of bed at 6 AM. Dorian walked out into the middle of the stage and surveyed the crowd. Most were Immari Security. There were a few dozen from other Immari subsidiaries: Immari Research, Immari Logistics, Immari Communications, and Immari Capital. They would all play a role in the coming operation. And then there were the Clocktower Operatives.

The New Delhi Station Chief swore he had eliminated anyone who could be a problem. Immari Security had helped with the purge, and there were still a handful of analysts and field operatives in the brig — pending “final assessment”. Only the Station Chief and Dorian’s Immari Security unit knew the details of Toba Protocol and what had to be done. Dorian needed to keep it that way, but he also needed help, a lot of it, from all the people in the room. Hence the speech, the convincing — something Dorian wasn’t used to. He gave orders, and they were followed. He didn’t ask; he told, and his people didn’t ask questions. But these people would; they were used to analysis and thinking independently. There wasn’t time for that.

“You’re all wondering why you’re here, at this hour, in a room with so many new faces,” Dorian began. “If you’re standing in this room, you have been chosen.
Chosen
as a member of a task force, a very special working group, an elite team that Immari Corporation and all its predecessor organizations are pinning its hopes on. What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room. You will take what I say here today to your grave. Some of it will be hard to believe. And some of what you’ll be asked to do will be even more difficult, in ways you can’t yet understand. I must tell you now that I can’t give you all the answers. I can’t assuage your conscience, at least not right now. After it’s over, everything will make sense. You will know the vital role you played in history, and others will know. But you deserve
some
answers, some reasons for the terrible things you’re going to be asked to do.”